Agnes, or, Beauty and Pleasure — page 13: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

—_——— AGNES: OR, BEAUTY AND PLEASCRE. & the usual scene—a table covered with green baize, the crowpiers sitting with their rakes, one of them having before him a tin-box containing the notes and gold which constituted “ the bank.” Eight or ten persons were seated at play—most of them being dissipated and decayed members of the fashionable world, who, like Morton Evelyn, had not the means of going out of town, and were equally ready with excuses to account for their un- fashionable presence in London. With most of them Mr. Evelyn was acquainted ; and after some little conversation, he sat down to play. For a while fortune seemed in Evelyn’s favour ; and the contents of his pocket-book were doubled. He became exhilarated: he felt convinced that at last his luck had turned; and he played more boldly. His hope was however disappointed : the tide set in against him: he drank wine—he grew desperate—he would not believe that this night was to witness the confirmation of his ruin—until his last bank-note was swept away by the ecrow- pier's rake. Then Morton Evelyn became almost wild with. despair; and the pride which had made him so much dread lest his generous sympathy for a fellow-creature’s misfortunes should be observed, did not prevent him from giving way to loudly uttered maledictions. upon his own folly. But there was no sympathy for him in that den where blacklegs and sharpers and fallen gentlemen con- gregated. The game continued: Morton Evelyn remained almost unnoticed ; and throwing himself upon a chair, he looked the picture of ruin itself. His dark hair was all tossing m disorder above the countenance from which the flush of wine had passed away, leaving it deadly pale: his features were rigid—his brows were corrugated—and one clenched fist rested upon the table, while the other hand supported his head. Thus, for some minutes he remained motionless as a statue—but with a sinister light in his eyes, as if the brain in its de- apair were revolving projects of suicide. Suddenly Morton Evelyn started up—dashed his hat upon his head—rudely repulsed a couple of “ kind friends” who, having profited by his losses, begged him to remain to supper—and rushed forth from the gambling-house, There was a hearty laugh on the part of those whom he left behind: but he heard it not—or at least did not heed it. CHAPTER II, THE CHUECH-VAULT. Morton Evetrn did not live at the hotel where he had dined. For purposes of economy, and that he might be the better able to maintain a good appearance out of doors, he had for some months past occupied a cheap lodging in one of those pleasant little villa-residences which even at the date whereof we are writing were springing up in every suburb of the metropolis. Thitherward he now bent his way—on foot—for the expense of a hired vehicle would have denuded him of his last shilling. It was a considerable distance from the scene of his fatal losses that Morton Evelyn was thus con- —s strained to walk: for the villa where he dwelt was quite on the outskirts, and might almost be said to stand in tbe open country. With feverish brain and with a sad tightness at the heart, the ruined gamester proceeded on kis way. Ho strode with a rapidity which was akin to the excitement of his feelings: he took no note of any objects which he passed: it was rather by instinct than by actual observation that he pursued the proper ruute. At length he was in the outskirt: the air seemed purer and fresher: it fanned his cheek—it cooled his brain. He relaxed his pace: his thoughts grew more collected: he was becoming accustomed to the conviction that he was an utterly ruined man. Now he looked about him to see exactly where he was; and at the same instant a neighbouring echurch-clock began proclaiming the hour of midnight. There was a short cut through the churchyard; and Morton proceeded to take it;—for though it was one of those isolated and lonely churches which might have been seen at the time in certain suburbs of the metropolis, before the enterprise of builders and the require- ments of a growing population hemmed them in with houses,—Evelyn had no tinge of superstitious fear in his character. It was rather a dark night—but yet not s0 com- pletely obscure as to prevent some of the most recently raised tombstones from gleaming white and ghastly above the resting-places of the dead. The last sounds of the clock had died vibratingly away into the silence of the place and the hour; and the very atmosphere itself seemed to sleep more heavily over the graves of the departed, than elsewhere. * Morton was pursuing his way, when it suddenly struck him that he beheld a light flashing for an instant through a little window that was on a level with the ground, and which belonged to the vaults beneath the church. The light however had instantaneously disappeared; and Evelyn thought that i¢ must have been mere fancy on his part. He was again walking onward along the narrow path which intersected the church-yard, when he beheld the light again, and again did it as quickly disappear. Thoughts of resurrection- men swept through his brain; and he was on the point of shouting out to raise an alarm—for there were three or four hotises within earshot—when is struck him that the officials of the church might be possibly engaged in preparing a vault for the reception of some member of the family to which it belonged. Still he had a strange feeling of curiosity about him on the point: he had no superstitious terror; and perhaps, likewise, he was in that mood when a person clutches at any adven- ture that may divert the thoughts from a painful topic. Be all this as it may,—certain it is that Morton Evelyn crept stealthily towards the little window, and listened. There was no glass to that window—merely a range of iron bars. He could hear voices speaking in a half-subdued tone; and he distinctly caught these words, “ Now, sexton, what have we here? This plate upon the coffin- lid - “Pray be more cautious, sir, how you throw the light from the lantern,” replied another voice, “ or it may be seen outside.” “Yes, yes—I'll take care!” responded the first gpeaker. ‘After all, there is no harm in what we Comiclooolkks } | | G J / Olin