The Mysteries of London; or, Lights and Shadows of London Life — page 225: what you’re looking at

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body of his victim, to be anonymity sent to Mr. Radcliff by his agent Piim. Human yengesnce is sometimes very short-sighted. ~ “Yon ate. come,” said the old Jacobite, “to hear My opizvion, doubtiess, of your pamphlet, tor I pre- sume it is yours?” | Fitagerald bowed assent. » “ Well, considering how hastily it has been done, it is not amiss, although not quite what 1 expected from you, Probahly Lord Erringcouri’s views clashed ‘with yours on poioats, which destroyed its harmony as a whole; still it is well—very weil; but the expres- sion of my approbation or disapprobaticn,” he added bitterly, ‘+ can be of little consequence.” What mean you, sir ?’’ “Is this a forgery, an idle jest, or a damning truth? have I to forgive a folly or curse a disobe- dience ?” _ He threw upon the table the certificate of Fitz- gerald’s marriage as he spoke. Our hero was sur- prised, but surprise did not tempt him to falsehood, “A truth,” he replied, calmly, folding the paper, and placing it i in his pocket, _ You tell me so,” said the old man, giving way to ‘furious burst of passion, which was the more ter- rible for having been for several days repressed— “you, the being whom I bave trained to restore the roof-tree of my fathers—educated to contend with the : of humanity, by teaching you to ecorn it— you to fall into a snare so palpable asthis! Folly’s own trap,” he added, “ baited by caprice.” - “JT loved, and was beloved,” interrupted his grand- son, in a deprecating tone. ~ “Loved!” repeated Radcliff, scornfully — “loved! Was this the fruit of my lesson—my toil and care? : Me la th ig Was such a passion to turn from the career to which from the hour of your you had been destined? Where was jour ens: rabvigd ponies, Ptide? Was it because a piece of clay renga moulded in a form pleasing to your foolish seneyy that the purposes of long years of calculation were to be abandoned—abanduned, too, even with the goal in view? Idiot—idiot!”. * Curse me! reject me, if you will!” exclaimed his grendson; “ but, oh! in pity to my sufferings, tell | me where are my wife and child?” “Child, too!” shrieked the old man; “I shall go mad! Fool—fool !” “ Who has deprived me of them?” continued Fitz- gerald; “what villain has dared to cross my path? Remember, sir,’ he added, ‘we are in a and where the law protects the meanest of its subjects, and prince and peasant meet with equal justice .” * Dost threaten me?” “T am a husband and a father, sir.” “Know, then,” exclaimed the old man bitterly, for he was incens<d at the threat, “that I neither know nor cere where the wanton and her brat have taken themselves. The proof of your folly and de- generacy came in this letter.’’ He pointed to the envelope |ying on the table near it. Our hero eagerly caught it up; the hand was unknown to him; it merely stated that the lady having abandoned her busberd’s protection, the certificate was forwarded to Mr. Radcliff, that he know for the future how to estimate the obedi- ance and affection of his grandson. “My life upon her purity and faith,” said the oroken-hearted husband, convinced that, in the pre- sent instance, he had wronged his grandfather; “time | old Abbey were visible in the distance. rill unfold the mystery; in my agony I am sufli- | LIGHTS AND SHADOWS OF LONDON LIFE. ciently punished. Ob, sir, be generous and for- 219 give me!” * Fools forgive,” replied the incensed Jacobite with a sneer; “week men forget: I shall do neither. A mere intrigue, indeed, I might have pardoned,” “ Are these the principles of age?—smile on seduc- tion? breathe @ curse on marriage? Shame, sir! shame!” “Boy!” exclaimed the old man, roused by the sneer, “dare you presume to judge me?—you for whom I have sacrificed so much—have watched, have toiled, and sinned? If the ties between us were not those of affection, they were not less binding. ‘The reproaches of the world, my own conscience, I may endure; but not one word from you. Begone—darken these doors no more!” “ Sir!” “I would be alone!” continued the speaker; “ per mit me to remind you,” he added, with forced calm- ness, “ that neither my age nor habits render this dis- cussion snited tome. I make no comment on your base ingratitude to one who has sacrificed so much for you. Ishall find a way to punish it. You may leave me.” Fitzgerald had too proud a spirit te Lrook a second command, Restraining himself by a violent effort, he bowed to his grandfather, and quitted the apart- ment, They never met e For some minutes Mr. Radcliff sat with his hand pointing to the door, just as hisgrandson left him; no murmur escaped his lips, no sign of animation appeared on his countenance; he was, to all appearance, a still and lifeless statue. At length, the uplifted arm was slowly dropped; his lips quivered; his face, whieh had been crimsoned with passion, became ashy pale, and his whole frame betokened how fearfully his heart was tortured by the disappointment of his long-cherished hopes, for he had looked forward to Fitzgerald’s mar- riage with one whose wealth and rank would have aided him in his political career. “So, it is over,” said the old man, large drops of perspiration chasing each other down his forehead; ‘* yes, it is passed, and I have now ne hope. I have deserved this, but not from him—not from him. Married,” he added, rising from bis seat, and pacing the floor with a hurried step—-“imarried to some nameless beggar, er worse—a worthless wanton, Thank Heaven, he does not bear my name; he can’t disgrace that. It is well my fortune is at my own, disposal, 1 little thought that I should live to rejoice that all which remains of the revenues of my house can be alienated by the stroke of my pen,” Fitzgerald rushed from his grandfather’s his heart lacerated, his spirit broken. It was evident that some secret enemy was at work; that Ellen had been lured from her home under a specious mask; but whom to suspect, whom to charge with the villany, he could not guess. Lord Moreton was in France; Osmond bad accompanied him; end his share in Darwin's exposure bad been more that of a spectator than a principal. At times, a thought, a nameless fear of outrage and violence, would come cver him; but with a strong effort he dismissed it from his mind, as a thing too terrible for reason to contemplate, or feeling toendure. Like a perturbed spirit, he wandered till be found himself on the bridge at Westminster, geziog with a vacant, dregmy air upon the river below. The moon—for by this time it was evening —was shining brightly, and the towers of the glorious Two men were closely watching our hero from one stesso ElOOOKS COL (E@)