FullReads

{role d’equipage = muster roll (French); here, Miss Rowley’s list of her autographs}

The next day, in passing Holberton-House, I observed the chariot of a fashionable physician before the door; and at Miss Rowley’s party in the evening learned from Mr. T—- that Lady Holberton was quite unwell. The following morning I called to inquire, and received for answer that “her ladyship was very much indisposed.” It was not until a week later that I saw Lady Holberton herself, taking the air in Hyde Park. She looked wretchedly–thin and pale. I inquired from the English friend with whom I was riding, if there was any probability of a change of ministry? He looked surprised; and then catching the direction of my eye, he observed,

“You ask on Lady Holberton’s account; but Sir A—- B—- tells me her illness was caused by the loss of the Lumley Autograph.”

This unexpected intelligence proved only too true. On returning to my lodgings, I found a note from Lady Holberton, requesting to see me, and, of course, immediately obeyed the summons.

“Lost!–lost!–lost! Mr. Howard!” said the lady, endeavoring to conceal her emotion, as she gave me the details of her affliction.

“It must have been stolen–basely stolen–on the evening of my party. Oh! why did I so foolishly exhibit it among so many people, and collectors among them, too! Never again will I admit more than one collector at a time into the room with my album!” she exclaimed with energy.

I was shocked; surely Lady Holberton did not conceive it possible that any of her guests could be guilty of such base conduct?

“How little you know them! But it is that, Mr. Howard, which has interested me in your favor–you have so much naivete, and ignorance of the moral turpitude of the old world, that I feel convinced you never could be guilty of such an action yourself.”

I assured Lady Holberton that in this respect she only did me justice; and, in fact, a theft of the kind she alluded to appeared to me all but incredible.

“Remember that it was only the other day that —- lost his invaluable album; remember that last winter Madame de —- had all her notes on botanical subjects stolen from her own portfolio–and I could mention a dozen instances of the same wickedness.”

These facts were already known to me, but I had forgotten them. I remarked with a glow of national pride, that we certainly were much more virtuous in these matters across the ocean; in America we are much above pilfering autographs; when we do steal, it is by the volume–we seize all an author’s stock in trade at one swoop, and without condescending to say even, thank ye, for it.

{author’s stock in trade = though ostensibly referring to the stealing of autographs, Susan Fenimore Cooper is also clearly referring to the widespread pirating of British and other foreign literary works by American publishers, in the absence of international copyright laws–which not only cheated the authors, but made life difficult for American authors expecting to be paid for their creations}

“So I have always understood, Mr. Howard–and I felt that my album was safe with you,” observed Lady Holberton, with tears in her eyes.

Wishing to relieve this distress, I proposed advertising for the lost treasure–applying to the police.

Lady Holberton smiled through her tears, as she assured me that the police, old and new, had been enlisted in her service an hour after the discovery of her loss, while communications had been opened with the municipal governments of Brussels, Paris, and Vienna, on the same subject.

{police, old and new = the first modern English police force had been established in 1829 by Sir Robert Peel — from which the British nickname of “bobby” for policeman.}

“And have you no clue, no suspicions?–your servants–your maid?”

The aspersion on her household was indignantly repelled.

“You will readily believe, Mr. Howard, that a collector, the owner of such an album as I have the honor of possessing, is particularly careful as to whom she admits into her family. I will vouch for all about me; still I have suspicions–but–“