The Exclusives (vol. 3 of 3)Bury, Charlotte Campbell, Lady
General
The Exclusives (vol. 3 of 3)
Bury, Charlotte Campbell, Lady
Great Britain -- Social life and customs -- Fiction
"Did he leave any message? has he sent any note?" Still "No, no,"
sounded heavily in her ears. She prepared, however, for his return,
by taking more pains with her toilette than usual; and when she had
finished arraying herself, not according to the code of the _Belle
Assemblée_ or _Feuilles des Modes_, but in accordance with that of her
own young innocent face, her glass told her she had not done so in
vain. She then sat for some time with tolerable patience, first taking
up one book, then another, then throwing them down again; going to the
instrument, touching a few chords; turning over the ornamented leaves
of a Lilliputian music-book, invisibly written with a crow-quill;
pushing it away, leaving it to tumble down off the desk as it might,
and going to the window, the shutters of which she had not allowed the
servant to close, in order that she might listen to every cabriolet
that passed. At length she rang the bell, and was told that it was
eight o'clock.
"Is there no message from Lord Glenmore?" "No, my lady. Shall dinner be
served?" "No--yes--no--yes; bring up something, any thing is enough;"
and away she went to her splendid board in her splendid apartment, with
a train of liveried domestics, to sit down to a lonely dinner with an
aching heart. She hastily dismissed the servants, and then leaning back
on her chair, and suffering the tears that were choking her to flow
over her face--
"I wish we were poor, and he not political," she said, sobbing; "I
should not then be left alone, I should not be absent from him." A
servant entered with a note. She endeavoured to conceal her tears, and,
hastily opening it, read a few kind words from Lord Glenmore, which
spoke his regret at being prevented from meeting her at dinner; and
hoping she would go early to the French play with Lady Tenderden, where
he would join them if possible. The ebb and flow of young feelings
are very quick; and this note was such a cordial, that, as she ran up
stairs, she carolled in the gaiety of her altered feelings: so soon had
she forgot disappointment in anticipated pleasure.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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