The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 144: what you’re looking at

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

Ee eee THR HRYSTERINS OF THE COURT. bi | a few minates back I bad been hurrying forward to bury them along with myself in the deep waters of the Seine. Oh! you can scarcely think ill of me, Constance, when I confese that I found the offer too cheering, too magnificent, to be refused, and that instead of taking twenty-four hours or even twelve hours to reflect upon the point, I gave my essent at ences. The Englishman then toki me bis own name ead that of the young lady to whom I was to bo warried. Her surname was quite different from his own; and therefore I did not suppose her to be his dan ghter. I however asked him if such were the case? and he mii she wes not—but he en- joined me not to question hnn any farther, as there was so deep a mystery attatched to this young lady and the necessity for maintaining it was so absolate he must decline furnishing me with any clue for its unravelment. He thea placed a purse of money ia my hand and bade me meet him at the same place on the following day at eleven o'clock. We se- ted—and I was no longer houseless nor penni- lese: but throughout the night I could scarcely close my eyes in slamber. The proposition to which I had assented was s0 ex that again and again did I hesitate whether to proceed any farther in the matter: but the grim gaunt spectre of poverty constantly rose up before my ayes and tnade all my scruples vanish. Morning came; and with some of the contained in the puree I made such improvements in my toilet as were suitable for the ceremony about tu take place. Pun to the hour was I at the wine-shop ;—the Englishman had already arrived and was waiti for me. He doubtless saw by. my looks that I had not changed my mind; and he did not therefore ask me the question. A hackney-coach was summoned, and he ordered it to take us to an hotel, which he named, in another part of Paris. On arriving there, he introduced me to a suite of apartments, in one of which he requested me to be seated for a few minutes. He then passed into an inner room, and shortly re-appeared, accompanied by three ladies. One was nearly as old as himeelf, and whom he introduced as his wife. Another waa much younger, end was intended to act as brides- maid. I believe she was some relation of his, bat I do not exactly know of what degree. The third was the young lady on whom I was to bestow my name. She wae indeed handsome-—very hand- some. Do not be jealous, Constance, at the obser- vation I have made; for while doing justice to her personal appearance, I may with equal eandour de- clare that her’s was not a style of beauty adapted to my taste. On this part of my narrative I will not however dwell. Suffice it to my that she appeared to treat the strange proceeding with a coldness almost amounting to an indifference that was not the least feature in the whole transaction: for I could not help asking myself of what nature might be the cireumstances that rendcred necessary eo sin- gular a matrimonial alliance ? To bestow upon that young lady a husband who was to be nv husband at all—to give her a name which she might bear in the world apart from him of whom she had derived it— to make her a wife, yet leave her to a single and virgin state of existence, if chaste sho really were and meant to continue,—all this seemed so mon- estrous, so unnatural, that I shrank from the bare idea on being introduced to her. There was not chapel, ying waiting made nnn en een aaaaal however much leisure permitted for meditation , because the Englishman hurried us all down to a plain carriage that was waiting in the courtyard of the hotel, and we drove off to the British Ambassa- dor’s which wae at no great distance. I should observe that the ladies were simply dressed ; with no conspionous evidences that this was a bridal with due care ; .so that on reaching the chapel we found the Chaplain and clerk in attendance; and the proceedings at once commenced. I must confess that I experienced a atrange sensation as I went through that ceremony. My conscience smote me with a pang resembling a remoree: for I could not help feeling that it was a veritable mockery of one of the holicat rites of the Chr:stian Church. I gtanced towards my bride, and observed that she was still as calm, collected, and even indifferent as if it were some ordinary trans- action, end not one of the serious character that it really was. For in thus bestowing her hand upon me, was not this young women, in the vigour of youth and in the bloom of her beauty, suicidally de- stroying all hope of ever enjoying real happiness in the wedded state? In short, by this very marriage with me, was she not shutting herself out from the prospect of ever marrying another, however deeply she might be led to love and however fondly she might be beloved in return? Bat it is useless now to moralize on all the features and associations of that mysterious trausactiox. Suffice it to say that the ceremony was accomplished, and that the young lady within the space of a few brief minutes was Marchioness of Villebelle. We all re-entered the carriage, and returned to the hotel,—the Eng- lishman end bis wife conversing the whole time on general and indifferent topics, for the evidont pur- pose of preventing that awkwardness and embarrass- ment which under such extraordinary circumstances would have otherwise prevailed. On arriving at the hotel, the three ladies each shook hands with me and bade me adieu,—my wife exhibiting no more excitement or emotion than the other two. They then all three passed to the inner room, and I re- mained alone with the Englishman. He forthwith begah to count down a number of bank-not:s upon the table; and as he thus paid me the promised re- werd for the singular and mysterious service I had rendwed, he said, ‘Do not think that because we are now about to part, I shall altogether lose sight of you. If fortune smiles upon you and you con- tinue independent of any friendly aid, you will never hear from me: but if adversity overtakes you and you fall into poverty again, you may rely upom receiving succour from my hand. And now fare- well,’ —This was a hint for me to take my departure at once; and I ean aseure you, my dcar Constanee, that I had no inclination to remain—for I already began not merely to loathe myself, but likewise ail who were connected with the transaction.” The Marquis of Villebelle censed; and Constanes Farefield sat gesing upon him with looks of mm. gied commiseration and uncertainty. She pitied him for all be had gone through—she could scarcely blame him for the step he had taken, under such pw- culiar cireumstances, m order to save himeclif from the horrors of poverty and the dismal alternative of suicide: but she was bewildered how she berself could thencefurth act toward hun. Suddonly a r- (CO DOO SS (CO