We all remember the terrible exclamation of the dying profligate, when a
friend, to destroy what he supposed the hypochondriac idea of a spectre
appearing in a certain shape at a given hour, placed before him a person
dressed up in the manner he described. "Mon Dieu!" said the expiring
sinner, who, it seems, saw both the real and polygraphic apparition,
"il y en a deux!" The surprise of the Lord Keeper was scarcely less
unpleasing at the duplication of the expected arrival; his mind misgave
him strangely. There was no neighbour who would have approached so
unceremoniously, at a time when ceremony was held in such respect. It
must be Lady Ashton, said his conscience, and followed up the hint with
an anxious anticipation of the purpose of her sudden and unannounced
return. He felt that he was caught "in the manner." That the company
in which she had so unluckily surprised him was likely to be highly
distasteful to her, there was no question; and the only hope which
remained for him was her high sense of dignified propriety, which, he
trusted, might prevent a public explosion.
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