The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 193: what you’re looking at

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

we EE ee 176 THE MYSTERIES. placid an expression ;—and the whole aspect of the man denotes a troubled mind. He starts at his own shadow, which seems a tall black spectre creeping after him along the passage- wall: now he pauses and hesitates-—his avarice weighs in the balance against his fears—and a straw shall turn the scale. Oh! on such occasions how seldom is it that the better feelings of the human breast obtain the victory: The valet has calculated Fernanda’s gold in contrast with the value of his master’s life and the risk he runs in aiding her to take it ;—and he pursues his way ! He descends the stairs—stopping frequeutly to listen as the steps creak beneath him ;—and now he is again startled by his own shadow as it appears to chase him round an angle which he is turning. But at last he gains the hall: and, placing the light in a niche, he cautiously and noiseleasly opens the front-door. A lady, with a thick black veil over her counte- nance, instantly enters the mansion; and William Dudley closes the door. “Did any one observe you, Miss?” demanded the valet, in a whisper which, though scarcely audible, expressed the most intense anxiety and alarm. “The square was utterly deserted,” answered Fer- nanda. “You have nothing to fear—and yet you seem to tremble like a leaf.” “ Why, Miss—to tell you the truth, when I was a little boy my father, who was a good man, used to tell me that the eye of God saw everything ;—and it really does appear to me as if God’s looks were fixed upon me now.” — These words were delivered in a very low but im- pressive voice; and for an instant Fernanda Aylmer was staggered by their force. But speedily recover- ing herself, she placed a heavy bag in the valet’s hands, saying, ‘‘ Twice the promised amount shall be yours to-morrow, if you only enable me to succeed to- night!” And William Dudley, securing the gold about his person, took the candle from the niche and led the way up-stairs without uttering another word. That man had bartered his soul for gold: it was like selling his God—since he knew that the Al- mighty’s eye was upon him. Had he been an atheist, his crime were less—because he would not then have believed that he was sinning against his Maker and violating heaven’s own biessed laws. But he was a Christian in faith—he had faith, too, in that heaven and in a juxta-existing hell—and yet he dared to lend himself to a deed of murder! When the well-educated sin, their iniquity is ten thousand times greater than that of the poor igno- rant peasant or unlettered operative ;—and there- fore are the backslidings of Royalty and Aristocracy offences more positively heinous and damnable than even the blackest deeds which the uneducated poor ever perpetrate. Adultery (a vice so common in the upper classes) on the part of a titled lady de- servesa larger measure of ‘xod's wrath than even infanticide on the part of an ignorant young woman belonging to the lowest grade ; — and drunkenness in a peer is worse than theft in a pea- sant. But while we are pausing to make these re- flections—(and the disgusting demoralization of the British Aristocracy never can be exposed too often)— William Dudley and Fernanda Aylmer have gained the landing which communicates with Arthor Eaton’s chamber. Slowly—gradually—noiselessly did the perfidious valet turn the handle of the door ;—and in a few moments Fernanda Aylmer crossed the threshold of the apartment, followed by her accomplice. Eaton was in bed; and his eyes were closed— apparently in profound slumber. The candles were burning upon the night-table: an open book showed that the young man had been reading. All was silent—solemoly silent, save the regular respi- ration of the occupant of the couch ;—for both Fernanda and William Dudley held their breath through the fear of awakening their intended victim. ’ : Taking the phial from the bosom of her dress, Miss Aylmer raised her veil and advanced towards the bed with a step so light that it seemed as it ne were treading upon the air, and not upon the oor. ‘But the instant that she reached the foot of the couch, Eaton sprang up to a sitting posture, ex- claiming, “ Fernanda — Dudley — attempt not to escape, or I will alarm the house and hand you both over to the officers of justice !” The valet rushed forward and threw himself upon. his knees by the bed-side—his countenance ghastly with terror and remorse; while Fernanda, amazed and stupified, was rivetted to the spot—her eyes staring wildly upon the countenance of Arthur Eaton, as if she could scarcely believe that he was indeed awake, and that her diabolical scheme had failed signally. “Rise, sir, and hear me attentively,” said the young gentleman, in a stern and commanding tone to his valet ;—“and you, Fernanda, compose your- self as well as you can—for our conference, un- seasonable though the hour is, may perhaps be a long one.” “And if I refase to remain here another mo- ment?” cried Miss Aylmer, endeavouring to veil her bitter disappointment and rage beneath an assumed tone of haughty confidence. . “T shallring this bell violently,” answered Eaton; —“ you will be stopped upon the stairse—and I would then abandon you to your fate.” “ And if I remain, what am [ to expect at your hands f” demanded the young lady. “ Mercy—pardon—forgiveness,” he responded, in an altered and softened voice. J shall remain to hear all you may have to say,” returned Fernanda: “but I scorn your mercy— despise your pardon—contemn your forgiveness.” “ Be seated—and listen to me with patience,” said Eaton: then, addressing himself to the valet, who had risen from his knees and was standing near the foot of the bed, he added, “ And you also, William give me your attention.” Miss Aylmer took a chair—for she felt worn out with the excitement and fatigues which she had un- dergone during the last few hours. “You are both no doubt prepared to learn that your guilt is known to me in all its details,” resumed Arthur Eaton. “Accident threw in my way two receipts,—the one a poison—the other its antidote. A chemist explaincd to me their nature and effects: and the same moment that revealed to me the cause of my mysterious malady, placed in my hands the means of cure. Sixteen days have elapsed since then; and already have I been enabled, unde» COMGLOO S COMM