The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 233: what you’re looking at

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"33 TIE MYSTERIES OF THE COURT. perdon and give him another trial. He frankly wowed that he had contracted several debts, bat with best feeling of honour besought that they might be psid at once, so as to-rescue him from the fangs of usurers. ‘‘ Under all these circumstances, my dear Lord Peters- field, I ventured to take it upon myself to promise fall & 3 me, wil] sanction my proceeding. It will be easy for your the cancelling of the appoint- ment, which fortunately is not yet gazetted ; and as for Edmund's debte, I will send Mr. Marlow s list of them in the course of a few days, so that in the mean time you will kindly sanction their payment: for of course what- ever you and I agree upon, Marlow and Malton will as- aent to. ‘You recollect, my dear Lord Petersfield, what I hinted relative to Francis Paton: for I am fearful the great personal beauty of this youth has made some little impression upon Juliana’s heart; and therefore as your lordship has testified an interest in the lad, I leave you to deal with him as yon think best. I therefore send him with this note, and shall tell him to wait and seo if there be any answer ; 20 that your lordship may have him into your presence and speak to him. At all events his prompt removal from Saxondale House is most advis- able; but as I yesterday hinted, this object should de ac- complished in a way the least calculated to arouse Julians’s spirit and make her adopt any rash step. I¢ is not however for me to dictate, nor scarcely even suggest any particular course to a nobleman of your lordship’s profound wisdom and large ** Believe me to remain, my dear Lord Petersfield, “ Your very faithful and obliged friend, * HARRIET SAXONDALE.” Having duly sealed this letter and addressed it to the Right Honourable Lord Petersfield, Portman Square, Lady Saxondale descended to the drawing- room and rang the bell. A footman promptly answered the summons; and she bade him tell Frank to come to her immediately. The footman quitted the room; but full ten minutes elapsed without his re-appearance—so that Lady Saxon- dale, growing impatient, rang the bell violently once more. The footman now returned, apolo- gising for the delay, but assuring her ladyship that he had searched everywhere throughout the man- sion for the young page, but without bemg able to find him; and yet it was certain that he had not gone out, for the two hate which he had in wear were hanging in their accustomed places. ° “But he must have gone out, if you cannot find him in the house,” said Lady Saxondale. “The moment he returns, let him be ordefed to come to me.” Again the footman retired ; and so soon as she was alone, Lady Saxondale felt a strange suspicion arise in her mind. Her countenance became pale as death; and starting from her seat, she proceeded at once to the apartment where her daughters were in the habit of sitting together, as stated on a former occasion. There she found Constance alone ;—and in a casaal manner, without appearing to have any particular object in view, she asked where Julians was. Constance replied that her sister had a very bad headache, and had gone to lie down. Lady Saxondale bit her lip almost till the blood came: for the dire suspicion which had already entered her mind, was now strengthened. Leaving the apart- ment where Constance was apparently employed in reading a book, but between the leaves of which she o=e— (ee eee the instant her mother had entered the room—Lady Saxondale ascended to the storcy where her daugh- ter’s bed-chambers were situated. She tried the door of Juliana’s room, but found it locked; and then Juliana’s voice from inside asked who was there. “It is 1,” responded Lady Saxondale, adopting her usual tone. “Constance tells me that you are unwell——” “I shall be better presently, my dear mother,” answered Juliana from within. Lady Saxondale thereupon quitted the immediate vicinage of the door; but instead of descending from that storey at once, she went and concealed herself in another room—and there, keeping the door ajar, watched her elder daughter’s chamber. In a few minates she saw Juliana come forth—cast « hurried look up and down the passage—and then retreat Paton issued thence and sped down stairs. Lady Saxondale’s suspicion was now thoroughly confirmed. But, oh! to what a harrowing pitch were her foclings wrought up as she thus received the unmistakable proof of her elder daughter’s shame. For a few moments she stood rivetted to the spot—petrified—etatue-like: then in obedience to a sudden impulse, she proceeded to Juliana’s chamber. The door was not locked now: she entered—and her daughter, who was in a volup- tuous deskabillée, at once turned pale and became troubled as she eaw by her mother’s look that every- thing was at least suspected, if not actually dis- covered. But this look of uneasiness was only momentary, and was succeeded by one of mingled indifference and hardihood, as she turned aside to- wards the mirror and began fastening up the luxu- riant masses of her glossy raven hair. “Juliana,” said Lady Saxondalje, suddenly clutch- ing her daughter violently by the arm, “you are lost —you are undone—unhappy girl that you are!” Again for an instant did that look of trouble and shame appear upon Juliana’s countenance at thus acquiring the certainty that everything was known: bus it was succeeded by an expression of even bolder effrontery, as she said, “The lees, mother, that we interfere with each other the better.” “Ah! are you all going to hurl defiance at me?” muttered the wretehed Ledy Saxondale, as she thought to herself that Juliana also was acquainted with some secret which emboldened her to adopt this mien and manner of deflance: and relinquishing her hold upon the young lady’s arm, she back against the wall of the chamber with a feeling so dread and so inexplicable that she knew not whether she was about to faint or shriek forth in hysterical frenzy. Juliana went on arranging her magnificent raven hair before the mirror: but still her hands trembled —there was a varying flush upon the delicate olive of her complexion, a certain restless flashing of the eyes, and a troubled heaving of the superb bust which the morning wrapper left more than half re- vealed. For although determined to put the boldest. countenance upon her amour with the young page, and to hurl all requisite defiance at her mother in ae- serting ber own independence, yet she still was not so completely depraved as to be enabled to contem- template without emotion the detection of her bad thrust a letter from the Marquis of Villebelle | shame. 3 1 é | CO connie DOY S