The Mysteries of London; or, Lights and Shadows of London Life — page 352: what you’re looking at

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

~ 350 EN not met since the day when, transported by passion, he had attempted to accomplish his lawless purpose by force. he had since apologised, pleading intoxication as his excuse. “¥ou here?” she murmured. “Ay. In tears, my sweet friend? I would I Could remove the cause. Wilmott is unworthy of your love. Act, then, like a woman of spirit, and transfer to another the heart of which he is un- worthy.” ete, “Indeed!” replied Rose, with a sarcastic smile; “and to whom?” “To me. I long have loved you—lived but i in your presence—and —-—”” “Hold, sirl” said the unhappy woman, firmly. “Whatever my husband’s perfidy to me, he has been your friend, companion, benefactor. His fortune, while it lasted, was yours—his heart was open to you as his hand. And now you would repay him by that natueless stain! Oh, shame, man, shame!” “ Think of your injuries,” added the libertine, ap- proaching nearer. “Back, sir! My in juries require neither advocate nor avenger, least of allin thee. I cannot speak the loathing of my heart—its sickness, when [ look upen thée. For know,” she added, “there is not on the earth a wretch from whom such a declaration would not disgust me less than thee!” “ You are a woman—and all women Jove revenge— and so I shall tell Wilmott,” said her visitor, coolly ; for he saw that in her present disposition it would be useless to urge his suit any further. “ By the bye, where is your husband ?” «“ You best can answer that, since he has been out at the gaming table, I suppose, all night.” Faddle felt alarmed. He had not seen him, and con: scieice whispered that he might, ia a moment of remorse, have said something to save Hawk, and compromised them both. Before he could reply, how- ever, his fears were relieved by the entrance of his dupe, or, as he called him, friend. Rose was alarmed at the pale haggard countenance of her husband, and, with a feeling of kindness and pity, was advancing towards him, when, with an impatient churlish ges- ture, he restrained her. “ What now?” he demanded. “And is this my welcome, after being’all night absent from your home?” sighed the unhappy woman; “but I havenorightto complain. Caprice, not love, led to our ill-assorted union; the unsteady passion o’er, the gaming-table, the false friend and dice—any society rather than hers you swere at the altar tolove and cherish! Oh! Richard,” she — “if not for my sake, for our child’s-——~” “Pshaw!” brutally replied her husband; “I am tired of these scenes; the wealth I have squandered has been my own; your fortune has not been sacri- The sneer which accompanied these words roused the braised spirit of the suffering woman. Love for him she had never felt; the sentiment had not been stronger than gratitude—now it was changed into contempt. “Ungenerously urged,” she exclaimed; “ my for- tune was unsullied purity of heart, sweet peace of mind, and dreams that promised happiness. Give me back these, restore to me the faith I violated, the heart I have broken, and take again the gilded misery for which I eald m * Enough of this, Boi" oad Wilmott, teem ig @ more temperate tone; “IT bave bacon ili of THE MYSTERIES OF acumteid LEA ME ey’) _—_—_—_———_——— Ps late, and sickness icknecs does not improve flue Eaiaiieey fa: not ater fis ine with me but a little longer, and skis lol fortunes will pass away. I was fortu night.” “The devil you were,” said Faddle; « where did you play?” ** At Horton’s.” “How much?” coolly demanded his friend. “Seven hundred pounds. Rose, you shall take charge of them: should I die, or retire, as we once thought, to France, the money will be useful’? “Fool,” whispered his tempter; “ with such a sum | — you might yet redeem’ all. Fortune smiles at last, | and you shut the door in her face.” p Wilmott would have recalled the gift, but it was too | — late—Rose had already placed the note-ease in her bosom. With his usual vacillation, her husband | had not the heart to ask it” back. “Now leave us, Rose,” he said; “] and Frank have some affairs to settle.” The broken-hearted wife obeyed him i in silence ; for a project had suddenly entered her head, which she resolved to execute,. The fearful dreams and ravings of her husband had filled her with a terrible sus- picion, In vain she tried to dismiss it. from her malay 5 it was constant to her as her shadow, and only left her when sleep closed her weary eyes upon her pillow at night, to return, to her when she opened them in the morning. Opening into the room where she had left her husband wasa small drawing-room, seldom used, which had a second entrance from ai staircase. Stealthily returning, upon, her. steps,, opened the door and applied her ears,to the key She felt as she did so that the act was wrong, but the doubt which haunted her was agony, and, at all risks, she determined to be convineed,. , “That wag a devilish lucky hit,” said Faddle, “last night, and a good use you have made ef it!” “ At least a kind one; it may pure tude.” _ “But. not her love,” said his companion, in an | almost melancholy tone, for some painful recoll seemed to cross him; “ gifts cannot purchase that. I my young days, when my heart was warm and pure | in comparison to what it is now, I loved, Dick, a sweet girl, the flashes of whose dark eyes haunt me | still. You know how, cold my temperament is; but then it was,the yolcano’s fire—a, covert hell ; ot Rag was | not love, it was idolatry, a Mishap ay es I had money; she was poor. _ gitaa ath feet, poured flattery in her ear, eset | the eloquence of love; bat all in vain—a_ * the hand of another was more valued than my, a smile from his more dear than all the | passionate breathings of my. broken heart. _ “This from you, Faddle!” exelaimed’ ‘his friend in surprise. “ Ay, it astonishes you, no doubt,” replied his compa- nion, dashing aside a tear; “ but if Satan, asthey tell | us, was an angel, why doubt that I was human? ote | I had once a strange temptation. I was sick ef ; of my heart’s struggles and its hopelessness, Tike 2 al fool, I had resolved to die—as if even sore could | destroy a fire like that which was | T entered the little parlour in her mother’s | 7 found her sleeping on the sofa, The gently parted her desp ruby lips, and the ng toring curls, dressed by Nature’s hand, fell in | grace over her neck gud brow. Her eyes were yin | but I could see thelr lustre through tho tonder lids. | SOU cd cicomicbooks. cont! | 5 ahi er grati- ih