The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 308: what you’re looking at

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THE MYSTERIES OF THE COURT. a ann eer eae aaaaaaeaaaeaaaamaaamaaaaaaaaaeamaaaaaaaaaaaama aac aataaaaaa aaa el 293 The attorneys then intimated to Saxondale the amount of the addition to be made to his monthly allowance until he should come of age; and after another lecturing, whioh he listened to with sundry yawns and other evidences of impatience, he was at length permitted to take his leave. We cannot however immediately divert the reader’s notice from the office of Messrs. Marlow and Malton: for soon after Edmund Saxondale’s departure, the door of the private room was again opened, and a clerk entered to announce that a gen- tleman giving the name of Mr. Gunthorpe requested an interview. Marlow desired him to be at once admitted; and our old friend bustled into the pre- sence of the attorneys, with his hat in one hand, his cane in the other, and his scratch wig turned the least thing awry by accident. Having taken a seat, he at once said, “I believe, gentlemen, that you are the attorneys of Lady Saxondale ?”’ “We have that honour,” replied Mr. Marlow. “Then, gentlemen, I request that you will give me your very best attention,” resumed Mr. Gun- thorpe. ‘You doubtless read in the newspapers of a duel which recently took place between Lord her ladyship from the scandal of exposure in a law-court.” “But what counter-allegation does Mr. Deveril make ?” inquired Marlow. “Mr. Deveril declares that her ladyship poured forth in his ears an avowal of love—that she acted towards him in a manner the most indecorous—and that plainly avowing marriage to be impossible, she offered to become his paramour.” ‘Mr. Gunthorpe,” ejaculated Marlow, “it is im- possible this discourse can continue. My partner and I have had the honour and pleasure of Lady Saxondale’s acquaintance ever since her husband’s death—that is, about nineteen years: and if we were asked to point out amongst the ladies of the Aristocracy one who by her exceeding rectitude of conduct, her unvarying prudence, her self-elevation above everything savouring of levity, much more above everything calculated to excite the breath of scandal, we should not hesitate to name Lady Saxondale.” “ Appearances cannot always be trusted,” ob- served Mr. Gunthorpe. “It is quite possible that Lady Saxondale may have conducted herself during Harold Staunton and a young gentleman of the | along series of years with the utmost propriety : name of Deveril. Now, in this Mr. Deveril I ex- | but in this instance it is evident enough to me that bP] perience some degree of interest | she was beguiled by a strong infatuation into the “T think I once saw him,” said Marlow, “at Lady | grossest imprudence. I also have as high an opinion Saxondale’s house. ladies drawing, or painting, or something of the kind, until he so misconducted himself towards their mother ?” “Stop!” ejaculated Mr. Gunthorpe: “that is the very point I have come about. He did not misconduct himself. It is altogether a base fabri- cation on Lady Saxondale’s part “Mr. Gunthorpe,” exclaimed Marlow, “I can- not permit this language. client——” * And that is the very reason why I have come to you. . Mr. Deveril is perfectly incapable of such conduct as Lady Saxondale has represented. She has injured him in two ways—in a pecuniary sense by procuring his exclusion from the houses of her acquaintances, and in a moral sense by damaging his reputation. With regard to the former it is a mere nothing in comparison with the latter. Thank heaven, he is comfortably off through his own industry and other circumstances ; and if he were not, my purse would be open to him. But to be injured in the point which is dearest to an honourable man—his character— this : is the source of affliction as well as the wrong Her ladyship is our | Did he not teach the young | of William Deveril as you have of Lady Saxondale. I know that Deveril was incapable of bending an impure look upon Lady Saxondale—much more of daring to offer an insulting overture. It is abso- lutely in redible. Even before the duel, I was per- fectly convinced of hisinnocence in this respect: but since the duel I have received what I consider to be the fullest corroboration. In a word, gentlemen, the night before that duel took place, he wrote several letters, amongst which there was one to me. I have since read it; and therein he confessed to me that he was deeply enamoured of a young lady; and being so enamoured—enamoured indeed almost to infatuation—it is not credible that he would have made tender overtures to Lady Saxondale.” ‘“‘ All this may be perfectly logical in your esti- mation, Mr. Gunthorpe: but we cannot see with your eyes. At the same time,” continued Mr. Marlow, “I must thank you for coming to call upon us with a view to prevent the disagreeables of a law-suit. It speaks well for yourself; and I am quite ready to confess that although we do not doubt the issue for a minute, we should not like to see Lady Saxondale’s name paraded before the country in such a manner. What is it that Mr. that is to be vindicated; and if there is justice in Deveril requires?” England, and it can be obtained for money, William | Deveril shall have it.” “Do you mean to threaten her ladyship with an action on Mr. Deveril’s account ?” asked Marlow. “Most decidedly,” responded Gunthorpe. “It appears to be the only way of vindicating Mr. Deveril’s fair fame. I called upon her ladyship ; and she refused to make such amends as she ought. I would have allowed the matter to be settled as quietiy as possible, so as to compromise her as little as might be: but she boldly stood out. Now, both Mr. Deveril and myself are still averse to taking extreme measures; and therefore I thought I would call and sce if you, as Lady Saxondale’s iriends and legal advisers, would interfere to save “A written acknowledgment of the falsity of Lady Saxundale’s accusation; and this he pledges himself he will only exhibit in those quarters where he has reason to believe the calumny has been pro- pagated. Ishould have called upon you ere this, had it not been for the duel which has stretched my poor young friend Deveril upon his bed: so that I lost all thought of everything except his danger. Now he is approaching convalescence, and it is time to adopt measures to clear his character.” “You are aware perhaps that Lady Saxondale has left town, and that she is plunged into the deep- est grief on account of her youngest daughter Miss Constance Farefield—or rather I suppose,” added Marlow, “the Marchioness of Villebelle, as she must CORnRICLOOKS.ECO