The Mysteries of London; or, Lights and Shadows of London Life — page 208: what you’re looking at

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

| 202 THE MYSTERIES OF LONDON. Ellen Rochfort was one of those lovely, gracefnl | come which awaited him at the cottage, urged him to creatures who, like sunbeams, cross the path of life renew his footsteps. only to illame it. Nature had gifted her with that truly feminine style of beauty whose great charm lies in the veil of modesty which heightens but not con- ceals it. She and her only brother, one of the curates of St. Mary’s, were both orphans; the latter, for two years past, had been slowly sinking to the grave, in the pride of intellect and manhood, a victim to con- sumption. It was only occasionally that he was en- abled to do duty in his church, where his voice, once full and clear, sounded like an echo from a coffin. For several months past he had entirely abstained. Hitherto the brother and sister had lived but for each other; in the w rid, they were not of the world; and the deepest pang whieh the young clergyman felt at the prospect of his approaching dissolution was that his nurs’, companion, and sister, would then become doubly an orphan. The service which Gerald had rendered to the fair girl, as might returally be supposed, led to an intimacy with the brother, at whose cottage he soon became a constant guest. The worn sufferer, fascinated by the mind, and grateful fer the society of his guest, gradually came to Jook for his arrival as a thing of course, and evinced a slight degree of irritability if any thing occurred to detain him beyond the usual hour. Ellen— although she never express¢d her impatience—looked asif she expected him too; for if the visits ef her defender were pleasing to her brother, they were doubly so to her—in fact they had become necessary to her happiness. Ere she was aware of her danger, or sus- pected the existence of a stronger feeling than that of gratitude, the gentle creature loved. Hers was not the passionqhich, like the headlong torrent, dashes from rock to rock, leaping the bounds of prudence and virtue in its mad course; but calm and deep as the pure waters of some mountain lake, gently rippled by the breath of heaven. The impassioned declaration of Gerald first unveiled to het the nature of her feelings, She dreamt not that she loved until she found that the sentiment was mutual. Despite the lessons of ambition which had been so carefully implanted in the breast of our hero, his heart was naturally good and generous. The idea of seduction never once crossed his mind, and yet he was one whom circumstances might seduce. Marriage was equally a stranger to his thoughts, for he was entirely dependent on his grandfather, whose pride would have revolted at the last hope of his race allying him- self to the penniless sister of an undistinguished country curate. In this dreamy, uncertain state of existence our hero passed bis time. Study was neglected, and even his friend Digby deserted for the society of Ellen and her brother, at whose cottage his evenings were generally passed, discussing meta- physics with the latter, and drinking intoxicating draughts of love as he gazed npon the blue éyes of the smiling, happy sister. Months had elapsed, winter had passed, and spring, like a bride arrayed in smiles and tears, coyly responded to the vows of earth, impatient of her kiss, The day had been a fine one; the breeze, fragrant with the breath of budding trees and gently opening flowers, like some overladen bee, swept lazily and luxuriantly across the common, as if weary with the weight of its own perfume. Gerald, who had just left the dining-hall, paused once or twice in his way to the curat»’s to inhale its fragrance; and it might have detained bim longer, had not the recollection of the bright blue eyes of Ellen, and the smile of wel- ae LLL LLL LLL LL LLL LLL LL LL LLLLLLLLLLLL LLL LLL LAL LLL LLL LLL LL LLL LLL LLL LLL LL LE LG LLL CL LL LL LL LLL LALLA LLL LLL LLL LLL LLL : “Speak low,” said E!len, as he entered the house; “poor William sleeps, his cough has been terrible all the day, and it is only within this half hour that he has enjoyed the least repose,” Gerald seated himself by her sito, and, taking her hand, silently kissed it. Raising his eyes to hers, he saw that they were filled with tears, and asked, in a voice like the low deep note of the coolng dove, to confide in him her cause of sorrow. A glance towards the door leading to her dying brother’s chamber was the mute reply. Gerald under- stood it; he felt that, ina few months—nay, days, per- haps—she would be alone in the world; the staff on which she had leaned through life removed. The picture a desolate one. “ At Ellen,” he whispered, “TI shall be wun you. *Tis true that, for the present, I am on my grandfather’s caprice, and, by my own ene must obtain a position, ere [ can entertain the b to call you mine. In another year I take Should my anticipations be rol , then Ellen ——” A sigh was the only answer. The desolate girl felt that long before that year of expectation had she would be alone upon the doubly an “Oa my entrance into life,” resumed ag ane man, “my grandfather ha’ promised to certain orthan 6 his fortune on ey ae "tis true, at present is most liberal to me, ut oncer tain.’’ “ Does love require so much ?” murmured the fair girl, turning upon him af the same time a glance which might have melted the resolution of an ancho- rite, and which Gerald returned by one of such intense and sudden passion, that in an instant her neck and face became suffused with blushes, and her eyes sought the ground in delicious confusion. ‘“‘7 must speak to your brother of this,” said her lover, at the same time gently letting fall his arm from the back of the chair till it encircled her waist. It was the first time that he had done so; and he felt her heart beat wildly beneath the gentle pressure of his hand. “Could you, Ellen,” he demanded, “be eontent to share an undistinguished destiny—to tread the humble path of life, when nature has adorned thee for its bright one?” | “ With thee,” replied the trembling maid, “ a desert were a paradise! What were the world if I possessed thy smile—or what were life without it?” ; Gerald repaid the frank avowal by one of those looks which memory graves upon the youthful heart, to treagure there for ever. Involuntarily he drew her unresisting form to his, and their lips met in one lon; delicious kiss of love, so pure and deep that it life’s warm current from their youthful to reanimate it with all its wildest passiens. Existence to both became, as it were, a dream; their breath came thick and heavy; a voluptuous ianguor seized onthe limbs of the half-fuinting girl, whilst Etna’s burning lava glowed in his. **Leave me, Gerald,” she sobbed, but withont « ing the slightest resistance; “for Heaven’s sake me !”’ A second kiss, which thrilled to hér very abets's was 5 the reply. The innocent creature was like a + * + girl tottering on the edge of a precipies; a ste: ther, and she had fallen. The being whom she ade was by her side, his heart beating madly age ooh, his blood on fire, and oy