The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 390: what you’re looking at

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

THE MYSTERIES. And why had the villain Ramsey thus plotted to annihilate all ¢he little happiness that remained to the Earl f—why had he thus drawn the infernal meshes of his duplicity and deceit so completely around the confiding and generous-hearted Eleanor | that naught but the last and most irreparable of woman’s sacrifices would now content him? His conduct was the result of cold-blooded cal- culations; and these calculations may be explained m a few words. He knew that it was impossible for him to remain for ever beneath the roof of the Earl of Desborough. An accident—the merest chance — the slightest casualty, would betray him. Moreover, even if the secret connected with his real name, his crue history, and his resuscitation from an ignomi- aious fate,—even if this secret should remain un- discovered, was it not contrary to all rational hope that his amour with the Countess could continue much longer unsuspected or unperceived f - Thus, in either case and under any circumstances, Ramecy was living in the constant peril of expul- sion from the home which he had found so mira- culowly and froin the hospitality which he had abused s0 atrociously. The Earl’s bounty had sup- plied him with some ready money : but this amount was totally insufficient to enable him to escape from the country and fly to some foreign clime. And yet he must lose no time in thus ensuring his safety ! What, then, was to be done? He had calculated that the Countess possessed costly jewels and at least some available pecuniary resources ; and he re- solved therefore to make her the companion of his flight. Besides, he had just so much regard for her as any profligate voluptuary experiences for a beau- ful mistress: and he moreover thought it pro- bable that a lady of her rank and connexions would never be left by her relatives without some amount of income, happen what might. These were the calculationa which the oold- blooded villain had made; and the reader is now in possession of the key to his conduct with regard to Eleanor. We have shown how well he succeeded im overruling the last scruples which remained in the bosom of the too confiding lady — and how «iamphant was his persuasion that she who bad al- ready surrendered to him her honour in secret would make a public sacrifice of home, reputation, friends, and relatives, for his sake ! Glorying in that success — rejoicing in that triumph—Philip Ramsey was pacing his apartment, when the door opened slowly and the Earl of Des- borough staggered into his presence. The ghastly pallor of the nobleman’s countenanes —the strange workings of his featuree—the wild ex- pression of his eyes—the visible convulsion of his timbs—and the tottering unevenness in his pace,— all these appearances instantly struck Ramsey with dismay and carried to his guilty soul the terrible conviction that some appa'ling discovery had been made. The Earl closed the door carefully—locked it— and placed the key in his pocket. A Told shudder passed over Ramsey’a frame: for the idea flashed to his mind that the outraged hue- baud had discovered his wife’s frailty and was come lo wreak a deadly vengeance on Aim, the seducer! But respecting this apprehension the wretch was almost immediately reassured; for the Earl, point- | img toa chair, while he himself sank exhausted upan ~ Ble @ another, said, “ Be seated! Whatever now takes place between us must be without excitement—with- out noise—without passion.” “What does your lordship mean? demanded Ramsey, with the eagerness of a torturing impa- tience to learn the extent of the evil which now appeared to menace him. “I mean, sir,” responded the nobleman, con- tinuing to speak in a voice so changed with thick- neas and hoarseness that it sounded like the worn out tones of old age,—“I mean that the moment when any unguarded proceeding on our part shall make your secret public—that instant will disgrace and dishonour, scorn and ridicule, redound also upon me /” “Ah! my secret —then you know me” mur- mured Raney, the frightful spasm which shot through his heart making him feel as if the hand of death were there: and he sank helplessly into the chair which he had been invited to take. “Holy God! is it poasible that such a tremen- dous misfortune should have fallen npon my head —upon taat of my wife also? exclaimed the Earl, with a groan that convulsed his entire frame as anguish tore jt from the depths of his soul. “ Bot thou—unbappy man—in what haze of horror is thine existence enveloped ?—in what appalling mystery is thy fate involved? Thou, whom the world believes to be cold and stark in the narrow tomb——” “In mercy, spare me! cried Ramsey, suffering ali the crucifixion of ineffable torture as these words struck like a barbed arrow into his heart: and, with eyes glaring wildly and brows hideously corrugated, his whole countenance was distorted as if his neck once more felt the pressure of the accursed noose. “ Well—well—I will seek no explanation on that head,” said the nobleman, exercising a partial command over his feelings by dint of a tremendous and almost superhuman effort. “Little does it matter to me by what means you escaped the ven- geance of the law: all my thoughte—all my ideas— all my feelings should be absorbed in the immense amount of wanton and heartless injury which you have inflicted upon me.” ‘¢ My lord, you will deal mercifully with me?” ex- claimed Ramsey. “Am 1 not a worm already crashed so thoroughly beneath the iron heel of an avenging society, that you can afford to spare—if not to pity me ” “Spare you I will—pity you I cannot!” rejoined the Karl of Desborough. “ And in sparing you, J act not through any considerations of mercy ~ but in order to avert a public scandal and the world’s scorn from my house! The imposture you have practised upon me is venial—oh! yes—and your condition in thaf might indeed have commanded my pity: for, on that fatal night when you became an inmate of my dwelling, had you thrown yourself on your knees before me—revealed to me the astounding secret that you were Philip Rameey the convict—and demanded my forbear- ance and my succour, I should not have refused your prayer! But you have planted a poisoned dagger in the bosom of my wife—you have made her not only an adultress, but the paramour of a man whose neck has been ciroled by the halter of the gibbet! Oh! there is the accursed infamy o- your conduct—there is the degradation—there COUMIC NOG) SS co