The Seamstress; or, The White Slave of England — page 91: what you’re looking at

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

84, THE SEAMSTRtSS, a syllable since the exchange of those names— | there he stood before her—in the very position in “ Charles ’?—‘* Clementine.’ How much longer | which he had suddenly halted when she stopped was this silence to endure? The Frenchwoman | short and withdrew her arm so abruptly from his could bear it not another instant ! own. Drawn up, as it seemed, to his full height “ My lord,” she said, forcing herself to address | —motionless as a statue—that individual looked the man who was treating her with such marked | like a muffled corpse, which mischief, mirth, or scorn and sovereign contempt, “whither are we | philosophical ingenuity had made thus to stand going ? and where is the carriage waiting for us? | upright, either as an object of terror or scientific T am already wearied: and moreover, I do not| experiment. And all in a moment to the mind— perceive the necessity of traversing this lonely | the already weakened, attenuated, and bewildered place. Surely your lordship might have com- | mind—of the young Frenchwoman, rushed a thou- manded the chaise to be in attendance at some | sand terrific reminiscences of legends and romances nearer point F” which she had read, and wherein the grave had But her companion made no reply, and con- | been represented as giving up its dead for the pur- tinued to hurry her along. pose of scaring unprotected maidens and defence- “ Ah! I presume your lordship is resolved to | less women in peculiar circumstances. An insur- punish me to the utmost of your power for daring | mountable terror thus gained upon the wretched to love you—and, what is still more culpable no | Clementine; and she ielt as if her senses were doubt, for daring to aspire to become your wife,” | abandoning her. continued Clementine, her indignation now getting “Once more—once more—for the last time,” the better of her fears. “But why should you | she faltered forth in broken tones and with gasp- commence thus early to goad my spirit to despe- | ing breath,—“I conjure your lordship—tI implore ration? I love you now—adore you—worship | you—earnestly beseech you—to break this dreadful you: and yet mine is a nature which can be | silence. Say but a word—a single word——O God ! taught to hate as fervently and as bitterly. Well | no one is nigh to help me!” she shrieked hysteri- aware am I that your love can never be bestowed | cally forth, as she cast her eyes wildly around in upon me: but I do not choose to submit tamely | the vain hope of discovering some moving form to the wreakings of your vengeance. Observe a| amidst the obscurity of the evening. passive indiffercnce towards me, if you will: but| But no human being met her view, save the do not proclaim an overt warfare. If you do, I} one that stood statue-like before her: and now shall have recourse to similar means in order to| her terrors amounted to an anguish that racked practise a retributive revenge. Do you hear me? | her brain and made her imagination conceive in a —will you not speak ?—am I to remain in igno-| moment all kinds of horrible ideas relative to that yance of the terms which we are to observe towards | silent figure. each other? What! silent still? Mylord—my| “Ah! you are endeavouring to drive me mad— lord—speak—speak—I conjure you: or I shall be | you wish to steal my senses away!” she exclaimed, forced to believe that some phantom has deluded] in a voice that was now broken and sepulchral. me with his companionship this night !” “What phantom art thou?—and why dost thou And Clementine’s voice, which was at first grave,| haunt me? My lord—Charles—Ah! speak solemn, and impressive, now grew hysterical and | tell me who you are relieve me from suspense ! thrilling as this continued silence stirred up again} What hideous delusion is this? Methinks I am in her bosom all the wild vague fears which in-| walking in a dream Oh! spectre that thou art, dignation and a sense of wounded pride had for a| I will see thy face—even though it should be the moment subdued. countenance of the dead !” But still that silence was persevered in: still,]| And goaded to the frenzy of desperation, Clemen- also, did her muffled companion persist in leading | tine sprang like a tiger-cat at the muffled figure— her onward. dashed off his hat with one hand and tore open his “Then, by heaven!’ she suddenly exclaimed, | cloak with the other: then, as there was just suf- stopping short, and snatching away her arm from | ficient light to enable her piercing eyes to mark beneath that of the cloaked individual,—* I will| the features of her companion, she saw that it was not advance another step in this cruel uncertainty. | not Lord Arden—but a stranger! Whatever coercion I may have used—whatever| The jewel-casket fell from her arm—a shriek means I may have adopted—to force you into an| burst from her lips—and she turned to fly: but alliance with me, you shall not treat me with this | the next moment she was felled to the ground by crushing contempt—this flagrant indifference. No|a bludgeon which the assassin had all the time —no!” proceeded Clementine, her excitement | grasped beneath his cloak—and a second blow growing to a pitch of frenzy. “You shall not} silenced her for ever ! break my spirit nor my heart in a few short hours. * * " * * Besides, my lord—I implore you to remember that * * * * it is cowardly in the extreme thus to behave to-| It was shortly after daylight that two police- wards a woman, let her faults be what they may! | constables were wending their way across Hyde Now, will you speak? My lord—Charles—Mar- | Park and discoursing in the following manner :— juis—speak—speak Good God! what means| ‘ What time was it, then, that the information this dreadful silence ?” was given at the station-house ?” inquired one. And the young woman, agitated and tortured by “At about half-an-hour after midnight,” re- a thousand conflicting feelings, clasped her hands | sponded the other. “It seems that the Duke of in bitter anguish as she thus gave vent to the | Belmont and his son id mingled prayers and menaces that denoted the «“That’s the Marquis of Arden—eh ?” confused and chaotic condition of her wildering| “Just so. Well, their lordships had been out thoughts and her distracting sensations. to a party; and on returning home shortly after But still the cloaked figure responded not: and! twelve o'clock, they were told that the French GOMmichbooks