The Seamstress; or, The White Slave of England — page 8: what you’re looking at

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

CHAPTER If. VIRGINIA. Tavistock STREET is a narrow and ploomy thoroughfare lying between the bustling Strand and the equally busy mart of Covent Garden. The reader may picture to himself a dark and sluggish ditch in some spot where there is a rushing, roaring torrent on the one hand, and an ever-agitated lake on the other ;—and such is the relationship which Tavistock Street bears tu the great living flood that pours along the Strand, and the constant activity of swarming life in Covent Garden. The mingling hum of myriads of voices and the din of countless vehicles reach the ears of the dwellers in that dingy- looking, sombre street: but seldom are its echoes awakened by carriages passing through it,—while the number of foot passengers is at no time great enough to send forth those sounds peculiar to the many-trampling feet of crowded ways. The shops in Tavistock Street are few and by no means imposing in appearance: the hair-dresser’s, the oilman’s, the picture- warehouse, the masquerade- clothier’s, and the gin-palace are the principal. The houses seem to be chiefly private ones: but they are generally occupied by lodgers whose names and avocations are specified on little brass-plates affixed to the door-post and each serving as an index to the particular bell which must be rung in order to summon forth the special individual whom the visitor requires. Some of those houses are per- fectly respectable: but in others there are female lodgers whose reputation would not exactly stand the test which Ceesar insisted upon applying to his own wife. We must now introduce our readers to a little chamber on the uppermost floor of one of the dingiest-looking houses in Tavistock Street. That back attic—for it was nothing more—was as scrupu- lously clean as the nicest sense of female tidiness could render it: but its aspect was that of cold, cheerless penury. Upon the floor was stretched the humble bedding—a flock mattrass and one thin blanket, with a pair of sheets as white as snow. A small deal table, a solitary chair, a basin and ewer, a candlestick, a little moveable cupboard, and a piece of broken looking-glass hanging to the win- dow, completed the furniture—if such indeed the articles may be called—of that poor chamber. A neat straw-bonnet, a shawl, and a cotton dress, were suspended to pegs in one corner of the room; and a band-box contained a few other necessaries belonging to the scanty wardrobe of the young person who occupied this miserable attic. And who was this young person? Reader, pic- ture to yourself a pale and pensive girl of about eighteen,—with a countenance as beautiful as the utmost perfection of features could render it,—a No, 1.—TueE SEAMSTRESs. a a MSTRESS. fizure slightly formed, but full of sylphide grace,— a hand of the most delicate shape—and feet and ankles small even to a fault. Her face was oval, with one of those complexions so dazzlingly fair that the skin seems transparent: her forehead, high and admirably formed, and stainless as ala- baster, announced the intellectuality of her cha- racter;—while the simple mode in which she wore her rich brown hair and the general expression of her countenance gave her an appearance of virginal artlessness calculated to inspire the most tender interest. The eyes of this sweet girl were large and of a deep blue: without being intensely eloquent, they were full of sensibility, as if the holiest and most melting light of heaven dwelt in their limpid depths. Her nose was perfectly straizht, and, with the well-formed forehead, exquisitely chiselled mouth, and rounded chin, gave a classic outline to her profile. Her lips were of the pure red of the rose; and, without hyperbolical affectation, it seemed as if the simplest words passing between them must be invested with a charm peculiarly their own. But, Oh! when in some sunshine moment, a smile appeared upon those lips—vreveal- ing teeth that were white and even as strings of orient pearls—imparting a slight dimple to the chin —and diffusing over the countenance a radiance that lit up the eyes as with twin-lamps of celestial glory,—then was it that this fair being, at ether times so sweetly gentle, became suddenly endowed with all that unconscious fascination and winning loveliness which constitute the charming woman. She was attired in the plainest manner: but in her simple neatness she was more adorned by her own modest and unassuming loveliness than if the bird-of-paradise had given its plumage to wave above her brow and Golconda its most star-like gems to gleam upon ker hair. Her dress, of a dark stuff, ascended to the throat, thus concealing the charms of that bust whose virgin contours the close- fitting corsage nevertheless devcloped;—and al. though not the slightest attempt at unnatural com- pression was ever made, or even dreamt of, by the young creature, her waist was of the most delicate proportion. In stature she was not above the mid- dle height: but when she stood, the graceful elegance of her form and its flowing outlines of sylphide beauty made her appear talier than she really was. But she was not one of those beings whose beauty blazes upon the eye all in a moment, to dazzle, to bewilder, and to overpower: on the contrary, it was not at the first glance that even the keenest obser- ver amongst men and the greatest admirer of the fair sex would single her out as a creature endowed with a rare loveliness. There was nothing radiant —nothing grandly striking—nothing magnificently imposing about her. A modesty almost too timid for dignity, an arilessness bordering upon infantine JOO SS (E(@)