Dame Sherborne was in an inner
room, but, alarmed by the noise, she flew to the aid of her charge, and
reached her at the same moment with the intruders. Her lamp threw its
light full upon their countenances; and when she found who they were,
she screamed and nearly let it fall, appearing to stand much more in
need of support than Aveline herself.
The foremost of the two was Sir Giles Mompesson, and his usually stern
and sinister features had acquired a yet more inauspicious cast, from
the deathlike paleness that bespread them, as well as from the fillet
bound round his injured brow. The other was an antiquated coxcomb, aping
the airs and graces of a youthful gallant, attired in silks and velvets
fashioned in the newest French mode, and exhaling a mingled perfume of
civet, musk, and ambergris; and in him Aveline recognised the amorous
old dotard, who had stared at her so offensively during the visit she
had been forced to make to the extortioner.
Sir Francis's deportment was not a whit less impertinent or
objectionable now than heretofore. After making a profound salutation to
Aveline, which he thought was executed in the most courtly style, and
with consummate grace, he observed in a loud whisper to his partner,
"'Fore heaven! a matchless creature! a divinity! Introduce me in due
form, Sir Giles."
"Suffer me to make known to you Sir Francis Mitchell, fair mistress,"
said Mompesson.
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