The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 334: what you’re looking at

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a a THE MYSTERIES OF THE COURT. $23 than the world is generally inclined to believe. Can- “I presume, sir, you are in correspondence with didly and frankly speaking, I do not think that the Marquis uf Eagicdean ?” upon the face of this earth there is a class more “You rogue, you!” exclaimed Mr. Gunthorpe, depraved and unscrupulous than the patrician order laughing; “do you want to ferret out my secrets? in Engiand. When I wasa young man, and befure Weill, but you shan’t, though. Leave everything in I went to Italy, I had upportunities of judging of my hands: I know very well what I am about— all these things. I belonged to three or four clube— and whatever I promise you, depend upon it I can the first-rate and most fashionable ones—yes, and | perform. Have I not told you that Florina shall what is more, calling themselves perfectly exclusive. ' never marry that contemptible young jackanapes Why, would you believe that half the members of Edmund Saxondale ?” one of those elubs consisted of mere blacklegs | “You have, sir: and you have spoken so con- and swindlers, although passing in the world as fidently——” gentlemen? At this present moment there areat| “Confidently?” interrupted Mr. Gunthorpe. “ It the West End thousands and thousands of scoun- | is enough to make one speak confidently—and em- drels calling themselves gentlemen, who dress well— | phatically too—when one contemplates the bare some keeping their horsee—-some driving their cabs idea of such a sweet creature ae Florina being —some having livery-servante—and many living at ' sacrificed to such a miserable abortion as that first-rate hotels: but not une of the whole lot has Saxondale. But now, I dare say you are longing got an ostensible income. Very often, when they that I should repeat the assurance I have before get up in the morning, they do not know how they given you—that inasmuch as Florina shall not are going to pay for their dinner, and are compelled marry Edmund Saxondale, a certain young friend to have recourse to frauds and swindlings to re- | of mine whom I will not more particularly men- plenish their purses. These gentlemen, as they call tion, has everything to hope in that quarter.” themselves, would be fearfully indignant if placed| “Ah! my dear sir, I cannot mistake your allu- under the surveitlance of the police; and yet they | sion,” ‘exclaimed Deveril, taking his kind friend’s are only a fashionable kind of swell-mob after all. ' hand and pressing it with grateful warmth. “You Ah! you perceive, William, that I know a little of , know not how happy you render me!” Lundon life, although I have been abeent from myj| “Happy!” ejaculated Mr.Gunthorpe. “Of course native country for eo many, many years.” I want to make you happy. You are a very good By this time the carriage was reached. It was a | young man; I love you as much as if you were my plain brougham, with no other servant besides the | own son—and that is more than I ever told you yet. coachman: but it was a private equipage, and be- | As for your sister Angela, this must be her last sea- longed to Mr. Gunthorpe. On entering the car- | son upon the stage——” riage the orders were to drive to Mr. Deveril’s resi-| ‘‘ What do you mean, my dear sir?” cried Wil- deuce near the Regent's Park. liam, in mingled suspense and joy. “Yea,” resumed Mr. Gunthorpe, as he and his}; “I mean exactly what [ say. Although I have young triend were seated together inside the ve- the eublimest confidence in Angela's purity and vir- hicle, which now moved rapidly away—-“ those who | tue, yet it is impossible to leave her longer than can are well acquainted with what is termed fashionable | be helped in the atmosphere of a theatre. She must life, will, if they have any respect for themselves, | fulfil her present contract with the manager, as a floc from it as from a morass swarming with rep- | matter of course: but afterwards she shall dance no. tiles —or I should rather say, from a beautifal garden ‘ more in public. You are astonished at what I am where all is pleasant and agreeable to the eye, but saying? Leave it to me to do what I think fit; where every flower has its subtle poison and every and in the meantime don’t say a word to Angels. plant conceals a venomous snake beneath the shade Why, you rogue, when I first knew you at Florence, of its foliage. There are of course some bright and I was more than half inclined to put you in a posi- remarkable exceptions: there are a few pure lilies tion that should enable Angela to keep off the and sume sweetly blushing roses in that garden, in | stage: but I didn’t know you quite well enough whoee flowers there lurks no venom. Such, for in- | then—and so I thought I would wait awhile till I etance, is Florina Staunton.” knew you both better. You don’t think that I “Thank you, my dear sir, for making this excep- | should be taking all this trouble in different ways tion !” said Deveril, in low bat enthusiastic terms. ‘on your account, uoless I had something like a “To be sure! Why should I not? It is the friendship for you?” truth. That girl,” continued the old gentleman,| “I am sure, my dear sir,” answered Deveril, pro- “ig an angel of purity and goodness. I know she foundly moved, “I shall never be able to testify my is: I read it in her looks the very first moment I gratitude-—” met her in the Opera-box. Now I know, William | “Gratitude!—don’t talk to me of gratitude! Deveril, that I am a eomewhat comical-looking Have you not always been kind, and respectful, and person, and that my appearance is such as to pro- attentive to me——except, by the bye, when you yoke s smile on the part of the silly young crea- . suffered me to be lugged off before your eyes and tures and impertinent young coxcombs of fashion- | tied to a gate. But I. don’t blame you, William— able life. But Flora immedigtely treated me with | you could not do otherwies ; and besides, I respected kindness and respect. She did this out of regard you all the more for it afterwards. You showed for her unole the Marquis of Eagledean, by whom I yourself a brave young man upon the occasion. was reeomamended—and also from the natural ex- Bat about Angela—I suppose you will not be dis- cellence of her own heart. She has not been spailt pleased that she should quit the stage ?” a by the frivolities of the sphere in which she moves; “Displensed? Oh! it is my sincerest aspiration !° and we will take care that she shall not be, William exclaimed Deveril ; “and st one time, when 1 was Deverit,” added the old gentleman emphatically. succeeding eo well with my own avocations previous. oa~ws Ogu ee a a: a + Snei up ee, 20 ewe COMIC LOO