The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 345: what you’re looking at

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deeply for him. Mr. Hawkshaw, when examined as s witness, gave his evidence according to his knowledge of the circumstances; and after a brief charge from the coroner, the jury delivered & ver- dict of “ Accidental Death.” While Hawkshaw remained below, Edmund paced the drawing-room in considerable agitation. He was there alone: he could give unrestrained vent to his tortured feelings. Myriads of appre- hensions crowded in upon his mind. What after all, there had been some witness of the deed —a witness unseen by himP What if such wit- ness should suddenly come forward? Edmund had read of such things in books the annals of crime: he knew that by inscrutable means did Providence often bring home guilt to ita perpetrator. Yet in spite of these terrors which were haunting him, Edmund's mind had a horrible clearness—an illimitable sense of the ne- cessity of keeping the strictest guard over his looks, his words, and his actions. Thus, as he heard footsteps approaching the room-door, and knew them to be Hawkshaw’s, he said to himself, “If I show an anxiety to learn the result of the inquest, I am lost !” Accordingly, as the Squire entered the apart- ment, Edmund appeared to be absorbed in the deepest woe, as if unmindful even that an inquest was being held at all. Yet from Hawk- shaw’s lips were about to come forth the words that must either confirm all his horrible terrors, or afford a sudden relief to his mind. The words were spoken: the verdict was made known—and Edmund remained with his countenance buried in his kerchief, for fear lest any change of the ex- pression of his features should raise a suspicion where evidently none existed as yet. The coroner and the jury, having partaken of refreshments which were served up to them, de- parted to their respective homes; and Mr. Hawk- _ ahaw remained with Edmund. He stayed to dinner, being unwilling to leave the unfortunate young nobleman (as he considered him to be) until the last moment : but conceiving it probable that Lady Saxondale might make her ap that even- ing—and being naturally disinclined to meet her— he et about nine o'clock. was Edmund alone, but the least thing in a better frame of mind than he was a few hours back. The grand ordeal had been passed through—the inquest was over—and it had terminated in a way which had relieved his mind from torturing appre- hensions. But he had yet two terrors to look in the face. His mother was coming; and the night was coming! At least, the longer he reflected upon the course which Lady Saxondale was likely to pursue, the more convinced was he that she would come. And why did he dread to meet her? Because he shrank from the thought of looking in the face any one who could say to him, “ Thou art @ murderer !”” But his mother—was not she also stained with crime ? and did he not know it? Ah, yes! but the knowledge thereof mitigated little if at all, the dread feeling which he himself must experience, of having put it in the power of any living soul to oy, “Thou art a murderer!’ An hour passed: it was ten o'clock. Lady _ Saxondale must have received the letter at about win in the morning: if she set off immediately, THE MYSTERIES OF THE COURT. she might be at the castle now. Ah! no soonsr had the young nobleman made this reflection, when- the sounds of an equipage dashing up to the gate- way, reached his ears. No doubt it was his mother! In a few minutes he would know; and during those few minutes he the acutest suspense: for, as above stated, it was with him a horrible dread to look in the face of any one who even by a glance seemed to say, “ Thou art a if, | murderer !”’ Footsteps were ascending the stairs: the door opened—and Lady Saxondale made her appear- ance. For the sake of show in the presence of the domestic who had attended her thither, she threw her arms about Edmund’s neck, and from her lips sent forth sounds which passed well enough for sobs. The door closed—the domestic had retired —there was no longer need for hypocrisy; and therefore, abruptly withdrawing herself from Ed- mund, she flung her gase upon him. Their eyes met: and the conscience-stricken young man thought that as plain as eyes could speak, those of his mother said to him, “ Thou art a murderer!” Ho staggered back, and sank on a chair as if annihilated. His feelings were at that moment horrible. Crime had looked crime in the face: and crime had seemed to make crime ite own self- reproach. Lady Saxondale, comprehending tole- rably well what was pessing in Edmund's soul, emniled scornfully for an instant,—as if to be thus overcome by the sense of crime, was a weakness ing contempt. But as that expression quickly vanished from her features, she recollected the nocessity of fortifying Edmund’s mind as much as possible, so that he should not be led into a be- trayal of his guilt. She forced herself to speak kindly to him; and this perhaps she was the better enabled to do, inasmuch as since he had become criminal, she could hate him a trifle less than she had done before. For if virtue has its affections, so has crime: affinities of positions sometimes en- gender affinities of feclings. Besides, Lady Sax- ondale had resolved on pursuing a different course from that which she had heretofore adopted towards Edmund. Sternly resolved to wield the iron sceptre of domestic domination, she nevertheless purposed to treat him with a sufficient amount of kindness and god after a certain fashion, as would make him insensible of the tyranny of her rule. He was to be her slave without precisely knowing it. Through him would she continue the head of the house of Saxondale, even after his majority should be attained. Nominally he would be the owner of the wide domains and the lordly revenues : but she would virtually exercise supreme control over both. Such was the policy she intended to adopt: such were the prospects which were spread out before her. Edmund was in that frame of mind when the soothing words of kindness could not be lost upon him, ill-conditioned mortal though he were. Besides, it was a relief for him to reflect that his mother, after all, did not mean to make a reproach of the black guilt which he had perpetrated, and into which she had persuaded him. He accordingly looked up; and he acquired courage from her owm firm and resolute demeanour. In less than half- an-hour from the moment of her arrival, she gut him to talk upon the incidente of the tragedy. He described the details—stated how generously San —> qian: eee (COL (C DOO CS (COL