Agnes, or, Beauty and Pleasure — page 205: what you’re looking at

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

AGNES; OR, BEAUTY AND PLEASURE, 197 occasion? Where were the two personages who for so many long years had been at such terrible warfare with each other? Sir John Dalham was chained by feebleness to his couch, at his villa near St. John’s Wood; while Mr. Barrington lay stretched, in a state of serious illness, in his chamber at Mrs. Slater’s house in Alderszate Street. Thus neither of the individuals so deeply interested in the proceedings, was present in the court when judgment was pronounced. But Roderick Dalham was there; and amidst the _ crowd he discovered the sinister countenance of Mr. Timperley. Toe judgment was delivered; and when the ceremony was concluded, Mr. Timperley, who had already made his way towards the door, rushed out of the tribunal, sprang into a cab, and ordered the driver to take him to Sir John Dalham’s villa near St. John’s Wood. Almostimmediately afterwards Roderick Dalham made his own way through the crowded auditory; and likewise taking a cab, he ordered it to proceed to Mrs, Slater’s house in Aldersgate Street. Let us first follow Mr. Timperley. The lawyer arrived in due time at Sir John Dalham’s villa ; and the instant he elighted at the door, he sprang past the footman, rushed up the staircase, and sped to the Baronet’s chamber. Sir John, hearing those hasty footsteps, knew that they were Timperley’s; and hope became almost exultant within his breast ; for he mentally ejaculated, “ Timperley would never come so quick unless he had good news to impart !” The door opened ; and the lawyer made his ap- pearance. “What news, Timperley? what newst” ex- claimed Sir John in a feverish tone of anxiety. ‘Alas, my dear sir!” began Timperley; “ it is as I feared _ “Perdition!” howled the Baronet ; and then a perfect volley of horrible imprecations followed. “Lost, lost!—and I am lost with it!’ were the words with which he wound up. * Wor heaven’s sake compose yourself, Sir John !”’ said Timperley, who thought fit to adopt a sooth- ing tone. “Why the deuca did you come rushing so quick P” demanded the Baronet fiercely. ‘‘ You lospired me with hope!’ You made me think that after all es “T came so quickly, Sir John,’ interjected the lawyer, “because you made me pledge myself, when I called last evening to see how you were getting on, that 1 would lose not a moment after the judgment was pronounced in relieving you of suspense. Ikept my word—and I very much re- gret that there should have been evil intelli- gence ad Here the lawyer stopped short; for Sir John Dalham again burst forth into a tirade of the most terrible imprecations. He rayed like a maniac—the curses he heaped upon the head of old Barrington were terrible—he tossed on his pillow—he rolled himself about in the bed—the foam came from his lips. “or heaven’s sake, Sir John, be tranquil!” cried Timperley, “you will do yourself a mis- chief! Be reasonable! Your adversary has no very great advantage over you < “Ah! tell me,” said the Baronet, who now ap- peared suddenly to recollect something,—“ tell me, my dear friend, how fares it with him? Has his health improved? Tell me the truth !—say noe thing false in the hope of consoling me!” ‘J inquired last night in the neighbourhood of Mrs. Slater’s house,” answered Timperley; ‘‘ and I ean assure you, Sir John, that the account I re- ceived was to the effect that Mr. Barrington con- tinued utterly unconscious of everything that was passing around him.” * Oh, if I could only fancy that he would never awaken from that unconsciousness to hear the tidings !’—and the expression of the Baronet’s countenance was full of the most satanic malig- nity. ‘Ho will never recover,” interjected Timperley : “he will never awaken from this torpor in which he is plunged, and which is the precursor of the sleep of death !” “Are you sure, Timperley? are you sureP” asked the Baronet. ‘‘ You are not deceiving me? Swear that you are not !” “Most solemnly I swear,” answered the law- er. ap Heaven be thanked!” was the impious ejacu- lation which now burst from Sir John’s lips. “ My mortal enemy will never know the value of the riches he has this day won! Ah! ’tis almost as good as a victory for me!—yes, almost as good! But what is this that comes over me? Dimness of sight! — dizziness! Perdition!’ — and the Baronet sank back upon the pillow. Timperley rang the bell, and then proceeded to raise the old manup in the couch. He was gasping for breath—his eyes were glazing—the lids were drooping. “ Ho is dying!” mentally ejaculated the lawyer. “Your master is very, very ill,’’ he said, thus ad- dressing himself to the valet who at this moment entered the room. ‘‘ Hasten to the doctor! But, Ah! it is too late!”’—and as he thus spoke Tim- perley suffered the emaciated form which he had raised to a sitting posture, to sink gradually back upon the pillow. The death-rattle was in the old man’s throat: he gave a deep groan, and expired. “Tt must have been the excitement of suspense followed by a powerful reaction,” said Timperley to the valet after a brief silence. “Then the lawsuit is lost, sir, I presume?” asked the domestic. “Yes. Sir John was well-nigh beggared by the result,” responded Mr. Timperley; “so that per- haps after all it is a happy release—a very happy release—and his friends ought not to deplore it.” ‘‘T suppose, sir,” said the valet, “that Sir Rode- rick—as we must now call him—will come and take possession—because that will can scarcely be acted upon, begging your pardon, sir is “Sir Roderick will take possession of nothing,” rejoined the lawyer, with a look of significant sternness. “I am the master here—and every- thing within these walls belongs to me.” The valet stared for a few moments in blank astonishment at Mr. Timperley; and then with a bow he said, “I beg pardon, sir—I was not aware that things were really at such an ex- treme.” “Come,” said the lawyer, “and let us hasten comicboo nn) S (©) 5}