The Mysteries of London; or, Lights and Shadows of London Life — page 97: what you’re looking at

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

LIGHTS. AND SHADOWS OF LONDON LIFE “And this was the conversation that I presume I unfortunately interrupted ?” “ Fortunately, my dear Celestine,” corrected Wal- singham; “ for you—and now I have arrived at laat at the point where your share in this strange story commences—came in most opportunely to dissipate the settled melancholy of my fri “And was so slight a cause sufficient ?” exclaimed seeprentil woman hae bese found before now as ghosts as a priest,” rejoined with a smile; “ and in this instance you more quickly. I need not tell you the plea- sure which he he felt at meeting you, the interest which he took in your conversation, and the hope he ex- a a the intimacy; but you have yet to learn that he attributes to you the cause of his — emancipated that day from the gloomy oe er eee rose im, and is ancl y desirous of testifying his obligations?” Surely, my Ease bee: Pre 'h ercoees? Obliga- tione! and to &: Fea more seriously intended,” replied other; “he has desired me to eall upon him this ing the nefarious practices of his agent, and with y, I know, to consult with me respect- svliable mode of presenting you with some substantial token of his esteem.” “ And what have I done,” responded the opera- dancer, “to merit such generosity ? To be the ob- ject ef his esteem alone is a sufficient reward to me for this — benefit that I have unconsciously con- ferred; bat unless,” she added, lowering her glance, “this intimacy with yourself, my lord, should affect his good opinion, I will study to deserve it.” “ Fear not for that, Celestine,” assured the nobleman, his arm round her waist and straining her to his breast ; “the secresy which you desire shall be im- None shall know the extent of our happiness, lest we excite envy as well as scandal. I will publicly announce my villa for sale—you shall become its purchaser—apnd by that means your scruples will be cvercome, and your reputation still _ ae indeed, my lord, be most agreeable to my inclinations; and if your own visits——” “ Were so timed as to escape the notice of the inguisitively disposed, I am to flatter myself they would not be unfavourably received,” interrupted the nobleman significantly; “it shall be so,” he con- tinued, as he found a sanction for that supposition in the reciprocating smile of Celestine; “I will remove all but those domestics on whom I can rely to my seat in Devonshire, and the malicious world shall be _ silenced by a spell that shall throw a cloud of impene- ' trable mystery over our arrangements.” “You have now, indeed, entitled yourself to my as well as love,” responded Celestine; “ for though I hesitated not to yield my heart without a stronger tie than that of affection to biad us, I am no _ against the censorious judgment of those who t ascribe my conduct to different motives. You, my dear Walsingham, have relieved me from the only dread J had, and now I can wholly resign myself to you, without a fear that by so doing I may become exposed to a notoriety that terrifies me even to think of.” The conversation was here suspended by the arrival OF LOND i) a of Madame Romani, who, being in t in the he confidence of of both, waa not felt to be an intruder, and the warmth of their mutual passion was consequently little re- strained by her presence, The dinner-hour following soon afterwards, the three formed an agreeable party among themselves, and it was only when the lateness of the hour reminded him that he could not longer with propriety, postpone his visit to the earl, that Lord Walsingham tore himself away from the fasci- nating society of the opera dancer. The vocalist then bade farewell also to her friend; and when the depar- ture of her guests relieved her from the necessity of sustaining the flow of spirits that she had hitherto kept up with unflagging buoyancy, Celestine felt an omi- nous depression resting upon her mind, and she was admonished of the approach of that hour when she was to meet the man who had adopted means so singular to obtain an interview. Changing her dress to one less likely to attract ob- servation, and nerving herself for the adventure before her, the opera-dancer now pursued her way to the spot appointed for the assignation in the Regent’s Park, CHAPTER XX. THE ITAITAN. Tose who have ever struck aside from Holborn into Leather Lane, a street exhibiting in its busy out-of-door traffic so marked a contrast to the air of prim gentility which characterises Hatton Garden, though the two thoroughfares run closely parallel with one another, can hardly fail to have noticed the peculiar characteristics of a region that has for the last century been the chosen refuge of the lower class of emigrants, and the favourite haunt of those vagrant Savoyards who gain a precarious subsistence by gmnd- ing barrel-organs through the metropolis from sunrise till sundown. The courts and alleys leading out of this narrow street, the miserable tenements at the back of Mutton Hill, the squalid holes about Baldwin’s Gardens, and the wretched nooks, designated “ buildings,” that need only a glance into their filthy recesses to cause a timorous pedestrian to recoil from exploring further, constitute the nucleus of a colony which, from the lower part of Gray’s Inn Lane to the boundary of that uneven district formed by the junction of Saffron Hill with Coppice Row, is almost unknown, though it con- tributes no inconsiderable portion to the bulk of the population resident within the parochial limits. Appearing with the daylight, and astir with the earliest indications of the morning traffic, there may be first seen issuing forth from the obscure corners where they have passed the night, and radiating from this spot in all directions, troops of itinerant organists, slowly marching forth, Differing only in age and size, thence they go, each with his organ strapped upon his back, his staff in hand, his flapping hat upon his head, and the familiar jacket and mad ly trousers hanging heavily over a pair of large gaping boots, wending their way to some distant part of the suburbs, Another hour, and they will be succeeded by the image boys, bearing away on their heads those trays of busts and statuettes that have been fabricated by the mo- deller on the day befere, Then will follow, in desultory succession, bands of street musicians, venders of Bir- mingham goods, sellers of cheap earthenware, dealers in broken clocks and umbrellas, piemen who have con- cected greasy imitations of savoury patties, coster- GOMIIGIOO <S) (E(@)