The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 184: what you’re looking at

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

{HB MYETERIES OF THE COURT. _* Amy, I am in that state of mind,” ejaculated | y ont, “ when any advice is most welcome most useful! ‘Your’s shall be followed—and I thank for it. Come!—we will watch at this door. Even if we satay for hours will we watch !” Marchmont and Amy Sutton accordingly themselves at the door of the room where this con- versntion had taken place. They kept the door ajar in such a manner that they could both look forth into the corridor; and thus in a profound silence did about twenty minutes pass away. Then a door was heard to open gently at a little dis- taneo: the Duke nudged his companion as if in an excited manner; and she murmured, “ Hush !* in the lowest possible tone. Footsteps were heard stealing along the corridor e-then the rustling of a dress; and in about a minute a figure passed with apparent cautiousness along. Of course the reader understands fall well that this was none other than Lettice Rodney, who was acting in accordance with the instructions she bad received from the Duke. The black veil was over her head in such a manner as to conceal her hair and shade her features: but there was quite sufficient light in the passage for Amy to recognise the dress ; and when the figure had passed, she re- treated a few steps into the room. “Now, Amy,” murmured the Duke, in a deep hoHow voice, as he also quitted the door and closed it, —“ what say you?” “Y am afraid, my lord, that there can be no Goubt of it,” she responded. “But is your Grace sure that you beheld my mistress enter Mr. Stan- "s room P” “Can I doubt my own eyes?” asked the Duke : “and does not that stealthiness of ing which you have just witnessed—does it not, I say, confirm all T have told you ?” “And now what will your Grace do?” inquired Amy, who was indeed all but convinced that the mistress whom she had hitherto believed the very pattern of virtue, purity, and frankness, was the personification of profligacy, viciousness, and hypo- crisy. “What will I do? cried the Duke :—* what in heaven’s name can I do?” he asked, with the air of one who was bewildered and distracted. “It is true that for some time past her Grace and myself lave not been on the very best terms together; amd I dare sey that I have been looked upon as 4 crud and hard-hearted husband who ill-treated his wife. But if the world only knew the infirmities of her temper——— However, I need not trouble you with such explanations. You ask me what I will do; and you have counselled me to take no pre- “And this advice, my lord, I respectfally but earnestly venture to ” said Amy Sutton. “It shall be followed—rest assured that it shall be fallowed!” responded the Duke. “I will create no disturbance; whatever is to be done, shall be performed in a suitable and i manner. A divorce——this is the only course !” “And yet, my lord,” said Amy, “there is still the possibility of some mistake: for remember that I have not seen her Grace issue from Mr. Stanhbope’s chamber.” “ True {” ejaculated the Duke, as if now struck by the fact for the first time. “I will do nothing rashly !—I will think over it! Do you return to 176 our own room. I need not enjoin you to keep the dreadful affair secret until secresy becomes 20. longer possible. You are prudent and discreet. Ah! you advised me kindly; and kindness under such circumstances, must be rewarded. Take this ted | parse———and remember, Amy, not a look nor a syllable to your mistress to-morrow to show that she is suspected! And now good night.” “* Accept my thanks, my lord,” said the lady's maid, as she elutched the puree and her ear caught the chink of gold. “Good night.” She stole softly back to her own chamber ; and a few minutes the Duke of Marchmont, in an equally stealthy manner, went down the priv vate staircase, and rejoined Lettice,-who hack found her way to the little room to which she was first introduced, and where a ligh$ had been left urning. “ Everything goes well,” esid Marehmont, with a look of triumph, as he poured her out another glass of champagne. “On Monday night you must repeat the ance. I will manage to ran down to you between eight and nine o'clock, and tell you which particular dress you are to put on. And now farewell. I see that the businces will be brought to a termination much more speedily than I had even dared hope or anticipate at first; and in a few days you will be enabled to return to London.” Lettice took her departure; and the Duke of Marchmont stole up to his own chamber, chuckling at the progress that was already made in the vile conspiracy against his innocent wife, CHAPTER XXXIV. THE POND. Acconprne to the plan which he had in view, the Duke of Marchmont observed on the Monday evening what lear dress Lavinia wore; and he was inwardly delighted by the recollection that there was a duplicate thereof im the possession of Lettice at the farm-house. At about nine o’clock on this evening of which we are now writing, he | rose from his chair in the drawing-room, where he was seated with the Duchess and the Hon. Wilson Stanhope ; and complaining of a dreadful headache, said he should take a ramble through the grounds with the hope of dispelling it. But on issuing forth from the mansion, he made the best of his way to the farm-house—gave Lettico the requisite i ion, with regard to the particular dress she was to put on—-and then began to retrace his steps hom: ward. The evening was very different from that of the Saturday when Lettice took her first trip on her nefarious mission to Oaklands. If was indeed just such an evening as that on which Christian had accompanied the Duke, to carry the box to the farm-house. It was dark and windy; and March. mont drew his cloak more ¢losely around hiu as he had to breast that gusty wind on his way back to the mansion. On nearing the pond, the sur- face of which gave forth a feeble shimmering light, he quickened his pace; but all in a moment he stopped short, and staggered as if about to fall, on beholding a dark form standing on the very (COL (C DOO CS (COL