The Mysteries of London, Vol. IV — page 126: what you’re looking at

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- struck by asudden blow. “ And this book—this book,” he faltered, in a faint tone, “was"in the immediate vicinity of the recess! He who took the papers—might have read also—in that volume—tbe terrible ac- count-——” Mr. Hatfield could say no more: overpowered by his feelings, he sank exhausted on the nearest seat, The Kari glanced at the open page which his half- brother had indicated; and, observing the nature of the statement there recorded, he instantly compre- jiended the causo of Mr. Hatfield’s emotions, and also of the suspicions which had suddenly scized upon him. . “Yes—yes: this book has been read lately,” said Arthur, in an excited and hurried manner: “behold! the corners of the covers have been recently injured. Oh! my God! what does all this mean? ” It will be recollected that on the memorable night when Charles Hatfield pursued his successful researches in the library, he had hurled away from him, in his rage and almost maddening grief, the volume that made such strange—such appalling revelations: and the violence of the action had so far injured the book, as to bend and graze the corners of the binding,—the marks of the injury remaining clearly visible, and the white interior of the leather being Inid bare, and thus proving how recently the work had been used. “The book has been read very lately,” murmured Mr. Watficld, in a musing tone; “and the papers have perhaps been stolen lately——” “Yoex,’ exclaimed the Karl: “for not a month has clapsed since I inspected that recess and found them safe.” “Then who could have done this?” cried Mr. Hat- neld, startiny from his reat, ina sudden access of ex- citement which was accompanied by a return of moral and physical energy. “Oh! is it possible that Charles #3 the author of all that seems so mysterious? IIa3z he searched for the records of my earlier lifer— has he by accident discovered and purioined those papers—those fatal papers?” “Yes—it must be he!” exclaimed the Earl: “for did you not tell me that he spoke of claims—and rights—and privileges unjustly withheld,—and that he has harped upon what he termed the unnatural conduct of his parents in concealing from him the seeret of his birth? Thomas—my dear Thomas,” continued Lord Ellingham, speaking in a lower— mure measured—and more impressive tone, “I can see itall! hat young man has found out who you are: he has Jearnt that you are the rightful heir to the honours and estates which I enjoy ;—and, believing himself to be your legitimate son—according to the assurance that you were forced, for your wile’s sake, to give him—the deluded, deceived Charles Hatfield fancies himeclf to be the Jawful heir to the Earldom!” “You have divined the truth, Arthur!? cried Mr, Latficld, his heart wrung to its very core by all the maddening fears and torturing reflections which were thus suddenly excited within him. “Oh! what dreadful embarrassments—what frightful complica- tions, will this misapprehiensicn entail on my unhappy son—on you—or mc—on all who are connected with wel” “There is not a moment to lose!” exclaimed Lord Ellingham, “We must hasten after this infatuated young man-——” At that moment the door opened ; and Clarence Vil- liera antere] the library —the Far) haying requested “Gone!” repeated Mr. Hatficld, staggering as if l him on the previous day to visit him at the hour 119 when, tru to the appointment, he thus made his ap- pearance. Villiers, perceiving at the first glance, that some- thing unusual was agitating Lord EMingham and Mr. Ilatfield, was about to retire, when the Earl, becken- ing him to advance, turned hastily round to his half. brother, and said in a hurried whisper, “We will en- trust this matter to Villiers: he will conduct it with less excitement than you and I; and, as he knows your secret———” “Yes :—but all he docs know is that the Mr, Ifat- field of to-day is identical with the Thomas Rain- ford of former times,” interrupted the Earl’s half- brother, also speaking in a low and hasty tone: “re- member—he is unacquainted with aught of our family secrets—ignorant of the parentage of Charles-——” “Neither is it necessary that he should be made acquainted with all these facts,” interrupted Arthur: — but leave the matter to me.” Then, turning to- wards Clarence, he said,“ My dear Mr. Villiers, you come most opportuncly to render us an important ser- vice. We have every reason to believe that Charles has formed an improper connexion with a young female of great beauty, residing with her mother in very handsome lodgings in Suffolk Street: we like- wise conclude that n¢ is there at this present moment. Hasten thither, my good friend—demand an imme- diate interview with Charles—and tell him that cer- tain discoveries have been made at home, in which he is deeply interested. In a word, compel him to accompany vou away from the designing women who have doubtless entangled him in their mesties———” “Nay: Jet us not judge hastily,” cried Mr. Iat- field: “ remember—I have heard nothing against the characters of these ladies; and it may be a virtuous and honest affection, after all, that renders Charles & visitor at their house. Let Mr. Villiers, then, act with cireumspection—and behave with the strictest courtesy towards these Jadies, shonld he enccunter them.” “Yes-—but under any circumstances you must per- suade Charles to return with you immediately to this house,” said the Earl, “ Mr. Hatfield will acquaint you with the precise address of the lodgings in Suffolls Street——” The Farl’s half-brother mentioned the number of the dwelling to which he had traced his son on the pre- ceding evening ;—adding, “ The name of the ladies is Fitzhardinge—and I heard that the daughter bears the singular denomination of Perdita.” “DPerdita!” cried Villiers, starting violently. “Oh! if this be the case-——unhappy, lost Charles Latfield !” ‘(Good heaygns! what mean your” demanded the wretched father, rendered terribly anxious by those ominous words that fell on his ears like a death-knell. «Two Jadies--inother and daughter—dwelling to- gether—and the girl named Perdita,” mused Clarence Villiers, not immediately heeding the earnest appeal of Mr. Matfheld: “yes—yes—it must be they !—my aunt—imy wretched, wretched aunt who has returned from transportation—and her profligate but beauteous daughter!” “Do you mean that Mrs. Slingsby who—years ago— you know to what I allude?” asked Mr. Hatfield, in a hurried tone, as he grasped Clarence violently by the wrist. “Yes—I do mean that had woman!” exclaimed Villiers, who had now become painfully excited in his turn: “and 1 regret—Oh! I regret to say that ene Renee a THE MYSTHNIES OF LONDON. (C(O) (C DOO <S LL (SO)