The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 380: what you’re looking at

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

ee tr ne 0 te RINT OY AI CS PS SO SL OY EERSTE BS SN 874 THE MYSTERIES OF THE COURT. TE Ae a ane and pass into the enclosure. Being in the com- mission of the peace, he. vowed that he would send them all to the treadmill, where instead of caper- ing upon stilts, they should dance upon an ever- lasting staircase, to the drumming and piping of the starveling German, if the governor of the gaol thought fit to allow such exercise of his musical powers. Now, we must observe that the old Baronet, Mrs. Oxenden, and Laura were all three seated in the drawing-room at the time when the itinerant performers appeared in front of the man- sion. Laura was deeply dejected, and so completely out of spirits that neither by threats nor by cajolery could Mrs. Oxenden draw her out from that desponding apathy. The position of affairs was most embarrassing for Mrs. Oxenden: she feared lest Sir John Steward should become sick- ened or disgusted and back out of the purpose which he had hitherto entertained. She therefore caught all in a moment at the presence of these mountebanks as the possible means of inspiring her young sister with some little tinge of gaiety, if only for a few transient minutes. “The rogues and scoundrels!” ejaculated Sir John, who was in an exceeding ill-humour at the dead lethargic coldness of the beautiful Laura: “1 will have them every one sent to the House of Correction, I repeat! Here—let the footmen come —I’ll swear them in as constables—it is a regular breach of the peace-~I’ll read the riot act—DVU— I’ll—play the very devil !” “ Tet them proceed, Sir John,” interrupted Mrs. Oxenden, darting upon him a significant look with her superb eyes: and then, in a hasty whisper, she added, “ Everything must be done to amuse and cheer Laura’s mind at present.” “Aye, to be sure!” exclaimed the Baronet: “they may be honest, well-intentioned people after all. Poor fellows! IL have wronged them—-they are doing their best to pick up an honest penny— and as there just happens to be a halfpenny on the mantel-piece =” “Nonsense, Sir John!” said Mrs. Oxenden aside: for we should observe that the meanness of the Baronet in some things was proportionate with his lavish extravagance in disbursing gold upon his own sensuous pleasures. Mrs. Oxenden took out several shillings from her purse; and going forth upon the balcony, she flung them out to the mountebanks, who speedily picked them-up. Returning into the room, she accosted her sister, saying, “ You know not, my dear Laura, what surprising feats these gymnastic performers are displaying. It is quite entertain- ing—I feel as if I were a child once more, and could enter into the spirit of them :’—then stoop- ing her head towards Laura’s ear, she added, “Come, my dear girl, do cheer up a little—shake off this dreadful despondency you know that I have nothing but your best interests at heart.” “My best interests?” said the young maiden, looking up with an air so woe-begone that it would have melted any heart save one of hardest flint. *VYes—to be sure,” whispered Mrs. Oxenden, hastily and also petulantly. ‘Am I to explain it to you all over and over again? But come, my dear Laura—go out for a few minutes on the bal- cony—the fresh air will do you geod—and the feats bf these men will divert you.” Thus speaking, Mrs. Oxenden took her young sister’s hand, and led her towards the window: for Laura had relapsed into a state of deepest dejec- tion, so that she suffered herself to be guided as if she were an automaton. She passed out upon the balcony; and Mrs. Oxenden remained with her for afew minutes. At first Laura contemplated the mountebanks in a kind of listless vacant man- ner: bus by degrees her eyes seemed to display more interest in their proceedings; and Mrs. Oxenden, believing that she was really cheered, re- turned into the drawing-room to impart this intel- ligence to the old Baronet. The truth was that Laura did experience just that small amount of in- terest which a mind, sunk deep in lethargic despondency, was calculated to feel at any trifling circumstance that might break in upon the deeply mournful monotony of her thoughts. And yet if was rather the eye than the mind that was thus attracted—for while the poor young lady followed with her looks the exploits of the itinerants, her soul still continued brooding on the afflictions which haunted it. But she was now alone upon the balcony. The wind blew sharp from the north-east, though the sun was shining brightly; and she drew around her the shawl which her sister had thrown over her shoulders ere conducting her out upon that bal- cony. One of the mountebanks came close under the window, and suddenly drew forth something from the breast of his party-coloured jacket. Laura observed the action—but considered it to be some part of the performance. “One word!” said the mountebank; “one word! Quick, young lady!—are you Miss Hall ?” “Yes--that is my name,” was Laura’s hasty response: for she instantaneously perceived there was something significant in the man’s proceed: ings; and to one in her desperate position the veriest trifle appeared like a straw of hope float- ing past and to be clutched at by her hand. “This note!” rejoined the mountebank : “take if quick !—it is from Mr. Beverley! We will re- turn to perform again to-morrow at the same hour; and you can then give me the answer.” It were impossible to describe the wild feelings of joy which thrilled through the frame of the beauteous young maiden as these words reached her ear. She trembled with those emotions for a few instants: she was bewildered with a sense of relief, hope, and happiness. The mountebank made an impatient gesture—the young lady, re- called thereby to her self-possession, fluug a rapid glance behind her into the drawing-room—and perceiving that her sister and the old Baronet were in earnest conversation together—she took the note from the hand of the friendly performer. The next instant he was dancing and capering away on the top of his stilts with greater elasticity than ever; and in the effusion of his joy at having so successfully executed his commission, he be- stowed (with one of the stilts aforesaid) so hearty a thwack across Raggidbak’s shoulders that the mouth-organ for an instant sent forth a peculiar sound which seemed to be composed of a yell and a growl. Laura had thrust the note into the bosom of her dress; and then she exerted all her powers to avoid the outward betrayal of her feelings that wero Gomicbooksnco