The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 50: what you’re looking at

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THE MYSTERIES. ' terrogutor,” ania the baronet. “On what ground has a reward been offered for my apprehension ” “Shall I tell you ?” said the commercial tra- veller, with some degree of hesitation. . “Yes—speak! ejaculated Sir Richard. “I ain now prepared to hear any calumny that may be alleged against me.” “You are accused of terrible crimes,” conti- nued Page. “And those crimes,” said the baronet, with forced ccm posure,—“ what are they ?” . “Fraod—forgery murder—and arson,” re~- sponded Page, enunciating the words slowly and with much hesitation. “The miscreants !—the calumnfators!” ejacu- lated Sir Richard Stamford; and the commercial traveller could hear that he dashed his hand vio- lently against his brow. There was then a long interval of profound silence in the dungeon. At last this pause—so deep, eo still—was broken by the baronet himself, whose voice was character- ized by that unnatural steadiness, slowness, and yet partial thickness, which are the invariable evi- dence of powerfully concentrated emotions. “You shall at once be madeacquainted with my sad history,” he began ; “and it will then remain for you todecide the amount of commiseration which woes and wrongs so great ag mine deserve. More- over, itis probable that you will leave this awful placeloug before the day of my liberation shall come—for I can now form s tolerably accurate idea of the object my persecutors have in view in requiring of me certain conditions which I have hitherto peremptorily refused to fulfil, and to which I am now more determined than ever not to assent. Should you, therefore, regain your free- dom, leaving me still a prisoner here, you will not abandon my cause—you will not fail to invoke the aid of justice in my bebalf ?” “ Assuredly not!” ejaculated the commercial traveller; and he prepared to listen with atten- tion to the baronet’s story. “T am nowinmy thirty-seventh year,” began Sir Richard ; “and until within a fow days ago, sorrow and I were almost perfect strangers to each other. *Tistrue thatmy mother died when I was sixteen— and that my father followed her to the tomb at about the period of my majority ; but these were afflictions which occurred in the ordinary course of nature, and couldacarcely be termed subjects for re- ining. On the day that I became twenty-one, I found myself in possession of an estate producing seven thousenda-year; and, leaving itinthe charge of a trustworthy individual, I set out upon a long continental tour. I had already visited France, during my minority—and my taste for travelling was encouraged by the remembrance of the six or eight agreeable months I had passed at that period in Paris. On this second occasion I resolved toex- tend my tour through Germany into Italy; andthe design wascarriedintoeffect. My wanderings were prolongedeven beyond my original intention; and five years elapsed cro I egain set foot in England. During that interval my property had been much fzmpproved through the experience, integrity, and agricultural knowledge of my faithful agent: the tenantry were all prosperous, bappy, and con- tented ;—and the welcome that greeted me on my arrival at Stamford Manor was of the warmest end most cosdial description. All the farmers and a hc CSS SER 85 peasantry upon the estate were assembled, with their families, to receive me ;—and I well remem- ber how blithe and Joyous was the ball which took placa on the lawn in the evening. Pardon me if I have paused to dwell upon an incident apparently so trivial in contrast with the sad events that have recently occurred; but even from the depth of this duugeon, a retrospect over those sunny days of my existence is fraught with a consolatory inflJence.” The baronet ceased for a few minntes—and Page fancied that the sound of a half-stifed seb stole upon his ear through he intense darkness. “J was now upwards of six-and-twenty,” re- sumed Sir Richard Stamford “and it was natural that I should think of marriaze. My appetite for travelling was satiated; and I longed to settle down into the enjoyment of a sweet domesticity, in the midst of my tenants. Chance threw me in the way of a widow and her beautiful daughter, who lived in great seelusion at Aylesbury: for their circumstances were extremely limited. It were impossible to conceive a lady more amiable than Mrs. Sedley—or a being more enchantingly lovely than Eleanor. That affection may spring up in the heart at first sight, I am well convinced : because from the first moment that I beheld Eleanor Sedley, I loved her. Ina short time my passion amounted to a worship—an adoration : it was rather the enthusiasm which is experienced by the youth of eighteen, than the sentiment which ordinarily animates a man of twenty-six. And I was beloved in return—yes, b loved as ar- dently and as well; and the widow was rejoiced at the bright prospects which now developed them- selves on behalf of her darling daughter. We were married after a comparatively short court- ship; and Mra Sedley took up her residence with us at the Manor, on our return from the honeymoon-visit to a relative of mine in Devon- shire. A few years passed away in hapniness so unalloyed—so complete, that had I reflec*ed at all I might have felt assured, judging from the mu- tability of human affairs, that this elysian state was too glorious to last for ever. But I had not a care for the present nor & dread for the future and although our union was unblessed by off- spring, this circumstance marred nut the feliciiy which was enjoyed by Eleanor and myself. At length a sorrow came in the form of the sudden and alarming illness of Mrs. Sedley; and in spite of all the skill and attention which medical aid could devote or gold procure, she sank into thé tomb. My Eleanor was for a long time inconsol- able: but at length her grief gave way to resig- nation—and then a short tour into Devonshire succeeded in restoring her to her wonted spirits.” Again the baronet paused for a few minutes, at the expiration of which he resumed his narre- tive in the following words :— “It was on our return to the Manor, after this brief absence of a few weeks, that we formed the acquaintance of one whose name I can scarcely mention without a feeling of mingled horror and indignation, go intenws that it almost suffocates me. I allude to Philip Ramsey, who had only s short time before be- come a partner in Mr. Martin's bank. He was then a young man of about four-and-twenty with a handsome.person, a prepossessing address, and highly accomplished; and he speedily became CORNICE OOO G ‘SS CO