The Young Duchess; or, Memoirs of a Lady of Quality — page 108: what you’re looking at

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

pe ithe ie 94. THE YOUNG DUCHESS; OR, MEMOIRS OF A LADY OF QUALITY. Fp eens veneers pu i i and if his voice had any suavity or his manner any urbanity, both were the result of a severe and continuous tutoring rather than the natural \ attributes of the individual himself. ‘¢ Mr. Warren,” he at once said, “I have called at this hour at much inconvenience to myself, to receive my scrip in the Constantinople and Bel- grade Railway ; and if it be not forthcoming, to know the reason why. I have learnt, sir, that tbe other shareholders have received their scrip - ‘“‘ Oh, sir, if you adopt such a tone with me,” interrupted Mr. Warren, at once taking the matter with a high hand, “I can very soon give you an answer.” “Then pray do, sir,” responded the physician : “and let that answer be the production of my scrip, to the amount of six thousand pounds in the Turkish Railway.” ‘‘ And what, sir, if I tell you that you must have the kindness to wait awhile, until ® ‘‘T do not choose to wait, sir! I have danced attendance upon you until J am tired—you have pat me off with all kinds of excuses—and I will either have my scrip ; or, or ” and Dr. Mor- daunt fumed and grew red in the face, preparatory to giving vent to the threats which however he did not exactly like to throw forth from his lips except as a last resource. ‘“‘Or what, sir?” asked the stockbroker sternly. “Well, Mr. Warren, if you compel me to speak out, I must tell you candidly that I shall apply to the Lord Mayor.” “Very good, sir,” said Warren, with the most unflinching coolness. ‘‘ We will go to the Lord Mayor together ;”—he added, putting on his hat and then beginning to draw on his gloves. ‘‘ What insolence is this ?” exclaimed the phy- sician. ‘Do you forget, sir, that you are a sworn broker of the City of London, and that I can ob- tain a warrant against you for malversation or embezzlement ?” ‘* And have you forgotten, sir, that you are a member of the medical profession, and that I can procure a warrant against you - ‘A warrant against me?”—and Mordaunt was evidently staggered—-smitten indeed with a sud- den terror—so that he became white as a sheet. . .“\Mandeville has not deceived me!” thought Varren to himself; and he chuckled inwardly.— “«You had better sit down a moment, doctor, while I tell you a tale of family misfortune, the real facts of which have only just come within my knowledge, or else I should have long ago taken the requisite steps to bring an offender to justice.” d Mordaunt sank, gasping for breath, and ashy pale, upon a chair, © ““ Fifteen years ago,” resumed Warren, ‘‘ when I was a mere youth, my sister Jane, who was a few years older than myself, died somewhat sud- denly. You, Doctor Mordaunt—then plain Mr. Mordaunt, a poor struggling surgeon—attended upon her. You made such a report of the nature of her illness and the cause of her death, as to preclude the possibility of suspicion in respect to the actual facts ai ‘Mr. Warren, if you mean, sir, to asperse my character, I will not stop here ” “‘ Retain your seat, sir,” interrupted the stock- broker: “ you must and shall hear me !”—then, as the physician again sank dowh upon the seat whence he was endeavouring to rise, Warren went on to say, ‘The facts of that case have only just come to my knowledge. My poor sister had yielded to the influence of a secret passion which she formed for a young clerk in my father’s office—a mere boy of nineteen or twenty. His name was Matthew Calvert. She was in a way to become a mother—yow were made the confi- dant of her shame—she placed fifty guineas in your hand—and in consideration of this bribe you undertook to destroy the evidence of her disgrace while it was yet unborn. She perished e “Tis false, sir! false as hell!” exclaimed Mordaunt. “Tis true, sir!” responded Warren sternly. ‘The wretched boy, Matthew Calvert, who was afterwards transported for the forgery of my father’s name ‘“ | “What do you mean, sir?” cried the Doctor vehemently. ‘ Matthew Calvert has long been dead! You will not dare bring forward some base hireling of your own to personate him ?” ‘No: I admit that he is dead. But , “This is preposterous, sir!” exclaimed Mor- daunt vehemently. ‘‘It is a vile fiction which you have trumped up without the slightest shadow of a proo ” “The proof? It is here!” cried Warren. “A letter, written by your own hand, Doctor Mor- daunt—addressed to young Calvert immediately after my poor sister’s death—conjuring him to keep the seal of silence on his lips - A deep groan, anguish-wrung from the breast of the miserable physician, attested but too evi- dently the stupendous truth of the painful narra- tive; and the stockbroker chuckled inwardly. Then a deep silence prevailed in that room ; until at length Dr. Mordaunt, rising from his seat with an utter desolation of countenance, said in a deep hollow voice, ‘‘ Give me that letter, Mr. Warren —and I will write you a receipt for the money which I placed in your hands.” The stockbroker opened a cupboard, in which wines, spirits, and cordials were kept ; and pour- ing some brandy into a glass, he handed it to the physician, who seemed as if he were about to drop.” No thirsty traveller on Sahara’s vast arid wild, ever tossed off the pellucid draught of water more greedily than did the wretched Mor- daunt pour that potent alcohol down his throat. Then, with along sigh indicative of some kind of relief, he sat down at the desk and penned a receipt for the money which he had lodged in Mr. Warren’s hands for the purchase of shares in the Constantinople and Belgrade Railway. The stock- broker then gave him the damnatory proof of his guilt of a by-gone year when under poverty’s stern pressure he accepted the temptation held out; and Mordaunt, securing it in his pocket- book, took his departure without another word. ‘“‘One !” said Warren to himself, as he placed the receipt upon his file. Another hour passed ; and then Sir Moses Bel- lamy was introduced. This was a tall, portly, florid-complexioned man, about fifty years of age, and dressed with great nicety. He was immensely rich, and habitually dwelt in some provincial town, where he possessed large factories. He had received the title of Knighthood, through having in his capacity of Mayor, taken up some fulsome iG mg i COMO YN Wn) Colin