The Mysteries of the Court of London Vol. 4 — page 226: what you’re looking at

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

| eed een ne rn LT I EES OA SS a aS PPP A a t= sf Sc Fc —s = ; THE MYSTHRIES OF THE COURT. B Ss L 218 ing in Fetter Lane, so as to be near Emmer- son, the unhappy women were taught the bitter lesson of overweening pride in its ignominious fall. Thrice weeks, we say, had Ef®merson been in the spunging-house ; and so far from progress- ing a step tdwards emancipating himself from his difficulties, each day—each hour—beheld him sinking more dceply down. It is true that he had nearly two thousand guineas about his person, and the fact of which he could not con- ceal from his wife and daughter, although he begrudged them the few shillmgs which he doled out for their support. He husbanded every farthing as “closely as he could, in the hope of being enabled to settle with his de- taining creditor, so as to quit the country ere the forgery should be discovered—for in those times the punishment of forgery was death ! ° It was noon, on the twenty-first day of his captivity, that we thus find pacing to and fro with agitated step in the private room at the spunging-house. Be it remembered that the forged bill was drawn at twenty- one days after date; but then there were the three days grace —and it wanted then exactly these three days to the time when the discovery of the forgery would be inevi- table. Three days had the wretched Emmer- son to save himself from the seaffold! Heavens, what a brief interval for the accom- plishment of so gigafttic a task! And the guilty man felt that it was so: hence the fearful state of excitement im which we now find ,him— pacing to and fro—turning and turning with a restless, horrible anxiety ! He gent his wife to make a commu- nication to his detaining creditor, which he hoped would have the effect of inducing that individual to come to terms; and he was now awaiting, in excruciating suspense, the issue of his wife’s errand. Presently she returned; and the moment she made her appcarance in the room, KHmmerson devoured her with his inquiring eyes. Sho was an aficcted, vulgar woman, of no very prepossessing appearance, and even in her poverty still clung to a certain tawdriness which but ill supplied the place of vanished splendour. Throwing herself upon a chair, she began by complaining bitterly of the dreadful nuisance of having to walk thrgugh the crowded atreets after having been ac- customed to ride in her carriage; but Em- merson out her short by demanding sharply — she had seon his dctwining credi- or. ‘Yes, I have,” she answered, apparently indifferent to her husband’s acute suspense, which she could not fail to perceive, although she was very far from suspecting the crime whose terrors had rendered it so poignant. “Well, what did you tell him? and what did ho say ?” demanded. Emmerson sharply. ‘“ Will he come to terms P—yes or no?” ‘‘T can’t say for positive,’ was the response iven by his wife; “the will send up and les you ow presently.’’ “Presently! Good God-;more suspense— more agony of waiting! muttered Emmer- son to himself; and for a moment he felt that he could have screamed out—that he could have fastened his hands in his hair and torn it by the roote—as if, indeed, be were going mad; but subduing his emotions with a might effort which in itself was agony, he turpe again to his wife, saying, ‘‘ Tell mo everything —what you said to him-—how he took it— how he looked—the very words he uttered in reply ?”’ “Tor, my dear, how very particular you are!" said his wife. ‘‘One would really think that instead of being only in a lock-up house you was in Newgate—and instead of standing the chances of going to the Kong's Bench you was afraid of going to the scaffold. But gracious goodness, Emmerson! don’t look at me like that! You positively. frighten “It’s nothing—nothing,” said her husband in a low hoarse voice; and indeed he felt that his looks were ghastly at the moment —for the sensations which tortured him were the concentrated essence of ten thousand agonies. ‘ Tell me, I say, all that took place between you apd tho man who keeps me ere +] “Well, I will,” said Mra. Emmerson. “I found him in his counting-house, and told him who I was. His looks immediately became quite glum, and his manner as stiff as possible. IT said I wanted to speak to him very par- ticular. I then told him yon had exactly eigh- teon hundred and fifty guineas, which you would give him to let you out; if not, you meant to become bankrupt at once and give the money up to all your creditors, so that there wouldn’t be two shillings in the pound,” ‘And what did he say then?~—how did he look?’ demanded Emmerson eagerly; ‘did it seem to touch him? Iam sure he must have unbent a httNk Tell me—did he not unbend ?” and the wretched man, in his soul’s writh- ings, was thus straining madly to catch at O the slightest straw of desperation. ‘‘No—TI can’t say that he did,” replied his wife, who, entertaining not the least affoc- tion for her husband, did not think it neces- sary to invent a consolation which oxisted now. ° “Ah! he did not unbend, then? But did he seem to believe you ?”’ pe in his sinking “It’s difficult to say—btcause ho looked ao | cold and stiff.”’ “Well then, what on earth did he say ?”’ “He appeared to consider for about a minute; then he opened a great book—tuened to the letter E—ran his finger down a column —and stopping at a particular place, said that you owed him three thousand four hundred guineas, besides the expenses ; and that before he guvo any decision he must consult a friend.” “Ah! a friend,” muttered Emmerson between his set teeth, as his thoughts fixed themselves on Varian, “a friend perhaps to him, but a bitter, unrelenting foe to me!”’—then again turning to his wife, he said aloud, ‘* Well, what next, 2”’ “Nothing more—only that he woald let you know in the course of the day—and then he opened tho door for me to goout. Soas I was coming along, I thought to myself that all this was a judgment on you for having let yourself be made a fool of by the West End Countessca, and spending your money on such-like great ladies who are no better than they should be: for it’s no secreé that tho Earl of Curzon's ctor is going to bring an action against you end Lord Sackville for crim. ” Con. “Enough of all that!” interrupted Emmer- r=] —2G26r £&. are ieee a ame ems EG a a a a A ere ee a ES SS ny e -—_o, =a ees oe gees ane ewe SEER “Ee ~ eee oe — —_ - — as ~— SS oe ee =—— = —_—— or i am —_ —e. ae ee ee ee a ee a, CONNIE OOO cS) CO