The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 272: what you’re looking at

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

THE MYSTERIES OF THE OOURT. 261i having achieved some alterations in their toilet after their long, dusty, and fatiguing journey, they de- ecended to the dining-room, where a late dinner— or rather supper, as it might be called in strict reference to the hour—was served up. But neither felt much inclination for the dainties spread before them; and they soon proceeded to the drawing- room, to take the more welcome refreshment of tea or coffee. What a host of recollections now swept back to the mind of Lady Saxondale! It was to this room, nineteen years back, that Ralph Farefield had fol- lowed her from the chamber of the dead old Lord Saxzondale, to satisfy himself that the child whose restoration had been announced to him was really there. As the widow of that old lord now cast her eyes around, every incident of that scone appeared to spring up to her view with as vivid a reality as when it took place at the time. There was the spot where Mabel was sitting at the moment with the child in her arms: there was also the spot where her ladyship’s father, the Rev. Mr. Clifton, had eaid in the fervour of his grateful piety, “God in his mercy be thanked for the dear babe’s restoration !” -——there too was the window-recese where she and Ralph had conversed together when she gave him that appointment in the chapel—an appointment which he kept, but whence he never departed alive ! And where now were all these of whom she was thus thinking? Ralph Farefield had perished miser- ably and mysteriously; and the lady had unex- y and startlingly found herself not long back confronted with his embalmed corpse in the museum at Dr. Ferney’s dwelling. Years had elapsed since her father the Rev. Mr. Clifton had gone down into the tomb; and many a sun had since shone upon: her the church and many a winter's wind had howled around the walls of that same sacred edifice in the vaults of which his remains were interred. And Mabel—che likewise was no more: but a few days only had elapsed since she departed from this life, as detailed in a previous chapter. But the child which nineteen years back that same Mabel had held in her arms in this same drawing-room—for whose restoration Mr. Clifton had poured forth his gratitude—and whose presence there had so cruelly damped all the magnificent hopes and aspirations of Ralph Parefield,—that child had grown up to become a bitter curse to Lady Saxondale—the o>. ject of her hatred—and as she herself had so oly expressed it, “a viper that abe hed eberiabed to sting her !” As her ladyship sat in this drawing-room with Juliana on the first evening of their return to the ; epective bed-rooms, each attended by a maid ; and | heard. In the metropolis, splendid equipages wore constantly dashing by the mansion: here naught went by except the silent river pursuing its steady, noiseless, and inanimate way. In London, Lady Saxondale might have plunged into all imaginable gaieties for the purpose of drowning thought: here she must reckon upon passing hours and hours alone, or else in the companionship of a daughter whom she detested almost as much as she hated Ed mnund himeelf. Altogether, Lady Saxondale expe- rienced a deep regret that she should have quitted the metropolis and come down into Lincolnshire. Juliana sat apparently half-doszing in her chair, but in reality watching her mother’s countenance. She hergelf experienced a gloomy despondency which she could not shake off; and she also regretted having left London. There she might have heard of Con- atance: there she might have carried out her design of ensnaring some old lord in his dotage, or some antiquated commoner, into the matrimonial noose, and thus be enabled to indulge in her licentious passion for Francis Paton. But here, in the country, there was by no means the same chance of accom- plishing her sims: and as for Francis, she would lose sight of him altogether, and on her return to London know not how to fall upon any clue to his . Thus was it that both mother and daughter felt the gloom of Saxondale Castle strike with a chill to their souls and plunge their spirits into the deepest despondency. The clock in the tower over the entrance pro- claimed the hour of ten, when her ladyship starting from her reverie, pulled the bell somewhat violently. A footman answered the summons; and she de- sired him to order her maid to attend with chamber-candles. Shortly afterwards Lucilla made appearance; and as Lady Saxondale rose to issue from the room, she was struck by observing that the young woman’s countenance looked pale and agitated. She gazed again: and although Lucilla endeavoured to compose her features, yot Lady Saxondale’s keen penetrating eyes could not be deceived by this attempt on the abigail’s part to veil unpleasant feelings. “Js anything the matter?’ demanded Lady Saxondale. “The matter? Oh, no, my lady,” replied Lucilla, now blushing and looking very much confused. “Yes, but I can seo there is,” cried her ladyship. “Tell me, Lucilla—you need not be afraid to speak —what is the matter? I-sce that thore is some- thing upon your mind.” “Your re ledyship would perhaps be angry,” the young wuman, still hesitating. “TI have already told you not to be afraid to castle, her thoughts were assuredly of no agreeable ; epeak frankly. What is the matter?” complexion. All the memories with which this very | room was associated, were fraught with unspeakable “Only, my lady, I was rather frightened by what I had heard down in the servants’ hall——— mournfulness for her. A deep gloom succeeding; “And what is that? Do for heaven's sake make the terrific excitement of all the earlier part of the . use of your tongue, and let us hear of what day, bad fallen upon Bee spirite; and she {oso pre. nature the gossip is that has eo alarmed you." sentiment of approaching evil. She regretted; “ Please, my lady, the servants say that last night having come to Saxondale Castle: the silence that | there was a ghost seen in the western side of the prevailed throughout the edifice, appeared to strike | castle.” her with a tomb-like awfulness. In London she| The reader will recollect that the whole of this was in the midst ef life and geiety. The mansion portion of the edifice to which Lucilla had just " in Park Lane being smaller, there were the constant alluded, as well as the extremity that may be sounds of persons moving abont the house: but termed the back or northern part of the building, bere, in this vast baronial edifice, nothing was had long been disused, but not shut up—for the ennai <«e- GON GoOO S _ mn