The Mysteries of London; or, Lights and Shadows of London Life — page 177: what you’re looking at

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

7 ei * ‘ ‘ . : 4 > ? , \ i f r - £ f \ ‘ ; * 4 4 4 i. . . | pity and remorse; his compassion, however, went no | seat. | Surely he cannot know that we are Starving? Has breath of life, _ dead, in those lone sleepless hours of the night in epee Ate all, give you no legal claim upon Sir a - iP ey ‘Said the female, moving towards the door, “I will life. The worst,” she added, laying her thin hand : her heart, which beat fearfully from weakness Eee ee - Se me eee LIGHTS AND SHADOWS OF LONDON LIFE. 171 satiineeenemees ee : — _# No a Se, St “You must pardon me, Sir Walter,” said Prim, | and temporary excitement, “is past,—I scarce feel “but I thought you would not wish to meet the hunger now.” lady. I will see you from my chambers by the; Here the speaker drew her faded wet cloak closer private stairs, and then return to wait on Mrs. Mow- | around her shivering frame, and then prepared to bray.” depart, Sit Walter grimly bowed assent. “ Madam,” said the man of business, “ will you only “Yon are still unchanged?” whispered the lawyer | inform me where those papers are ?”? as he parted with his wealthy client at the door. “In faithful keeping,” “ Unshaken,” replied the baronet, in the same tone,; “May I not be permitted to see them, just to as he hastened to his carriage, which was waiting for | satisfy-——” him at the of the court; “let what isto bedone| “No.” be accom quickly.” “Were I convinced,” he continued, endeavouring There was a look of quiet satisfaction on the coun- to assume an air of commiseration, “I might, perhaps, tenance of the man of law, as he returned to his cham- | be induced to——”? bers; experience told him that no client paid so well| The cold withering smile, the bitter scorn which as a rich one who was inclined to indulge in a little passed over the features of his intended dupe, told him rascality. For afew moments he paced the room in | his attempt to deceive her came too late: she had silence; then having made up his mind thoroughly | seen too much of his real nature to be so grossly how to proceed in his design, he rang the bell. gulled. Despite his usual self-possession, he stam- The ill-clad, shivering female, whose appearance we | mered, and stopped short. described at the commencement of our tale, entered} “Go on,” said the widow; “ pray go on; or do you from the outer office; if was no other than Sir | fear the mocking laughter of the fiends who hear you Walter’s unhappy daughter-in-law, the friendless, | Should wake the echoes of this den of crime?” widowed Mrs. Mowbray, whose appearance, since he| “Den of crime!’’ repeated the lawyer. “ Fiends! had last seen her, wasso much altered for the worse Have a care, madam—have a care—stich words are that even Mr. Prim was struck with something like | actionable.” “ Murderer!” replied the woman. “ Murderer!” repeated Pritn, turning very pale, and looking uneasily round the room, as if he fancied that his visitor saw some one. . “The world may not name it 80,” continued the widow; “bat God will call it murder, I came to you a wretched, helpless, friendless creature, broken in heart as well asin fortune. How have you used me? Sold me to mine enemies, deluded me by lies from time to time, bidding me wait and wait, and , —— —. oe farther than to induce him politely to offer her a * Well, my dear young lady,” he began, in his blandest tone of voice, “ I trust you have r€flected on the offer which my worthy client authorised me to make, and that we shall understand each other at fast ?” “Did you give Sir Walter my letter?” faintly de- manded his visitor. “*T did.” preaching patience, till I have wasted every thing. “And his reply ?” Coolly you have seen hunger do the cut-throat’s work, “ None.” watched want and fever drink my youthful blood, till it has wrought your purpose. Ask your own conscience, sir, if this is not as clearly murder as the assassin’s act; somewhat more safe, I grant you~ more professional.” “My name, madam, is above slander,” faltered the confused man of business, “ But it will be slandered,” interrupted the widow, “and that too with one of earth’s foulest slanders— the lying epitaph which greedy heirs or flattering friends will write upon thy grave, vaunting thy many Virtues, as true as their own sorrow. But remember this,” she added, “tomb thee in marble—inscribe what lie thou wilt upon thy grave, that worms will eat, and Ged will judge thee. Then shall we meet in.” ie her large dark eyes upon the trembling wretch, whose glance quailed beneath her gaze, she slowly left the office. Nor was it till the door had for some seconds been fairly closed between them that the man of law breathed freely. Although devoid of all moral, he was not without great physical courage; but for once even that was shaken. Opening a private recess, of which he invariably kept the key in his own possession, he drew from it a bottle of brandy, and helped himself rapidly to a portion of the contents. After carefully restoring it to its customary hiding- place, he advanced to the door, which he opened, and called in his usual bland voice for James to be sent to him. Now James was his confitentia! clerk, and as great a hypocrite as his master; yet in all the “None,” she repeated, bursting into tears; “ none, he a heart of flesh, or hath it ever throbbed with human love? Week after week, day after day, I have counted the weary hours of his return, and still been put off with hopes and promises, Sir, sir,” she added, bitterly, “you have acted a sad part in this affair.” Z My first duty is to my client,’ observed the law- yer, inwardly ealeulating how long the attenuated being before him might still continue to draw the “Your first duty is to your God and to humanity,” replied the widow, rising; “perhaps, when I am which reflection comes, and the brain holds converse et the heart, my memory will avenge me. As for Walter Mowbray, I will sue to him no more.” “My agency in this affair,” said Prim, assuming his most business-like look, “ is professional, my dear madam—merely professi You have only your own obstinacy to blame; resign those papers, which y—I say this upon my reputation as a law- ad I am instructed to offer the most liberal | « Spare yourself the infamy of repeating them, sir,” | ot brand the name of harlot on my brow, or rob my infant of his birthright, to purchase a few days of CO nefarious transactions in which aYeYo)| <S mutually comcstmed, not a word hed’ tour peccsa ty: