The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 202: what you’re looking at

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THE MYSTERIES OF THE COURT. “Thank you—but I must decline your hospitality. I will breakfast with you at any 28 you name in the morning.” “That must be at five ounioenally rejoined Forester: “for we have to be upon the ground at half-past six o’clock.” ‘‘And which is the appointed place?” asked Deveril. “The fields in the immediate vicinage of Hamp- stead Heath. By the bye, Captain Lennox under- took to bring the regimental surgeon with him; and therefore we need not trouble ourselves on that point. Have you got pistols? No. Well, I will take mine—and at all events you will have the be- nefit of good ones. And now, what are you going to do with yourself? You will net come with me to my rooms—shall I stay with you? or shall we go out together for an hour or two?” “TI wish to remain alone,” answered Deveril. “ Do not think me rude or churlish, nor insensible to your kind intention ~ “Not at all, my dear fellow,” exclaimed Forester. “Tn these circumstances one does exactly as one chooses. Good night, then. You will be with me at five ?” “Not a minute later,’ answered Deveril: and My. Forester thereupon took his leave of the young ertist. CHAPTER Xi . THE DUEL. Ir we look into Lord Harold Staunton’s lodgings in Jermyn Street, at precisely the same time when the preceding interview took place between Forester and Deveril in Pall Mall, we shall find that noble- man seated alone in his drawing-room. Captain Lennox had just left him, having communicated the arrangements made with Mr. Forester, and having settled the hour of appointment when vel were to meet again in the morning. Lord Harold’s countenance was grave and serious. It was not that he feared the duel, nor dreaded its consequences in respect to himself: but he scarcely admiyed the part he had played in provoking it. “¢ When once I stand in the presence of William Deveril,” he said to himself, “I cannot help taking a deadly aim at him. It is for this purpose I have provoked the duel—and I almost wish that what has been done could be safely and honourably un- done. But no: that is impossible! Iam a fool,” he suddenly exclaimed, speaking aloud and rising from his seat, “ to let these feelings grow upon me. What is a duel after all? It is an incident in the life of every man of the world, and is fraught with an eclat of a flattering nature. Well, but somehow or another I cannot see the thing in this light on the present occasion. Pshaw! this is drivelling folly—I will and must be gay!” Scarcely had he spoken these words, when a loud double knock reverberated through the house; and Lord Saxondale was speedily introduced. “A pretty fellow you are, Harold, to make an appointment with me to dine at Long’s and then preak it. So I had to dine by myself. Good turtle and venison, however—and iced-punch excellent. Those were consolations,” ee aE nant ii {87 “You must forgive me, my dear fellow,” an- swered Staunton; “but some particular business kept me away from you. However, we can now go out and pass an hour or two together.” “ What the deuce is the matter with you?” asked Edmund, surveying his friend with attention: “you have a strange look, and a sort of forced gaiety. Has anything happened? I hope nothing bad. Perhaps your creditors have been dunning you <a “Well, it is something of that sort,” observed Staunton, compelling himself to laugh, althcugh ho was not altogether inthe humour. “ But come— let us go and amuse ourselves somewhere.” “That is exactly what I wish,” returned Saxon- dale. “Emily Archer is dancing away to-night at the Opera—and she will net have me to escort her home.” “What do you mean? You have broken with her already.” “Not [indeed! I mean that since I am going to amuse myself with you, she must amuse herself alone for once. Come.” The two young nobleman new strolled forth to- gether. First of all they visited the gaming-tabk; and Saxondale, though by no means a shrewd ob- server, could not avoid noticing a continuation of that peculiarity which he had already seen in his friend’s manner: but Harold had his own reasons for saying nothing to Edmund relative to the pend- irg duel. He gambled recklessly, and drank large draughts of wine. His purse was well filled with money: for the reader will recollect that he had received a thousand-pound-note in the morning from the unknown lady of the masquerade. At least three hundred pounds of this sum he lost in about half-an-hour; and then suddenly flinging down the dice box, he said to his friend, “ Come, Saxondale— I have had enough of this. Let us be off.” Sallying forth from the gambling-house, the two young noblemen visited the cider-cellars — then looked in at the Coal Hole—and subsequently be- stowed the honour ef their presence upon three or four other places of the same sort,—Lord Harold everywhere drinking immederately. At two o’clock in the morning they wound up their amusements with a supper of devilled kidneys and Welcb-rabbits at Hvans’s in Covent Garden; and then they sepa- rated, Lord Saxondale going home uncommonly tipsy in a cab, and Lord Harold Staunton proceed- ing to Jermyn Street on foot, that the fresh air of the morning might cool his heated brows. Not that he himself was intoxicated. He could always im- bibe with impunity a large quantity of liquor; and though within the last few hours he had partaken of far more than even on such occasions he was wont to do, yet he scarcely felt the effects thereof. On entering his ludgings he bade Alfred — to whom he had confidentially communicated the pending duel—call him precisely at five o'clock: he then threw himself, dressed as he was, upon the bed, and sank into a troubled and agitated sleep. But we must now transport the reader’s atten- tion to Mr. Forster’s rooms in the Albany, and sup pose that the hour of five in the morning was being proclaimed from all the steeples of the West End, Punctual to his appointment, William Deveril made his appearanee. Forester grasped him cordially by the hand, and surveyed him earnestly to see how he bore the prospect of the life-and-death aflaur about ei ee ee CORNICLOO (Cc S (CO)