The Mysteries of London; or, Lights and Shadows of London Life — page 291: what you’re looking at

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

THE MYSTERIES OF LONDON. 289 — ee AN \ — DIA, y 4 ? SS \Y th ny) Hi ae LMA ‘ ia must at times be heard, especially when the soil in which their seeds were sown was originally good.” “Have you come purposely to insult me?” de manded the prelate, haughtily. “My character and station might have at least preserved me from such treatment. Or does the guardian champion the inso- lence of his ward?” Fitzgerald pointed to a letter which Burlsy, in his despair and anger, had intemperately written him. It contained reproaches for his selfishness and am- bition, and accused him of conspiring with the mar- quis and his lady to blight the happiness of Lady Georgina and himself. “I do come to speak of that young man,” replied the earl; “his virtues, integrity, and heart render him such that a father might well be proud of him.” “ Donbtless,” said the bishop, sarcastically. “ Was it to read me a catalogue of his merits that I have been honoured with this visit ?” “No, Fitzgerald; but to implore you to do him justice.” “ Justice!” repeated the astonished man; “in what have I wronged him ?” o7 WAT WE MACH isn sq ucnertcett TAHA NG eee : Me Ln oe \\ Wine Mi vA ! }} dial “ Ask your heart,” replied Erringcourt, “ when | inform you that I rescued him from the sink of infamy and vice to which an unnatural parent had condemned him.” “Did you?” replied his host, who began to think that the wits of his quondam friend were wool- gathering. “T reeeived him from the widow of a wretched criminal, whose life was rendered up to justice,—on George Sedler.” “His connection may probably account for his manners,” observed the prelate, drily. ‘ Sedler! Sedler!” he repeated; “surely I have heard that name before! Ah, I remember—the ruffian was hanged for an attempt to rob and murder me some twenty-four years since. And is your ward—Mr. Burley—that very respectable person’s son?” “Fitzgerald!” exclaimed the nobleman, indignant at hia coldness, “if no throb of nature beats at your heart—if no sentiment of parental love bids you atone the past, let the memory of the victim of your law- less passions plead for her abandoned child.” The speaker drew from his pocket the miniature of . Sy J 7 GOIN LGDOOKS (CO)