The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 370: what you’re looking at

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THE MYSTERIES. CHAPTER CCXVH. MALDEN FAEM. It was now about five o'clock in the evening, and the breeze, laden with the perfumes of May, came with a delightful freshness after the suitry heat which had previously prevailed. Having ascended a hill, the sides and summit of which were embowered with the richest emerald foliage, the travelling-carriage proceeded at a more rapid rate along the narrow bye-road which it was pursuing; and at a distance of about two miles from the village, a small but neat-looking cottaye, standing in a lonely spot, was passed by. “That Is the abode of the Austins,” said the Marchioness of Bellenden to Margaret, who was seated inside the carriage along with her noble mistress. “I wonder how Richard has succeeded with them.” “ Better, I hope, than I did with old Chapman,” responded Margaret. “But perhaps Richard is still there,” she added, looking forth from the window of the vehicle. “ And yet I do not see the chaise which he hired from the landlord of the Bellenden Arms; aod there is no stable or out- house where it could be put ap.”. “We may therefore conclude that he las seen the Austins and gone on post-haste towards Congleton,” said the Marchioness. “But, alluding to Chapman, you need not feel vexed, my dear Maryaret, that you were unable to succeed in that quarter: we have plenty of evidence, heaven knows, without him. And yet,” she added in a mournful voice, “I shall derive but comparatively little pleasure from the fact of securing to myself the safe and undisputed po-session of these estates, since he whom I love so madly—so passionately— so fervidly, can never be mine! No, it were useless to make another attempt to bring him within the Circle of my influence——” “Let us not despair on that head, my dear Laura,” interrupted Margaret. Lady Bellenden made no response: but, heaving a low and long sigh, she fell into a profound reverie. In about an hour from the moment of quitting the village, the travelling-carriage emerged from the bye-lane which it had been pursuing, and entered a broader road. “There!” suddenly ejaculated the Marchioness, as she pointed from the window towards a bridge which was in the course of being erected over a clear stream about ninety or a hundred feet wide. | “Yes—that is the spot!” cried Margaret, a visible shudder agitating her whole frame. “Ten oradozen years have elapsed siuce I was last in this neighbourhood—and great improvements have been made. This wide road—that bridze——” “ Ah! that bridge,” added the noble lady: and she exchanged significant looks with her fuithfal dependant. The varriage was now leaving the bridge behind and advaneing along the road towards a small farm-house about a quarter of a mile distant, and the white walls of which gleamed forth from the midst of thé foliage that enhanced the pictaresque beauty of the landscape. “Behold Malden Farm,” said the Marchioness. @ There are the same heavy over g gables— the same small and deep-set windows, with their diamond-fashioned panes—the same portico with the creeping clematis, which I remember years and years ago when first I visited the Bellenden estates.” “ And there, too,” added Margaret, looking to- wards a splendid mansion which steed upon an eminence about a couple of miles beyond the farm, —“there too, is Bellenden Hall, the finest country- seat in Warwickshire. The whole domain which the view can now embrace, belongs to thee, dear Laura ;— and, thank heaven! the hated Mont- gomerys shall not wrest it from thy grasp. But are you decided upon stopping at Malden Farm instead of going on to the Hall” “'Yes——such is my intention, Margaret,” re- sponded the noble lady. “You know that I have not long to remain in Warwickshire—that this law- . suit compels my immediate return to London— and that it therefore becomes a matter of conse- quence to save every mile of road and minute of time. The Farm is two miles nearer than the Hall to the new bridge, at which point, you know,” she added significantly, “we have such important business to transact: and moreover, by staying at the Farm, we at once obtain the opportunity of making inquiries concerning Lord Raymond Montgomery——” “For what earthly purpose, Laura?” demanded Margaret. “Since you are confident that you have not been misied respecting that young noble. man's fate, wherefore ask any questions regarding im ?” “To prevent others from suspecting that we are already so well informed on that head,” re- turned the Marchioness. “ Then you mean that the discovery which is to be made either to-night or to-morrow morning, shall have the appearance of nazard and acci- dent?” continued the dependant, interrogatively “Precisely so,” answered the nodle lady. “Ine deed, 1 do not purpose to proclaim to the world all I know or all I may yet glean relative to my oppo- nents, unless they force me to extremes.” “I understand—and I approve of the course which you intend to adopt,” said Margaret. At this moment the carriage entered an avenue of evergreens, the great gate leading into which was held open by a stout, sun-burnt, middle-aged man whose countenance was the picture of good-humour and vigorous health. This was Farmer Brooks, the occupant of Malden, and therefere one of the nw merous tenantry of the Marchiouess, inasmuch as she held possession of the estates during the progress of the Chancery suit. He had observed the carriage approaching; and having ordered his wife, who was a comely woman of four-and-forty, “to see that all was comfortable and tidy in-doors,” he had run down to the end of the avenue to open the gate. Mrs. Brooks was one of those simple-minded and well-meaning bodies—one of those ingenuous and honest creatures, that are rarely (at least at ber age) to be met amidet the contamination of cities and great towns, but which are often found in the armall farm-houses or secluded cottages of agr:cultural districte, The receipt of a letter in the mornmg to thé effect that the Marchioness of Bellenden would visit Malden Farm in the evening, and perhape pass the night there, had put the worthy womau quite b @ @ DoOokseGol (C