The Mysteries of London, Vol. IV — page 306: what you’re looking at

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

30t mane? TILE MYSTERIES OF LONDON. rr t= SS A dreadful scone ensued: and,]| and yet, bad—vile—depraved as I am, 1 feel as if her walks home. though Leonard at length suffered himself to be| my heart had received a mortal wound.”—“ TI take Almighty God to witness, Leonard,” cried Ellen in appeased, simply because afraid of losing one whose an impassioned tone, “that this is the first time I purse was 60 convenient to him, he nevertheless on- tertained a firm but erroneous conviction of her in-| have been unfaithful to you. Your conduct of tho One filelity. lute loathing. Bad as Leonard was, and much as he had encouraged her in ber drinking habits, he was nevertheless often disgusted when be beheld her reeling under tho influence of liquor, and when he felt upon his face that breath which, now heated with alcoholic fluid, was once so pure and balmy. On her side, sho could never divest herself of the . remembrance that she was consorting with a mur- derer; and frequently—oh! how frequently, the blood-mist would reappear before her eyos, and tho liquor would seem gore in her glass, and sanguine Btains would, in her heated imagination, dye his hands! Thus wretchedly did their connexion pro- gress,—Sho still clinging to him through thet in- fatuation which often belongs to sensuality of soul —and he still tolerating her because she possessed the means of supplying his pocket. At longth matters had roached a crisis, ht which the amour was destined to have a most tragical termination. Ellen was returning home one even- ing, smarting under some insult which hor lover had put upon her, and Jabouring as usual under the influenco of wine, when she met the young gentle- man above alluded to. On this occasion his en- treatios were more urgent than ever; and she was more pliant than he had as yot found her to be, Iler blood was inflamed ; and she was moreover in that humour whea to assert her independence of Leonard, even to herself, would prove a solace and acomfort. She accordingly yielded to the proposals of the stranger, and accompanied him to an impro- perhouse. It was midnight when they issued forth; and Ellen hastened homeward, having made an appointment for anothor cvoning. In the middle of Waterloo Bridgo she heard hasty steps approaching from behind: it was a clear, moonlit night—and, on turning her head, she beheld Leonard Mitchell close at hand. A faintness came over her: sho instantly suspected—nay, felt certain that ho had watched hor ;-—and, trembling with terrible appro- honsiong, she sank upon a seatin one of tlic recesses, In another moment the young dragoon was by her side. Yor almost a minute he spoke not; and this silence augmented her alarm. Raising her pale— lier haggerd countenance, on which the moon-light streamed in all its chaste and silvery purity, she endeavoured to framo some question that would lead to an explanation of his presence there: but her lips refused utterance to the words that roso to them. A mortal terror was upon her—a conster- nation, as if sho beheld the skeleton form of Death hovering dimly in the obscure distance. Taking her Rand, and peessing it with convulsive violence, Leonard said in a low and hollow tone, “Now, Elien, I have at last obtained ample proof of your infidelity.”’— Mercy! mercy!” murmured the young woman, as gazing rapidly up and down the bridge, she saw that it was completely deserted. — Oh! I deserve it,” exclaimed Leonard, beating his brow violently with his open palm: “I knew that I deserve it all! I have long entertained tho suspicion that such was tho case: but now that I have acquired the conviction, it seems too dreadful to hear! Again, however, I say that I deserve it: ep They therefore now harboured mutual distrust, which on many occasions rose into abso- evening wounded mo s0 deeply, that I longed to avenge myself— longed also to assert my indo- pendence of you, even if only to the knowledge of my own heart. By this I mean that I should havo felt triumphant in proving false to you, oven though you yourself were to remain ignorant of the pro- ceeding. And now if you will pardon me, I promise never to err again, But, O Leonard— Leonard, do treat mo with at least a little kind- ness !”—and as she uttered theso words in a tone of deep fecling and profound pathos, she flung herself upon his breast, throwing her arms around his neck in a paroxysm of reviving fondness. So touching was her appeal, that it instantly brought to his soul an overwhelming cloud of rominiscences of all the harshnéss, brutality, and cowardly cruolty of which he had been guilty towards her,—remi- niscences, too, of all her love for bim—the sacri- fices she had mado for him—tho generosity of ter bohaviour in his behalf. He recollected also— aud all in a moment as it were—that if sho wero degraded by drink, and defiled by the hot breath of licentiousness, she was pure and chaste as a wife until he had sougkt her out on his return to Lon- don,—that her fall, in fine, might bo unmistakeably traced to her fatal connexion with him. Then, too, he recalled to mind his own condition when two years previously he had crossed that bridge on his way to snatch a glimpse of the threo houses in Stamford Street,—a condition which, unenviable as he had then deemed it, was one of supreme happi- ness compared with his present state. For the mark of the branding lash was upon his back, and the remorse of a murderer was in his heart; and he knew himself to be a drunkard—-a disgraco to his regiment—a vile wretch, rioting in pleasures pur- chased by the coin that he wrung from the woman whom he ill-treated and abused. And, lastly, his thoughts were reflected back to those times whon all was bright and smiling before him—when ho and Ellen were alike untainted by guilt, and the willing votarics of virtue—when their loves wero innocent and chaste, and they would have started back in horror and indignation had it been prophe- sied to them that they wero one day destined to look upon each other with disgust. All these recol- leetions and reflections poured in, like an over- whelming torrent, upon tho mind of the young dra- goon; and his soul was softencd—his lkeart, long so hard, was touched—and, meiting into tears, as ho felt tlhe miserable woman clinging to him with re- suscitated fondness, ho pressed her to his bosom, exclaiming, “ Ellen, I have wronged you deeply— decply: but can you—can you forgive me ?” The reconciliation was complete; and then Ellen, animated by a sudden thought, exclaimed, “ But, gracious heavens ! Leonard, you have absented your- self from your quarters—and, hark! the clock strikes one.”—The booming note of St. Paul’s iron tongue had indeed fallon upon their ears while she Was yet speaking.—I dare not return to the bar- racks again,” said Leonard; and she felt that he shuddered convulsively in her arms.—“ But what will you do?” she asked, diftidently.—“ Anything !” he cried: “anything! rather than bo flogged again,” —‘‘ Flogged!” repeated Ellen, now shuddering in (C(O) (C DOO <S LL (SO)