The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 133: what you’re looking at

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

<a | | ' \ i THE MYSTEBIES OF THE COURT. his address if he isn’t at the Manor, as itis very important. Now as I’ve heard that the General is not here——” ‘You had better leave it with me, my good man,” said the lady: “and I will take care that it shall be forwarded to the General in due course.” : ‘I can’t do that, ma’am,” was the reply. “The Post Office orders are positive. No offence, ma’am — but the letter mustn’t be trusted out of my hands.” “ And you say it is marked as very important ft” observed the lady, in a musing tone, as if she were deliberating what course she ought to pursue. “Yes—‘highly tmporiant and in haste,’ ma'am,” answered the postman, referring to the address of one of the letters which he held in his hand. ‘IT think I can give you the General’s address abroad,” said the lady, as a thought seemed to strike her. “At least, lam very much mistaken if it is not in my husband’s possession. He is not at home at this moment—but perhaps I shall find it in his writing-desk. Wait a few minutes.” ‘“‘ Certainly, ma’am,” said the postman. - The lady accordingly rose and quitted the room. In about five minutes she returned with a piece of paper in her hand. , “There is the General’s addreas,” she said. “ It is my husband’s own writing, as he himself took it down the last time he saw the General. You may therefore rely upon the address being the accurate one.” “Shall I take a copy of it, ma’am t” inquired the postman: “or may I keep it?” “You may keep it,” reaponded the lady. “I have already copied it in case my husband should for- get it.” “Tam very much obliged, ma’am, for the trou- ble you have taken: and I’m sorry to have intruded upon you 80 long, Good afternoon, ma’am.” With these words, the postman put the paper into his pocket and retired. CHAPTER XXXV. PRIDAY: OR, THE FIFTH SUITOR. iv was nine o'clock in the evening—and a private carriage was waiting at Hyde Park corner. The coachman sate upon his box, ready to impel the spirited steeds forward the instant the expected per- son should arrive: and the footman stood close by the door, holding the handle ready to open it. The carriage had no arms upon the panels—and the domestics wore plain great coats over their liveries. The equipage had been waiting there for half-an-hour; but it was not until the clocks were striking nine, that a lady, closely veiled and muffled in a cloak, made her appearance. The door was in- stantly opened—the fair one stepped in—and the footman whispered, “His Royal Highness desires his compliments, ma’am, and has made ments to receive the honour of your visit at the house of a friend.” The door was then closed—the steps put up— and, as the footman leapt up behind the carriage, it drove rapidly away. “Now,” said Venetia Trelawney to herself, as the announcement she had just heard still rang in Ber ears,—“some treachery is intended—aad I think I can fathom it. The Prince has been weak and foolish enough to boast of his triamph and mention our appointment—and the friend to whom he has thus unbosomed himself, is taking advantage of the incident. But I will allow the adventure to take its course.” And throwing herself back in the carriage, Ve- netia watched from the window the direction it was pursuing. Along Piccadilly it sped: round the corner into Albemarle Street it turned—and the next moment the equipage dashed up to the front of the Marquis of Leveson’s mansion. “I thought as much,” said Venetia to herself: and even in the obscurity of the vehicle, with no one to receive the withering influence of her scorn, did her lips wreathe for a moment into a smile of ineffable contempt. | The footman opened the door of the carriage at the same moment that the portals of the mansion itself were unfolded: and Venetia, still keeping the veil close over her countenance, tripped with graceful lightness into the marble hall. A page in an elegant costume was waiting to conduct her: and she followed him up the handsome, well- lighted staircase into a drawing-room decorated with crimson hangings and furnished in a corre- sponding style. The page instantaneously withdrew—and Vene- tia was alone. Undismayed by the position in which she found herself, and into which indeed she had allowed her- self to be hurried, she tranquilly and deliberately took off her bonnet and veil, and laid aside her | cloak. She then appeared in an elegant evening | costume of dark velvet, which not only by itsmake | set off her charms to their utmost advantage, but ' likewise by its hue displayed all the dazzling briJ. ' liancy and transparent fairness of her complexion. Her hair was arranged in massive treases, which fell upou her shoulders so bright in their alabaster purity, and so plump in their softly rounded fulness. That glorious hair displayed, in the lustre of the lamps that lighted tbe room, all its richest hues of auburn—shining like gold in some parts, and dark as a glossy velvet in others where the shade remained. The body of her dress was cut exceedingly low, the bosom rising grandly above it rather than being im- prisoned within it: and her arms, naked to the very shoulder, displayed the robust symmetry of thei: rounded proportions. There was a slight flush upon her cheeks—but not a hectic one: merely a deepening of the natural carnation, and dying away in healthy transition into the purity of the lily. Her eye-lids drooped not now, but were fully raised—and thus the deep biue orbs themselves shone with an expreasion of firm- ness and decision instead of looking tender and melting with their wonted Janguor. As she sate upon the crimson sofa on which she had thrown herself, the dark velvet dress displayed the fineness of her form, and by its very folds might have assisted the eye to trace the sweeping / length of the limbs which the flowing robe in , reality concealed. But upon an ottoman rested ; one beautiful foot—and the skirt of the dress was + just raised sufficiently to allow a glimpse of a | slender and well-rounded ankle, with its flesh. | coloured silken hose and its neatly tied sandal. The picture was ravishing to a degree—enchant. | ey ED a ee ee ah o ee ee Oe ee ee a a a. i A ie wb EE ecommicoooks CO