lost and her poor breath
Still vainly struggling on!
—Milnes.
The "Ocean Empress" steamed her way eastward. The month was favorable; the weather bright; the wind fair and the sea calm. Every circumstance promised a pleasant voyage. None but a few unreasonable people grew seasick; and even they could not keep it up long.
There was a very select and agreeable set of passengers in the first cabin.
But Lord and Lady Vincent were the only titled persons present; and from both European and American voyagers received a ridiculous amount of homage.
Claudia enjoyed the worship, though she despised the worshipers. Her spirits had rebounded from their depression. She was Lady Vincent, and in the present enjoyment and future anticipation of all the honors of her rank. She gloried in the adulation her youth, beauty, wealth, and title commanded from her companions on the steamer; hut she gloried more in the anticipation of future successes and triumphs on a larger scale and more extensive field.
She rehearsed in imagination her arrival in London, her introduction to the family of the viscount; her presentation to the queen; and the sensation she would produce at her majesty's drawing room, where she was resolved, even if it should cost her her whole fortune, to eclipse every woman present, not only in the perfection of her beauty, but also in the magnificence of her dresses and the splendor of her jewels. And after that what a season she would pass in London! Whoever was queen of England, she would he queen of beauty and fashion.
And then she would visit with Lord Vincent all the different seats of his family; and every seat would be the scene of a new ovation! As the bride of the heir she would be idolized by the tenants and retainers of his noble family!
She would, with Lord Vincent, make a tour of the Continent; she would see everything worth seeing in nature and in art, modern and antique; she would be presented in succession at every foreign court, and everywhere by her beauty and splendor achieve new successes and triumphs! She would frequent the circles of American ministers, for the express purpose of meeting there her countrywomen, and overwhelming by her magnificence those who had once, dared to sneer at that high flavor of Indian blood which had given luster to her raven hair and fire to her dark eyes! Returning to England after this royal progress on the Continent she would pass her days in cherishing her beauty and keeping up her state.
And the course of her life should be like that of the sun, beautiful, glorious, regnant! each splendid phase more dazzling than any that had preceded it. Was not this worth the price she paid for it?
Such were Claudia's dreams and visions. Such the scenes that she daily in imagination rehearsed. Such the future life she delighted to contemplate. And nothing—neither the attentions of her husband, the conversation of her companions, nor the beauty and glory of sea and sky—could win her from the contemplation of the delightful subject.
Meanwhile in that lovely October weather the "Empress" steamed her way over the sapphire blue sea and neared the cliffs of England.
At length on a fine afternoon in October they entered the mouth of the Mersey River, and two hours later landed at Liverpool.
Soon all was bustle with the custom house officers.
Leaving their luggage in charge of his valet, to be got through the custom house, Lord Vincent hurried Claudia into a cab, followed her, and gave the direction:
"To the Crown and Miter."
"Why not go to the Adelphi? All Americans go there, and I think it the best hotel in the city," said Claudia.
"The Crown and Miter will serve our turn," was the curt reply of the viscount.
Claudia looked up in surprise at the brusqueness of his answer, and then ventured the opinion:
"It is a first-class hotel, of course?"
"Humph!" answered his lordship.
They left the respectable-looking street through which they were driving and turned into a narrow by-street and drove through a perfect labyrinth of narrow lanes and alleys, made hideous by dilapidated and dirty buildings and ragged and filthy people, until at last they reached a dark, dingy-looking inn, whose creaking sign bore in faded letters: "The Crown and Miter."
"It is not here that you are taking me, Lord Vincent?" exclaimed Claudia in surprise and displeasure, as her eyes fell upon this house and sign.
"It certainly is, Lady Vincent," replied his lordship, with cool civility, as he handed her out of the cab.
"Why this—this is worse than the tavern you took me to in New York.
I never was in such a house before in all my life."
"It will have all the attractions of novelty, then."
"Lord Vincent, I do beg that you will not take me into this squalid place," she said shrinking back.
"You might find less attractive places than this in the length and breadth of the island," he replied, as he drew her hand within his arm and led her into the house.
They found themselves in a narrow passage, with stained walls, worn oil-cloth, and a smell of meat, onions, and smoke.
"Oh!" exclaimed Claudia, in irrepressible disgust.
"You will get used to these little inconveniences after a while, my dear," said his lordship.
A man with a greasy white apron and a soiled napkin approached them and bowed.
"A bedroom and parlor, and supper immediately," was Lord Vincent's order to this functionary.
"Yes, sir. We can be happy to accommodate you, sir, with a bedroom; the parlor, sir, is out of our power; we having none vacant at the present time; but to-morrow, sir—" began the polite waiter, when Lord Vincent cut him short with:
"Show us into the bedroom, then."
"Yes, sir." And bowing, the waiter went before them up the narrow stairs and led them into a dusky, fady, gloomy-looking chamber, whose carpet, curtains, and chair coverings seemed all of mingled hues of browns and grays, and from their fadiness and dinginess almost indescribable in color.
The waiter set the candle on the tall wooden mantelpiece and inquired:
"What would you please to order for supper?"
"What will you have, madam?" inquired Lord Vincent, referring to
Claudia.
"Nothing on earth, in this horrid place! I am heart-sick," she added, in a low, sad tone.
"The lady will take nothing. You may send me a beefsteak and a bottle of Bass' pale ale," said his lordship, seemingly perfectly careless as to Claudia's want of appetite.
"Yes, sir; shall I order it served in the coffee room?"
"No, send it up here, and don't be long over it."
The waiter left the room. And Lord Vincent walked up and down the floor in the most perfect state of indifference to Claudia's distress.
She threw herself into a chair and burst into tears, exclaiming:
"You do not care for me at all! What a disgusting place to bring a woman—not to say a lady—into! If you possessed the least respect or affection for me you would never treat me so!"
"I fancy that I possess quite as much respect and affection for you,
Lady Vincent, as you do, or ever did for me," he answered.
And Claudia knew that he spoke the truth, and she could not contradict him; but she said:
"Suppose there is little love lost between us, still we might treat each other decently. It is infamous to bring me here."
"You will not be required to stay here long."
"I hope not, indeed!"
At this moment