Penny Dreadfuls, 1854 · page 40 of 394
Joseph Wilmot, or, The Memoirs of a Man-Servant — page 40: what you’re looking at
A restored page from Penny Dreadfuls, 1854. Page through the whole issue in the reader above.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
JOSEPH WILMOT; OR, TIE MEMOIRS OF A MAN-SERVANT. 27 minutes, was put an end to by the terrible realiza- “No, sir—I beg to decline,’ said Mr. Lanover, tion of my worse fears. J was summoned down to] in a peremptory tone. “The boy must come with the hall; and there I beheld Mr. Lanover pacing | me. Let him strip off this livery ¥ to and fro—his hands behind his back—his humped “Nay, he is doubtless weicome to the livery,’ shoulder protruding, methought, even more than I} quickly rejoimed Mr. Mulgrave: “for I believe, had noticed on the former occasion—his shape | from what I heard, that when he first came to the appearing more hideously deformed—his coun- | Manor, it was in no very pleasant plight, poor lad, tenance more malignantly cminous. Perhaps this | as to apparel. Well, Joseph, you see,’ he added, exaggeration of the monstrous uzliness of the man | turning his looks upon my countenance, “there was at the time mere fancy on my part,—arising | is no help for it: you must go with your uncle; from the utter loathing and the dire apprehension | and here are a couple of sovereigns as a little pre- with which I regarded him: but such was the effect | sent for you.” his presence produced upon me. At the same in- “ Joseph, sir, does not need your bounty,” said stant that I reached the hall by one means of | Mr. Lanover, assuming a haughty air, which con- communication, Mr. Mulerave was descending the | trasted ludicrously with his wretched shape: ‘for principal staircase; and looking around, he de-| 1 would have you know that I am as much a manded somewhat angrily, “ Who is it that wants | gentleman as you are, and able to keep him as me ?” such.” Have I the honour, sir, of speaking to the; “At all events,” retorted Mr. Mulgrave, “ you present master of this establishment ?”’—and as} need not treat me with this imsolence. Under Mr. Lanover thus addressed Mr. Mulgrave, taking | other circumstances I should resent it: but I am off his hat at the same time, he darted from | at present labouring under the impressicn of an beneath his shaggy overhanging brows a quick | incident of too painful a character.” malignant glance at me as I stopped short at a “For heaven’s sake, Mr. Mulgrave,’ little distance. “T am Mr. Mulgrave,’ man: “but whether I have a right to style mys¢elf master of the mansion, I know not as yet. The will of my lamented father-in-law is ouly just now about to be read. If you, as I naturally presume, have any claim upon the estate ¥ “ No, sir—that is not my business here,” an- swered the humpback. “Then pray, what do you want?” demanded Mr. Mulerave, with an air of increased anger and astonishment. “I already thought it was sufficiently indecent of you to have me summoned away from a family meeting under such distressing circum- stances: but now your conduct appears more in- delicate still.” “T bee your pardon,” said Lanover, with a humble demeanour: “but I really thought the funeral took place yesterday si ation —[ SS - — — — —— — ] I ex- claimed, a prey to the wildest anguish, “do not abandon me—do not desert me—do not cast me off !”? “My poor boy,” he answered, with compassion in his accents, “what can I do? It is your uncle who claims you. I wish you well—but L am un- able to assist you further.” With these words he turned away and ascended the stairs: while the horrible humpback, clutching me by the arm, dragged me out of the hall to the hackney-coach, which he foreed me to enter. A scream rose up to my very lips: but remembering it was the house of death which I was thus quit- ting, I stifled that expression of my heartfelt anguish ;—and without being permitted to bid farewell to any of my fellow-servants, was I borne rapidiy away. > responded this gentle- “Have the goodness, sir, to explain your busi- ness,” exclaimed Mulgrave curtly. “Tt relates, sir,” rejomed the humpback, “to this boy here, whom I claim as my nephew.” “What boy ?’—and Mr. Mulgrave swept his looks rapidly around. ‘ Do you mean Joseph ?” * Him—and none other,” answered Lanover. “Well—if he is your nephew, I suppose you wish to know whether he is to remain in service here? But no decision can be arrived at,” added Mr. Mulgrave, “until if is ascertained who has the right to assume the position of master or mis- tress.” “You misunderstand me, sir,’ replied Lanover, with another quick spiteful glance at me. “I mean to take that boy away with me, and provide for him in another and better fashion.” “Ah! that alters the matter,’ observed Mr. Mulgrave. “Of course you have a right to do what you like with your nephew: but in any ease I would cheerfully take him into my own service. fT have told him so before—and I repeat the offer now.” “And I accept it, sir—most gratefully do I necept it!’ I exclaimed, now rushing forward in the suddenly excited hope of finding another pro- tector in my deceased one’s son-in-law. CHAPTER VII. ANNABEL. I was now seated in the hackney-coach next to that man whom at the very first glance I had recoiled from with so deep a loathing, and whom I regarded in the light of a merciless perseeutor. I burst into an agony of weeping as the vehicle rolled through the park; and so blinded was I with my tears, that I observed not, while passing the lodge at the entrance of the enclosnre, whether the porter or atiy of his family saw me inside that coach. Mr. Lanover said not a word; and fora long time I thought not even of glancing up at his countenance. When the violence of my grief began to subside, and I longed to steal a look at his face—to ascertain if possible what treatment I was to expect at lis hands—I dared not: I had not the courage. Oh! how could I ever regard that man as an uncle ? howcould I look upon him as arelative? If he were so, would not the voice of nature have cried up towards him from the depths of my heart, notwithstanding his ugliness ? —should I have thus agonizingly shrunk in horror and aversion from his presence? But onthe other b CORNICLO@ Cc (0)