The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 21: what you’re looking at

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

8 THE MYSTERIES OF THE COURT. though it is barely eighteen months since I visited it.”” “You will presently find my description ac- curate,” continued Adolphus. “But is it not singular that over the most dangerous of places there should be the most dangerous of bridges P” “The bridge is so little used, doubtless,” sug- gested Ethel, “ that it has not been thought worth while to form a larger and a eafer one.” “And yet with all the improvements,” said Adolphus, “ tbat have been made upon the estate by the late Karl and his father before him, is it not astonishing that they should have left that vile old crazy wooden bridge? I vow, Ethel, that to-morrow I will give orders for a new one.” « And perhaps spoil the wild picturesque beauty of the scene,” added the Countess; “or at all events destroy the interest of the Maiden’s Le- nd.” “ But conceive, Ethel, a bridge not more than a yard wide, and with only a rail on one side !—so that if some unfortunate creature in a tipey state, or suddenly seized with giddiness, should be pass- ing over, down he must go, full fifty feet, into the stream beneath—and nothing could save him! For, as I have told you, the sides are all es- carped————”” “It is indeed dangerous,” observed Ethel; “and perbaps you would do well——But, come! it will be time enough to think of a new bridge to-morrow. For the present let me have the legend.” “A legend, by rights,” resumed Adolphus, again smiling, “ought to go back for at least two or three hundred years—whereas this belongs to a period of no more ancient date than about the close of the last century. Indeed, the very cot- tages that are associated with the tale—for it is a perfectly true one—may be seen in the valley on the other side of the hill bordering the ravine. Those two cottages were inhabited by peasant families—as I suppose they are now. An elderly couple lived in one—and an elderly couple in the other. To one couple belonged a son, who of course was exceedingly handsome—or else he would not be fitted for the hero of a romance, much less for a gay deceiver, as he was: while the other couple possessed a daughter, who was as lovely as every heroine ought to be. And it followed— likewise as a natural occurrence in a tale——” * But you tell me,” said Ethel, laughing, “ that it isa true one—and yet you are treating it as a romance ?” “It is indeed all true, though I may seem to treat it with a certain gaiety, which is rather de- rived from the infection of your buoyant spirits, my aweet Ethel, than from the nature of the legend iteelf, which hasa termination anything but comic. However, as I was about to observe, the handsome young peasant and the beautiful young dameel fell in love with each other. They were wont to ramble forth on a summer evening; and I know not why, but certain it is that they used to take their station upon the bridge, where they mingled their sweet voices while the stream was gurgling be- neath. Matters went on for some months, until at last the young peasant swain,—who must have been sadly fickle,—was smitten with the beauty of a damsel in the village yonder—the daughter of a small tradesman who had just taken a shop there. He gradually neglected his first love, and devoted his attentions to his new one. Perhaps he thought it perferable to espouse a tradesman’s daughter than a girl in his own sphere; or perhaps he was really more enamoured of his new love than of his old. The neglected fair one reproached him nos: but she pined and faded visibly. She avoided him: for her pride would not suffer her to throw herself in the way of one who no longer loved her. At length, in the course of a few months, every- thing was settled for the bridal of the peasant and the tradesman’s daughter : the village was all excite. ment and curiosity—for these rural weddings are a source of general glee in the little communities where they take place. And now, Ethel, you must suppose that the eve before the bridal morn had arrived ; and the happy swain was returning at an earlier hour than usual from a visit to his intended, so that he might have leisure to complete his pre- parations for the morrow. It was about nine o'clock on a charming moonlit evening that he was thus passing through the valley on his way back to the cottage where he dwelt with his parents,— when a female figure came gliding towards him. It was the deceived and betrayed girl. She at once assured the young man that she came not to reproach him, but to crave a last boon. He was remorse-stricken and afflicted; and he swore to grant it. She said that as their vows had been pledged in the sight of heaven, and as they had never released each other from those vows, it was only meet and proper that they should do so now, as solemnly as they had plighted them. The poor gitl added that the phantasy had seized upon her for this ceremony to take place in its mournfulnese, where their troth had been pledged in its happi- ness; and the swain, believing that her intellect was affected, and full of remorseful compassion, assented to whatever she might propose. They proceeded together towards the bridge,—walking in silence side by side, and without touching each other’s bands. A young shepherd of their ac. | quaintance, who was close by at the time—though he himself was unseen, being concealed behind a clump of trees—heard and beheld all that passed. Inspired by curiosity, he followed them, still un- perceived,—which could scarcely have been a diffi- cult task, for they were doubtless absorbed entirely in their own thoughts. They reached the bridge —they entered upon it—and the shepherd posted himself behind a tree, where, in the clear moon- light, he purposed to watch all that took place. They reached the middle of the bridge. At that moment a cloud obscured the moon: the shepherd heard the young maiden’s voice saying plaintively, ‘Forgive me, my well beloved f—then there was an awful cry, quickly followed by a loud splash in the waters beneath—and all was over! The two bodies were found on the following day about three miles distant,—the arms of the girl still tightly clasped around the neck of her faithless but adored swain—yes, as tightly clasped as they must have been when she threw herself with him from the bridge !”” ‘‘And that is the Maid’s Legend ?” said Ethel. “Tt is truly an affecting tale—but romantic enough to be improbable.” “Think you, then,” inquired Adolphus, “that whatecever is: wildly romantic must be mis- trusted °” CONIC OOO co