The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 397: what you’re looking at

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

» nL A A THE MYSTERIES OF THE COURT. O91 withstanding your coldness, have a heart that burns with fervour for you " For a moment Christian Ashton was go com: pletely stupefied by these words that he was trans- fixed to the spot and renderéd speechless. The next instant Mrs. Oxenden’s arms were wound about his neck—she strained him to her bosom— she pressed her lips to his cheek: and then an- other instant, and with an effort the violence of which when exercised towards a female, could only be justified by the peculiarity of the circumstances, our young hero disengaged himself from her em- brace. Mrs. Oxenden,—who was not to be so easily subdued, and who was really inspired with passion on account of the youth’s personal beauty, as well as influenced by policy in her endeavour to gain over Sir Edgar Beverley’s intimate friend,— despaired not of success. Her arts and wiles were to be redoubled in order to secure her triumph. Such was her thought: and falling upon her knees, she stretched forth her arms towards Chris- tian, exclaiming, “Cruel youth! Why thus spurn a woman who is dying for you? Am I repulsive ?—on the contrary, am I not beauti- ful 2” “Will you leave me?” demanded Christian vehemently: for he was determined that the scene should end that instant. “No, no—I will not!—and you cannot be so cruel ui Our young hero waited to hear no more: but driven almost to his wit’s end, he snatched one of the wax-lights from the mantel-piece and hurried from the room. Mrs. Oxenden—whose own sensuous temperament, vicious disposition, and long career of immorality, had hitherto rendered her incredulous in respect to the existence of virtue in others, and who believed that at least every man was “in his heart a rake” (thus re- versing as to sex Pope’s memorable assertion), was astounded at Christian’s abrupt disappearance : and it was now fer turn to remain stupefied and transfixed on the spot. Of CHAPTER LXXVI. / THE NEGRESS. THE chamber which our hero had just left, was situated in a passage whence communicated the doors of several other sleeping-apartments, which he knew to be unoccupied. Into the first of these did he therefore plunge: but he closed the door ae such rapidity that the current of air thus roduced, extinguished the candle. Between the Openings of the window-draperies the brightness of the night shone with sufficient clearness to show him at a glance that the bed was untenanted, as he had expected to find it: and’ he lost not a mo- ment in locking the door, so as to prevent the in- trusion of Mrs. Oxenden, He threw himseif upon the bed, and began to reflect upon everything that had just occurred. That she had purposed to play off the artillery of her wiles upon him, and ensnare him into an amour, he could not possibly doubt: and he had therefore no difficulty in eonjecturing her motives. There was her passion to gratify—and there were - ORE Lae LA ee COTTICHOOR her interests to be served. At any time, and under any circumstances, he would haye loathed the woman who could have thus meretriciously sought to throw herself into the arms of a com- parative stranger who had given her not the slightest encouragement: but his abhorrence was unspeakably enhanced when he reflected that it was in the house of death that Mrs. Oxenden had thus given way to the influence of her passions and to the current of her worldly interests,—in a house too, beneath the roof of which her own in- nocent sister was reposing—and at a time when only twenty-four hours had elapsed since this self- same mansion had proved the scene of a frightful tragedy. Yes: our hero experienced the deepest loathing—the intensest abhorrence—for that un- principled and unscrupulous woman; and he re- solved to communicate everything to Sir Edgar Beverley in the morning. He lay thus reflecting for perhaps a quarter of an hour, when he thought that he might just as well disapparel himself completely (for he was only half undressed) and retire to rest. This he accordingly did: but when he had entered the couch on which he had been previously lying, it was still some time ere slumber began to steal upon his eyes. He was just in that state when the senses are rocking themselyes—or rather sink- ing into the dreamy repose which is the last stage preceding the oblivion of profound slumber: his breathing was slow and regular, as if he already slept completely: so that any one might imagine he did really thus sleep. And now it was that he became aware of some sound which, though slight, brought him back in a moment to full wakefulness. He did not however move: he lay perfectly still— and listened. The handle of the door was evi- dently turning; and then there was the sound as if some one were endeavouring to push or pull it open. Christian’s first thought was that Mrs. Oxenden was trying the door: but he knew full well that she could not enter—for he had locked it, as already observed. But, ah! what sound was it which next met his ear? The key itself was turning in the lock ; and this could not be effected by any one on the outside of the door—the indi- vidual must be in the room itself. He started up: the extremity of the chamber where the door was situated, was involved in almost complete obscurity: yet through the gloom he could distinguish some shape—a human one. He had no superstitious terrors he sprang from the bed—there was a half- stifled cry, or rather shriek, from the lips of the person who was endeavouring to open the door: at the same moment Christian’s hands clutched her garments—for she was a female; and she fell upon her knees, beseeching his mercy. This woman was the negress. “Silence !” ejaculated Christian: “TI will do you no harm. Remain quiet for a moment.” ~~ Locking the door again, he drew forth the key to prevent her escape until he had questioned her: and then he proceeded to huddle on & portion of his clothing. “ Now,” he said, “ will you tell me what you are doing here ” “The new master,” replied the negress, alluding to Sir Edgar Beverley, “ or rather that gentleman the lawyer, who spoke for him last night, ordered me to leave the house: but I could not—where