Devereux — Volume 01Lytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
History
Devereux — Volume 01
Lytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
Great Britain -- History -- Anne, 1702-1714 -- Fiction
THE Abby disappeared! It is astonishing how well everybody bore his
departure. My mother scarcely spoke on the subject; but along the
irrefragable smoothness of her temperament all things glided without
resistance to their course, or trace where they had been. Gerald, who,
occupied solely in rural sports or rustic loves, seldom mingled in the
festivities of the house, was equally silent on the subject. Aubrey
looked grieved for a day or two: but his countenance soon settled into
its customary and grave softness; and, in less than a week, so little
was the Abbe spoken of or missed that you would scarcely have imagined
Julian Montreuil had ever passed the threshold of our gate. The
oblivion of one buried is nothing to the oblivion of one disgraced.
Meanwhile I pressed for my departure; and, at length, the day was
finally fixed. Ever since that conversation with Lady Hasselton which
has been set before the reader, that lady had lingered and
lingered--though the house was growing empty, and London, in all
seasons, was, according to her, better than the country in any--until
the Count Devereux, with that amiable modesty which so especially
characterized him, began to suspect that the Lady Hasselton lingered on
his account. This emboldened that bashful personage to press in earnest
for the fourth seat in the beauty's carriage, which we have seen in the
conversation before mentioned had been previously offered to him in
jest. After a great affectation of horror at the proposal, the Lady
Hasselton yielded. She had always, she said, been dotingly fond of
children, and it was certainly very shocking to send such a chit as the
little Count to London by himself.
My uncle was charmed with the arrangement. The beauty was a peculiar
favourite of his, and, in fact, he was sometimes pleased to hint that he
had private reasons for love towards her mother's daughter. Of the
truth of this insinuation I am, however, more than somewhat suspicious,
and believe it was only a little ruse of the good knight, in order to
excuse the vent of those kindly affections with which (while the
heartless tone of the company his youth had frequented made him ashamed
to own it) his breast overflowed. There was in Lady Hasselton's
familiarity--her ease of manner--a certain good-nature mingled with her
affectation, and a gayety of spirit, which never flagged,--something
greatly calculated to win favour with a man of my uncle's temper.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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