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

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

CAROLINE WALTERS 199 “Now take this key,’ continued Mrs. Brace, handing to the lady’s-maid the object alluded to. “It belongs to the sideboard in the room where Mr. Harley and Miss Clarendon now are; and at supper-time you will place upon the table, close to his right hand, the decanter of wine which you will find in that sideboard. You com- prehend? ”’ “Certainly, madam,” again responded the lady’s-maid. ‘Have you any further commands? ”’ “None. Oh, stay—I remember!’ exclaimed Mrs. Brace, suddenly recollecting a little commission which had been entrusted to her, and taking a letter from behind the ornaments on the mantel, she said, ‘‘ Mr. Harley wrote this just now and ordered that it should be sent to Mr. Meagles’s lodgings in the course of the evening. You will direct the footman to take it forthwith up to Jermyn Street.’ “Yes, madam,” and the abigail was about to withdraw, when Mrs. Brace again stopped her. “You may tell Miss Walters that I am now ready to depart with her,” she said, glancing at the timepiece and observing that it was a quarter past six o'clock; “ and she can bring me down my bonnet and cloak. You will likewise order a coach to be sent for.” “To the shop-door, madam? ”’ inquired Harriet. “ Certainly!’ ejaculated Mrs. Brace. ‘‘ Am I in the habit of going out by the door in St. James’s Square? ”’ she asked, somewhat petulantly. ‘“] beg your pardon, madam; but I was not aware for whom the hackney-coach was intended.” Having thus respectfully apologized, the abigail quitted the room. A few minutes alterward a very pretty girl of about sixteen made her appearance. She was a brunette, with fine eyes, beautiful teeth, and rich red lips; and her black hair was as remarkable for its luxuriance as for its silken fineness. ‘Though short in stature, she was perfectly sym- metrical in shape; and from beneath her long cloak peeped forth as delicate a foot and ankle as the most particular connoisseur could wish to behold. But, alas! there was a cloud upon the beautiful face of this young creature; and it was not the shade of the neat gipsy hat that was set so GOMmiGaIOOKS (GQ)