The Young Apprentice; or, The Watch-Words of Old London — page 192: what you’re looking at

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

THE WATCHWORDS OF OLD LONDON. 176 lef me to talk, let us hasten to your home, where I can have the assistance of a surgeon, for I have no time to waste, and my wounds may be more serious than I think. It was not long before they had once more reached the shore, and had entered the extraordinary place which Pilgrim Corder called his home. Here the wounds of Lord Glement Villiers were attended to by a surgeon, who ad- viséd him to take one day’s rest, and promised him that in the event of his obeying his instruc- tions, he would be able to follow his usual avocationg before night. Jt may be imagined that the firat thoughts of Lord Clement were of Blanche, hia wifg, whom he had left in a atate of painful anxiety. She knew well the dangers that attended his visit to the fashionable gaming place, where political business foxced him to ettend, and he naturally concluded, therefore, that his pro- longed absence from home world be the cause to her of the most unusual alarm. Taking advantage, therefore, of the doctor’s permission to move, he borrowed a horse as soon as the shades of night had fallen, and, having drank a deep draught of wine ta recruit his wounded and weakened frame, he started off towards home, There wag something in the aspect of the house, still and unenlivened by a single light in the windows, which struck a chill of fear into his heart, and he hastened more quickly forward, as if suspecting that some evil deed had been committed. He was not Jong in learning the news, At the door, when he rang the loud-sounding bell, he was met by his favourite domestic. #he man was pale enough when he opened the door, but his countenance became more white and ghastly than ever when he met the eager glance of his young master, In an instant a presentiment of evil flashed through the mind of Lord Clement Villiers. He seized the man by the arm. ‘ What means this?” he cried. “What means this pallid and ghastly look upon your face? Why do you stand there shiveringj? What is it, I say—what is it?” ‘‘ My lord,” returned the serving man, ‘“‘ I have sad news.” . “I know it. Icanseeit. Tellme, What is the matter?" “Lord Harcourt is dead !"’ 66 Dead \" “ Aye, and foully murdered, my lord,” replied the domestic. He hesitated to say more. Knowing well Lord Clement's devoted love for his wife, he feared to be the one to bring to him such evil news of her, “Murdered! Then Heaven rest his soul,” said Villiers, breathing a sigh of relief; “he had many sins to answer for. But, your lady, you say nothing of her.” | The old domestic, Timothy Loydall, glanced at him again, and then took his hand tenderly between his own rough palms. ‘ My lord,” he said, ‘forgive me this little familiarity. J have been, I fancy, a favorcrite domestic of yours, and I haye known you joug— ever since you were a little boy, in fact. You must listen patiently, then, while I tell yop all that has happened.” “JT will, good Loydall,’”’ said Lord Clement, “YT will. But speak quickly, far my heart is sorely depressed by the most yillanous forebod- ings.” Rapidly the old man told the aad syents of the dreadful evening which had agen the last of Lord Harcourt and the arreat of Lady Blanche Villiers. Lord Clement listened silently His glisten- ing eyes, however, and big thick breathing, telling how much he waa excited. “You tell me that which tears my heart asunder," he said, in hoarse tones, when the old domestic had ended his story. “Have you nothing more to say? Can you give me no clue to the place whither they have taken her ?"” “No, my lord, of that I can say nothing. They took her away hurriedly, and we could not follow her; neither did we think it of use to do so, seeing she was in the hands of justice.” “True, true. But why did you not defend her? Why did you not try tq rescue her from those rascals? You must know her to be innocent.” He paced to and fro excitedly as he spoke. ‘Yes, yes, my lord,” said the old man, “ J, for my own part, knew well that she was innocent ; but then, you see, evidence was against her. Harry Martin found her leaning over the body, with her hands red with blood,” Not for an instant did an idea of her guilt enter her husband's mind. “Tf she were found drawing the knife from the wound, I would not believe her guilty. Harry Martin is too quick at these suspicions.” “Yes, my lord, go J gay. Master Martin has, no doubt, some grudge against ber ladyship. But here, my lord, is a jetter. I forgot to tell you that it was given me this day by one of the men who arrested her ladyship.” Lord Clement Villiers seized on the letter with eagerness, Anything might give some clue to the mystery. The letter ran thus:— ‘‘ LORD VILLIERS,—If itis any satisfaction to'you to know it, your wife is wholly innocent of the murder of Lord Harcourt. The accusation wasa ruse. She is now, not in the hands of the law, but {n those of one who has long eagerly pursued her, and who will never release her with life. ‘ RAYMOND.” “ This is a clue, and yet no clue,” exclaimed Villiers, ‘‘ Oh, villain ? double-dyed villain! I will yet be even with you. Your very words of triumph throw but a chance in my hands. Give me some wine— some wine, at once, agd let me leave this place.” ‘Some rest, my lord—some rest,” pleaded the old domestic. ‘‘ Rest ! there is no rest forme, Except when exhausted Nature compels me to it, I will not yield until I have discovered this wretch. Give me no advice, my good Loydall, but bring me some wine.” As he said these words, and as the burly per- yant quitted the room, Harry Martin entered. 1 La ee et ne in i RS IN eG AR A SONI = -~\ =F NY *}\ GOVE OO OKSHGOn