The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 23: what you’re looking at

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

10 ae MYSTS) “Ob, the courage!” she ejaculated, laughing gaily. ‘Is it so grand an achievement, after all? Look ! you shall see :”—and she tripped upon the bridge. The young Earl at once followed her. It was with a light step, and her hand scarcely touching the rail, that she thus advaiseed till she gained the middle of the bridge. Thete she stopped short; and looking over the rail, Gontempiated the foam- ing water which was flashing brightly m the suas beams. “Perhaps it was here, Adotphus,” she at length said, turning towards het companion,~—* her@, upon this very spot, that the catastrophe took lace P” ee Yes—the Jegend says,” he answered, “that it wasin the middle ef the bridge, according te the tale which the shepherd subsequently told.” “And here, then, they fell over,” said Ethel “the girl’s arwss tightly clasped around the neck of him who was the ruin of ber happiness f” “Yea—here,” rejoined the young Marl, turning ronnd at the same time, as the Countess bad done, to contemplate the water from the side which was unprotected by the handrail. “Forgive me, Adolphus!” suddenly exclaimed Ethel. At the seme instant her arma were theown about his neck: tightly were they — wild and fearful cry thrilled forth from lips —one desperate straggle to disengage himeself— but all in vain !—over they foll—down, Gowa they went! The catire ravine, the grove, end all the adjacent district echeed with Vhe Werific ais of the lord: Bat mot another sound thea the words “ ive we, Uidelphas £ which sie had uttered, came from the tips of Bibel. Teere wae a terrificsplash; and away Veit bodize were Berne, the arms of the Countess oti ereand his neck—her hands =——n Wf ems and hands of her’s constitated am fun Vice! CHAPTER LXXXIV. THE GRAVE-STONE. THE reader will not have forgotten that beautiful little village in Westmoreland where Barney the Burker obtained the situation of assistant grave- digger to old Jonathan Carnabie. To this village we must now return. Tt was an early hour in the morning; and a female, clad in gipsy-like apparel, stood in the middie of the churchyard, contemplating that grave-stone which bore the simple inscription of “ October, 1830.” There was nothing wild in her look now—nothing wandering nor restless: it was fixed and replete with sadness. For several minates did she thus stand gazing upon that head-atone, as if the singular conciseness of the inscription thas rivetted her attention—or else as if there wore something in the date which more or less associated iteelf with certain memories floating in her brain. The reader of course recognises Crazy Jane; and it is thorefore useless to observe any mystery upon the point. The woman had intervals which, if not positively lucid, were at all events charac- THS MYSTBRIRE OF THE COURT. terized by a certain clearness of perception in comperison with other periods; as, for instance, when she gavo the information which led to so startling a turn in the trial of Lettice Rodney, The present occasion was one of the happier moodsof her intellect, as she stood gazing upon the tombstone; and if an observer had been nigh, bee might probably have perceived that beneath Wat fixity of look and mournful calmness of @¥antenance, there was a certain inward agitation @ excitement, arising ftom the powerful efforts end the straining attempts which the poor woman wes making to disentangle her thoughts completely and reepehal all hee mental associations for the parpose of ular Wad intelligible review. * He wpoke of a pdwt mad lady,” she presently sad tm A teurmaring tome te herself; “and who was likely bo have beom driven tad if not my poor dont mistzen? Toat ~~ Ah! my ideas gree confencd aguin-—-— No, we! F cannot righ waderstard that which & qupeate a8 if I seek and want to ond |* Bho tateed away chowly and moetofully; aad evs at Ubet inetent od Somathan Carnabie and is new encietnah were ing tewatde the of the clarehyerd. ™ = * Ab I” abe ejaceiated, “ there ate the men whom I wek!-—-=-they were together the other night 18 old Jonathan. “{ wondete why about the village? We meant Gnd out where sie and have her passed te her parish: it will mever do for hat te becouse our leeal rates.” “You are the enna, Mr. Coram,” caid the Barker, *te get vid of her. Go anil try your wence. There! blow me if I haven’t forgot the mattock—and I'll just ran and fetch it.” “ De,” Ged the old sexton: and he ad. vanced towards Orasy Jane, who, being at a dis- tante of aboat fifty had not overheard a singte aytiable that pasted between the sexton and Meanehite the Burker, turning rapidly away, had sped back to the cottage. ““My poor woman,” said Jonathan, accosting Crazy Jane, “you seem to be a houseless wan- derer——” “ A wanderer P—yes ! she ejaculated : “ because it is my destiny! My mind will not let me rest. Houseless did you say? No—not when I choose to ask for an asylum : for who ould refuse it to a poor creature such as Iam? Besides,” she added, after a pause, “I can pay for what I have when payment is required.” Thus speaking, she dived her lank hand down ito a pocket, and drew forth a quantity of coin. Silver and halfpence were all jumbled together; and it strack the old sexton that he caught the glitter of two or three pieces of « still more pre- cious metal. But the next instant Crazy Jane had transferred the money back to her pocket,— ex claiming with asort of triumph, “So you see that I am not altogether a mendicant, though you pers haps took me for one ?” “T am well pleased, my poor wotnan,” answered Jonathan, “to find that you ate thus independent of casual charity. Bus why are you not with your CONIC OOO <S co