The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 368: what you’re looking at

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

Garrewt ““Gew ~- THE MYSTERIES. 359 ean he distinguish—not a word can he catch. Vague and uncertain whisperings rustle and murmur as it were upon his ears: but their sense is lost to him;- —thelr meaning reaches him not. Now he knows that the Prince is speaking—now he can tell that the Duchess of Devonshire has taken up the discourse —and then he is aware that the other tadividual is talking in his turn. Thus does this strange trialogue continue for up- wards of ten minutes. Page straink with all his moral energies—with all his vital powers, to catch the significance of the discourse. He moves not a liumb—he stirs not a muscle—and yet he is struggling as it were with a desperate energy. The perspira- tion pours off him, although the night air in that Jong passage is icy cold. Oh! if he could only catch a sentence—a word—a syllable—it might afford him a key to all the rest! . But, no—the whispering is continued rapidly and with excitement: an occa- sional ejaculation of wonder, anger, or terror—Page knows not which—bursts from the Prince and the Duchess ;—and then the third voice enjoins silence with a “ Hush!” that rustles like a low wind amidst the dead leaves of the forest. There is something awfully mysterious in all this —and by degrees a vague and undefiyed terror creeps over the eaves-dropper. The adventure in the li- brary flashes back to his mind: in the midst of that deep darkness which envelopes him, he fears lest the cold hand of Ramsey’s corpse should be suddenly Jaid upon him. Alarm grows on him rapidly. He cannot reason within himself against his augmenting terrors. The icy chill of superstitious dread circles round him—expands over his form—seizes on his entire being—penetrates to his very heart's core. He would rise from his kneeling posture—Oh ! be would rise and flee precipitately—but his limbs refuse to perform their office—he is frozen with horror that increases every moment: he feels like a statue of marble animated with the mind of a man! At this crisis—when he felt as if his brain were beginning to rcel, and he ceased to perceive whether the whispering inside the room was geing on or not—he was suddenly recalled, or rather startled back into recollection by the momentary shaking of the handle of the door, as if somebody had grasped it within and was about to turn it. Springing to his feet, as if under the influence of galvanism, Page stepped back and then leant mu- tionless against the wall. The rustling of his clothes had scarcely ceased, when the door opened—and a man came cautiously forth Page held his breath : but in the pitchy darkness which prevailed, he could neither see nor be seen. No light flashed forth from the door during the in- stant that it was thus uaclosed to allow the indivi- dual egress: and it was shut again in a moment, But Page knew, by the tread of the boots upon the oaken floor of the passage, as the person issued from the room, that it was aman: besides, who could it be but that third individual whose voice had completed the whispered trialogue ? Page, we said, held his breath—and the man, whoever he were, paused for a few instants outside the dour, apparently to listen if all were still. Then, stealing cautiously along the passage, he proceeded towards the stairs which he descended with equal carefulness, At length the sounds of his footsteps ceased altovether. The ex-bagman now crept noiselessly back te his own chamber, where he narrated to Julia afl that had occurred. She was as much astonished as he bad been at the incident: but the main poir being accomplished,—namely, the discovery tha the Prince's fair companion was none other thar the high-born and splendid Dachess of Devonshire —Mrs. Page chese rather te speculate upon what benefit the knowledge of this secret might produce, than on the more mysterious event which defied allt conjecture. At an early hour on the following morning a plain carriage, attended by only one footman in addition to the coachman, drove up to the front-door of Stamford Manor. The Prince of Wales and the Duchess of Devonshire then came forth from their chamber, and were met at the head of the stairs by Mr. and Mrs. Page, the former of whom inquired whether it would please his Royal Highness to par- take of breakfast. An answer in the negative was given: but the Prince expressed his thanks for the hospitality he had received — and, putting ten guineas into Page's hand, desired him to give them to the dependants of the mansion. His Royal Highness then handed the Duchess of Devonshire into the carriage, and entering it after her, gave some whispered instructions to the foot- man, who bowed respectfully—closed the door—and sprang up to his place by the side of the coach- man. The next moment the vehicle was rolling rapidly away from Stamford Manor. Mr. Page presented the Bryans with a guinea, alleging in a pompous speech that the Prince had desired that it might be bestowed upon them as a mark of his satisfaction at the treatment he had received ; and the unsophisticated old couple, never dreaming that they were being robbed as coolly and impudently as if it were upon the highway, were Profoundly delighted and grateful. The astute Mr. age accordingly pocketec nine guineas by the little transaction. In the course of the day, he and his wife, having completed their business at Stamford Manor, took their leave of the Bryans and walked across the fields to Aylesbury, whence they procured a con- veyance for Windsor. CHAPTER CIIL THE VEILED LADY. Tue reader will be pleased to recollect that the grand ball at Carlton House, on the occasion when Pauline Clarendon was presented to the Prince of Wales, took place on a Monday evening. following morning that Mr. Clarendon received the mysterious visit from the veiled lady, who, on taking leave of him, had expressed herself in these terms :— ‘For the remainder of this week and throughout the next shall I each morning look into the 7%ines newspaper: if no communication be made to me through its advertising columns, I shall concluds that you area mere grumbler who dares not act— a poltroon who can complain but who lacks the energy necessary to improve his condition and ac- complish his desires. On the other hand, if a com- mapication should appear in that journal, addressed to the ‘ Veiled Lady, it will instantaneously be at. tended to.” Ce, Sra ~ @ It was on the EOMICHOOOKS.Com