The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 338: what you’re looking at

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

THE MYSTERIES OF THE OOURT. CHAPTER LXXXV. ANOTHER LAMB IN THE LIONS DEN. On recovering her senses, Ariadne Varian found herself in bed; and sweeping her eyes rapiily around, as a flood of recollections poured in unto her brain, she at once saw that it was not the same chamber which she had occupied at Sir Douglas Huntingdon’s. Handsome as that chamber was, this was far more elegantly furnished, and denoted a more exquisite refinement in taste, or rather in luxury. A middle-aged woman, looking like a house- keeper, was seated by the bedside: and though the instant Ariadne opened her eyes, this female endeavoured to look kindly and speak soothingly, yet it was not with the same motherly tenderness evinced by Mrs. Baines. No suspicion of treachery, however, entered Ariadne’s mind. Collecting her ideas, she remem- bered that she had been alarmed with cries of “Fire"—that springing from her couch she had beheld the ominous glare at the window of her chamber—and that the noise of the crowds in the streets had reached her ears. She also recollected that, overcome with terror, she had felt her limbs failing and her strength aban- doning her: and as she remembered nothing more until the instant she awoke in this strange apart- ment where she now found herself, she naturally concluded that her reminescenoes had been inter- rupted by a long swoon. Utterly unaware, therefore, how her life was saved, and who had saved it,—unconscious, indeed of every feature and detail of the terrible con- flagration, — her first hurried questions were to inquire where she was, what extent of damage had been done, and whether any lives were lost. Then before even a single one of these queries was answered, she exclaimed with looks and accents of torturing suspense, “Tell me, is Sir Douglas Huntingdon safe ?* The questions so hurriedly and excitedly put were each and all equally puzzling to the Marquis of Leveson’s housekeeper, who was even more fenorant than Ariadne herself relative to what had eccurred—seeing that she of course did not know who the damsel was, whence she had been brought, or that any pertioular house had been on fre. Being however of an astute and cunning tion, as the housekeeper of such a nobleman ought to be, the woman gave Ariadne such vague and general, but at the same time reassuring answers, that while she tranquillized the maiden’s mind on the one hand, she elicited on the other fresh questions which in themselves were explanations of what had oocurred. “You assure me, then, that my kind-hearted benefactor, Sir Douglas Huntingdon, is safe?” said Ariadne. - “Yes—quite safe.” “Is the house totally consumed? and am I in- debted to a neighbour’s hospitality for this asylum ”* “JT am afraid the is t—and you are freely welcome i ™ ” “'Was it the Baronet who saved me ” inquired Ariadne, secretly wishing in her heart that the re- sponse would be in the affirmative, “Yes—he rescued you. You were senseless, I suppose ?” “J had fainted through terror the moment I heard the alarm of fire.” “Ah! poor young lady, and enough too te frighten you ! I presume you are some relation to Sir Douglas Huntingdon ?” “Not the least,” returned Ariadne. “ He is my benefactor—that is to say, he has behaved hand. somely, kindly, and nobly towards me, although I have only known him for I may say a few hours— indeed since last night. But this reminds me that his excellent housekeeper, Mrs. Baines, has be- haved like a mother to me: do you know whether she is quite safe ?” “J have already told you,” answered Lord Le- veson’s housekeeper, “that no lives have been lost.” “ Is Mrs. Baines here in this house 2” “ No—but at a neighbour's.” “Ah! JI understand,” said Ariadne: “ when so dreadful an occurrence as 8 fire takes place, in a house, the inmates speedily become dispersed throughout the neighbourhood.” “ Yes—that is always the case.” « And now tell me beneath whose roof I have found an asylum ?” asked Ariadne. “Have you ever heard of a nobleman named Leveson—the Marquis of Leveson?” inquired the housekeeper, with becoming caution. “ No, never—Oh! yes—I answered too hastily,” said Ariadne, suddenly correcting herself, as she remembered having read that the Mr. Dysart who was hung a short time back was the husband of the Marquis of Leveson’s niece. “I have heard his lordship’s name mentioned, now that I think of it —but quite in a casual manner f” “Well, then, should you be pleased or other- wise,” asked the housekeeper, “ if you heard that you were beneath the roof of the Marquis of Le- veson ?” “J should esteem myself highly honoured,” re- turned Ariadne, with that simplicity of prejudice in favour of the aristocracy which was natural with one who had never been taught either by lessons or by experience, to loath, hate, and abominate that aristocracy.as the greatest curse that God in his wrath or Satan in his malignity ever inflicted upon a country. “Well, then,” said the housekeeper, “this is the mansion of the Marquis of Leveson: and I occupy an important post io his lordship’s house- hold. His lordship is an excellent man, and J am sure that you will like him amazingly when you come to know him. Besides which, he is certain to feel a great interest in you after your adventure of this night. And then, too, there is his beau- tifal niece Lady Ernestins Dysart—one of the handsomest and finest women in England. Ah! how unfortunate she has been,” added the house- keeper, shaking her heaa with much apparent s0- lemnity. “Yes, I know to what you allude,” said Ariadne, with a profound sigh, as the thought of Dysart’s fate, by a natural association, conjured up ideas of Newgate, and forcibly reminded her of her brother Theodore’s recent misfortunes. “It was when reading certain circumstances in the newspaper that I first became acquainted with the name of the Marquis of Leveson.” COM ELOOO® Ss CO