The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 223: what you’re looking at

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

206 ‘Her hair was of a rich auburn, which wantoned in a thousand glossy and shining ringlets upon her shoulders, and gave her so youthful an appearance that, when it was thus arranged, she seemed to have scarcely reached her thirtieth year. Her eyes were large and of a deep hazel hue,—sometimes languish- ing and tender—at others lustrous with an over- whelming light,—somctimes with love beaming in every glance—at others flashing with the natural but latent haughtiness of a proud disposition. Her complexion was of the purest white, save where on each plump and well-rounded cheek it blushed into the rose’s hue; and her lips, full but not thick, were of the brightest coral. Her teeth were small, beautifully white, and faultlessly even; and, when she laughed, it appeared as if they were musical pearls that thus sent forth a delicious, soft, and silvery sound, Her figure was on a large scale, but admirably proportioned, the fulness of the bust setting off the wasp-like symmetry of the waist: her arms were robust, but stainlessly white and exquisitely rounded, —and the graceful majesty of her walk indicated the fine and well-modelled length of limb which im- parted to her gait its classic elegance and statuesque dignity. Such was Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire—the idol of that sphere of fashion over which she presided with unquestioned sway, and from which she received all the blandishments of flattery and all the homage of worship and devotion. Throwing herself upon a sofa with the ease and familiarity of one who knew and felt that she was in the abode of an intimate friend, the brilliant Duchess waited until Lady Desborough made her appear- ance; and when the latter entered the room after a few minutes’ delay, their greeting was reciprocally cordial. “ Dearest Georgiana,” said the Countess, “I am delighted to see you. It is an age since we laet met.” “Nearly six months, Eleanor,” responded the Duchess of Devonshire. ‘*My tour in Scotland has been protracted beyond my original expecta- tions: but at length, behold me once more in happy London. I only returned with his Grace last even- ing—and my first visit is paid to you.” “Your friendship, dear Georgiana, is most soothing and consolatory to me,” said the Countess of Des- borough, an involuntary sigh escaping her bosom. “Heavens! you are unhappy,’ exclaimed the Duchess of Devonshire, taking Eleanor’s hand and pressing it afftctionately. “Tell me, my beloved friend—what is the matter with you ?—wherefore do you sigh !” “Oh! it is nothing — nothing, I can assure you,” answered thé Countess, hastily. “ Bat I have been somewhat indisposed to-day — a partial head- ache-——” “My dearest Eleanor, this excuse would pass cur- rent with a meré acquaintance,” interrupted her Grace; “ but not with a sincere—a very sincere friend. Recollect Eleanor, we have known each other since our childhood, I might almost say—notwithstanding there is a difference of ten years between my age and yours. Therefore, as an elder sister do I speak to you—for as a sister I love you, Eleanor.” “ How can I sufficiently testify my gratitude for these generous expressions?” exclaimed the Countess of Desborough. “By making me the confidant of your seoret sor- THE MYSTERIES. ese heceacesstees, row,” was the prompt answer: “for a secret sorrow am [ assured that you cherish. But imagine not for an instant, Eleanor, that a base and contemptible feeling of curiosity urges me thus to address you. Intimate as I have been with you—devoted in our friendship as we are towards each other—this is the first time that I have ever ventured to touch upon so delicate a topic. Often and often have I beheld you pensive — thoughtful— melancholy—unhappy: and I have lonzed to throw my arms round your neck, and implore you to confide your sorrows to me, that [ might sympathise and console. Six years have now passed since you became the Countess of , Desborough—and I know that the alliance which you have formed has not ensured your felicity. Nay—this much is nu secret with the world gene- rally: but the cause is unsuspected—unknown—be- | yond all power of conjecture. To me, I confess, it is the greatest of mysteries: for the noble earl, your husband, appears to possess every qualification adapted to render your existence a paradise and win your best affections. Tell me, then, dearest Eleanor | —tell your sincerest and most attached friend the, source of your sorrow. Perhaps I may be enabled to counsel and advise: at all events I am certain to sympathise with you and offer such consolation as it may be in my power to impart.” “Tho world, then, is aware that his lordship and myself dwell not together in the sweet harmony of matrimonial bliss?” said the Countess of Desborough, casting down her looks, while a deep carnation suf- fused her cletir olive cheeks. “Such is indeed the case, Eleanor,’ retumed Georgiana. “But, understand me well—the world attributes no blame to you—your reputation is ut- sullied—scandal has never dared to whisper a syllable againgt you.” “Oh! it would be cruel indeed if it were other- wise!” exclaimed Eleanor, with a dagree of bitter- ness which surprised her friend. ‘But pray let us change the conversation—let us pass to some other topic.” “Have you no faith in friendship?” asked the Duchess of Devonshire, in a gentle tone of reproach: “can you not conceive that by unbosoming you to me, you will be consoled and comforted? Or do you fancy that the giddy whirl of pleasure and fash- ionable dissipation has rendered me so thoroughly heartless ——"” “Oh! no—no!” interrupted the Countess, shocked by the cruel suspicion thus implied: “I know thst you are everything kind — generous — aflection- ate ———” “Then you will trust me?—you will confide in me?” said Georgiana, her tone assuming the tendet- ness of the most unfeigned friendship. “ You do net require from my lips the assurance that your sectel whatever it may be, will rest as a sacred deposit 0 my bosom—never, never to be revealed.” “I know not what to say!” exclaimed Eleanor, clasping her hands in asudden paroxysm of while a tear rolled down each blushing cheek. “] am bewildered, Georgiana—I am uncertain how to act! Your kindness prompts me to unbosom my- self without reserve : but, on the other hand, feehngs which I cannot explain——” ee “Oh! you are indeed unhappy, my sweet friend, mterrupted her Grace; “and yet you hesitate t allow me the means of sympathising with you! Eleanor, this is cruel—this is unjust—for you ar a TT TS a Oe, ci, CERN cp FI cs i i <r cP COMIGBOOKS COMM