The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 171: what you’re looking at

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188 THE MYSTERIES eurled natarally—and his whiskers were only of comparatively recent growth. His teeth were ad- mirable, and his complexion was remarkably pure. Lady Florimel, whose Christian name was Pauline, was thirty-eight; and, although inclining to embonpoint, she was exceedingly handsome alike in countenance aud form. Her tall stature prevented the expansion of her charms from ap- pearing too luxurfant: but the richness of their contours was grandly developed. Her marriage with Florimel had remained unblest by offspring : aud thus nothing had marred the splendour of that beauty which still seemed to retain all the first freshness of youth. Her hair, of a dark brown, was remarkably luxuriant: her teeth were as per- fect and as brilliant as when the parting roses of the lips revealed them in the smiles of her girl- hood ;—and she had not mingled sufficiently in the pleasures and gaiety of the fashionable world to have lost the carnation from her cheeks in the hot and unwholesome atmosphere of ball-rooms. Lady Florimel’s elder sister, Octavia, had married the Honourable Arthur Eaton, who at the death of his father became Lord Marchmont. But he did not long survive this accession to the family title and estates : his constitution had been considerably undermined by the treacheries and misfortunes he had experienced in his youth—and he sank intoan early grave. The title became ex- tinct: the landed property passed into the hands of a distant male relative of the family ;—but Lady Marchmont was left with a comfortable income de- rived from money in the funds. Her charming daughter Florence was then her only consolation : and though the worm of early sorrows had eaten its cankering way into her heart, she still hoped and prayed to live long enough to see the dearly beloved girl grow up to woman’s estate. But in this aspira- tion she was disappointed: a severe cold which she caught, threw her upon a sick bed—and in a few days she breathed her last. Florence was eight years old when she thus lost her mother. But she found ao affectionate sub- stitute in her aunt Pauline, who at once took the orphan under her care: and as Lord Fiori- mel had no ‘children of his own, he soon learnt to love little Florence as dearly as if she were his daughter. The orphan girl grew up in beauty and innocence: and at the time we now in- troduce her to our readers, she is nineteen years old. But let us draw the portrait of Florence Eaton as she appeared on that occasion, when seated with ber uncle and aunt at the palatial mansion in Picca- dilly. She was one of those Madonna-like creatures who seem too fair to inhabit this cold, selfish world of ours. Her complexion was of the purest white aod dazzlingly transparent, so that upon her high and innocent forehead, where candour was en- throned on its unblemished ivory seat, the delicate tracery of azure veins appeared through the diaphanous skin. Her hair, which was of a light brown tinged with a golden hue, fell in the profu- sion of countless tfesses upon her shoulders and back : for it was worn as in girlhood and with none of it gathered np in a knot behind, Her eyes were azure—not larze, but full of a pe- culiar and melting softness, which was also visible in her smile. Her brows were darker than her OF THE COURT. hair, but delicately pencilled: and her long lashes were a shade darker still. Her nose was perfectly straight—her lips were of the brightest coral in hue, and seemed cut with the precision of a classic chisel—and her chin was turned with an equally artistic accuracy. Her shape was that of asylph. Nothing could exceed the graceful arching of the swan. like neck, or the statuesque carriage of the shoulders. The bust was gently developed in flowing outline, suffi. cient to enhance the beauty of her person, but not too much to mar the airy lightness of her figure. The elegance of her symmetry was combined with a willowy flexibility of the form: her feet moved so glancingly along that it appeared impossible for them to leave their imprint upon the softest car- pet, nor crush the most delicate flower. Indeed, nothing could exceed the almost infantile loveliness of this charming, Madonna-like creature, And to bring a tear into that soft azure eye—to check the smile upon those bright red lips—to extort a sigh from that gentle breast—to make that sweet head droop beneath the burden of affliction—or to render that clear silver voice tremulous with sobs,— Oh! this were a cruelty of which none save a mon- ster undeserving the name of Man, or a fiend dese- crating the form of Woman, could possibly be capable! In her artless disposition and guileless nature, she was gay and happy; and her soft musical laugh was fresh and pure as the rippling of the crystal stream whose pebbly bottom is as visible as an eye-bal! through atear. And it was so beautiful to see her smile—not only because there was the hea- venly irradiation of innocence beaming on her coun- tenance, but also because the coral lips when thus sweetly wreathing displayed the two rows of pearl that formed her teeth. Such was Florence Eaton: and no wonder was it that such a fair and nymph-like being should be the cherished darling of her uncle and aunt, or be loved by them with as much tenderness as they could possibly have bestowed upon an only daughter. From the period when her orphan destiny consigned her to their care, they had reared her with the most watchful attention. A trustworthy and competent governess had taught her all useful knowledge and elegant accomplishments; and her readings had been selected by Lady Florimel herself, Every barrier, in a word, was raised up by the care of the excellent Pauline to protect her beloved niece from the pestilential atmosphere of the world’s contamina- tion; ahd yet all these precautions were managed with so much delicacy and tact, that Florence was never made to feel the slightest restraint. But then, so admirable were the teachings she received from her governesa and so careful the inculcations of her aunt, that her mind became plastic to the purest thoughts and ductile to the chastest aspirations only, Lord Florimel had been more than gay in his earlier years: he was a positive voluptuary in his amours, and was unwearied in his pursuit of plea- sure. But such men often make exemplary hus- bands, and assuredly the best fathers or guardians, So it was with Gabriel Florimel. He had sown his wild oats when young: but from the day of bis mar- riage, his conduct—nay, his very character—ap- peared to have undergone a complete change. Ah! he was one of those men who can appreciate and who learn to bless the example of a pure-minded A S = A DO OKs CO 4