Miles Tremenhere: A Novel. Vol. 1 of 2Maillard, Annette Marie
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Miles Tremenhere: A Novel. Vol. 1 of 2
Maillard, Annette Marie
English fiction
"I will not mention names, but facts; this Tremenhere, under a quiet
exterior, is a libertine,--one who knows no such thing as honour by
practice, though it is a favourite theme of his. Enraged, I presume, by
Lady Dora's just repulsion of his impertinence, he carried off a most
lovely girl from the neighbourhood, to the distraction of her family,
and this girl is now residing with him near Chiswick."
"By heavens!" exclaimed the other, "how one may be deceived! Had this
girl no brother?"
"None; those kind of men know where they can in security work their
villanies, and when this man complained to you that he could meet with
no face worthy of his Aurora, I involuntarily thought of this girl, for
she is the perfection of beauty in fairness."
"You know her?"
"I have seen her often; pardon my concealing her name, for the sake of
her family."
"Egad, Dalby, I should like to see this girl! I worship beauty; the
fellow deserves it at my hands for his impertinence to Lady Dora."
Dalby had exactly cut his diamond as he had desired to do. "Should you?"
he said thoughtfully; "I will think how it may be done, but he is
deucedly jealous often."
"Are they married?" asked Lord Randolph.
"I have _heard_ so, but we hear many things which are untrue." It would
not have done to have said, Yes--for, though a fool, Lord Randolph was
not devoid of principle.
"He is too jealous, at all events," continued the other, "to make her
'An Aurora' for others to gaze upon."
"Is she then so beautiful?" asked his host eagerly.
"I tell you this, my lord," was the emphatic reply. "I have seen much
beauty, many portraits--I cannot in honest truth except _even_ Lady
Dora--I never saw _any one_ to equal Mrs. Tremenhere, as they call her."
"_By_ George!" exclaimed his lordship, throwing his cigar in the
fire--the words and action, spoke volumes of emotion, for him.
Dalby saw his scheme had taken root; curiosity leads to more real
mischief than many another actual vice--he rose.
"Don't go yet; here, smoke another cigar before you go: it is early--not
twelve."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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