HER LIFE AND LETTERS.

BY

LADY GEORGIANA FULLERTON.

"On veut des romans, que ne regarde-t-on de près à l'histoire ?"
M. GUIZOT, Revue des Deux-Mondes.

IN TWO VOLUMES.

VOL. II.

LONDON:

HURST AND BLACKETT, PUBLISHERS,
SUCCESSORS TO HENRY COLBURN,

13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET.

1858.

The right of Translation is reserved.

210. C. 100.

LONDON:

R. BORN, PRINTER, GLOUCESTER STREET, PARK STREET, CAMDEN TOWN.

THE COUNTESS DE BONNEVAL.

First Chapter.

"Men give to dust that is a little gilt

More laud than they will give to gold o'erdusted." SHAKESPEARE.

"He lives, not yet is past his manhood's prime,
Though seared by toil, and something touched by time
His faults, whate'er they were, if scarce forgot,
Might be untaught him by his varied lot."

"Partakers of thy sad decline,

Thy hands their little force resign,
Yet gently prest, press gently mine.
Such feebleness of limbs thou provest
That now at every step thou movest
Upheld by two, yet still thou lovest."

BYRON.

COWPER.

A FEW days later Judithe was sitting in her mother's drawing-room, apparently listening to the conversation of a circle

VOL. II.

B

of evening visitors, but more occupied the while in watching the door through which the guests were introduced, or straining her ears to detect the sound of a carriage in the court below.

M. de Bonneval had been absent for nearly a week, and the time had seemed very long to her impatience. Each time that a bell on the staircase gave notice of the arrival of a fresh fresh visitor her heart beat with the hope of seeing him appear, and when some and when some other person was announced, she breathed a little inaudible sigh.

Mesdames de Seignelay, de Courcillon, and de Soubise, Messieurs de Guiche, de Brancas, de Gêvres, and d'Aumont were successively ushered in, and a few moments afterwards M. de Bonrepos arrived. She was not sorry that he came and seated himself by her side.

There are moments in life when the

society of a real real and very old friend has power to soothe us.

When we feel

oppressed by some secret sorrow that we would not for worlds betray, or perhaps even acknowledge to ourselves, though our hearts may be aching at the time; there is something very refreshing in the presence of one who has always loved us; the sound of whose voice, and the kind playfulness of whose words, remind us of the days of our childhood,-of past years of peace and joy. Judithe was glad to escape from taking share in the animated conversation that was going on around her mother's sofa to a tête-à-tête with M. de Bonrepos, who had no eyes and no ears but for her. He tried, as usual, to entertain her with a variety of anecdotes, but finding her somewhat absent, he pulled out of his pocket a miniature-portrait of her sister, Madame de Bonac, and called her attention to its exquisite finish.