The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 244: what you’re looking at

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

ww ® =e alo a ee 6S <p eee P THE MYSTERIES OF THE COURT. 287 his own way and followed her, there would be something unmistakably pointed in the proceed- ing. For a few moments he again stood irreso- lute: he thought to himself that this was de- cidedly no adventure offering him any encourage- ment to persevere with it ;—and yet it seemed as if his whole happiness were at stake, eo great was the empire which her charms had within a short half-hoar established over his heart. He was how- ever no frivolous-minded young man, such as Lord Baxondale: he a loftier intelligenco— and yet he had not the moral power to fling off the thraldom which had thus so suddenly en- chained him in its meshes. With a sort of resolve he pursued the lady: he passed her again—he looked round—but with a gare of the most admiration ; and perceiving that she stopped suddenly, as if sorely offended, and was then about to turn and retrace her own way, he accosted her without farther hesitation. “For heaven's sake do not be angry, madam !”’ he said, in a tone of earnest entroaty. “ Not for worlds would I give you offence !” He spoke in the French language, which was his own native tongue; and his looks were full of a deprecating tenderness, as much as to implore that his words and conduct might be favourably interpreted. Mrs. Chesterfield bent the full power of her dark eyes upon him: there was mingled anger and curiosity in that look; and as he thus beheld her close, he saw no need to alter the opinion he had already formed of the dassling splendour of her beauty. “If you would not offend me, sir,” she answered, after a fow moments’ pause, “ you will at once proceed on your own way and leave me to follow mine :”"—and as she also spoke in the French language, it was with that slight foreign accent which proved that France was not her native land. “ My way is yours,” returned the young gen- tleman: “for you lead me by a silken chain from which there is no possibility of self-extrication.” “This, sir,” resoincd Mre. Chesterfield, in a dig- nified manner, “is not the age of romance, and you are not a knight-errant, with a prescriptive privilege to throw yourself at the feet of any lady whom you may encounter.” “No,” he quickly responded, rejoiced at having so far succeeded as to hold her in discourse: “but though the age of knight-errantry may haved passed away, the admiration which is due to feminine beauty belongs to all time—and love is confined not to a particular century, but is coeval with eternity itself.” A scarcely perceptible smile appeared upon the rich red lips of Mrs. Chesterfield,—not exactly a smile of scorn nor of anger, but one which was evidently called up by the ingenuity of her per- scvering admirer’s repartee ; and his heart glowed with a still deeper fervour, in satisfaction at not having experienced a f and more pointed “You are an English lady,” he said. “Not only do I judge by your accents that such is the fact, fluently though you speak my own native language,—but England alone of all European countries can produce such a specimen of grand beauty as yourself.” “T do not thank you, sir, for this compliment,” answered Mrs. Chesterfield ; “because I hate flat- tery—and moreover you are holding me in conver- sation against my will. Decide which path you purpose to take: the other direction will be mine.” “Is it possible that you are resolved to view my conduct with such severity?” he exclaimed, still in a tone and manner of earnest entreaty: and so truly handsome did he appear at the moment, that even the most virtuous female heart could not lence in his looks ; but the admiration he displayed was invested with the profoundest respect. “I have already implored you not to take offence. At least permit me the pleasure of conversing with you for a few minutes longer.” _. “If for a few minutes, wherefore not for an hour?” demanded the lady, with a slight and scarcely perceptible archness of look: and as her countenance instantaneously became serious again, she added, “ Not for an hour—and therefore not even for another moment.” Thus speaking, she turned and pursued her way quickly. The young Frenchman felt bewildered and excited to almost a maddening : the brief discourse already holden with her, had rivetted the power of her charms: her voice, rich and full- toned without in the slightest degree transgressing the bounds of feminine harmony, had sunk like a ravishing music into his soul. It was impossible that he could tear himself away: he almost felt as if some slight advantage were already gained ; and if he were justified in so thinking, he resolved to follow it up. He was soon by her side again. ““Expend upon me all your indignation, ff you will,” he said, in a hurried and excited manner ; “fling upon me all the lightning of your looks— set me down in your mind as the most audacious of men or the vainest of coxcombs—but enamoured as I have become of your beauty in the space, I may say, of a few brief minutes, I am resolved not to prove altogether indifferent to you! No—I will even force you,” he added, vehemently, “to accept the homage of my heart !”’ Mrs. Chesterfield once more stopped short: ber splendid was drawn up to ite fullest height : a dignified elegance characterised i¢: the crimsun mounted to her cheeks—her nostrils dilated—her bust, already so luxuriant, seemed to expand into a still ampler volume; and her flashing looks were flung upon the audacious young Frenchman. She spoke not a word: but she gazed upon him as if to assure herself that he had indeed been bold enough to address her in that style—and perhaps also to put his courage still farther to the test, and see whether he would quail beneath that Juno- like aspect which she assumed. “Oh! if you mean to play the less,” he cried, in a sort of mad ‘enthusiasm, “I will cheer- fully-——-Oh, so cheerfully fall down at your feet in worship and adoration |” “Do you know, sir,” said the lady, with a half- supercilious, half-compassionate smile, “that I begin to think your intellects are really deranged : for there is something ludicrous in this proceeding on your part. If I were reading it in a book, I should smile over it as a monstrously overstrained aketch: now that it is happening positively and COMMUC DOO CS (COL