The Mysteries of London, Vol. IV — page 78: what you’re looking at

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

TIIEK WYSTENIES OF LONDON. fod a it ag rince yon have acted £0 completely in opposition to ms conrzel by returning to England. Pecuniary neeistence — that I can afford you to a limited emosnt “Give me filty guineas, Clarence—and you shail never sec me more,” interrupted his aunt. © T ayill spare you a hundred,” answered the gener- cus-heartcd young man; and quitting the room, he returned in a few minutes, bringing the money in a bag. Jere,” he said,—“ take that, my poor aunt— and may God make it prosper in your hands, But, ol! suffer not your daughter to continue in the ways of vice and depravity: remember that she possesses an immortal soul—and that there is another world in which an account must be given for the conduct pur- sucd in this.” The old woman made no answer; but, clutching the bag eagerly, she secured it amongst her tattered gar- ments. Then, ashamed of the greedy impatience which she had manifested, and seeking to avert her nephew’s attention from the fact by turning the conversation into another channel, she said, “1 hope you continue to enjoy that happiness, Clarence, which yourself and your excellent Adelais so much deserve!” “Thank God! my felicity is as complete as man’s can be in this world,” was the reply. “ Having now for upwards of nineteen years held the good situation which my kind patron, the Earl of Elingham, gave mo, I have enjoyed a certain means of existence—have acquired influential friends—and have bee enabled to rear my sons and daughters in a way which, I hope, will be salutary to them on their entrance into life.” “And that man—my husband—have you heard of him lately 7” enquired Villiers’ aunt, in a low tone and hesitating way. “ Wever sincce the occasion—and that is now nine years ago—when he wrote to announce the death of poor Rosamond at Geneva. JI mentioned that fact to you in-a letter which accompanied one of the re- mittances I made to Sydney on your behalf——~” “And from that time you have received no tidings of my husband?” “Not once!” replied Villiers. “ Whether he be alive or dead—what has become of him, I cannot tel! you, This uncertainty relative to her father’s fate is a cause of uneasiness to Adclais:—but every state and station in life has its annoyances and its sorrows. Poor Rosamond! she fell into a slow decline shortly after Icaving England—and for nearly ten years did she linger on, wasting away! Adelais and I saw her once during that period: we visited Switzerland on purpose. Then how deeply was my wife shocked when she beheld the wreck that remained of her once lovely and blooming sister. But I cannot dwell upon that episode in our lives——” “No—no,” exclaimed Perdita’s mother, now in haste to depart. “I will not distress you,” sie added, with a xlypocritical appearance of sympathy, “by oxacting the painful narrative from you. Farewell, Clarence— farewell.” The generous-hearted Villiers proffered his hand to his aunt,—that aunt who was once so fine a woman, co elegantly dressed, and the mistress of a splendid mansion,—but who was now hideous to look upon, clothed in rags, and as yet homeless on the face of the earth! : For a few instants her heart swelled with profound emotions as she pressed that hand which was thus kindly extended to her, and tears rose ta the very brims of her eyes, but did not run over. Then she hurried away from hus presence :-—and tha moment she set foot on the threshold of the dwellins: —or rather, when its door closed behind her—she sub- dued the feelings that had well nigh overpowered her; and gave all her attention—all her interest—all her thoughts to the precious bag which she had concealed amongst her garments. “Well, mother, I thought you were never coming back!” cried Perdita, in a reproachful tone: then, per- ceiving by the old woman’s countenance that she hoc gool news, she allowed her own to brighten up, as she hurried to ineet her. “ Perdita—we have now the means———” “Of obtaining shelter and a breakfast, I hope?” “Of purchasing good clothes—taking fine lodg- ings i“ “Oh! then your nephew—or relation of some kind, whatever he raay be—has behaved well!” cried the young woman, overjoyed by this intelligence. “A hundred guineas, Perdita—a hundred guineas in this bag!” exclaimed her mother, shaking the pre- cious object of her avaricious worship: then, again concealing it beneath her rags, she said, “ But come, Perdita: let us betake ourselves to another cuarter of the town—for I have promised Clarence Villiers that he shall sce my face no more.” The old hag and the handsome young woman re- traced their way into the heart of London ; and, arriving in the neighbourhood of Covent Garden, they entered an early breskfast-house, where they partook of a copious meal, to which appetite and good spirits en- abled them to do honour. The repast being despatched, the elder of the two wanderers had a few minutes’ whispering conversation with the landlady of the establishment; the result of which was that a bed-room was speedily placed at the disposal of the guests, who retired to partake of a few hours’ most recessary repose. It was near mid-day when the mother and daughter rose; and then ancther interview with the landlady was shortly foilowed, in obedience to the instructions given her, by the arrival of a woman who sold second- hand female apparel, and who came laden with band- boxes. The contents thereof were speedily examined ; and tbe wanderers having selected the articles which seemed most appropriate for their temporary use, the slop-seller was' well paid and dismissed. And now Perdita and her parent began to assume each a very different appearance from that which they had so recently worn. Copious ablutions and decent clothing made the elder less revoltingly ugly, and the younger more strikingly beautiful. As they thus performed their toilette together, in the little chamber of the coffee-house, the mother sur- veyed, with pride and admiration, the features and form of her daughter,—calculating at the same time how large a fortune the judicious sale of such loveliness was likely to amass;—while on her side the young woman stood in superb complacency befure the glass, exercising a thousand little arts to render the details of her toilette as perfect as circumstances would admit. Perdita’s dark brown hair was combed out with the utmast care, and arranged in simple bards, glossy and massive on either side of her fino forehead. By chance she had obtained from the second-hand dealer a gown which precisely fitted her, and which, being very low in the body, displayed her fall and swelling bust to its greates!. advantage. The darned stockings and the clumsy shoes .ere superseded by more fitting articics ; and now the robust leg, the slender ancle, and the long (C(O) (C DOO <S LL (SO)