Godolphin, Volume 3.

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GODOLPHIN, Volume 3. By Edward Bulwer Lytton (Lord Lytton)
Bring me that book; place that table nearer; and leave me.
The Abigail obeyed the orders, and the young Countess of Erpingham was alone. Alone! what a word for a young and beautiful bride in the first months of her marriage! Alone! and in the heart of that mighty city in which rank and wealth—and they were hers—are the idols adored by millions.
It was a room fancifully and splendidly decorated. Flowers and perfumes were, however, its chief luxury; and from the open window you might see the trees in the old Mall deepening into the rich verdure of June. That haunt, too—a classical haunt for London—was at the hour I speak of full of gay and idle life; and there was something fresh and joyous in the air, the sun, and the crowd of foot and horse that swept below.
Was the glory gone from your brow, Constance?—or the proud gladness from your eye? Alas! are not the blessings of the world like the enchanted bullets?—that which pierces our heart is united with the gift which our heart desired!
Lord Erpingham entered the room. Well, Constance, said he, shall you ride on horseback to-day?
I think not.
Then I wish you would call on Lady Delville. You see Delville is of my party: we sit together. You should be very civil to her, and I did not think you were so the other night.
You wish Lady Delville to support your political interest; and, if I mistake not, you think her at present lukewarm?
Precisely.