Volume I Part 19 (1/2)
”I have lost _my_ heart already.”
”By Jove! won't she make a noise in the gay world!”
”The beauty of the season.”
”A prize, independent of her large for tune!”
”And doubly a prize with.”
And thus the men prated of her among themselves.
The excitement at length subsided; and favoured by the obscurity of my situation, I could watch at a distance all her movements, and never tire of gazing upon that beaming face.
By some strange coincidence, I could hardly think it purely accidental, Mrs. Hepburn and her niece came up to the table upon which I was leaning.
I rose up in confusion, wondering if they would recognize me, and offered the elder lady my chair.
In my hurry and agitation, the portfolio fell from my hand, and the fine prints were scattered over the floor and table.
A general laugh arose at my expense; I felt annoyed, but laughed as loudly as the rest. Miss Lee, very good-naturedly a.s.sisted me in restoring the prints to their place, then looking earnestly in my face for a few seconds, she said--”Surely, I am not deceived--you are the gentleman who rescued me from that frightful situation in Oxford Street.”
”The same,” said I, with a smile.
”How delighted I am to meet you once more,” she exclaimed, giving me her hand, and warmly shaking mine; ”I was afraid that I should never see you again. And your name--you must tell me your name.”
”Geoffrey Moncton. But, Miss Lee, do not distress me by thinking so much of a trifling service, which gave me so much pleasure.”
”Trifling! do you call it? Sir, you saved my life, and I never can forget the debt of grat.i.tude I owe you. Aunt,” turning to Mrs. Hepburn, ”do you remember this gentleman? How often we have talked that adventure over, and wondered who my preserver was. It is such a pleasure to see him here.”
The old lady, though not quite so eloquent as her niece, was kind enough in her way. Wis.h.i.+ng to change the subject, I asked Miss Lee if she drew?
”A little.”
”Let us examine these beautiful prints,” said I.
I gave her a chair, and leant over her. My heart fluttered with delight. I forgot my recent mortification. I was near her, and, in the rapture of the moment, could have defied the malice of the whole world.
”I am no judge of the merits or demerits of a picture,” she said, in her sweet, gentle voice. ”I know what pleases me, and suffer my heart to decide for my head.”
”That is exactly my case, Miss Lee. A picture to interest me, must produce the same effect upon my mind as if the object represented was really there. This is the reason, perhaps, why I feel less pleasure in examining those pictures by the ancient masters, though portrayed with matchless skill, which represent the heathen deities. With Jupiter, Mars and Venus, I can feel little sympathy, while the truthful and spirited delineations of Wilkie and Gainsborough, which have beep familiar from childhood, strike home to the heart.”
Before Miss Lee could reply, Theophilus Moncton walked to the table at which we were talking. He stared at me, without deigning a word of recognition, and shook hands cordially with Miss Lee and her aunt.
”Happy to see you here, Catherine--was afraid you would be too much fatigued, after dancing all night, to give us a look in this evening.
Been admiring my prints? Splendid collection, ain't they? By-the-by, Mr. Geoffrey, I would thank you to be more careful in handling them.
Persons unaccustomed to fine drawings, are apt to injure them by rough treatment.”
A contemptuous glance was my reply, which was returned by a sidelong withering glare of hate.
”That picture, on the opposite side of the room,” continued my tormentor, anxious to divert Miss Lee's attention from me, ”is a fine portrait, by Sir Thomas Lawrence. You are an admirer of his style; let us examine the picture nearer; I want to have your opinion of it.”