It was Epsom week. London was all astir with the influx of company returning from the races.
A pale girl sat alone in one of the apartments of an hotel in Brook Street, listening long and anxiously to the coming sounds of the carriage-wheels, as they whirled along in that direction.
At length a carriage stopped before the door, and in a few moments a lady entered the room, whose showy costume and flushed excited countenance, (forming so strong a contrast to the appearance of the other, whom she warmly greeted,) plainly evinced her to have but just returned from that gay resort, the Stand at Epsom.
"You are come then, dear Mary. I hope you have not been very long waiting."
"No, not so very long," and the eyes of the speaker wandered anxiously towards the door, as if she seemed to expect the appearance of a second person.
Mrs. de Burgh understood that glance too well—she shook her head compassionately.
"Alas!—no, dear Mary; you must not expect to see him just now; he has been unfortunately prevented—that was the reason which made me so late; but I will tell you all about it presently, only let me have a glass of wine first, for I am nearly exhausted."
And during the interval of suspense, whilst Mrs. de Burgh refreshed herself after the fatiguing pleasures of the day, let us remind our readers, that the momentous year had some little time ago drawn to a close. Its expiration had not, however, brought with it, any immediate results.
Nothing had been seen or heard of Eugene Trevor by any of the family for the first month or two. He had been in London only at intervals, and he had not opened any communication with his fiancée, till she—on coming to London at the urgent solicitation of her sister Lady Morgan, who was not well—had a few days after her arrival, been surprised by a note from Mrs. de Burgh, whom she was not aware was even in town, begging her to come to her—naming a particular day—at the hotel where she was staying—as Eugene Trevor wished particularly to see her. She added that he would be obliged by her not mentioning the object of this visit to her relations, lest by any chance they might interfere with the interview, and it was very necessary that it should occur, before any more general communication took place.
"Still mystery and concealment!" was poor Mary's disappointed soliloquy. "Why not come here openly and see and speak to me? But I will go this once, as Eugene wishes it, and I cannot refuse perhaps without occasioning trouble and confusion."