The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 57: what you’re looking at

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

. 0 SE i eR _ se — THE MYSTERIES OF THE COURT. _ re ee eres ol panions courted. To abstract himself from their company at an early hour when what they called “the joviality of the evening” was only just be- ginning—or to decline forming one of whatsoever party of pleasure might be in contemplation— would be to seal his own exclusion from those circles in future. What was Octavian to do? He felt that he was entering upon a dangerous career, and that his naturally good principles were already receiving certain shocks, each suc- cessive one being accompanied with less remorse- ful feelings than the former; and he yearned to escape from these evil influences. But how was he todo so? His mind, having been chafed and disappointed, was too unsettled and restless to enable him to sit down quietly in the midst of books; and it was not to be expected that a young man just entering into life, would fly to some distant seclusion and turn hermit. On every occasion when invited to dine with the Duke of Marchmont or any other of his friends, Octa- vian would hesitate what answer to send: he trembled to go, yet knew not how to refuse; and so he went, vowing it should be for the last time. But these “last times” really never reached the end, nor fulfilled their own meaning; and thus Lord Octavian Meredith—with the highest aspi- rations, and the best capacities for doing himself |I will be frank with you,” good—was being gradually and imperceptibly sucked imto that vortex of dissipation which London life affords, and in which many a fine spirit, noble intellect, and magnanimous heart is wrecked and engulfed. It has been necessary to give the reader this long description of a young nobleman who is des- tined to play no inconsiderable part upon the stage of our story ; and he it now was who was ushered into the Duke of Marchmont’s presence soon after Mr. Armytage had taken his departure. “The very one whom at the instant I most longed to see!” exclaimed -the Duke, cordially grasping Octavian’s hand. “J was thinking of going for a good long ride: for to tell you the truth, I drank somewhat too much champagne last night By the bye, you were not one of us at Lord Oxenden’s ?” “ No—I was at a party at Mr. Armytage’s,’ plied Meredith. “Ah! Armytage has just been here,’ Duke. “ZT saw him driving away in his carriage,” ob- served Octavian, “ and bowed to him. But I wish, my dear Duke, you could give me half-an-hour of serious conversation—and then I will cheerfully accompany you in a ride.” “Serious conversation, my dear Meredith ?” ejaculated Marchmont, with a laugh. “Are you really disposed to be serious? Come, shall we have luncheon? A glass of hock and some soda- water will do us good.” * Not now, I pray you,’ responded Meredith. “ Give me the half-hour—and then I am at your bidding.” “i Bo, it so—the half-hour of serious discourse,” said the Duke: and he stretched himself indolently upon the sofa. “Now, Octavian, proceed: I am all attention.” “You know, my dear Duke,” resumed the young nobleman, “how I am situated with my father ts said the re > Ale Nae) le eS a er i a emp aitelnoolk “ Now, I will cut you short at once,” interrupted Marchmont. ‘You have temporary need of a sum of money? ‘Tell me without another word “how much it is—and my cheque-book is at hand.” “No, my dear Duke—it is not that,” replied Meredith, his looks expressing his gratitude for the offer. ‘ Nevertheless, I did come to solicit a fayour at your hands Tt is that you will use your interest to procure me a diplomatic post. I have an inclination to go abroad E “Ridiculous, Octavian!” exclaimed the Duke: “we cannot spare you from amongst our own set. But seriously speaking, my dear friend, I have not the slightest interest with the present Ministry. You know that I belong to the good old school of Toryism: I always vote against the Government on principle: and if there were a_ shoe-black’s situation to be given away, I might vainly ask for even so paltry a post for a nominee of my own.” “TI feared that it would be so,” observed Octa- vian, his handsome countenance becoming deeply overshadowed, and sorrow clouding his clear blue eyes. “But what means this sudden resolve on your part P” inquired Marchmont,—* this anxiety to get abroad P” “You have treated me with so much kindness, answered Octavian. “My means are limited—I am dependent on my father’s caprice—I have no profession, no position —and I long to improve my circumstances in every respect.” “T understand,” said the Duke; “and if is natural enough. But, Ah! my dear fellow, a thought strikes me! You know I do not flatter: but a young nobleman of your personal appear- ance, fine intellect, fascinating manners You should marry !” “Ah, marry!” said Octavian, with an ill- repressed sigh. “I have no fortune; and what father will consent to bestow his daughter, if she be an heiress, upon one so impoverished as Tp” “You under-rate your own merits,” the Duke of Marchmont. “In matrimonial affairs there are such things as equivalents. Sup- pose, for instance, a young lady brings you a decent fortune, and you confer upon her the rank | and tittle which she posggsses not ng “T. know that things are managed in this way,” | | observed observed Octavian slowly: “but to tell you the truth, it is a proceeding from which my pride recoils.” “ Pride!” echoed the Duke. “The only sacri- fice of pride that I can see, would be in the fact of you, a patrician, giying your hand’ to-a ple- beian,’ “You of all men to talk in this way! claimed Meredith, in unfeigned astonishment. “Ah! you faney that I am the proudest of the proud ?” observed the Duke. “ But I am looking 29 }?? ex- to your interests “And I candidly confess that the sacrifice of pride to which I alluded, is not precisely what you are thinking of. I meant to say,” continued Lord Octavian, “‘ that I should not like to be so much indebted to a wife for the enjoyment of a fortune. As for the distinctions between patri- cians and plebeians, you know very well that I am not such a Tory as yourself.” () S|