The Mysteries of London, Vol. IV — page 241: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

826 THU MYSTERIES OF LONDON. tn ee ee their dreams. llow charming was the entire coun- tenance |!—how amiable—how heavenly the expres- sion that it wore! And no wonder that the likeness was 50 striking —rs0 accurate—so faithful;—for the young nobleman had touched and retouched it until he had delineated on tho paper the precise counterpart of the image that dwelt in his mind. ITLlours and hours had he devoted to that labour of love :—on cach occasion when he returned homo after contemplating, from behind tho green barricr of the garden, tho idol of his adoration, he addressed himself to the improve- ment of that portrait. At one time ho had beheld the maiden to greater advantage than at another; and then he studied to convey to tho card-board tho last and most pleasing impression thus made upon his mind; until he produced a likeness s0 faithful that not another touch was required—no further improve- ment could be effected. And, like Pygmalion with his Galatea, how Lord William Trevelyan worshipped that portrait 1! Ne— the simile is incorrect; because the sculptor learnt to adore tho statuo that was coid and passionless— whereas tho young nobleman was blest with tho conviction that there was a living original for the image ho Jad so faithfully traced upon his paper,— and it was that living original whom he made the goddess of his thoughts. Tho clock had struck ten, and Lord William was still bonding over tho portrait that lay upon the table, when a footman cntered the room to announce that n lady who declined to give her name solicited an interview with tho young nobleman, Lord William, hastily closing the portfolio, de- sired that she might be immediately shown into his presence. Tho domestic bowed and retired In a few minutes he returned, ushering in the unknown visitor, who wore a veil over her counte- nance: but tho moment the footman had withdrawn, she raised the veil, and disclosed a face that was strik- ingly handsome, though pale and careworn., She was apparently about thirty-six or thirty-seven years of age—with dark hair, fine hazel eyes, and good tecth, Tall and well-formed, her figure, which was rather inclined to embonpoint, was set off to advantage by the tasteful—indeed clegant style of her dress; and in her deportment there was an air of distinction denoting the polished and well-bred lady, Lord William received her with becoming cour- tesy, requested her to be seated, and then awaited an explanation of her business. “Your lordship is doubtless surprised at recciv- ing a visit at so unseasonable an hour, and on the part of a completo stranger,” began the lady, in a pleasing though mournful tone of voice: “but I know not to whom clso to address myself for the information I now scek—and if you cannot afford it to me, I shall bo unhappy indeed.” “Madam,” said Lord William, somewhat aston- ished at this mystcrious opening of the conversation, “if it be in my power to serve you, I shall render that service cheerfully.” “You are well acquainted, I believe, my lord, with Sir Gilbert Heathcote?” observed the lady, somewhat abiuptly, as sho Lowed her thanks for the assurance the young nobleman had given her. « Sir Gilbert Heathcote, though much older than J, is an intimate friend of mine,” observed Tre- velyan. “Do you know where he is—what has become Se LT ee ee ee of him?” demanded thio lady, in a still more anxious tone than before. “T really do not, madam,” was the reply. “ Merciful heavens!” sho exclaimed, clasping hor hands together in a paroxysm of sorrow. “J have not seen him for this week past,” con- tinued Trevelyan. “ But—aro you ill, madam? Can I offer you anything ?—shall I summon assist- ance ?” And, as he spoke, the nobleman roso from his seat and approached the bell-pull. ‘“ No—no, my lord!” cricd tho lady. “ Do not ring—do not call your servants! I shall be better presently. But pardon mo if I could not control my feolings,” sho added, wiping the tears from her eyes, Tho yourg nobleman, in spite of tho adjuration to the contrary, hastened into the adjoining room and speedily returned with a decanter of spring water andatumbler. Iie then filled the glass and presented it to his afflicted visitor, who thanked him for his delicate attention with a look expres- sive of gratitude—the words that sho would have uttered being stifled in her throat. Refreshed with tho cooling beverage, she said, after a short pause, “My lord, have you the slightest conception where your friend Sir Gilbert Heathcote is? Did he intimate to you his intention to Icave London? did ho hint at the probability of his de- parture from England? Oh! I conjure you to tell me all you know: for—for—you cannot divine how much—how deeply I love him 1” Trovelyan was struck with astonislhmont at theso last words,—words that wero uttered in a tone of such convincing, such profound sincerity, that he could not for an instant question theirimport. And vet—though since the days of childhood Trevelyan had known Sir Gilbert Heathcote—he had never heard that the baronet was marricd: on the con- trary, he had invariably understood him to be a single man, If this latter belief were the true one, then, was tho lady now in his presence thie mistress of his friend ?—for assuredly she had not spoken with the confidence of a sister, but with the hesita- tion of one who reveals a fact that is in some way associated with shame. ; The lady perceived what was passing in tho mind of Trevelyan; and in a low but fully audible tone, she said, “My lord, circumstances compel me to reveal myself to you as your friend’s mistress. Yes: though I love him more than ever wife could love— yet am I only his mistress,—for, alas! lam tho wifo of another! And now, my lord,” she added, with deep feeling, “ you may spurn mo from you—you may command your lacquey to thrust mo from your dwelling: but I implore you to give mo tidings of Sir Gilbert !” ‘Madam,’’ exclaimed Trovelyan, the moment ho could recorer from the bewilderment into which this impassioned address plunged him, “ not for worlds could I do or say aught to augment your aflliction—much less to insult you. I declaro to you most solemnly that I havo neither heard nor seen anything of Sir Gilbert Ieathcote for a week. I called at his chambers in the Albany tho day before yesterday, and was simply informed that lo was not at home. I left my card without thinking to make further inquiries—not suspecting that his absence had been for days, instead of hours.” “Ohl yes—upwards of a week has clapsed ginos I saw him,” exclaimed tho lady, with diMculty sub- 8 NE re tr —— = rr te ee EConnicloooks r (SO)