The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 50: what you’re looking at

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

fu MYSTERIES OF THE COURT. 9 she had broaght with her those memorials of her with you over those memorials of the mother who long deceased mother, which, through Christian, | died in your infancy! ‘You love and revere her he had expressed a wish to behold ? | memory Oh ! never fail thus to cherish—thus ‘*'Yes,” answered our heroine, with a tone and_ tocling to it!—for it is sweet to think of a de- look of tender sadness, as she produced a small casket of oriental workmanship, and which was one of the numerous gifts she had received from the Princess of Inderabad. Mr. Redcliffe took the casket from her hand— and opened it with as reverential an air as the twins themselves could have displaved when pro- ceeding to the contemplation of memorials that so intimately concerned themselves. First he drew forth a long tress of raven hair—a tress which we have described in an earlier chapter of this narra- tive as one that must have constituted part of a luxuriant mass which might have formed the glory of a queen—aye, or the envy of a queen !— and while he surveyed it with a long and earnest attention, the brother and sister instinctively wound their arms about each other's neck, avd pressed each other’s hand, as they exchanged looks of unspeakable fondness. Then Mr. Red- cliffe drew forth from the casket a beautiful gold watch of delicate fashion and exquisite workman. ship; and as he contemplated if, the tears trickled down his cheeks. “ He feels for ua,” whispered Christian to his sister: “this excellent kind-hearted man—the most generous benefactor we have ever known— feels for our orphan condition.” * Yes— Mr. Redcliffe can appreciate,” responded Christina, “ the feelings with which you and I, dear brother, have been wont to gaze for hours and hours on the memorials of a mother who was snatched from us ere we had intelligence to com- prehend her loss !’’ Clement Redoliffe now opened another little packet which he took from the casket; and this packet contained two rings. One has been already described as & wedding-ring: the other, likewise a lady’s, was of no considerable value but of ex- quisite workmanship. And now Mr. Redcliffe proceeded to the window with these two rings; and as he contemplated them, his back was turned to- wards the orphans. There he remained for at least five minutes—motionless as a statue—with his eyes evidently riveted upon the rings; and the orphans did not approach him. They still felt persuaded that in the goodness of his heart he was deeply touched on their account, while surveying these relics of their lung dead mother. It was altogether a scene of the most pathetic interest; and the tears wore trickling down the beautifully handsome face of Christian and tho sweetly beau- tiful countenance of Christina. Mr. Redcliffe at length turned slowly away from the window. His complexion, which has been described as being made up of sallowness bronzed with the sun, now appeared of a dead white: his face was indeed ghastly pale. Thatcold stera look which ho habitually wore, and which was almost saturnine, chilling the beholder who was unaccus- tomed to it—bad totally disappeared, and was suc- eee a aaa ! wept over them. eeeded by one of the deepest melancholy: bud it ; was @ mournfulness that had something awfully solemn in it. He advanced towards the twins; and taking their hands he said, in a voice that was earcely audible, “My dear children—for as such ‘ ein to look upon you henceforth—I can weep parted parent who is now a saint in keaven !” At the same moment the same idea strack the twins ;—simultaneously too were their looks bent in eager anxious inquiry upon Mr. Redcliffe’s countenance: and their lips gave utterance at the same moment to precisely the same words. “Our mother—did you know her ?” Mr. Redcliffe turned aside—raised his hand to his brow—and for an instant seemed to stagger as if under the influence of a hurricane of memories sweeping through his brain. The orphans watched him with a still more earnest gaze—a still more anxious interest than before: for they felt as if they stood upon the threshold of hitherto unanti- cipated revealings. “Yes—I knew her,” slowly responded Mer. Redcliffe, again turning towards the brother and sister: “I knew your poor mother! I¢ is this circumstance, my dear children, which inspires me with so vivid an interest on your behalf-—— But you must ask me no questions at present—I can tell you nothing more yot! The time may shortly come when But do not press me now! Above all things, breatho nota syllable eleewhere of what has taken place between us! Let it be sufficient for you to know that in me you have found one who will watch over your interests— who will study your welfare—and who will be unto you both asa friend, a guardian, and a father !” Mr. Redcliffe folded the twins in bis arms, and They knelt at his feet, murmur- ing forth in broken voices the expressions of their gratitude: for it was sweet indeed—aAh, it was sweet for this youthful brother and sister to pos- sess the friendship, the guardianship, and the love of one who had known their mother! Ee raised them up from their kneeling posture: again he embraced them both; and then relocking the casket, he said to Christina, “Keep you these valuables, my dear girl, with the most sedulous care !—keep them, I say, not merely as the memo- rials of your deceased mother, but as objects which may sooner or later prove of importance ia another sense.” “Will you keep them for us?” asked both the twins, speaking as it were in the same breath. Mr. Redcliffe reflected for a moment: and then he said, “ Yes, I will keep them !—but I hope and trust it will only be for a short while that I may thus feel it safer to take charge of these valuables —and then shall they be restored unto you. Ask me nothing more now—and let us turn the con- versation upon other subjects.” Mr. Redcliffe hastened to lock up the casket in a secure place; and the remainder of the day was passed by himself and the orphans with that affec- tionate and friendly intercourse which naturally followed the scenes that had taken place, and the now light in which they respectively stood— nanely, he as their guardian and protector, and they as the grateful recipients of his kindness and his bounty. COMicooOolkxs.conrn