The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 396: what you’re looking at

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

THE MYSTERIES. And why had the villain Ramsey thus plotted to annihilate all the little happiness that remained to the Earl?—why had he thus drawn the infernal meshes of his duplicity and deceit so completely around the confiding and generous-hearted Eleanor that naught but the last and most irreparable of woman’s sacrifices would now content hin? His conduct was the result of cold-blooded cal- culations; and these calculations may be explained .n a few words. He knew that it was impossible for him to remain for ever beneath the roof of the Earl of Desborough. An accident—the merest chance —the slightest casualty, would betray him. Moreover, even if the iremendous secret connected with his real name, his true history, and his resuscitation from an ignoimi- nious fate,—even if this secret should remain un- discovered, was it not contrary to all rational hope that his amour with the Countess could continue much longer unsuspected or unperceived ? Thus, in either case and under any circumstances, Ramsey was living in the constant peril of expul- sion from the home which he had found so mira- culously and from the hospitality which he had abused so atrociously. The Earl’s bounty had sup- plied him with some ready money: but this amount was totally insufficient to enable him to escape from the country and fly to some foreign clime. And yet he must lose no time in thus ensuring his safety ! -What, then, was to be done? He had calculated that the Countess possessed costly jewels and at least some available pecuniary resources ; and he re- sulved therefore to make her the companion of his flight. Besides, he had just so much regard for her as any profligate voluptuary experiences for a beau- tiful- mistress: and he moreover thought it pro- bable that a lady of her rank and connexions would never be left by her relatives without some amount of income, happen what might. These were the calculations which the cold- blooded villain had made; and the reader is now in possession of the key to his conduct with regard to Eleanor. We have shown how well he succeeded in overruling the last scruples which remained in the bosom of the too coufidiung lady — and how »iumphant was his persuasion that she who had al- ready surrendered to him her honour in secret | would make a public sacrifice of home, reputation, friends, and relatives, for his sake ! Glorying in that success — rejoicing in that triumph Philip Ramsey was pacing his apartment, when the door opened slowly and the Earl of Des- borough staggered into his prvseuce. The ghastly pullor of the nobleman’s countenance —the strange workings of his features—the wild ex- pression of his e,es—the visible convulsion of his limbs—and the tottering unevenness in his pace,— all these appearances instantly struck Ramsey with dismay aud carried to his guilty soul the terrible conviction that some appalling discovery had been made, The Earl closed the door carefully—locked it— aud placed tlie key in his pocket. A coid shudder passed over Ramsey’s frame; for the idea flasiied to his mind that the outraged hus- baud had discovered his wife's frailty and was come \o wreak a deadly vengeance on him, the seducer! Hut respecting this apprehension the wretch was almost immediately reassured; for the Earl, puint ipg toa chair, while he himself suuk exliausted upon Ped | another, said, ‘* Be seated! Whatever now takes place between us must be without excitement—with- out noise—without passion.” “What does your lordship mean ?” demanded Ramsey, with the eagerness of a torturing impa- tience to learn the extent of the evil which now appeared to menace him. “J mean, sir,” responded the nobleman, con- tinuing to speak in a voice so changed with thick- ness and hoarseness that it sounded like the worn out tones of old age,—“I mean that the moment when any unguarded proceeding on our part shall make your secret public—that instant will disgrace aud dishonour, scorn and ridicule, redound also upon me !” “Ah! my secret —then you know me?” mur- mured Ramsey, the frightful spasm which shot through his heart making him feel as if the hand of dv-ath were there: and he sank helplessly into the chair which he had been invited to take. “ Holy God! is it possible that such a tremen- dous misfortune should have fallen upon my head —upon taat of my wife also 2?” exclaimed the Ear), with a groan that convulsed his entire frame as anguish tore it from the depths of his soul. “ But thou—unhappy man—in what haze of horror is thine existence enveioped ?—in what appalling mystery is thy fate involved? Thou, whom the world believes to be cold and stark in the narrow tomb——” “In mercy, spare me!” cried Ramsey, suffering all the crucifixion of ineffable torture as these words struck like a barbed arrow into his heart: and, with eyes glaring wildly and brows hideously corrugated, his whole countenance was distorted as if his neck once more felt the pressure of the accursed noose. “ Well—well—I will seek no explanation on that head,” said the nub'eman, exercising a_ partial command over his feelings by dint of a tremendous and almost superhuman effort. “ Little doves it matter tome by what means you escaped the ven- geance of the iaw: all my thoughts—all my ideas— all my feelings should be absorbed in the immense amount of wanton and heartless injury which you have inflicted upon me.” My Jord, you will deal mercifully with me?” ex- claimed Ramsey. “ Am I not a worm already crushed so thoroughly beneath the iron heel of an avenving society, that “you can afford to spare—if nut to pity me?” “Spare you I will—pity you I cannot!” rejoined the Earl of Desborough, “ And in sparing you, J act not through any considerations of mercy ~ but iv order to avert a public scandal and the world’s scorn from my house! ‘The imposture you have practised upon me is venial—oh! yes—and your condition in that respect might indeed have commanded my pity: for, on that fatal night when you became an inmate of my dwelling, had you thrown yourself on your knees before me—revealed to ime the astounding secret that you were Philip Ramsey the convict—and demanded my forbear- ance aud my succour, | should not have refused your prayer! But you have planted a poisoned dagyer in the bosom of my wife-—you have made her not only an adultress, but the paramour of a man whose neck has been circled by the halter of the gibbet! Oh! there is the accursed infamy o, your conduct—there is the degradation—there (SCO GOO | <Ho(CO)