Joseph Wilmot, or, The Memoirs of a Man-Servant — page 396: what you’re looking at

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

JOSEPH WILMOT; OR THE MEMOIRS OF A MAN-SERVANT. “Who are you? and what do you want with me ?” I inquired. * Are you Lord Eccleston?” she asked, eyeing me with a tipsy vacancy. “IT am. What do you require?’—and pra- dually, as a moonbeam struggles through a cloud, did a glimmering of light steal in unto my mind relative to this loathsome, shocking-looking hag. Yes—I had indeed seen her before: she was the woman who kept the house in that low court on Saffron Hill where I had dwelt with Taddy on my first arrival in London,—the same woman who had seized the little furniture and turned us out of doors—which proceeding on her part had led to those wanderings of our’s that had thrown me in the way of Mr. Delmar. “What do I want with your lordship?” said the woman, who evidently did not recognisé me to be the same whom a few years back she had known asa poor miserable boy. “I want you to come along with me. There’s a person dying at my house which wants to see you.” “A person dying P” I exclaimed, shuddering at the thought of any human being taking leave of this world in such aden. “ Who is this person ?” —for by the way in which the woman spoke, I could not tell whether she alluded to one of the male or the female sex. “ Never do you mind, my lord—but come along with me,” she responded. ‘“ The poor man hasn’t very long to live—a matter of an hour or two per- haps ; and [ promised to be sure and fetch your lordship, for he seems to have something very heavy on his conscience.” * But who is he ?” IT demanded—though I was instantaneously smitten with a presentiment of who the individual would prove to be. “Well, I don’t mean to say, my lord,” she re- plied, doggedly. “You can come if you like—or you-can leave it alone. It’s no business of mine. Pye done my duty.” “ Stop ! £ will go with you,” I said. —and wait for me at a little distance in the Square.” There were none of the servants in the hall when this colloquy took place: I had beckoned the foctman to retire immediately on descending from the drawing-room. The woman went forth; and I, hastening up to my own chamber, secured a pair of pistols about my person ; for the thought struck me that it was just possible treachery might be intended; though on the other hand I[ could scarcely imegine that such was the case. Having bidden the hkall-porter sit up for me, I issued from the mansion. It was a beautiful night in the month of May; and the stars were shining brightly. I speedily rejoined the old woman; and putting a sovereign in her hand, I said, “ Tell me precisely where it is that you live—and I will speedily be there. You can take a cab—get back with the least pos- sible delay—and tell the dying person, whoever he may be, that I am coming.” “I suppose your lordship is afraid,” said the old woman, with a sneer, though her eyes had glistened on taking the money; “ and so you are going to put the police on the scent. Well, you may do it if you choose: but I can tell you, my lord, that there is no reason—for I’m sure I don’t want to hurt you; and as for that poor unfortunate © Depart. man Howsomever, your lordship can do as you like,” { did not choose to tell the hag that I was not going to take any such precaution as that to which she had just alluded: I thought there was no harm in leaving her to the contrary belief. I accordingly hastened away—having learnt from her the address of her abode, which [ found to be precisely the same as that where I had dwelt with Taddy. It bore, as the reader will recollect, the hideous, loathsome denomination of Ragamuflin Court, Saffron Hill. I entered the first cab that I found plying for a fare; and I bade the driver take me up to the end of Hatton Garden. There [ alighted ; and dismissing the cab, bent my steps towards the wretched abode which was my desti- nation. Oh! how well I recollected with what feelings I had accompanied the man Taddy thither on that night when he rescued me from starvation in the streets. How often with an aching heart and sensations of hideous loathing, had I walked by his side in that neighbourhood when we went forth to distribute at the low lodging-houses and beer-shops, the circulars which he had made me pen. And then, too, with what forlorn and deso- late feelings had I threaded that neighbourheod when we were ejected at the time as houseless wanderers from the miserable abode which we were even too poor to keep. And now how altered was my position! what wealth had I at my com- mand! what a host of friends to bless me with their affection! what brilliant hopes for the future! And I thought, too, that there was now scarcely a -day which passed without developing some inci- dent to remind me of bygone occurrences, and force upon my contemplation the contrast of what I once had been and what I now was! I pursued my way: I entered the court: my pistols were ready for use in case of need—but I had scarcely any apprehension lingering in my mind that they would be required. I had purposely walked slow after alighting from the cab, in order that the woman might have leisure to get home before me. And such proved to be the case: for on knocking at the door, it was speedily opened by the harridan herself. There was a noisome fetid odour in the house: the candle which she carried, showed me that it was dirty and poverty-stricken. She was poor when I had lodged with Taddy there: she was now evidently poorer still. The wretch had gone down in the world, — doubtless from her dissipated, drunken habits. She gave a sort of smile of satis- faction on beholding me: she closed the door—and began leading the way up the narrow dirty stair- case. She paused for a few moments at the door of a back room on the second storey; and as we heard low moanings coming from within, she whispered to me, “Ah! how the poor man suffers !” “Ts he not attended by a surgeon ?” I asked, also in a low whisper. : “Yes: but it’s of no use. ‘The doctor said when he came at ten o’clock to-night, that he couldn’t live many hours longer i “ Come, let us enter!” I interrupted her: and I could scarcely prevent myself from recoiling per- ceptibly from the loathsome pestiferousness of her gin-poisoned breath. She opened the door: and by the rays of a feeble Gbook (EC)