The Mysteries of London; or, Lights and Shadows of London Life — page 303: what you’re looking at

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

| such villains ia the world.” | speaker with astonishment, deeming him mad or | profession. To hear him, therefore, accusing himself a ee ee Prim you name?” he demanded. rf "of his conscience, and not only vanquished the remorse att nd in his place to support. This he did with his LLL Etta NS ESS TE ST eam tani, “Be reasonable, Prim,” cried the agitated man; “come, tell me the sum you require.” “Good morning, Sir Walter.” “Ten thousand pounds?” added the bewildered “A million would not bribe me. Farewell! atone- ment or judgment.” With these words the lawyer quitted the room, leaving the proud, ambitious man a prey to terror and the upbraidings of a guilty conscience. y at three o’clock, the bishop, accompanied by his solicitor, Burley, and Hamilten, arrived at the police-office in Bow Street, and requested a private audience of the well-known magistrate, Sir Richard request which, from the rank of the parties, was instantly complied with. Prim, the lawyer, accom- panied them; and it was on his statement—of which the magistrate took notes—that a warrant was de- asa for the arrest of Lord Moreton. “It is indeed, my lord, a sad, a singular affair,” observed Sir Richard, addressing the bishop, “ and will cause much scandal in the world. Permit me to ask if the purpose of your visit is for justice or re- venge??? “Justice, most certainly,” replied the prelate. “ Might it not be accomplished by private means— a mutual understanding ?” “No!” exclaimed Prim, firmly; “the abduction and death of his victim must be proved, or the identity of his lordship’s son is lost sight of.” “A peer of the realm, too! Really, Mr. Prim, you are too severe; but perhaps this rascally agent, this _ lawyer whom you spoke of, may at the last moment turn round and deny his Igte confession, In that ease ! = will have alarmed your enemy, and put him on ” guard, “Little fear of that.” “ By the bye,” continued the magistrate, “ what is _ the rascal’s name?” “Nichoias Prim,” was the unhesitating reply. The knight raised his glasses, and looked upon the _jesting. He had known him for many years, and looked upon him as one of the shrewdest men in his Of crimes which might possibly affect his life, passed “ Am I to understand that you are the Mr. Nicholas Certainiy,” said the lawyer; “there are not two “And you persist in your declaration of complicity 2” , “I swear it.” “Tn that case,” replied the magistrate, “‘I have no other resource than to grant the warrant,” _ Long immunity in crime had made Lord Moreton reckless. Although much shocked on the first ap- beavance ef the man he had so cruelly injured in the ‘House of Peers, he soon overcame tho whispered terrors occasioned by his presence, but felt his old hate revive, Age had not sobered his fierce passions, or cooled the tesentment he felt towards the being who had humbled his pride and chastised his presumption. On the evening of the day on which _the warrant issued there had been a debate on an ecclesiastical which the Bishop of Tythetail felt it his duty to moderation, eloquence, and learning, and com- fed the attention of the house. Moreton was Se ee —— LIGHTS AND SHADOWS OF LONDON LIFE — BOL ee eee. OF} LOND furious—envy was gnawing like a hungry vulture at his heart—and he replied in so intemperate a strain that even the opponents of the measure were ashamed of him, and the cries for order were louder than are usually heard in that aristocratic house, where every thing like effect is studiously avoided, and the man would be set down as a parvenu who permitted him- self to display either excitement or passion. There was a dead silence when he resumed his seat; all expected that the bishop would reply to him. “ Although Lord Moreton has forgotten,” said the prelate, calmly, “the courtesies due alike to the office which I hold, and the respect of this honourable house, I shall not follow or reply to him. My answer is to you, my lords, whose silence has done justice alike to his arguments and language, Why Lord M>reton has thought proper to attack on every occa-~ sion the views I have advocated, you will soon have an opportunity of judging, since he will speedily have to answer to the laws of his country for acts of felony and abduction committed against the peace of my house and the honour of my name,”’ Lord Moreton was thunderstruck; he had resumed his seat, after speaking with a malignant air of satig- faction, and sat darting looks of defiance and hatred towards the speaker, conscious that his position in the church prevented his answering him in the only manner he feared, 7 All eyes were turned upon him, and he winced from their gaze. Moral courage he never possessed; even his physical one deserted him, and he had scarcely strength to rise and leave the house. Several peers, the debate having boen interrupted, rose to retire at the same moment, “ What the devil does the bishop mean by felony ?”” demanded Lord Heartley, as they descended the prin- cipal staircase together, “Is he mad, or have you really been placing yourself in his power 2” “Some folly respecting his mistress, I presume,” replied the peer, affecting a careless air; “the affair will reflect more discredit on his lawn than on my | ermine. But as I don't choose to be annoyed by the fellow, I shall see my lawyer, who is conyersant with the whole affair.” “No chanee of a trial, then : “Pooh! he could never show his face after the exposure,” said Moreton, whose courage was beginning to return; ‘it would be enough to sully all the lawn upon the bench, a quarrel about a mistress,” “Liar as well as coward!” exclaimed a deep voice near him. He turned hastily around, and encountered the stern glance of Burley, whose usual equanimity was at an end on hearing his mother’s name thus lightly spoken, and by her destroyer too. “Did I hear you aright, Mr. Burley ?”” demanded Lord Moreton, haughtily. “No longer Burley, but Fitzgerald,’ replied the young man; “the son of him whose happiness you destroyed—of her who sought refuge in death from your brutal violence, and who has publicly branded you both as a liar and a coward.”’ | “Enough!” exclaimed the peer, pale with rage; — “J have your address—you sha!l hear from me.” | “Let it be speedily then,” answered the young | man, “for even my injuries will not allow me to | meet on equal terms a convicted felon,” By this time the party had reached the bottom of | the staircase, and Lord Moreton’s Carriage was called | by the under-marshal. It drove up to the entrance, Jast as he was about to Step into it, two respectable- looking men in scarlet waistcoats barred his passage, = COmnniclaoo SS (CO) im