The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 273: what you’re looking at

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

242 REYNOLDS’ WORKS fastly upon that long dark tress which she held in her hand. It was one which seemed as if it might have belonged to her own head, of such raven darkness was it, and of such silky fineness. She replaced it in her work-box, carefully en- veloped however in a piece of tissue-paper, and then she drew forth a watch from the packet which she had opened. It was a beautiful gold watch, of delicate fashion and ex- quisite workmanship, and fitted for a lady. Many, many pounds might have been raised upon it, — at least many, many pounds in the estimation of those who were penniless, and Christina was already calculating that the produce of this watch would enable her brother and herself to subsist for many, many weeks, when a compunctious thought smote her, and she laid it down. Then she took up two rings, and these also she contemplated with a deep and mournful interest. One was a wedding-ring, the other, likewise a lady’s, of no considerable value but of exquisite workman- ship. Again did the compunctious feeling strike the sensitive girl, and as the tears now rained down her cheeks, she murmured, ‘‘ No, mother! we will starve; we will perish, sooner than part with these memorials which we possess of you.” The watch and the two rings were replaced in the packet, which was folded up and carefully tied, and the work-box was locked again. Then Christina went to her own trunk, and selecting her best dress and shawl, she enveloped them in a handkerchief and issued forth from the lodging-house. The poor girl bent her way to the nearest pawnbroker’s shop. It was now completely dusk. The gas was lighted inside; the plate and jewelry in the window shone with resplendence. Christina lingered for a few moments at the shop-door, but she had not the courage to enter, and she passed along the street. Again did the tears stream from her eyes at the thought of the distressing position to which her brother and herself were reduced. Then she recollected that he would return presently, fatigued with his walk, hungry, too, as he had gone forth, and that there was not a morsel of bread at the lodging for him to eat. She abruptly turned back, wiped the tears from her eyes, and mustering up all her courage, sped in the direction of the pawnbroker’s shop. A loutish-looking boy was gazing in at the window, devouring all the fine things with his eyes, but as Miss Eomichbooks (Elo)