The Seamstress; or, The White Slave of England — page 43: what you’re looking at

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

20 THE SEAMSTRESS, already consented to sign his own death-sentence. , Now, do not forget to come or send and fetch me to “ Good night— good night.” her Grace’s chamber the moment her energies and “Or rather good morning, my lord,” responded | faculties appear to be recovering from the shock the lawyer ;—and he then took his departure. which they have experienced.” “Your Grace shall be obeyed in everything,” rejoined the abigail. The Duke then reiterated his promises of reward and descended to the breakfast-parlour : while | Clementine hastened on tip-toe back to her lady's | chamber. At half-past eight in the morning the Duke issued % * Ah! it is no wonder that his Grace is anxious from his bed-chamber ; and proceeding tothe apart- to be the first to catch whatever may fall from ment of the Duchess, he knocked gently at the door, her lips,” thought the Frenchwoman within her- which was immediately opened bv Clementine, the | self, as she contemplated the pale but beautiful French lady’s-maid. She placed her finger upon | countenance of the sleeping Duchess. “This affair is her lip, as much as to imply that the Duchess was involved in the deepest mystery—and his Graco is sleeping and should not be disturbed;—and the | perhaps jealous and suspicious of his splendid wife. Duke, after hesitating a moment, beckoned her to, But why should Lavenham endeavour to make follow him into the ante-chamber. away with her? Ah! she is doubtless innocent, Clementine accordingly closed the door of com- | poor thing!—and her assassin was driven to desper- munication between the boudoir and sleeping apart- | ation because she repulsed him. Yes—that must ment, the arrangements of which have already been | be the true version of the affair. They say that described in a previous chapter ;—and, wondering | Mr. Lavenham has lent the Duke no end of money; what the Duke could have to say to her with an air | —and he certainly has been very intimate at the of so much mystery, she followed him to the ante- | house. But I never saw or heard of the slightest chamber belonging to that suite of rooms. thing at all wrong between him and her Grace. He “How is her ladyship this morning, do you! always treated her with the utmost respect; and he think, Clementine?” inquired the nobleman: “ at | seemed remarkably fond of Lord Arden, who is not least, so far as you are enabled to judge ?” her son at all. He was a friend to the family in all “ Her Grace has slept well, my lord,’ was the | respects, up to the terrible moment tha: he com- reply. “The medical gentleman remained with her | mitted this awful deed. But the Duke is anxious Grace, as you are aware, until nearly four o’clock; | to hear the first words that her ladyship breathes and it was a good sign that they considered them- | when she recovers the use of her speech. No such selves justified in leaving her for a short while. The | thing, my lord—no such thing! The first person surgeon returned half-an-hour ago and was pleased | shall be a certain Mademoiselle Clementine—and to find that her Grace was slumbering so tranquilly. | that’s myself! Ifthere’s any mystery in the affair, He will come back again presently with the physi- | I’ll find it out somehow or another.” cian.” And the abigail smiled complaisantly as the “ And you will doubtless continue to attend upon | current of her thoughts led to this satisfactory de- your lady, Clementine ?” said the Duke, inquiringly. | termimation. “It will be my duty and pleasure to remain as} In the meantime, as we have already said, the much as possible with her Grace, my lord,” was the | Duke of Belmont had descended to the breakfast- answer. ; parlour, where he was shortly after joined by his “Good!” exclaimed the nobleman. ‘ You are an | son, the Marquis of Arden. Lady Mary Melcombe, excellent young woman—and I have cunfidence in | the Duke’s younger daughter, was somewhat better, you. It is therefore my wish that you do remain | but unable to leave her chamber; and Lady Cla- as much as you can with your lady. Her Grace | rissa remained with her sister. The Duke and his will require all your care—all your attention ;— | son were therefore alone together ;—and an evident and you may rest assured of being well rewarded. | embarrassment prevailed on either side. For the Day and night must you stay with her, Clementine,” | young Marquis had not forgotten the manner in added the Duke, with a marked emphasis; “and to | which he had been excluded trom the deliberations none other of her Grace’s attendants must you yield between his father and Mr. Collinson: while the up your post by her bed-side. Thisis my command | Duke remembered that he had promised his son —my wish—my entreaty:—do youcomprehend?” | the fullest explanations, which he was however by “Yes, my lord,’ returned the Frenchwoman, | no means inclined to give. , supremely flattered by the trust thus reposed in her.| “May I ask,” said Charles, at length breaking “I promise your Grace that I will not quit my dear the long silence which had followed the usual lady even for a moment, until she be out of danger.” | morning greetings, “whether your lordship’s in- “That is precisely what I require,” said the Duke. ' terview with Mr. Collinson was productive of “And you will not fail to watch attentively for tho satisfactory results? I presume that I may make moment when her Grace shall recover the faculty of this inquiry without being considered indiscreet, specch—so that you may instantaneously communi- | seeing that I am somewhat interested in the affairs cate the fact to me.” of the house of Belmont.” T will remember all your lordship’s injunctions,” *“ Wherefore this ironical way of addressing me, responded Clementine. Charles ?”? demanded the Duke, in a tone of mingled “Not only must you keep watch for that pur- | impatience and reproach. “ Somewhat interested ! pose,” continued the Duke,—“ but likewise to catch Of course you are interested hy the very first murmur that may escape from her; ‘And therefore I could not understand the mo- tongue as the herald of the reviving power of speech. tive which led to my exclusion from a conference of oorwvey CHAPTER XI. THE DAY AFTER THE BALL. pn d SS eee ee GEomichoo <S