The Mysteries of London; or, Lights and Shadows of London Life — page 249: what you’re looking at

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

and det the elder George, loved him with an affection which increased with his years. He might play more fre- run away to join them in garden or rifle a nest; quently with other boys, : not that she felt or grumbled at the burden, fer he wr comparative was y rich, and loved them both as well as though they had been her own. She had _ been an inmate cottage about four years, when | the es absence of George, who was sometimes r. uch of the road of life not had either fallen or stood its declivities, and yet she, was helpless, Her only friends ded ; for, despite her opulence, shunned her as the widow of hanged; indeed, the most re- strictly forbidden their children to play had returned from two Bet had sent them, at the request of thought fit, with its ustice, te keep the children in order to punish the crimes of the sup- old woman was seated in her little parlour by side of a blazing fire. It was in the month of and the wind whistled shrilly round the tops. Maybird was finishing his iast slice of e corner, when George, who had deliberately last drop from his cup, set it down, and from the table, took up his hat to go out. are you going?” demanded Bet, hastily tea. mother,” said the youth, looking up and ing in her face, “You don’t stir out of the house to-night,” replied the widow. “Lizzy, Lizzy, you hussy, lock the door, bring me the key.” “J must go, mother; I’ve promised,” “ Ay, to Aaron Wolf, who has trained more boys to 5 u =) > g 7 iu _ F a3 LIGHTS AND SHADOWS OF LONDON LIFE, — — oo — — el 247 | the gallows than a bishop has to heaven, Fool!” she added, passionately; “ he will lead you from crime to crime—cheat you of your share of the swag after all— and end by selling you to the beaks, I knows his dodges of old.” “He won’t sell me; I’m fly.” “Yon are a fool,” answered the old woman. ; “ Not fool enough to be tied to an , spron-string,” was the rude reply. Oh as * You'll be hanged, and I shall live to see it.” “ Well, you will get over it as you did over your husband’s,” At this allusion to the fate of Gipsy George a con- vulsive movement was perceptible in the features of the widow, who, with all her eccentricity and coarse- ness, had one spot of natural feeling in her compo- sition—love for the memory of the man who had been the partner of her youth—who had shared with | her the proceeds of his crimes; and, ferocious and brutal as he was to others, had ever, as far as his reugh disposition would permit, been kind to her, “ George, George,” she sobbed, “is it thus you name your father ?” ‘‘He was no father of mine,” answered the boy; “my father was a gentleman, and Maybird’s too.” The widow eyed him curiously for some time, secretly wondering within herself hew be could have obtained that information; all at once it suddenly struck her. “ Aaron Wolf told you that lie, I suppose.” Tt aint no lie.” “Then if it is not, you must know, young hang- dog, that I have supported you through charity, and TT don’t intend to put up with this life much longer.” “ You don’t?” *T don’t.” “‘ Why then, mother,” he still called her so from habit, “good-bye at once—it shall never be said that I was told twice that I ate the bread of charity.” He advanced towards the door; but before he could reach it, Bet, who repented of her hasty word, jumped from her seat, and threw her arms round the struggling boy, whom, despite her temper, she loved; exclaiming in her usual blunt manner: “ Never mind the old woman’s temper; if I aint your mother, I love you like one, As for charity, I don’t vally a brass farden the expense; if it was twice as much, Bet could stand it.” “ That you could, missis,” chimed in the servant. Despite her efforts he released himself, and made towards the door, which Lizzy had purposely delayed to lock, and rushed into the street. The widow shouted after him at the height of her voice: “Come back, George; you are running to the gallows.” , ae her yoice died away, the truant was out of sight. “Tt’s no use,” she sighed, as she sank into her eer rbse errs chair; “ varmint to the back- @. ' “He is a regular trump,” said Lizzy, who always stood up for her favourite; “ we shall hear of him yet. He'll make a name in the world as sure as my name is Liz.” “In the Black Almanack, you mean”—for so her mistress styled the Newgate Calendar; “ but he shan’t darken the door of my ken again, the ungrateful villain.” Maybird, who had been a quiet spectator of the scene, approached the speaker, and throwing his arms round her ample neck, began pleading for his brother. As he was the widow's darling, he had not long Oypayiel oxyoxol <Se©