The Mysteries of London, Vol. IV — page 66: what you’re looking at

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

~e me er ee — o- Ea se = we =u =m ee ee - a _—<—— = a nw ~ ee AEP aS THE MYSTERIES OF LONDON. owes he could not-—Luman nature possessed not so grand a ruver:—he might have ruled his actions by his will— but his Ghoughts defied ail controul. Yielding, therefore, at length to their current, he yas Whirled along by the same eddying tide of re- fiections which had swept him through so considerable a portion of the preceding night ;—and now the efforts ef remory—by one of those superhuman strainings which, while they seem as if they must break the very fibres of the brain, also appear to evolse a sudden flash from the depth of some profound cerebral cell,—those powerfil and painful efforts ina moment, as it were, established a connexion between the name of Lenja- min Bones and ths murder of Tamar! Yes: Charles Hatfield suddenly became aware that the name and the incident were insome way associated : —and he necessarily supposed that, in his childhood, he bad heard facts mentioned which had ereated that impression at the time, but the nature of which he could not now for the life of him recall to memory. This impression was probably vague even at the peried when it was engendered; because Charles re- collected full well that the utmost caution was adopted by those around him not to discourse upon the par- ticnlars of the foul murder in his presence, nor even to respond otherwise than evasively to the questions he put,—he being a mere child at the time. As the young gentleman paced up and down, his mind labouring with the new reminiscence which had arisen within, it suddenly struck him that there were means of informing himself of all and every detail of that murder, whereof he at present entertained only : varue and general impression of its atrocity, Tis Jong abrence on the continent had prevented him from ever, even accidentally, falling in with an Enelish book of criminal annals, or a file of Englich newspapers, to which he might lave referred, had the thought struck him so to do. But now what was to restrain him from making those searches which would throw every light on an occurrence of such fearful interest ? Scarcely was this idea conceived, when the means of instantancously carrying it into execution suggested itself. For Charles Watficld remembered that In the well-stored library of the mansion he had observed a complete sct of the Annnal Register, from the very origin of that useful work until thy most recent date of its publication And now he trembled from head to foot—he literally gasped for breath, at the thought of being enabled to tear away the veil of mystery from at least one inci- dent which was so materially connected with his childhood: for Tamar had been as a mother to him during the few months that he was in her care! ‘There was in his soul a deep and yct undefined pre- rentiment that he stood on the threshold of strange discoverics—that important revelations were about to be matle to hin 3—and, without being superstitions, he Dent to the influence of this solemn but dim Sorecast- inge-—this awe-inspiring but vague prescicace, Taking the Jamp in his hand, he stole gently from his chamber—dezeended the wido and handsome stair- cace—traversed a long corridor, inthe niches of which stood beautiful specimens of sculpture—and entered the spacious library. On each side of the door was a marblo statue as large as life; and the young man startcd—but only for n moment—as the white and motionless effigies etood out suddenly as if it were from the deep darkness which the lamp illumined. 1t was not that he had forgotten such statues were there—nor that he was es e aan = e ~ -_ — oe -” mee ~e- 59 positively frightened at their appearance:—but his soul was influenced by one of those presentiments which are of themselves superstitious in character—and more- over he was on the point of secking information rela- live to the details of a foul and horrible murder. Instantly recovering himself, and blushing at his fears, he advanced into the jibrary, closing the door carefully behind him: then, approaching a particular range of shelves, he reached down the Annual Register for the year 1827. In less than a minute he was seated at the table, with the book opened at the proper place before him; —and greedily—Oh! how greedily he plunge? as it: were into its contents. But—great heavens!—why starts he thus? What discovery has he made?—what revelation has been afforded him ? We Jearns, with a frightful sinking of the heart, that Rainford was a highwayman—that he had been executed at Horeemonger Lane Gaol—that he had been resuscitated by some means or another with which the writer was unacquainted—that he had re- appeared in London in the disguise of a Blackamoor— and that hie had received the royal pardon for all his crimes. These details were incidentally given in the course of the narrative of the foul murder of Tamar, who was represented to have been Rainford’s wife ;— and now also Charles IIatfield discovered how terrific was the connexion between the namo of Benjamin Bones and the assassination of that ill-fated daughter of Isracl, Yes—and he perceived, foo, that Benjamin Rones and Old Death were one and the same indivi- dual;—and he shuddered from head to foot as he perused—itay, almost rushed through the details of the crine which had been committed nineteen years previously in the subterrancan cells belonging to a house in Red Lion Street, Clerkenwell! But Charice Hatfield is not satisfied with what ho has already devourcd—for we can scarcely use tho word read :—his curiosity to know more has become insatiable ;—and guided by the hints aud the observa- tions occurring in the narrative of the murder, ho re- fers to an earlier page in that volume, in order to obtain a full and complete insight into tho trial and condemnation of Rainford—that Rainford whom he lind loved so well! The whole particulars were given in detail and with accuraty,—-the robbery of Sir Christopher Blunt—the capture of Rainford by Dykes and his myrmidons in Lock’s Fields—the trial—the condemnation—and the execution ! Charles rend—read on with horrified feclings which often threatened to get the better of him ;—but there was one point in the evidence which rivetted his at- tention. Dykes, the oflicer, in explaining the mode in which the highwayman had been taken into custody, used these words:—“ When Tand my people gained admittance into the house tn Brandon Strect, the prisoner was tn bed with his mistress, a Jeuress.” «“Then,’? thought Charles Hatfield immediately, “Tamar was not his wife! Al! that is clear enough —although the narrative of the murder would imply otherwise. But the only inference that can be drawn from this discrepancy, is that the reporter of the as- eassination was delicately and judiciously sparing of the feelings of the Medina family—whereas, in the former case, it was absolutely necessary fo record the videnen just 2s it was given. Poor Tamar!—ny wonder that thy name is never mentioned now by those who once knew thee—no wonder that even thy tr eee ee _ —~— nee (C(O) (C DOO <S LL (SO)