Chapters (28)
- A LADY OF QUALITY
- *
- Contents
- A Lady of Quality
- Chapter I - The Twenty-Fourth Day of November 1690
- Chapter II - In Which Sir Jeoffry Encounters His Offspring
- Chapter III - Wherein Sir Jeoffry's Boon Companions Drink a Toast
- Chapter IV - Lord Twemlow's Chaplain Visits His Patron's Kinsman, and Mistress Clorinda Shines on Her Birthday Night
- Chapter V - "Not I," Said She "there Thou Mayst Trust Me I Would Not Be Found Out"
- Chapter VI - Relating How Mistress Anne Discovered a Miniature
- Chapter VII - 'Twas the Face of Sir John Oxon the Moon Shone Upon
- Chapter VIII - Two Meet in the Deserted Rose Garden, and the Old Earl of Dunstanwolde is Made a Happy Man
- Chapter IX - "I Give to Him the Thing He Craves with All His Soul—Myself"
- Chapter X - "Yes—I Have Marked Him"
- Chapter XI - Wherein a Noble Life Comes to an End
- Chapter XII - Which Treats of the Obsequies of My Lord of Dunstanwolde, of His Lady's Widowhood, and of Her Return to Town
- Chapter XIII - Wherein a Deadly War Begins
- Chapter XIV - Containing the History of the Breaking of the Horse Devil, and Relates the Returning of His Grace of Osmonde from France
- Chapter XV - In Which Sir John Oxon Finds Again a Trophy He Had Lost
- Chapter XVI - Dealing with that Which was Done in the Panelled Parlour
- Chapter XVII - Wherein His Grace of Osmonde's Courier Arrives from France
- Chapter XVIII - My Lady Dunstanwolde Sits Late Alone and Writes
- Chapter XIX - A Piteous Story is Told, and the Old Cellars Walled In
- Chapter XX - A Noble Marriage
- Chapter XXI - An Heir is Born
- Chapter XXII - Mother Anne
- Chapter XXIII - "In One Who Will Do Justice, and Demands that it Shall Be Done to Each Thing He Has Made, by Each Who Bears His Image"
- Chapter XXIV - The Doves Sate Upon the Window-Ledge and Lowly Cooed and Cooed
Thus she bent forward gazing, until he turned and the oaks hid him from her sight; and even then the spell was not dissolved, and she still regarded the place where he had passed, until a sound behind her made her start violently. It was a peal of laughter, high and rich, and when she so started and turned to see whom it might be, she beheld her sister Clorinda, who was standing just within the threshold, as if movement had been arrested by what had met her eye as she came in. Poor Anne put her hand to her side again.
"Oh sister!" she gasped; "oh sister!" but could say no more.
She saw that she had thought falsely, and that Clorinda had not been out at all, for she was in home attire; and even in the midst of her trepidation there sprang into Anne's mind the awful thought that through some servant's blunder the comely young visitor had been sent away. For herself, she expected but to be driven forth with wrathful, disdainful words for her presumption. For what else could she hope from this splendid creature, who, while of her own flesh and blood, had never seemed to regard her as being more than a poor superfluous underling? But strangely enough, there was no anger in Clorinda's eyes; she but laughed, as though what she had seen had made her merry.
"You here, Anne," she said, "and looking with light-mindedness after gallant gentlemen! Mistress Margery should see to this and watch more closely, or we shall have unseemly stories told. You, sister, with your modest face and bashfulness! I had not thought it of you."
Suddenly she crossed the room to where her sister stood drooping, and seized her by the shoulder, so that she could look her well in the face.
"What," she said, with a mocking not quite harsh—"What is this? Does a glance at a fine gallant, even taken from behind an oriel window, make such change indeed? I never before saw this look, nor this colour, forsooth; it hath improved thee wondrously, Anne—wondrously."
"Sister," faltered Anne, "I so desired to see your birth-night ball-gown, of which Mistress Margery hath much spoken—I so desired—I thought it would not matter if, the door being open and it spread forth upon the bed—I—I stole a look at it. And then I was tempted—and came in."
"And then was tempted more," Clorinda laughed, still regarding her downcast countenance shrewdly, "by a thing far less to be resisted—a fine gentleman from town, with love-locks falling on his shoulders and ladies' hearts strung at his saddle-bow by scores. Which found you the most beautiful?"
"Your gown is splendid, sister," said Anne, with modest shyness. "There will be no beauty who will wear another like it; or should there be one, she will not carry it as you will."