The Mysteries of London, Vol. IV — page 131: what you’re looking at

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124 THE MYSTERILS OF LONDON, “*Q heavens! no food again to-night!’ exclaimed the young female aloud—for in her despair she paused not to notice whether she were noticed or overbeard. And she was both noticed and overheard,—and by a tall, handsome individual, of gentlemanly appearance, and muffled in a capacious cloak. Je had issued from the nearest house at the moment the accident occurred ; and, perceiving the brutality of the encounter, though too late to prevent it or to chastise the perpetrater, he stood still fo observe the young female, whose coun- tenance, as the rays of the Jamp fell upon it, struck hic. as being remarkably beautiful. In that rapid survey, partial as it was by the flickering light, which Was moreover dimmed by the mist of the falling rain, the stranger fancied that he percecived—independently of the despair which that countenance now wore—a certain settled melancholy expression, that at once rivetted his interest and excited his sympathies. But when those words—so terrible in their meaning,—~ ‘O heavens! no food again to-night!’ fell upon his ears, he accosted the young female, and said, in a tone of respectful though somewhat condescending pity, ‘My poor girl, it appears that a sad accident has befallen you.’-—-The young woman, or rather girl —for she was not«more than eighteen years of age —looked up into the face of the individual who thus addressed her; and, perceiving that it was no insolent coxcomb who spoke, she replied in a tone of deep melancholy, ‘ Yes, sir: it is to me a great misfor- tune!’— The stranger read, or fancied he read, an entire history in those few and plaintively uttered words,—how, perhaps, a young dress-maker had toiled to finish a particular piece of work in the hope of re- ceiving instantaneous payment on taking it home,— how the article had been thrown down, soiled, and rendered at least unfit to be delivered that night to its owner, even if it were not spoilt altogether,—and how the poor girl had lost her only chance of obtaining the wherewith to procure a meal. Upon more closely, though still with great delicacy, questioning the young female, the stranger found all his surmises to be cor- rect; but she could not tell whether the silk dress were injured beyond redemption or not. ‘In any case,’ bhe added, still weeping bitterly, ‘I shall tell the lady the truth when I take home the dress to-morrow.’— ‘These words, uttered with the most unquestionable sin- cerity, made a deep impression upon the gentleman who was addressing her ; for they denoted an unsophisticated uprightness of character which augmented the interest he already felt in the poor young creature.—* And who 18 the lady you speak of?’ he enquired.—‘ The Dowager Marchioness of Wilmington,’ was the reply.—* Ah?’ ejaculated the stranger: then, after 2 moment’s pause, he said, ‘ Pardon me, young woman, for having asked you so many questions: but it has not been through motives of idle curiosity. Here is a small sum that will procure you immediate necessaries ;’—and thrust- ing & coin into her hand, he hurried away. The decd took the poor girl completely by surprise ;—for although it bas occupied me some time to relate all that passed between her and the generous stranger, yet in reality their dialogue was of scarcely more than two minutes’ duration; and the dress-maker had not yet recovered from the grief into which the accident to her parcel had plunged her. Wher, therefore, the light of the lamp flashed upon a bright yellow coin, she could scarcely believe her eyes:—she fancied that her bene- factor had made a mistake, and intended to give her a shilling,—and then, in spite of the cold night, the warm blood rushed to her cheeks, at the idea of any one re ee ee, Sev treating her as a mendicant—for she had her little feelings of pride, poor though she were! But hernext thought was that the stranger might really have in- tended to present her with a sovereign; and—so strange a sentiment is human pride, even in tha most virtuous bosoms—her soul revoited not from receiving that amount, And novw, lest this circumstance should induce you to form an evil opinion of my heroine, 1 must inform you that it was no selfish nor avaricious feeling that made her draw a distinction between the gift of a shilling and that of a sovereign :—but she had been tenderly and genteelly brought up—and the com- parison which her mind drew, was simply as between the alms that one would toss to a mendicant, and tho pecuniary aid which a delicate benevolence would administer to a person in temporary embarrassment. “OF all these things she thought as she retraced her way along Oxford Street,—holding her umbreila with her right hand, and with her left arm encircling the parcel miore carefully than before. She came to the conclusion that the sovereign was not given by mistake; and she resolved to avail herself of the bounty which Providence itself had appeared to be- stow upon her in the hour of her bitterest need. She thought of the little brother who was anxiously ex- pecting her return, and who had fared so scantily for the last few days,—that little brother of only eight years old, whom the sudden, premature, and almost simultaneous death of their parents, about two years previously, had left so completely dependant upon her! As she drew near the strect in which she lived, she stopped at the baker’s where she was accustomed to deal, and purchased some nice buns ;—and then she hurried on until she reached the house wherein she rented a small back room on the third floor. On en- tering the little chamber, which, though poorly fur- nished, was very clean and neat, a beautiful boy, with light brown curly hair and fine blue eyes, but with cheeks somewhat pale, sprang towards her, exclaim- ing ‘Oh! dear sister Julia, I am so glad you have come back: for I cannot bear to be left alone so long !'"— ‘I have brought you something nice, Harry,’ said the kind girl, smiling sweetly upon him; and, she placed the bag containing the buns in his hand. Joy sparkled in his eyes;—but in another moment he o)- served that his sister had brought back the parcel, which she had opened, and was carefully examining the silk-dress to ascertain the amount of injury done to it. Throwing the cakes upon the table, the voy hastened to question her; but poor Julia could not answer him—scalding tears were trickling down her cheeks—a suffocating grief filled her bosom,—for she found, to her dismay that the dress was completely spoilt! “She sate down, and gave full vent to ner anguish; —and then little Harry thaw his arms round her neck, and endeavoured to console her. The flood of tears which she shed, and the affectionate conduct of her little brother at length considerably southed her; —and the poor girl made up her mind to meet her misfortune with resignation. ‘You are dripping wet, dear Julia,’ said Harry: ‘and there is not a morsel of coal left,’ be added, looking at the miserable rem- nant of a fire which was fast extinguishing jn the grate—‘ Poor boy! you have been cold,’ exclaimed the dress-maker,’ not thinking of herselfi—* No, dear Julia, he answered; ‘for I have been walking up find down the room, to keep myself awake till you came back. I was only afraid that the candle would not last.—* Nor will i¢ many minutes loner, Harry" — GIOOKS 5} (CO) (CO) =