The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 349: what you’re looking at

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340 glance around and beheld the babe feebly pulling at | its mother’s withered breast—the mother herself ap- pearing the very image of despair—the boy of eight beginning to whisper, in half-frightened tone and manner, an imploring prayer for food—the little girl crying bitterly—the elder boy ceasing his attempts to sooth her because he himself was now goaded by the poignancy of famine—and Rose Foster leaning in ineffable anguish against the naked wall of the wretched, cold, and cheerless garret. It was nine o'clock, we said—and Melmoth had not been in above a quarter of an hour. During the entire day had he sought for work—and the in- variable answer, when he told his name, was a stern negative. He would have given a false name—he would have done arything short of an actual crime, in order to have been enabled to carry home hope to his destitute family: but that deceit would nos have availed him—for references would have been required! And now —beggared, starving, famishing, and with this appalling spectacle of misery befure his eyes—he felt for the first time in his life as if he really could perpetrate a crime to obtain bread for those pe:ishing little ones ! On returning home—great God! such a home as it was !—on the evening to which we arereferring, the almost maddened man had flung down his bat- tered hat upon the trunk which once was filled with good cluthes, bat which now was empty; and sinking exhausted on the broken chair, he threw one glance of hopeless misery around—and then fell into the reverie of dark despair. No word escaped his lips: he had not a syllable of hope to give— and the atmosphere of that garret was already too cheerless and too redolent of woe to need the breath of his intense affliction to en- hance its bitterness. The moment the door had opened, his wife threw one searching, inquiring look upon him: but she read the answer in his countenance—and, with a bursting heart, she bent down her eyes again upon the wan, thin face of the furnished babe that lay so lightly on her arm. _ Thus aquarter of an hour passed—and not a word was spoken in that habitation of misery. At length Rose Foster appeared suddenly to re- ceive the inspiration of some hope or to make up her mind to some particular course; and, advancing towards the unhappy man, she laid her hand upon his shoulder, saying, “Mr. Melmoth, this cannot continue: happen what may, I am determined to go at once and appeal to the bounty of Mr. Mea- gies.” ) As these words, uttered in a tone combining firmness with deep pathos, fell upon the ears of the working man who had no work to do, he raised his eyes with ao expression of thankfalness—as much as to say, “ Yes -go, I implore you :"—but when he beheld that countenance of soft and touching beauty, and marked the air of virgin innocence which characterised the maiden, he relented from his own selfishness—and, desperate as the emer- gency was, he eaid, “No, Miss—I cannot consent tw your adopting a course whick may lead to your ruin.” “ Bat perhaps you are deceived in Mr. Meagles,” she urged, timidly. “1 know, as I have already told you, Miss, that be is the boon companion of the Prince, and panders tv all his most detestable vices,” responded Melmoth, “ This is uotorivus, youny lady - and [ THE WYSTERIFS cannot be so thoroughly heartless and selfish as to let you run headlong into ruin and disgrace.” “ No—we will perish sooner than be the means of having a hair of your head injured,” observed Mra. Melmoth, in a tone naturally soft and pleasing, but which want and misery had rendered weak, plaintive, and tremulous. ‘*QOh! it grieves me to the soul,” exclaimed the young maiden, tears streaming down her cheeks,— “to think that people possessed of hearts so excel- lent as yours, should be plunged into such an abyss of misery, Itis my duty—my bounden duty to do all I can—yes, and dare every peril that may spring up in my path, so Jong as there is the slightest chance of procuring bread for these poor children! Think you, my dear friends, that [ am unmindful of all you have done for me? Oh! no—no,” she cried, with the enthusiasm of a fervent gratitude; “ if years and years had passed since you, Mr. Melmoth, first brought me hither—yes, if many years instead of a few days had passed since then—my memory would remain equally vivid and my thankfulness equally sincere.” “Would to God I had the means of assisting you substantially, dear young lady!” ejaculated Mel- moth, clasping his hands in the bitterness of his mental anguish. “ What [ have done for you is no- thing. I found you senseless upon the door-step of this house——” “ And while the Jandlady and the other lodgers re- proached you for paying any attention to a mere stranger,” interjected Rose emphatically,—“ your ex- cellent heart would not permit you to be deterred from performing an act of generosity—of charity—of benevolence.” “ Do not speak of it, young lady,” said Mra Mel- moth. “ My husband was incapable of deserting or neglecting a fellow-creature whom he found in such a condition: and when you told us your artless tale and it appeared by the description you gave of the Mr. Harley who persecuted you that he could be none other than the Prince of Wales——” “Yes,” ejaculated Melmoth, starting from his seat in an excited manner and gesticulating fiercely, — “when we found that you were a good and innocent girl who had escaped from the snares of the Prince only to fall into the hands of a gang of robbers who plundered you of all you possessed—and when we thus ascertained that you were the victim of those circumstances which resulted from the vile persecu- tion that he had attempted against you—we were more than ever resolved to protect you to the last. For it is the countenance and support of bad Kings and Princes that enable the Aristocracy to tyrannise over the people; and the middie classes especially, catching the terrible infection of despotism and selfishness from the grade above them, grind us poor working men down to the very dust. But what are you thinking of doing, Miss?” demanded Melmoth abruptly, as he saw that Rose was putting on her bonnet. “Grant me your patience for one moment,” said the gentle maiden. “Seven days ago you found me senseless in the street—upon the door-step of this house. You rendered me assistance—you left me not to perish unaided there, as the heartless landlady and the other lodgers would have done—but, though crushed to the earth by the weight of your own af- flictions, you nevertheless bestowed your sympathy upon me. Your excellent wife joined you in this EOMICHOOOKS (C am LL a ee A, co