The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 291: what you’re looking at

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280 everything? The wretch, to have perpetrated forgery !” Another quick revulsion took place in the Duke of Marchmont’s feelings: the momentary idea of safety flitted away; and as he thought of Army- tage a horrible sense of danger again smote him. That the ruined speculator was entirely in Oole- man’s power, was but too evident; and that the lawyer would use this power, the Duke felt fright- fully convinced. He was now once more goaded to utter desperation : he rose from his seat: white as a corpse—haggard and ghastly—he paced to and froin the room. He thought of flight—and he thought of suicide; but he dreaded lest by adopting the former course he should only be pre- cipitating his own utter downfall, and throwing away the last chance of escape :—while in respeot to suicide, he had not the moral courage ! Suddenly an idea struck him. It was an idea that arose from desperation’s self: but no sooner had it entered his brain, than he clutched at it greedily. Ringing the bell, he ordered the waiter to give him his bill and call a cab. On enter- 10g the vehicle he said to the driver, “To New- gate!” Away sped the cab; and it was followed by another, containing the lawyer’s clerk who had been appointed to watch him: for Mr. Price was keen and shrewd, and was not likely to disobey nor neglect his master’s mandates. In twenty minutes the cab which bore the Duke, drew up in front of Newgate; and his Grace alighting, knocked at the door of the Governor's house. On giving his name, he was at once ushered into a room, where the Governor received him with mingied sympathy and respect. . “This is a dreadful thing, my lord,” said the prison functionary, who was by no means asto- nished to see Marchmont looking so pale, haggard, and agitated: “but it is an event for which your Grace must have been for long years more or less prepared, as it might have happened at any mo- ment—although, I believe, your Grace fancied your brother to be dead ?” “I come to see that unhappy brother of mine,” interrupted the Duke. “Show me to his cell— and let me be alone with him.” it was contrary to the gaol regalations to admit visitors to prisoners at that late hour in the even- ing; but on behalf of a Duke all such restrictions were readily set aside. The Governor therefore at once obeyed with alacrity; and he conducted Marchmont along the gloomy corridors towards the cell which Lord Clandon now tenanted. The massive door swung upon its hinges: a single candle was burning inside; and by the dim light Lord Clandon was discovered sleeping on the humble pallet. Yes—he was sleeping after the exhausting circumstances of the day; and he slept serenely too, with no convulsing starte—with no tossing nor heaving on the bolster—with no fling- ing about of the arms. The Governor closed the door, without bolting it,—having intimated to his Grace that he would wait at the extremity of the Corridor. The Duke of Marchmont stood by the side of the pallet, looking down upon the sleeping coun- fenance of his brother. That brother was sleep- ing, as we have said, serenely ; and the Duke mur- mured to himeelf, “ Would to heaven that I could THE MYSTRRIES OF THE COURT. slumber like him !—-Bertram !” and he placed his hand upon his bsether’s shoulder. Lord Clandon opened his eyes; and on bebold- ing the Dake he started slightly for an instant: then rising from the pallet, he said coldly, “ What seek you with me P” “ Bertram, how can you ask this question?’ exclaimed the Duke, adopting a reproachfal look and tone. “Am I not your brother?” ‘I have no brother,” replied Lord Clandou: and for a moment his chest heaved as if with s convulsing sob. “ No—I have not a brother! I had once a brother, whom I loved dearly and de- votedly; but—but—that time has long passed— and fur nineteen years,’ added Bertram, fixing his eyes significantly upon the Duke, “ there has been no one in the world whom I could call my brother !” “ Bertram, your brain is turned,” said Mareb- mont. “Pray listen tome! Gold doubtiess can procure your escape—I will lavish it by thousands -——by hundreds of thousands, if needfal ——” ‘‘No more!” ejeculated Bertram, in a per- emptory ivas. “lf all the doors stood open, and no one barred my egress I would not go hence! My destiny shall be fulfilled. I know what it is: I believe in God—I have faith in His justice! And now enough! Leave me!” “ No, no—I cannot leave you thus!” cried the Duke of Marchmont, easily converting his real agitation into a semblance of profound grief. “ What horrible thoughts, Bertram, heve you in your head P—why is your conduct thus unnataral towards me ?—why did you ap before me at Oaklands, to scare me with the idea that I beheld one from the dead? Oh! you must esoape—you must fly hence—you must betake yourself to some foreign country! All my fortune is at your dis- posal—I will beggar myself to ensure your welfare!” “Leave me, I say!” answered Bertram, who was evidently struggling with violent internal emotions: “ leave me, I insist !”’ The Duke was bewildered how to act. There was a moment when he was about to fall upon bis knees—to entreat—to implore—to give utterance to all the wild things which were agitating in his brain: but yet he dared not. He again looked et his brother: the prisoner’s countenance now was cold, stern, and implacable; and as Marchmont hesitated what to do, Lord Clandon extended his arm towards the door, exclaiming, “ Begone! I know you not as a brother.” It seemed to be by a sort of mechanical iavolan- tary process that the Duke of Marchmont obeyed the mandate and sunk away from Bertram’s pre- sence. The Governor came hastily along the stone corridor to turn the massive key and fasten the heavy bolts which secured in his cell that captive who, nevertheless, would not have issued forth if every door of the prison had stood open. “I hope, my lord,” said the Governor, ia 8 low sympathising voice, “that your unfortunate brother was grateful for this visit ?” “Do not question me!” replie:| the Duke petu- lantly. “Which is the way out ?’’—foe the very atmosphere of that prison seemed horribly op- pressive to the wretched Marchmont. “This way, my lord,” said the Governor. “It was towards one of the condemned cells that your Grace was hastening-———” COMME HOG cS) (CO — oe