The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 109: what you’re looking at

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

Oe wnich was only at a short distance from Paradise Villas. Lights gleamed. from the parlour-wiadows —and he knew that anxious hearts were beating within. For he had no secrets from his wife and daughter: they knew all—and now they were wait- ing to know the worst. But he paused on the steps for upwards of two minutes ere he could com- mand the courage and the energy sufficient to raise his hand to the knecker. How could he meet them face to face, and say, “I am ruined ?”—how could he encounter their earnest, inquiring gaze, and proclaim that hope was gone? For doubtless they were hoping still ;—yes—and cheering each other, —mother and daughter each striving and strain- ing her utmost to sustain the spirits of the other! My God—how could he cast the blight of despair apon all those tender sympathies—those pious as- surances—those holy consolations? Yet it must pe done: sooner or later the blow would arrive— sooner or later must the storm of ruin level the castles which hope was building on the unstable sand that it mistook for a firm rock! Oh! un- oappy—doomed family ! Foster knocked at the door—and immediately afterwards his ear caught the rustling of dresses and the rapid tread of light feet in the hall within. Ihe door was opened hastily—anxious voices wel- comed him, and in the same breath inquired what news he had brought: and he remained standing motionless on the threshokd—and spoke no word. For before him were his wife and daughter—the two beings whom he loved so well, and to save whose hearts a pang he would cheerfully lay dgwn his existence,—aye—and smile in the midst of that self-martyrdom ! The light of the hall-lamp fell upon his counte- nance—and they saw that it spoke terrible things. Then they knew the worst! Now, had he entered in an excited manner and at once proclaimed the full extent of his misery— which was also ¢heir misery—they would doubtless have barst into a vio:ent eballition of grief. But when they saw that he—the husband and the father—was as it were stuoned and stupified by the immensity of the sorrow that weighed upon him, they instantly revealed themselves in the true nature of Woman—blessed Woman !—and became comforters and consolers. “* Dearest — dearest husband,” murmured the wife, endeavouring to smile,—“all may not be as bad as you apprehend !” “Beloved father,” whispered the daughter, suc- ceeding in her attempt to smile—but it was through glistening teara; “you have given me a good education—I possess accomplishments—and I ean work to maiutain us all !” Then the full tide of ineffable emotions rushed to the heart of the ruined merchant who was so tenderly adjured by a wife and so affectionately addressed by a daughter;—and entering the house he folded them both in his embrace, and wept ever them plenteously! But such was the state of his mind that those tears gave him no real relief: they only forced his sorrow to take, as it were, a new phase—for inasmuch as he had been stupified and stunned by its weight before, he was now writhing th an anguish that penetrated into the lowest Confines of his being. Even though smiles had ex- ponded over him like sunlight, they would only ve served to bring unto stronger relief the desert- THE MYSTERIES. like desoiation of that future on which those whous he loved so well were about to enter. Mastering, however, his emotions as well as he was able, Foster described the failure of his visit to Carlton House. Then came from his wife’s lips the tremulons, hesitating question whether Hodson and Morley would not xccord him a farther delay. * No—not an hour— rot a minute !” answered the merchant, almost distracted; and he dashed his open palm violently against his brow. “" My dearest husband,” said Mrs. Foster, * there is One above who hears our words and watches our ways; and if it should please Him to rescue us from ruin, penury, and want, even at the last in- stant will succour and salvation come.” But the afflicted man shook his head despair. ingly : his sorrow was tov great for the consolations of religion. His daughter —a lovely girl of sixteen, and to whom her fond parents had given the sweet name of Rose, as if inher earliest infancy they foresaw the beauty into which the then delicate flower was destined to expand,—this charming creature, we Bay, now exerted all the influence of the tendorest endearments and all the power of language to solace her distressed father. But suddenly his countenance grew strange and fearful: then a wild laughter wavered upon his lips—and, springing from his seat, he began to toss his arms about and rave as if in the fever of a delirium. His wife and daughter threw themselves on thelz knees before him, and besought him to be calm This touching spectacle and still more earnest ap- peal produced an almost instantaneous effect upon him: the wild laughter and the indistinct ravings were speedily lost in profound sobbings and suffo eatingysighs—and these were in their tarn sabdued by copious weeping and quenched by floods o! tears. Considerably tranquillised, Mr. Foster at length suffered himself to be conducted to his chamber Sleep fell upon him: but his misfortunes pursued him in nis dreams—and he awoke at an early hour enrefreshed, He raised his heavy eye-lids—and the first objects his languid looks encountered were his wife and daughter. They had not retired to rest all night: their patient, holy, and affectionate vigil had been wakefully kept! Oh! who can estimate the devotion of woman? —who can define a limit to her generous symps- thies? Unto what can we liken the boundless love of which her heart is susceptible? To the elastic air which is capable of an expansion so vast that a cubic inch may dilate to a volume filling all space, infinite though it be! Yes—to the air, so falsely called empty, let us assimilate woman’s love. For éven as that same atmosphere is filled with the © perfume of flowers a million times mingled, so is woman's love fraught with all those sentiments of the soul that are in themselves a delicious essence and a fragrant balm :—again, as the air becomes the me- dium of wafting all the harmonies of nature to the ear, sO is woman’s love breathed in melodious tones, combining all the modulations of her ten- derest sensibilities ;—and, lastly, even as the at- mosphere is radiant with the lustre of the orb of day, so does woman’s love diffuse its brightness from beaming eyes and in sunny smiles |! Oh! thou vile, ruthless ruffian that could raise thine hand against a woman!—Oh! thou black~ AOC COMM @ co