The Mysteries of the Court of London, Vol. 7 — page 350: what you’re looking at

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

=a sas } | | | | * of abscnee. THE MYSTERIES OF THE COURT. There wae something so frankly ingenuous in Ash- ton’s countepance—something 80 nobly magnani- mous 1m the expression of his fine dark eyos—that it was no wonder if the stranger should be thus attracted towards him. very moment during which the silence lasted, the barriers of ceremony and cold formality appeared to be melting away ; and at length the stranger said, “ You have spoken kindly, sir: you will pardon me for intimating thasé I bave a secret longing to know more of you.” “TI will frankly confess,” answered Christian, “that I have felt an interest in you: for though older than I by some three or four years, you are nevertheless too young to experience the heavy hand of affliction without exciting sympathy,” The stranger at once grasped our bero's hand,— anuouncing hia mame to be Edgar Boverley. Christian mentioned his own name; and with characteristic frankness went on to explain that he himself had known his sorrows, together with a twin-sister whom he dedrly loved—but that after » temporary expericnca of the world’s bitterness, fortune had so fur smiled on them both as to place them in comparatively bappy positions. Our hero furthermore intimated that be had been private weeretary to tho Duke of Marchmont and to the Grand Duko of Maze. Stulburg-Quotha, as well aa ty the unfortunate Karl of Lascelles, whose murder was wrapped up in such profound mystery ; and he concluded by giving Kdjyar Beverley a rapid outline of his adventures with Mr. Sycamore. “Thank you, my new friend—-for such you must pormit me to call you—for your confidence,” anid Beverley: then after a pause, he added, “I like. wise have a tale to tell~and I am yearniny to unfold it to your ears: but not in this room where at any mument we may be intruded on by other gucats at the hotel. We wall have a private apart. meot and dine together.” Ubristian agreed: the bell was rung—the ro- quiucwent wae mentioned to the watter, who at ouce led the way to a private sitting room. Din- ner was ordered; aud Edgar Beverley went on conversing on general topes: it was evident that he reserved his own history uutil after the repast, when they wmaght ait tozether withwut being continuvusly interrupted by the entrance of the water. Christian found him to be a young man of cultivated intellect,—~able to discourse on ‘dp infinite varicty of topics—the lighter ones with- out descending tu frivolitv, the more serious ones without merging into ievity or dugmatism. He gatherod however from bis discourse that he was a lieutenant in the army—-that lua regiment was stationed at Brighton-—but that Le was on leave The incre our hero saw of him, the bettor ho was pleased with his anaffected urbanity, his mildgentlemanly manners, and the generosity of the sentiments he uttered on those topics which were calculated to evolve the best traits of the disposition. But thero was likewise @ man- liness of spirit—a suitable pride and a becoming dignity, in Edgar Beverley’s charactor : so that it was evident he was a young man of the loftacat notions of honour end integrity. On the other nand, Christian Ashton himself proved equally iw agreeable to the lieutenant, and proportionately i i progressed in lus new friend’s favourable opinion. Dinner was served up: wo GE EE TEE a Mae Sa Da apaes vans Ge oer Ea ee eee gs eee: ee et ot “Wan uwinniivenw wy © aw Green sa «Ae —o eee 330 evidently as Anxious to commence hie narrative ae Christian Ashton was to hear it. The dessert was placed on the table; and when the waiter had withdrawn fur good, the earious topic of the evening was entered upon. CHAPTER LY. BDGAR BEVERLEY. “Tw what Tam about to relate,” began Edgar Beverley, * you will pardon aie if T do wot par- ticularise names; aa you will ace by tho nature of my history that it involves certain delicate mat- ters; and shoukl the resulta turn out contrary to my apprehensions—in a word, e nthe aad mia- givings which haunt me prove unfounded, I should naturally regret having specially mentioned the namos of individusle with disparagomont. The reserve, therefore, which on this point 1 am abous to maintain, must not be regarded asa want of confidence, but only as @ proper and honourable precaution.” “Heat assured,” answered Christian, “that I shall take this precaution on your part as another proof of those good qualities which I have already learnt to almire in you.’ “Thanking vou, my vew friend, for your favour- able opinion,” said Bevorley, * T will at onoe entor upon my tale. But it is necessary that [ should counmence with a few partioulara relative to my parecutage and my family. My father was the younger brother of a mau of wealth and title: he was puor, heing totally dependent oa his commis- siun as a captain in the same service ty which I now belung; and he mortally offended all his relatives by wedding « young lady whose beauty and accoinplishments constituted ber only dower. Of that union I was the sole issue ; and my mother died a few weeks after giving me birth, My father was long incongulable for her lose—-until at length he became sensible of his-duty towarda me, aud reflected that qs sho had left .bebind her a pledge vi ‘er love, the infant ought now to eygross all hae eave. And he became the fondest of parents (o me. Ho obtained the rank of major® a few years after my birth; and though his pay was limited, yet he contrived by the most rigid economy to give me a good educatinn. On reach- g the age of twelve, 1 way sent to the Royal Military College at Sandburst,—my father bidding me keep it in mind that he hed neither moneynor interest to procure me a commission, and that I must thereforo endeavour to obtain one by the requisile proficicucy in ray studies. I applied my- eclf thereto with all possible assiduity ; and at the age of sixteen T obtaincd an ensigucy in the —--—th regiment of the linc. Fortune and misfor- tune came upon me af the sang instant: for on the very day that I read my name in the official gazette as an officer in the- Queon’s service, my poor father was stricken with paralysis, which io loas than #furtnight proved fatal.” l{ere Edgar Beverley paused for upwards of an minute, during which he was visibly struggling aguinst bis* emotions; and then he resumed his it was sormowhat hur- | narrative im the following toanner :—~ viedly disposed of—for Licutenmt Beverley was | “I have stated that my father, in contracting @ COMIC OOO© SS