The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 87: what you’re looking at

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

SS a ef, SP abn 4 76 the cavern-like depths of Mr. White Choker’s throat. She paused for a few minutes, during which she seemed to be sobbing bitterly; while the saint rocked himself to and fro, groaning each time he went backward, and whining each time he went forward: so that what with the alternations of the groan and the whine he made as sweet a music as ever emanated from the human throat. “ Three years have elapsed since that fatal mar- riage,” proceeded Linda, in a low and mournful voice: “ but only for one year did I live with that man. He treated me cruelly—he beat me——Oh ! you have no idea of his dreadful violence—the in- furiate gusts of passion——” Another terrific groan escaped from Mr. White Choker’s lips: his countenance was ghastly—he quivered and shivered in every limb. Visions of horse-whips and horse-pistols, of writs for crim. con., of tribunals filled with big-wigs, of heay, damages, of columns of scandal in the newspape®, of Exeter Hall consternation, of select committees of inquiry, whirled around him as if Pandora’s box had just been opened under his very nose and all the evils i¢ contained were about to settle upon him like the plague of locusts. And amidst them all was the hideous countenance of Snufflenose, his great rival and arch-enemy in the sphere of saint- dom, grinning maliciously at him. Ughappy Mr. White Choker! what was he to do? “Yes,” continued Linda, “at the expiration of a year I was compelled to leave that dreadful man —and I returned to my parents. He followed me —he told them such tales that they would not be- lieye otherwise than that I myself was in fault, and that he himself was an angel of ess, kindness, and virtue. They insisted that I should return to him; and in order to avoid such a dread- ful fate, I fled from home, I came to England, and obtained a situation as governess in a highly re- spectable family: but my husband found me out and I was compelled to fly once more. I went to Paris, where I obtained another situation; and it was during one of Madame Angelique’s temporary visits to the French capital that I happened to fall in with her. I believed her to be a highly re- spectable lady; and she begged me if ever I re- turned to London, to favour her witha call. I promised that I would. My husband came to Paris: I heard persons speaking of him—TI learnt that he was ruined—that he was leading a terribly wild life: I hoped therefore that caring no longer for me, he might desist from his persecutions. But no such thing. He found me out—he insisted upon my returning to him—and again was I com- pelled to fly.” ‘And what did you do then, my poor dear Linda ?” asked Mr. White Choker, with another deep lugubrious groan. “ Believing that my husband’s debts rendered it unlikely that he would revisit England, I sped back to London, where I soon obtained another situation as governess. But my evil genius haunted me. A few weeks ago my husband re- appeared ; and again was I compelled to flee from a happy home. I was redaced to despair ; and in an evil hour I encountered Madame Angelique. She invited me to her house—I went—its true character soon became known to me—she intro- daced a gentleman-—-and—and—from necessity ‘etepa ! eye” (amen “oe” =e THE MYSTERIES OF THE COURT. I fell. I saw no one else until I came under your protection.” “And that one gentleman,” esid Mr. White Choker, shaking his head solemnly “who is he P Some dashing young spark——-" “ No—an elderly gentleman,” responded Linda : “and I did hear it whispered that he was some high dignitary of the Church.” “Ah! then, my dear, there was no harm—no harm at all,” said Mr. White Choker. “The sanctity of an individual glosses over any little failing. Bat about this terrible husband of your’s ——Dear me! dear me! if I had known all this———~”’ “Ah! it is the idea of that husband of mine which makes me wretched !”” moaned Linda. “ And you are almost sure that he will find you out—are you not, my dear gitl?” inquired Mr. White Choker, quivering from head to foot. ‘Let us hope not,” responded Linda, suffering her countenance to assume a more cheerful aspect. ‘You will not desert me on that account —= Oh! tell me that you will not desert me ?’” But scarcely were the. words spoken, when a terrific kndck at the front door thundered through the house—the bell at the same time rang as franctically as if pulled ty a lunatic just escaped out of Bedlam—and Mr. White Choker felt as if he were shrivelling up into nothing. But the next instant a thought struck this saint-like man: the instinct of self-preservation asserted all its power within him: a luminous notion inspired him. “ My dear girl—my dear sweet Linda,” he said, “listen to me attentively. Look as pious, as holy, and as contrite as you can. Verily, we must clothe ourselves with the raiment of hypocrisy as the only armour wherewith to defend ourselves against him who cometh like a roaring lion seek- ing whom he may devour. Ah! I hear his foot- Perdition and the devil take him. But no, no—that is not what I meant !” Quick as lightning Mr. White Choker scad across the room as if a mad dog were at his heels; and partially opening the door, he flew back to his seat. Then he began to address Linda in a strain which for the first few instants filled her with a perfect astoundment. _ ‘My dear sister in the good cause,” said the saint, with the most approved commingling of snuffie and whine, whimper and snivel,—“ sea, verily, we are all sinfal creatures—we are all sheep that have strayed from the pasture. It is good, my sister, that I who am a man known in the tabernacles of the pious, and reputed to be a savoury vessel against which no scandal has ever dared breathe a whisper, é¢hould in this true brotherly fashion visit you from time to time. It is sweot, my sister, that we should sing hymns together ; and anon [ will expound unto you that text concerning which we were speaking. just now. Well pleased am I to reckon you amongst the sheep of our fold; and you, my sister, will feel your soul refreshed by an attentive listening unto my discourse. Ah! my sweet sister, it is pleasant to escape from the vanities of this wicked world—to buckle on the armour of truth———” ‘By heaven! i¢ must be precious stout armour that will prevent me from lacerating your precious hide in such a way that your own mother shall not know you !” ry «© y= 2 Oe ee Cee =, Eee eS a: GDoo co