The Mysteries of London; or, Lights and Shadows of London Life — page 214: what you’re looking at

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

I EE ae ————— ee + eee THE Little did the unsuspecting Ellen dream, as she clasped her infant to her breast, and sighed at the absence of its father, of the foul plot laid against her happiness and honour. At cimes the recollection of Moreton’s dark smile when he encountered her would fail like a shadow on her young soul, dimming its joyousness ; but, with an effort, she shook off the impression. “ What,” she asked herself, “ could she have to fear?’’ Inher innocence she little knew how fierce are the cravings of revenge, or that man be- comes more relentiess than the wolf, more cunning than the serpent, when the slave of its fell influence. She was seated in the pariour of her little coftage facing the common, her soft blue eyes at times fixed upon the fleecy clouds sailing across the heavens, or bent, with the unutterable tenderness of a mother’s love, upon the sleeping cherub which lay nestled on her fragrant breast, Sometimes she would smile as her busy imagination pictured a happy future—a home such as love and youth picture in their waking dreams; or a tear fell on her changing cheek, and aa involuntary shudder chilled her frame as the appre- hension of some undetined danger crept, like a lengthening shadow, over her. She was roused, at last, by the sound of a chaise, which stopped at the door of the cottage. Her heart beat wildly. Could it be Gerald? She had not re- ceived a letter from him for two days. Had he ab- atained from writing for the pleasure of surprising her? Her doubts were soon ended; for a venerable- looking personage, dressed in deep mourning, stepped from the carriage, and inquired for her by name, He was shown into the room where she was sitting. “Mrs. Fitzgerald,” he said, bowing with a cold, stately air. Een was embarrassed; she had promised her hus- band never to claim the name of wife unless at his request; her eyes became filled with tears at the humiliating position in which she was placed, and she could merely curtsey in reply. “JT know,” said her visitor, in a voice which sounded even kindly, “all that bas occnrred between you and my grandson. But fear not; at my years, 80 near the grave, 1 have not travelled thus far to reproach you, especially as I am menaced with a loss which may leave my old age desolate.” “ Mr. Radcliff!” exclaimed Ellen, sinking on her knees, for she doubted not but she bebeld the grand- father of Gerald; “do you indeed forgive us? Oh! what a weight has one kind word removed from my worn heart! Grant us your blessing, sir,” she added, sinking on her knee and kissing his hand as she spoke; “bless the mother of your last descendant.” She removed the veil with which she had shaded the eyes of her slumbering child, und placed the boy in his arms. « Bless thee, sweet babe!’’ exclaimed the supposed grandfather, at the same time bestowing upon it the apostate Judas’s kiss; “I bless thee as the last de- scendant of my blood—the pledge of my reconciliation with my grandchild!” A tear absolutely glistened on the old rascal’: eye as he pronounced the words, it must at least be ad- mitted that Prim—for it was no other than the lawyer —was an excellent actor. Cautiously he proceeded to unfold his purpose, which was no other than to allure the unsuspecting victim | from the protection of her home, that sue might the more easily become the prey of his unprincipled em- ployer. He began by gently informing her that a duel had taken place between Fitzgerald and Lord | es CS TT eo ee Se MYS TERIES my declinibg age—the prop of my eS A > ED 80 Oe —— ee eee -—- ee ~ OF LONDON, Moreton, i in which the latter had been go daygerously wounded that hs life was deepaired of, a “ And my husband?” demanded the terrified Ellen. “1s safe, at least for the present,” replied the villain ; “but should a fatal termination ensue, he must for a while quit England; at present he is hid with a sure friend. In his despair he has confided to me his perhaps too hasty marriage. He is the solace of my age,” continued the old man, “the hope of my race, I will not deny that at first I felt jastly indignant at his want of confidence, but this sweet boy has made amends for ali.” Again the deceived gratified mother kissed the dissembler’s hand, “You must return with me to London,” he resumed, “ Gerald, despite the pressing danger of his position, refuses to quit England without you. Hasten yout preparations then, Let me not lose the last stay of falling house !” All this was so naturally told, and the character o! the stately old grandfather so cleverly assumed, that Ellen belicved implicitly in every word. Her oa parations were soon made, and shat suey left the cottage, where she had yesaniia peanuts of her short. existence, in th awyer, who acted up to his pretended at ash te the last by carrying the innocent cherub mpow knee, and lavishing upon it those attentions go pleasit toa mother’s heart, Ellen had never been in Lediin: As the ct whirled through the crowded streets at se ge the following morning, she felt. mg vey fused. T'rom Gerald’s semmianenet alwa understood that Mr. Radel Spa f : squares in the metropolis; she was | sueprised, t fore, when she found that, instead of sopping in , of the streets that they passed through, the chai continued its progress towards Blackheath. er “T thought,” she anxiously observed, “that yo residence was in Londen, sir.” . “ And so my general residence is,” replied he Prim; “but it-is sure to be too . render it prudent for us to alight there. I have small country house in the neighbourhood, witha 0 arrival will cause no suspicion, and where my un tunate grandson may securely vistt you. We be prudent,” he added, “ when the liberty—nay, p haps the life—of those we love is at stake.” . There was so much probability i in this—so mach the heart’s prudence in the seeming caution el half-awakened mistrust was Jaid at rest ee | On the road leading from Blackheath : was an old-fashioned house standing ur he grounds, the property of the perfidious Lord Mor the scene of many of his pleasures and his crits indeed, he seldom visited it unless when he bad s¢ victim to deceive, some scene of violence to per trate; for, although so young, he waa an villany. Two or three old servants, whose respect appearance might have blinded suspicion’s seif, fc the household. They had been trained to theie « by the late lord, who had been as worthless a libe as his son, and cared not, provided they wera paid. to what scheme of infamy they ai. tk gen As the chaise stopped at the door of the mansio grey-headed old man, having all the appearance butler, opened the door, whilst his wife, ini a nea and muslin apron, stood curtseying upon the thr 5 The heart of Ellen felt reassured at the ber | their appearance, rs; Aissemiamedimicbooks:com ™ <