Black Bess; or, The Knight of the Road — A Tale of the Good Old Times — page 168: what you’re looking at

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

aa re A eR TEER ES TR OP GEA RE STG Wan? QP ALT GTS Raa a EG OCIS A III PTR SS EG GG 8 ae ge Se i eee OS Le eT BL IONS ty eam Oa PUREID BEA FB eee AD SE A 166 BLUESKIN: A ROMANCE. i I TL dence in St. James’s-street was his, or rather, he occu- | led into the passage, cautiously and silently turning the pied it. Throughout it was furnished in a niost luxurious and expensive style. Among a certain set in London, there were few better known than Colonel Thorne, though from what source his income was derived, or in what regiment he bad held a coloneley was an inscrutable mystery. But that he had abundant peeuniary resources was manifest to everybody who came in contact with him, for he spent money with a freedom and a lavishness that was utterly astounding. It was, however, tolerably notorious among his friends that he had a very pretty residential estate, situated upon the cliffs, not far from Dover, and this place was at once the envy and admiration of all who saw it. Here he passed a creat deal of his time, being frequently absent from London mouths together. During lis stay, too, in this place, which was known as “The Larches,’ from the great quantity of those deei- duous trees growing upon the estate, he hved in the strietest privacy, permitting no visitors to see him, or, in modern parlanee, being ‘at home” to no one. There were oceasions, however, when he would throw «© : 143 place, and send invitations to his friends, but Very suidly, Still, the reputation of what he possessed was spread about. The only point upon which puble curtosity was unsatis- fied, was lis source of revenue. He was known, wlile in London, to gamble a great deal, and some hinted that it was by this dishonourable ineans that he proenred the wherewith to support bim in his extravagances. But there was a mystery about Colonel Thorne, and what that mystery was the reader will not be long in discovering. Soon after the interview was over, and he left her, Bess determined to rise. It was not that she felt so very well, though her wounds did not give her so much inconvenience as one would have thought, but she was full of anxiety to know where Jack was, and whether he had got free from the eluteches of Jonathan Wild, for the reader will remember that when she saw him last he was a prisoner in Wild’s hands. Whether he had sueeceded in getting free, whether he had been murdered by the villainous thiet-taker, or whether he still languished a eaptive iu his cells, she knew not, and had no means of aseertaining. The intelligence that he was not at the “ Black Lion” made her uneasy, but not very so. She knew that, in all probability, he would be denied to a stranger. So she resolved to dress herself and proeeed at once to Drury-lane, where she would be sure of finding a home, and also hearing the worst that had happened. In pursuance, then, of this determination, she attired | herselt. Whenever she moved she was in considerable pain, but the hurts she had received were seareely more than skin- deep, for the corset which she wore protected her in a | great measure. More than once she had to rest, but at last the operation of dressing was completed. Her clothing was in a sad condition, but she did not care for that. And now she felt that, great as was her dishke to | Colonel ‘Thorne, she eould not leave him without informing him of her intention of doing so, and again thanking him for the trouble he had taken, and the kind manner in whieb he had behaved. There was a little silver hand-bell that stood upon a small table near the bedside, and this, after some hesita- tion, she ventured to ring. The sunimons was immediately obeyed by Mrs. Lovat, who expressed, in very audible terms, her disapprobation of the step which the young girl had taken. But she evinced the utmost alacrity to inform Colonel Thorne of her wish to leave the house. The bed-chamber in which Bess had been placed had but one door, and that door opened into another apart- key in the lock. Edgworth Bess was a prisoner! It was some time, however, before she made this dis- covery. However, as minute after minute passed away, and she heard no sigus of the colonel’s approach, she grew 1mpa- tient, and, rising from the easy chair in which she had been sitting, she went to the door, and, opening 1, passed into the sitting-room. == It was the first time she had seen the interior of this apartment, and she was, for more than a minute, abso- lutely amazed at its magnificence. No description in any fairy tale which she had read, nor idea which she had formed, at all came up to it. For a httle while, then, and almost unconscious of what she was about, Edgworth Bess stood just upon the thres- hold of this room, admiring its rich and yaried contents. It was some time before she saw the door. All must have noticed what a blemish a door is to a room, and the owner of the house had exhibited considerable ingenuity in remedying the defect. Round all four sides, and reaching to within about three feet of the ceiling, was a beautifully carved wainscot, com- posed of the finest Spanish mahogany, at that time a scareer, and consequently more expensive, wood than it is at the present day. This wainscot was formed into panels, each about two- solved feet in width, by rather more than six feet in height. In every one of these panels was painted a grand his- torical portrait, the persons selected being those most cele- brated in English history. The frames to these pictures consisted of an elaborately carved border, cut in the wainscot. As the apartment was of considerable size, the effect was very grand. aye harmony of the whole was unbroken—no door was visible. Had there have been, all would have been spoiled. Of course the reader comprehends that one of these panels formed the door—or rather that the door was painted to imitate the panels—but this was not apparent at a first glance. On the door was painted a beautiful full-length portrait of Lady Jane Grey. It was so arranged that the part in the deepest shadow should be where the handle of the door was fixed, and the better to escape observation, this was small, and made of dark wood to match the colouring of the picture. Bess probably would have been some time in discover- ing this had she not noticed that the door leading to the bedroom was painted to imitate the panels, with a handle of the kind described wherewith to open it. This gave her the clue, and, after a very little searching, she found the one leading into the passage. She turned the knob in the same way that the other turned, but the door remained fast. She could searcely believe at first that she had been locked in, but she found that such was really the case. She was a prisoner. In a moment the apartment which she had so much ad- mired, and of which she had felt certain she never could | grow tired, lost all its charms. It became suddenly dis- tasteful to her sight, and she longed for nothing so much as to leave it. She made a vain attempt to force tle door, but it was too strong, and would have resisted thrice her strength. Bursting into tears, she sank upon her seat. Why was she made prisoner ? What fresh ill was there in store for her ? The forebodings which she had felt were now approach- /ing a realization. Suddenly she thought of the windows. An invincible desire to get free from that house took possession of her. The windows she thought migkt not be fast, and she might get out that way. Those in the sitting-room were too high for her to reach. She ran to the bedroom. | get ew any Web corel O18 Oe ES OS TT rere sy Sw. of owen: < cane VOR aw~w PARTE .AVUR 2oS SS eee eee ment fitted up as a sitting-room. When Mrs. Lovat departed, she shut the first door, and, crossing the sittimg-room, clesed the door of that which Breathlessly she pushed back the fastener, and strove to raise the sash. Alas! — GR Cet Bee eet 8 0 = oe mn es TET — YA PI I LIT a ae SSS PP NURIA IEE EES 1 MAIR? F ESS PT REI NY OES TS GOMILGIOO im SS o(CO)