The Mysteries of London, Vol. IV — page 174: what you’re looking at

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

Cem ee Oe a re ae ee ee te THE BIYSTERIES OF LONDON, ee re ope fee fees ene avening, when a sudden shower began to fall; and J entered a gate-way for protection, having no umbrella with me, and there being no hackney-coach stand acar. Almost immediately afterwards, a gentleman ina cloak took refuge in the same place; but as I was standing farther in the gate-way than he, and as it was pitch dark there, we did not observe each other's countenance. Presently he stepped ont into the street to see if the rain continued; and I noticed that he was accosted by a female, dressed in gaudy attire, and who murmured something to him in French, to which he did not however pay immediate attention. But an exclamation from her lips—an exclamation of surprise, which was instantly followed by the mention of his name—aroused him from his reverie. He gazed at the female who thus appeared to recognise him; and, by the light of the adjacent lamp, the well-known but somewhat altered countenance of Augustine was revealed to him and myself at the same time. Amaze- ment rooted me to the spot, and compelled me to become a listener. ‘What, Augustine!’ cried Mac- pherson—for he if was; and all the while my presence was unsuspected.—* Yes, Augustinc—that is my name!’ said the young lady, somewhat flippantly. ‘But what are you doing in London?’ she asked immediately afterwards, and in an altered tone. — ‘How can you ask me, Augustine, after my present pursuits or my fature prospects, when you were the principal agent in consummating my ruin in Paris?’ demanded Macpherson. ‘Oh! you know not the serious injury—the irreparable injury which you have inflicted upon me. All my hopes, all my endca- vours, haye one ofter another been defeated and destroyed by the consequences of that fatal period. My life isa series ot misfortunes, of strugglings against adversity, of ups and downs, of long intervals of misery, with short and distant gleams of happiness; and this career of sorrows and disappointments, was prepared and marked out by the infernal schemes of yourself and Legrand. Oh! inauspicious was the day on which I first became acquainted with you and the miscreant whom you represented to be your brother ?’—‘ And will you believe me when I assure you that I have never known a moment’s peace since the fatal moment when I bore false evidence against you in the French tribunal?’ exclaimed Augustine empha- tically. ‘I was compelled to take that step, although repugnant tomy feelings; for I had not then lost all principle,’ she added mournfully. ‘Legrand possessed such power over me; and I also knew that he was as capable of sacrificing me as well as yourself to his own interests, if I did not fall into his views. That false step on my part has reduced me to my present state of degradation ; I became reckless and ceased to sustain even the appearance of respectability which I had observed while [ was living with you. Legrand was killed ina quarrel at a gambling-house; and I then became the mistress of-——.’—‘Oh! distract me not with a catalogue of your vices, Augustine,’ exclaimed Macpherson, interrupting her recital. ‘Can T sympa- thise with you, who have caused my ruin? can I commiserate with one whom, were J vindictive, J should crush beneath my heel? Oh! could you speak to me of the means of redeeming my character, which is lost—innocent though I am, as well you know,—could you give me back my peace of mind, my self-respect,.my confidence in myself, the esteem ond respect of men, and the enjoyment of an unsullied hame,—could you efface the mark from my shoulder, Augustine, and wipe from my memory the dread im- te a re ee 167 pression of the exposure in tho lace de Grave with the five long years’ sojourn at the galleys,—could you do all this, Augustine, I would throw myself at your feet, I would forgive you the wrongs I have endured, Twould almost worship you!'—* There js something which may yet be done,’ said Augustine, after a long pause, ‘which would partially remedy the evil, and which would at all events prove my contrition for the part that I enacted in the matter.—* And what is it that you propose?’ demanded Macpherson; “to what do you allude? ’—‘T would willingly make a confession which would establish your innocence, and so far retrieve your character in the cyes of the world,’ said Augustine.—‘ But the world reviles me, and cries 2 °° Sree ee shame upon me, withont waiting to ask itself if I am really guilty!’ returned Macpherson, bitterly.—‘ The thinking portion of the community,’ began the frail woman earnestly, ‘will ever—~—’.—* That is a mere idle phrase, Augustine,’ interrupted Macpherson. ‘There is no thinking portion, asa complete section, of any community. Ask any individual singly and alone, if he’ would scorn and shun a man who had endured an infamous punishment, but who was inno- cent of the crime attributed to him, and he wonld launch forth into an eulogium of the liberality of his own Views, and indulge in a tirade against the narrow- mindedness of his neighbours. He would say, ‘ Prove your innocence, and I will be vour friend.” So would reply every one whom you thus questioned indivi- dually. But take all those persons together—assemble them in one room—invite them all to a banquet— and then introduce amongst them the man concerning whom they had singly expressed so much liberality of opinion; and collectively they would scorn—they would shun him,—they would hunt him from their company—they would expel him as if he were in- fected with a pestilence! Where, then, is the thinking portion of society? of what men is it composed? who can separate the section from the mass? Talk nv more of proving my innocence, but let me now ask you a question relative to your own position.’—‘ My position!’ repeated the young woman bitterly; ‘ok! Ifeel its degradation so thoroughly, that it appears to me as if every body must see and appreciate it also! My shame clings to me, like a mass of dingy cob- webs to a wall: J cannot shake it off; I cannot divest myself of the sense of its utter loathsomeness; for if ! seel: to brush it away with one hand, it clings to the othor. J dare not go to church to seek the comforts of religion:—a prayer in my mouth would be pollu- tion ;—I dare not even implore heaven to change my condition, so thoroughly degraded am I in my own estimation! And there are some of us—and when I say of us, you will fully comprehend to what sad sisterhood I belong—who are young, beautiful, and even educated; and from their lips—their red and inviting lips—issue imprecations and blasphemies at all hours, But Iam not so bad as that;—nor do I drink as they do! God only knows, however, to what abyss I may fall!’ — With these words the wretched creature hurried away in one direc- tion, while Macpherson slowly pursued his path in another. I did not think it right to follow hin:; for I fancied from the tenour of’ his bitter outpourings to Augustine, that he wished to be for- gotten by the world, and pass as a stranger in the mighty city. Well, years and years elapsed; and misfortunes overtook me. I lost all my property save & very small annuity—a mere pittance insufficient to keep body and soul together ;—and through the in ee CC it een eee ee we (C(O) (C DOO SS (SO)