The Mysteries of London; or, Lights and Shadows of London Life — page 108: what you’re looking at

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

-~ 102 THE MYSTERIES OF LONDON. self at liberty to arrange the matter in my own way. You have defied me to produce proofs of our relation- ship, alleged that I have fabricated a story that | cannot substantiate, and it must now be seen on which side lies the error. When next we meet I shall be prepared to exact the terme that 1 now only came to request.” And with this he moved a few paces from the hearer of his menacing determination. “Stay,” cried Celestine, as she saw he was about to leave, and felt she had real cause for apprehension should his assertions prove correct; “ you have, at least, a right to give me time for consideration. I need not wonder at the absence of all feelings of attachment, for with you my thoughts are only linked by remembrances of cruelty and oppression; but if I could purchase your silence respecting those days that I would willingly forget, and obtain by that means freedom from farther annoyances, whether you have the just claim upon my bounty that you represent, or not, I would gladly place my purse at your dis- “Ha! now you begin to talk reason,” said the Italian, who had retraced his steps; “I will give you one week to reflect upon the arrangements that must be entered into between us. If you then agree to the proposal I have made, ’tis well; if not, you will have only your own obstinacy to condemn, if I publicly proclaim the close affinity that exists between Pietro Bazzini, the adventarer, and the renowned favourite of the opera, whose praise is heard in every city in Europe, and whose lowly origin,” he continued, ironi- cally, “ is known to so few.” “ And these proofs that you have mentioned—this witness that you have offered to bring before me as a corroboration of your story?” reminded Celestine, anxiously. “I must be assured of their correctness,” “You will find the evidence I shall bring forward,” returned Bazzini, “ will leave you no room for doubt. You are my child—my only one; and though Nature has been so liberal in her gifts to you, and so churlish to me, it does not follow that we should be less friendly on that account. Well, I know that you are ashamed of me,” he added, as the hand that he had proffered was gently repulsed; “ but I don’t ask affection from you—it is not for me, I feel, to be too warm in the manifestation of my paternal feelings, since you are right in saying that I showed little love for you when we were together. My only desire now is to let you see that I do not the same blood flows in our veins, and that I intend to look to you for the help to which I am entitled.” “In one week from this date I shall be prepared with my answer,” returned Celestine, in as firm a voice as she could assume, to disguise the painful emotions that were excited by the communication this interview had elicited; “you know where I can be found.” “I have passed the door of your residence fre- quently,” said Bagzini, “ but until I had first seen you on this subject elsewhere, 1 did not venture to in- trude myself. By that time you may expect me;” and with a gesture that indicated the preservation of | her secret for that interval, he abruptly retired through the avenue leading to the gate, and was in another moment lost sight of among the crowd of persons that were returning from the park. As soon as she found herself alone, the conviction of the dangerous position in which she was placed overwhelmed her with a flood of agonising reflections, To her highly-wrought temperament, the revelation of her early life, that had been made by the man from —-« ee ——————_— or _—_- ——[——_—_— whom she had just parted, seemed a disclosure that, though long dreaded, was now felt to be crushing and appalling in its reality. Sensitive in the highest degree, and acutely susceptible of the opinion of those around her, she knew that the discovery by the world of these circumstances would force her to seek seclusion. The realisation of the frightful dreams © that had tortured her, merely to imagine, was a check © to her career that she never hoped to recover, Her brain reeled with the contemplation of those mad-~ dening thoughts that obtruded themselves upon her, © and she saw no chance of escape from the danger — that threatened her, but that offered by the sudden | extinction of all the brilliant triumphs that it had once been her pride and her ambition to sustain. Thus pondering over the strange event that, after — the lapse of so many years, had again cast so dark a shadow on her path, and resolving to evade the — future persecution of the Italian by withdrawing from her profession, Celestine was about to return home- ward, when two men, shabbily attired, crossed before ker, and, in speaking to each other as they passed, mentioned the name of Walsingham. Startled by the utterance of a name so familiar, and too distinctly falling on her ear to allow the pos- sibility of her being mistaken, she quickened her pace so as to catch the subject of their conversation; and as the hour had now arrived for closing the various entrances to the Park, she was enabled to follow closely behind them without attracting the observation of | others. | The dusk of the evening and the thick veil that obscured her countenance relieved her from all appre- hension of being recognised, and as they turned from the gate, and kept along by the outer railings on the darkest side of the road, she followed on their track without hesitation. It was evident, from the earnest manner in which their colloquy was carried on, that the subject was one of deep interest to both; and as a word every now and then escaped them in a louder tone than the rest, Celestine pressed onward as near to them as she > could, with the hope of gathering from these slight | hints some reference to the import of their discourse. One was a tall powerful looking man, dressed in a garb that denoted a taste for vulgar finery. A long drab coat reaching below his knees was ornamented with broad shining buttons, and his hat was thrust upon his head in that slanting slangish fashion that not unfrequently furnishes a clue to the habits and predilections of the wearer. Round his throat was twisted a thick red neckerchief, and frum the glimpse © of his countenance that she had caught as he passed ~ her, Celestine was not impressed with a very favour-— able opinion of his character. . The man who was his companion had still less pre-— tensions to respectability. A short coat worn to a glossy surface presented, with the rest of his apparel, numerous indications of having seen considerable service. He was of slighter make than the other, but his profile, as he turned to address his associate, was — equally marked and unpleasing. It was the associa- tion of a nobleman with the speech of two such ruffians as these appeared to be that first drew her attention © towards them, and excited her curiosity to learn in what manner any mention of his name could haye been made. She had followed them for some distance without being able to overhear more than a few disjointed sentences, which, from the unintelligible phrases they employed, failed to convey any meaning to her mind, SEComicbooKks.cor _———- |