The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 149: what you’re looking at

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143 THE MYSTERIES OF THE COURT. Gaxondale, with increased petulance. “That lady | Tho lady, who had been looking over hor fan an‘ with the magnificent suburn hair—— , saw Lord Saxondale approach, at once raised herself “You cannot guarantee that it is ber own,” ob- up from the half-rectining and gracefully lounging served Petersfield, shaking his head with solemn : attitude of seeming nonchalance and unconcern in mystery. which she had been sitting : and she responded with me 706 ee Rare Who is she P” a amile of the most affable sweetness, “I thank “Really, Edmund, this question is so home- your lordship—but I do not dance for the present. thrust, that I—I feel myself justified in hesitating I have only recently recovered from a long and even before I answer—which answer I may givein severe illness; and my physician has positively or. all truth and confidence—that I know nothing at all dered that I do not over-exert m about her. And tomy knowledge-—-——mind, I speak | While she thus spoke, she made a slight side-long with this proviso, to my knowledge—I usver saw movement, which seemed to be an invitation for her before in all my life.” “Why the deuce couldn’t you have said so at once §’—and Lord Saxondale broke ewey from his guardian, who was perfectly confounded vy what, in . diplomatic terms, he would have denominated the “inconvenience” of so indecorous a remark. perceiving one of the other attachés to | _ Saxondale to take the chair next to her ;—and com- pletely infatuated, as well as dessied and bewildered by the power of her charms, he unhesitatingly did eo. Two things surprised him somewhat. One was that the lady evidently knew who he was—for she had addressed him as “my lord;” and the other was to hear her say that she had recently recovered Edmund, the embassy loitering at a little distance, and evi- ' from a severe illness; for certainly her appearance dently gazing with mingled interest and admiration | was very far from upon the beauteous stranger, hastened to accost him,—eaying, “Sydney, my dear fellow, do you know who she is f” “No—I was just thinking of askmg eome one the question. Ien’t it strange that she should be thus left all to herself? We know vary well that at these subscription balls almost any one may come: but still it is difficult to conceive that a lady, know- ing what sort of a reception she is likely to meet, would voluntarily court such painful treatment as this. Besides, if it were anything very flagrant, the stewards would interfere. I have an uncommon great mind to run all risks and ask her to dance— | pletel only I am afraid of Petersfield. But I the averment. The hue of health, though of roseate delicacy, was upon her cheeks, which were plump and softly rounded ; while the contours of her shape were totally devoid of that emaciation which long indisposition gene- rally leaves behind it. Those two things surprised him therefore; and there was a third circumstance which he specially noticed. This was, that as she had tem taken off the glove of her left hand, he saw that she wore a wedding-ring, and therefore was either s married woman or a widow. But theese reflections were hurriedly made: for he found himself so com- y under the empire of her charms—so intoxi- Fated by the perfome of beuuty, which, as it were, tell you what, Saxondale—if I were you, and inde- | exhaled from her like fragrance from flowers—that pendent of the old lord as you are, I wouldn’t | he soon had no thought for anything else. He hesitate a moment. Why don’t you go ?” knew not what to say; and yet he scarcely felt “Well, I will,” quickly responded the young ' awkward while gazing upon her in silence ; for the nobleman, who only required some such suggestion | foelings that inspired him were thoee of ineffable as this to induce him to follow his inclinations. | stop, though! I see that Lord and Lady ture. “You have not been long in Paris, I believe, * But, Petersfield are just going; and I may as well wait Lord Saxondalef” she said, at length till they have taken their departure. They said that they should retire early; and as it happens, I am deuced giad of it.” It was as Edmund said: the old oP past and his wife were wending their way together towards the silence; and her voice was olear and harmonious as a cilver bell. “Only a week, on the present occasion,” he an- swered: “and it was my intention to leave to- ' morrow. But——®” the doors ; and in a few moments they passed away | “T understand your lordship,” observed the lady, from. the scene ot gaicty and splendour. | with another bewitching amile: “this Paris of “Now, Saxondale,” said the Hon, Mr. Sydney, ours has so many charms and fascinations, that paid attaché to Lord Petersfield. “You shall see how nicely I will manage it,” enswered Edmund. , you cannot readily tear yourself away from them FP” “You say this Paris of your's,” remarked Saxon- | dale, with a renewed fecling of surprise: “surely I But he did not observe the ironical smile which have the honour of speaking to an English lady?” sppeared upon the lips of Mr. Sydney, who,— though he knew not the lady, nor anything concern- ing her,—nevertheless saw that there must be some- TE Nee ed ee ee narectes foe ber to be thus shunned: and he was purposel; urging Saxondale into a course which would make him appear pre-eminently ridiculous; for the young nobleman was in reality no favourite with the Hon. Mr. Sydney. Edmund, assuming his most affable look, and walking with an affected mincing gait, approached the isolated lady; and with a very low bow, said, “Madam, shall I have the honour of your hand in the next dance Pf” “ English by birth—but naturalized a French- woman by marriage,” she rejoined. “Your husband is not here this evening ?” ob- served Edmund inquiringly. “ My husband——is dead,” returned the lady: and her face was bent downward with a sudden expression of profound mournfalness, which to Saxondale’s eyes was but a new and more touching phase in which her beauty displayed iteelf. ‘¢ Pardon me, madam,” he said, with an inward feeling of delight—though he scarcely knew why— to learn that she wasa widow: “I did not intend te recall painful recollections.” ® You must suppose, my lord, that my husband’® (COL (C DOO CS (COL