The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 169: what you’re looking at

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en I ene eee 156 givings. [I tell you that we will be all circum- spection in our conduct. But conceive the happiness, dearest Ethel, of living beneath the same roof—of breathing the same atmosphere ” “No, Adolphue—it is impossible!” oxclaimed the Countess, all her botter feelings and all her fortitude suddenly reviving with greater power too than on any other occasion during this interview. “I have been standing on the brink of a precipice; and I will retreat in time. If you really love me—if you entertain the slightest spark of affection for me—impel me not over that brink —hurl me not down into the abyss beneath! No, no—it shall not be! Besides, Adolphus, it would be something shocking and revolting to think that you, the son, should live beneath the same roof with my husband, the father, and know that I am compelled to receive from him those careasses which THE MYSTERIES OF THE COURT. the one hand, as well as that there should be no undue extravagance on the other. Opening a cupboard in her own front-pariour, she contem- plated a little array of five decanters —two’con- ini at the rate of one-and- the oilman’s who dealt m British wines—the next two containing sherry, procured af the same place and at the same price —and the fifth decanter being two-thirds full of brandy, which Mrs. Macaulay had not purchased at all, but which were the remains of a bottle that Mr. Redcliffe had no farther use for. “Let me see,” said Mrs. Macaulay; “how many will there be of us altogether?’—and she pro- ceeded to tell off the expected guests on her fingers for about the twentieth time during this particular day. “There is the two Wanklins—Miss Spilsbury —and Captain Bloff: that’s four. Then there's taining port, purchased threepence a bottle at you may not in honour bestow. My mind is made | me and Master Ashton: for I know from what up! I¢ will cost me many, many bitter pangs to lhe said his sister wont come: so that makes renounce this love of your's: but it shall be done. | six. Then there’s Mrs. Dumpling—Mrs. Sifkin—- And if I who am a woman, can prove thus resolute -~—you, 45 @ man, must show yourself even stronger etiil in the performance of a duty. Leave me, Adolphus—I entreat—I conjure——nay, I com- mand that you leave me!” “ Ethel—dearest Ethel—you are driving me to despair !”—and the young nobleman was frightfully distressed. “And I too am in despair,” rejoined the Countess: “but my resolve is taken. It would be eruel—worse than cruel—ungenerous and unuanly for you, Adolphus, to attempt to turn me from my purpose. Leave me, I say.” “And my father ?’”’ inquired Lord Osmond, in a deep voice full of concentrated emotion, while his looks did indeed the despair which his lips had proclaimed: “what will you say to him ? how will you account for my presence here to-day ?”” | “I will tell him all that you have suggested,” was Ethel’s quick and firm response: “but frankly do I inform you, Adolphus, that I shall speak in such a manner as to show that while I earnestly wish him to become friendly with you again, it is not my desire that you should return to dwell in this house.” With these words, the Countess of Lascelles rose abruptly from the sofa; and not daring to trust herself another moment with Adolphus, she rushed from the room. A few minutes afterwards the young nobleman issued from the house, with a forced serenity of aspect, but with blank despair in his heart. CHAPTER XXXI. THE EVENING PARTY. It was now the memorable Saturday evening on which Mrs. Macaulay was to give her honour of the reconciliation between herself and Mrs. Sifkin who lived over the way. The number of guests had been duly borne in mind with regard to the preparations for the entertainment: but at about six o'clock Mra. Macaulay gave another look at the eatables and drinkables, for the purpose of satisfying herself that there would bo sufficient on ty in| in Mr. Chubb (the sanctimonious humbug !)—and Mr. Hogben: that makes ten. Then there's Mrs. Chowley and her two daughters—the con- ceited chits!—and that makes thirteen. Thirteen people—and four bottles of wine. Each bottle ten glasses: that’s forty glasses, to be divided by thirteen. Well, it will give three a-piece, and just leave a drain at the bottom of each decanter for gentility’s sake. Because then comes the brandy, the hot water, and sugar———and I am not quite clear but that there’s rather too much wine.” Mrs. Macaulay stood gazing dubiously for a few minutes on the little array of decanters, — whether she should suppress the production of one of port or one of sherry; and there was even a moment when she actually thought of keeping back one of each. But then she remembered that she had promised to do the thing handsomely and come out with a genteel little spread: so she decided upon keeping back nothing at all, and going the whole hog with her extravagance and profusion for once in a way. Having arrived at this decision, she hastened down stairs to inspect the larder; and having cast a look over its contents, she soliloquized after the following fashion :—= “Cold veal pie at the head of the table—large enough to bear at least thirteen helps. Then there’s four dozen of oysters ordered for nine o'clock But dear me! what if the best part of the company should take a fancy to oysters? I sha’n’t touch any for one: but there are twelve who might; and how many would that give to eachP Four dozen is forty-eight; and twelves into forty-eight go four. That would be only four oysters a-piece !” At this awful calculation the worthy lady looked somewhat blank; and she was even deliberating whether she should not send forth to order an extra two dozen of oysters, when she again plunged her looks into the larder, and went on soliloquis- ac Fried and mashed for the bottom of the table—and the oysters to go in the middle. The spread, after all, would be genteel and liberal enough. Susan!” she i turn- ing round to one of the maids, “ did Mr. Redcliffe give orders for his dinner to-morrow, as hé always does on Saturday night for the Sunday P” (SOL (C DOO Col