The Seamstress; or, The White Slave of England — page 52: what you’re looking at

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

fHE SEAMSTRESS. as much as ever: but she now trembled lest an inexorable destiny should force her footsteps aside from the straightforward path which she hoped to be enabled to pursue. Her confidence in herself was not precisely weakened—because no impure aspira- tions had been kindled in her soul by the revelations of Miss Barnet: but she dreaded lest she should sooner or later find herself placed betwixt the dread alternatives—suicide or loss of innocence! Oh! it is shocking, shocking to think that the chastity of that young creature should have been even so far outraged and insulted by having such reflections as these forced upon her contemplation. And yet she could not shut those thoughts out from her mind: no struggle of which human nature is eapable, could exclude the ideas which her own perilous position thus irresistibly conjured up. She endeavoured to fix her thoughts upon her mother’s image—and then upon those incidents that were best calculated to engross them: such as the tragic occurrence at the Duchess of Belmont’s eight days previously, and the subsequent committal of Mr. Lavenham on a charge of murder. All these par- ticulars she had read, with amazement and sorrow, in a newspaper which Miss Barnet had lent her: and whenever the incidents recurred to her mind, she invariably murmured to herself, “I cannot be- lieve that the kind-hearted gentleman who was so good to me, could possibly have been guilty of such a deed !” But we must now follow the young maiden as we find her pursuing her way along the Strand towards Spring Gardens,—her eyes bent modestly upon the pavement over which her beauteous feet moved with such glancing lightness,—and her whole bearing indicative of the modesty that is anxious to escape observation. And it was in consequence of this bashful reserve on her part that she failed to notice the circumstance of her being now fol- lowed by that same handsome young gentleman who had accosted her a week previously in Grosvenor Square. , This young gentleman, as the reader is well aware, was none other than the Marquis of Arden ;—and he was just issuing from a banking-house in the Strand, whither he had been to obtain the money for a cheque given to him by his father, when he instantaneously recognised the lovely seamstress who was passing at the time. Although the Mar- quis was much weighed down in spirits, on account of the lamentable events which had so recently occurred, an ejaculation of joy burst from his lips as he caught sight of that sweetly interesting counte- nance: for it appeared as if an angel of light had suddenly crossed his clouded path. But so absorbed was Virginia in her own reflec- tions that she heard not the exclamation of pleasure, a!though it was uttered close to her ear: nor, indeed, did she observe the young Marquis at all. There was a charm about her, plainly apparelled and re- tiring in manner though she were, that operated like an attractive spell upon the heart of the youth- ful nobleman ;—and without any definite object in view—that is to say, without entertaining any set- tled intention regarding her, he immediately began to follow her footsteps, although he had an appvint- ment to keep elsewhere. There had been a levee at St. James’s Palace that day,—one of those trumpery and nauseating scenes A Ss ste 465 which form the delight of a frivolous, vain, and ostentatious aristocracy;—and the carriages were just bearing away the various personages who had been present at the gew-gaw show of contemptible pomp and display. The neighbourhood of Charing Cross was therefore busy with the passage of those vehicles,—some bearing their titled owners towards Whitehall, and others conveying bloated aldermen and bedizened sheriffs back into the City. Absorbed: in her reflections, Virginia was incau- tiously traversing a thoroughfare thronged with public and private vehicles of all descriptions, when cries of alarm suddenly burst upon her ears—fol- lowed by the close trampling of horses’ hoofs, and then the plunging of the animals themselves. Wildly she glanced around—and the next momen she was struck down by a blow dealt her on the shoulder by the head of one of the restive horses belonging to the carriage of a civic authority. A shriek burst from her lips—the band-box rolled away to a little distance—and ejaculations of alarm echoed on the footway on either side of the street. But at the very instant when the destruction of the young maiden appeared inevitable, beneath the hoofs of the plunging horses, the Marquis of Arden sprang to her aid with the swiftness of an arrow shot from a bow. Gallantly daring the same peril which menaced the prostrate Virginia, he tore her as if it were from the ground—clasped her in his arms— and rushed with her into the nearest shop. A policeman who was passing at the time, hastened to pick up the band box, which fortunately was unin- jured ;—and the crowd that they had collected for a few minutes, speedily dispersed cn ascertaining that the poor girl had received no serious hurt. The shop into which the Marquis of Arden had hurried with his almost inanimate burthen forti- nately chanced to be that of a chemist; and resto- ratives were therefore immediately administered. Virginia soon recovered: but no pen can convey an adequate idea of her mingled amazement and alarm when her beauteous blue eyes rested upon the countenance of the handsome young nobleman. A painful confusion brought back the vital colouring to her cheeks all in a moment;—and then she as suddenly became pale again, while her whole form trembled like an aspen-leaf. The chemist, mistaking her emotions for the mere effects of the extreme terror which she had just undergone, hastened to mix some soothing cordial;—and the instant his back was thus turned, the Marquis of Arden said ia a low, tender, and hurried whisper, “ Do not be afraid of me! Have I not risked my life to save your’s ?” A consciousness of ingratitude struck like a re- morse to the soul of Virginia ;—and she hastened to apologise in subdued, low, and broken murmurs, for not having immediately expressed her heartfelt thanks to her deliverer. *Do not attempt to excuse yourself, I implore you,” said Charles, every vein thrilling with rapture, as that soft voice wafted its tones of tremulous melody to his ears, and as the carnation blush re- turned to the maiden’s cheeks. “It would be im- possible for you to offend me;—and had I received a mortal injury in the attempt to rescue you, my expiring breath should have been laden only with the language of love. Ah! now you are angry with me ”? Go NOOKS () co