The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 28: what you’re looking at

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

LTO TLIO Ee 22 reserve—a chilling ceremonial distance, with merely the gloss of well-bred courtesy over all—between the Duchess and Bertram Vivian. But of course no remark was verbally made; though covert and stealthy looks of surprise were exchanged. The natural impression was that Bertram—less gene- rous, less magnanimous than his elder brother— looked with ill-disguised discontent and annoyance on the marriage which his uncle had contracted ; and that the Duchess, perceiving this conduct on his part, resented it in a dignified and becoming manner. When the ladies had retired, the Duke—not wishing to judge his nephew hastily, but at the same time feeling it incumbent upon him to take some little notice, if only by barest allusion, of a tenour of conduct which every one had perceived— motioned him to bring his glass ahd come and sit next to him. Bertram obeyed with an alacrity which, trifling though the incident were, displayed a most willing obedience; and scarcely was he ‘seated by the Duke’s side, when he said in an earn- est manner, “Accept my sincerest thanks, dear uncle, for the handsome addition you have so con- tinuously made to my own restricted income. IL have endeavoured to render myself worthy of your generosity. And now, scarcely am I beneath your roof, when you make me offers of which any young man ought to be proud. I never will—I never can forget your goodness! God forbid that LI ever should !’—and it was with the sudden impulsive- ness of a naturally fervid nature, that Bertram took his uncle’s hand and pressed it warmly in his own. The Duke for an instant gazed upon him in wonderment, as he said to himself, “fs it possible that Bertram is a vile hypocrite—that in his heart he detests my marriage—that he is not altogether able to conceal his sentiments from my wife—but that fearing he has gone too far, he now seeks to propitiate and conciliate me ?” ‘Yet there was nothing in the young man’s countenance—nothing in the honest frankness with which his dark clear eyes encountered his uncle’s looks—to justify those suspicions. The Duke was bewildered ; and Bertram went on speaking. “You asked me,” he said, “if I would lke to enter Parliament ?—but I have no wish to remain ‘in England. English habits and tastes do not suit one who has been upwards of three years abroad. Besides,” added Bertram quickly, “‘ my views are entirely cast in the diplomatic sphere; and therein, dear uncle, do I solicit your interest. Believe me, I am in haste to get abroad again—no matter to what part of the world! I deemed it my bounden duty to come to Oaklands to pay my re- spects to you—to assure your Grace of my grati- tude—and to congratulate you on the happiness which you evidently enjoy.” “ Yes—I am happy with my amiable Duchess,” responded the Duke: and once more were his eyes fixed earnestly and scrutinizingly upon Bertram Vivian. “Report had not failed to waft her manifold good qualities to my ears,” he observed, without the slightest change of countenance, “even before I had the honour of meeting her Grace this day.” “And yet methinks, Bertram,” said the Duke, “you hardly treated her with the friendliness of a relative.” — A ne — THE MYSTERIES OF THE COURT. The young man gave no immediate answer: he dropped his kerchief, and deliberately picked it up. This interval of a single moment was sufficient for him to recover complete self-possession. “ Rest assured, uncle,” responded Bertram, “ that my conduct shall ever be marked with the pro- foundest respect towards the Duchess of March- mont yes, ever !” The Duke bit his lip for a moment. He thought there was something cold and distant in the answer —something which justified his suspicion that Ber- tram in his heart hated the match. But yet it was not a reply which would bear any comment - on his Grace’s part. It might even admit an in- terpretation which would throw out the delicacy of his nephew’s feelings in the most admirable light. What if he considered that respect was the only, or at least the most becoming demeanour which he ought to adopt towards a lady a year younger than himself, and who had merely become connected with him by marriage with a relative P—what if he were to consider that anything savouring of a more advanced cordiality might touch upon famili- arity, and that such familiarity might be viewed. suspiciously by the world? And then too, Bertram had really so little to gain if the Duke had re- mained unmarried and if he were to die childless. The elder brother Lord Clandon would become Duke of Marchmont—he would no doubt marry—he would probably have issue—and Bertram Vivian would gain the empty title of a lord by courtesy, without a Peer’s rank, and without a single addi- tional farthing to his income. All these thoughts swept through the mind of the Duke of Marchmont in the space of a few moments; and when he again turned his eyes upon Bertram Vivian, there was so much open- hearted frankness, so much lofty intellectuality, so much true grandeur of the soul depicted upon his faultlessly beautiful countenance, that the Duke felt he must have wronged him with his unfavourable suspicions,—while on the other hand, his favourable conjectures to account for his nephew’s conduct towards the Duchess, must after all be the right ones. The gentlemen re- joined the ladies in the drawing-room, where coffee was served round. Bertram leant against the mantel-piece, at a distance from all the rest,— at intervals silent and abstracted—at others falling with well-bred readiness and intellectual ease into the conversation that was going on. He did not once approach the Duchess—he never addressed his observations to her: but then no one could consider this as extraordinary, inasmuch as his remarks were made generally, and not in reply to the previous observations of any particular in- dividual. Still there was a visible restraint on the part of both Bertram and the Duchess: for she never once even so much as turnec her eyes upon him; and she also had her intervals of silence and abstraction, which never were perceived before. The guests separated to their respective chambers with the conviction that Bertram hated the marriage, and that the Duchess fathomed his feeling and properly resented it in the way that a well-bred lady could alone exhibit her offended and indignant pride. The Duke of Marchmont, too, again wavered in his opinion, and was again inclined to think that this was the true reading of the mystery. He therefore said nothing to Eliza —___, COMETS <SHGO) =