Penny Dreadfuls, 1850 · page 106 of 397
The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 106: what you’re looking at
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| 3 : | ees coer eepee THE MYSTERIZS OF THE COURT. ‘address, she bent over her and said whisperingly, “This will suffice, poor girl, for your immediate wants.” Mies Leyden, whose heart was now swelling almost to bursting, but with emotions very far dif- ferent from those which she had so recently expe- rienced, pressed to her lips the hand that had placed the little packet in her own; while she endeavoured to murmur forth some words expressive of her gra- titude—but her utterance was choked, and beyond a few broken syllables she could say nothing. Hasten home to your mother, my yotng friend,” eaid Angela; “and do not be afraid that I. ahall forget you.” Henrietta went forth from the presence of Big- nora Vivaldi with feelings which can be better un- derstood than’ described. It was not so much because the eminent dassexes had put money into her hand-—for she knew not yot how much the paper contained: but it was Sonate sympathy bad been shown her—becauge she had been treated with kindness—and because at parting Angels had called her by the name of “friend.” Oh! for the humble and obscure ballet- | on girl, with eight shillings a-week, to be suddenly admitted, to the friendship of the renowned dans- euse wheose path was paved with gold and strowed with fowers! Oh! to have won theeympathy of her whoee high and brilliant position she had so often envied! It appeared to be a dream—-e vision from which there would be the sad wakening of diseppointmnent. to the dreesing-room which she end all the ingrior manaber of the ballet had in common amongst themselves, Henrictta lost no time im putting off her gausy raiment, washing the rouge from her cheeks, and resuming her own ap- But, ah! how different now did the young girl look! Her countenance was pale—very pale, even to sioklinees; and yet she seemed far more sweetly interesting m her pallor than when the roseate tint of art was spread upon her cheeks to mock the pensivences of her beauty. But her attire-—how plain, how scant even to meanness, was it! Nevertheless her clothes were as scrupulously neat and clean as their dire poverty would permit them to be. The cotton dress was faded—the shaw] was worn threadbare—the ribbons of the cheap straw-bonnet showed that they had been long in use. Poor girl, what more could she do for herself upon eight shillings a week — with an invalid mother, and a little brother of seven years old, too young to earn aught on his own account Henrietta had concealed Angela’s gift in her bosom, because several other ballet-girls were chang- ing their apparel in the dreesing-room at the same time; nor even when beyond the threshold of the Opera House and in the street, did she pause to ascertain to what extent Angela's generosity had gone. Her heart was so full of the new emotions which such unlooked-for and unusual sympathy had excited, that she felt they were even too sacred to be disturbed by the selfish and worldly-minded pro- of counting the contents of the paper: and eo she sped on homeward, without enlightening her- self upon that point, or even experiencing the wish todoso. It wasa luxury, novel and ineffable, for the poor girl to think of the kindness whereof she bad been the object, so that the circumstance of —_oD ap ae —_ es ow a —_- ole Gewe 93 y, | the money-gift was for the moment of the least im- portance in her thoughts. Let us now turn our attention for a few minutes to the interiot of a room, or rather an attic, be- longing to a house in one of the confined, dirty, and gloomy-looking courts leading out of Little Pulteney Street, Soho. Although two o’clock jin the morning, yet a light burnt in that attic: but it was only a miserable rush-candle, which just alleviated the darkness and sha dowed forth the poverty-stricken appearance of the room. The little window had originally possessed six panes of giaas, of a very small size: two of these alone remained, and the vacant squares were covered with paper. A crasy bedstead with a flock bed—two chaira—a email] table —a washing-stend—and a few cooking utensils, comprised the whole of the furniture of the wretched attic. Yet everything was scrupulously clean. In the bed lay a female of about t.cty, and whose pas- | pale and emaciated countenance, sunken eyes, and thin wasted arms, denoted the invatd. Indecd, it appeared as if the hand of death were already upun her. She was awako—and with her head supported was contemplating the countenance of a « pretty but delicate-looking little boy who lay fast asleep by her side. The child, who was about seven years old, had the most beautiful chesnut hair that ever was seen ;—curling naturally about his well- shaped little head, it was as soft and silken as that of a girl. The poor mother, as she bent over her sleeping darling, showed by the nervous compression of her lips that she could scarcely subdue an out- burst of grief; and unconsciously on her part did two tears drop from her eyes upon the cheek of the child. It was not till she perceived them that she felt that sho was weeping; and she kissed away from her boy's face the tears she had thus let fall. “Poor child!” she thought to herself, “ what is to becagne of thee? I shall not long remain to watch over you: I foel that death will soon come to claim me as his own! O Almighty God! have mercy upon this poor innocent child, who has done no harm—who is incapable of doing harm! Alas, alas! if it were not impious, I could wish, my darling little Charley, that you had never been born. Oh! how strange it is that according 4s we are rich or poor, do our children prove the objects of pleasuro or of pain. Had I the means to make theo happy, poor child, how rejoiced should I be to possess thee; but now that I am steeped to the very lips in poverty, and that within the four narrow walls of this wretched chamber hunger is often our guest, I sor- row that thou, my poor child, wast ever born to so much misery! Your sister has to toil for us both, —for thee, helpless little one—and for me, her , equally helpless mother! O, my God!” exclaimed Mrs. Leyden aloud, as a terrible idea flashed across her mind, “extend thine all-protecting influence over my poor Henrietta! I shudder when I think of the temptations to which she is exposed,—temp. tations which her own exalted sense of virtue makes her recuil from, but to which, alas! a prolongation of so much misery may in @ moment of despair drive her to succumb. Oh! how I tremble every time she goes forth to the fulfilment of hor arducus duties. I think to myself, ‘ Thou leavest this abods of poverty pure and chaste, my Henrietta ; but is it uot to be dreaded that the day way come when you —— ———e (acer sb Gis a= «iG. eee aD COMM oe eee « A EEE ED ae Se ElOOO (CO