The Mysteries of London; or, Lights and Shadows of London Life — page 302: what you’re looking at

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

~_ “- 300 such a tempest of passion in one so old, Curses flew from his lips; he absolutely foamed with rage; and even the most favoured of his attendants trembled to approach him, “Thank God you are come!” exclaimed the valet, as soon as he beheld the lawyer. “ Long as I have known Sir Walter, I never witnessed a scone like this.” “What! is he dying?” demanded Prim. “ Worse—storming like a madman! He has bean on his knees twice already to curse his grandson! Of course you have heard the news?” “] have heard nothing,” said Prim. “ Master Richard,’”’ whispered the man, * has mar- ried Mademoiselle Mosine, the great dancer, and it has driven his grandfather mad.” “Good!” thought the lawyer, over whose counte- nance a grim smile passed at the intelligence. “A Jewess!—very good!—his first son’s error was light compared to this.” On entering the library he found the baronet pacing up and down the room, with a letter in his hand, a prey to the most violent excitement. His features were rigid with passion, and the expression of his stern eye, as it glanced upon his visitor, was terrible to behold. At that moment, had his degenerate grandson entered the room, the old man would have been capable of sacrificing him to his resentment. “Prim! good! the very man I wished for! You have courage, and few scruples, You have heard the news of this accursed marriage—this stain upon my olood and honour?” The lawyer merely bowed his bead in token that he had heard it. ‘It must be broken,” continued the old man, “though at the expense of half my fortune—nay, if it leaves mea beggar! Mosine—a dgncer—a thing that lives by distorting her limbs for the amuse- ment of gaping idiots or licentions boys! A toy, a | very mushroom of humanify! A Jewess,”’ he added, with a deep groan, “ grafted on my ancient stock!” “ Singular!” said the visitor, drily, ‘especially in | the lady, considering that your crest is a boar’s head! But how long has she left Lord Simple’s? It is not & fortnight since 1 advanced the young spendthrift a thousand pounds to purchase a diamond necklace for her.” Sir Walter replied only by a deep groan. ‘She must be rich,” continued Prim; “ the sattle- ment I drew for her when the Marquis of Heartley took her into keeping was twelve hundred a year; that and her annuity from Sir Thomas, and the money she made out of the prince, would be no bad fortune, Sir Walter, even for the heir ofa baronetcy; and your grandson——” “ Villain!” said the old man, driven frantic at the enumeration of the various dupes hia daughter-in-law had made, and the list of her paramours; “sooner would I see the idiot dead—end his dishonoured life with my own hand—than suffer this pollution.” “Wer diamonds are magnifieent,” continued the lawyer; “she will make a splendid appearance as Lady Mowbray.” Prevent that,” whispered the baronet, “ and name any sum you please—half my fortune—and I will sit # gainer by the loss—only prevent that thing of in- famy from being Lady Mowbray.” — I came for that very purpose, Sir Walter.” Bat how—how is it to be accomplished? The marriage was celebrated before so many witnesses that it is impossible to conceal it; besides, it is already —— ee ree #37R MYSTERIES OF LONDON. —-- . - -- _ - in the papers, My shame,” he added, “is the gossip of every table and coterie in London.” “ By acknowledging the offspring of your dead son the legitimate heir of your title and fortune; by atoning for a crime long since committed, and never yet repented of,” “ Never,” doggedly replied the baronet. “Then I will,” said the lawyer, coolly. “You!” repeated Sir Walter; “you, a thing whom I could crush! yon dispute my will in this? Have you forgotten, Mr. Prim, the act of incendiarism by which you destroyed the books of the village ehurch where the disobedient boy and wretched girl were married?” “No.” “ Or the forgery by which you prevented the woman from claiming her pension as an officer’s widow—the deed of assignment by which he transferred his com- mission for a consideration never paid, and which transfer he never signed?” “No,” repeated the lawyer, unmoved by the enu- meration of his crimes. “Talk not, then, to me of threats and but rather aid me with thy subtle wit to invent some scheme to break this cursed union. There is gold to be earned; gold, I tell thee, man.” a “T have heard you, Sir Walter,” said his visitor; | “now hear me. The fact that 1 committed sacrilege, | — and set fire to the church where your son was | married, in the hope of destroying the registers, no | one is more anxious to establish in the face of the | world than myself. The forgery of your son’s signa- ture I am equally willing to acknowledge. Your | threats are to me, therefore, as idle as the winds, [| am past fear—danger cannot move me, In the deeds | you accuse eof you were my accomplice. Your evi- | dence decided the validity of your son’s signature; and I still retain the letter in your own hand by which you directed me to destroy, at any risk, and by any means, the records of the church where you supposed your son was married. Therefore, if1 stand within the felon’s dock, Sir Walter Mowbray, | varonet, late minister of state, and lord-lieutenant of | a county, shall find a place beside me; and, but for | the poor boy’s sake, whom I would save from a dis- | honoured name,” he added, sternly, “ it should be £05, ; there would be justice in it, and one in heaven would | smile, Why I have determined to atone our mutual | wrong, you will never learn; enough that I have resolved. ‘The marriage certificate is in my posses- sion, the proof of identity complete, and unless We 3: aid me in establishing the rights of your grandson, I | will put the proof into his hand, which will enable him — j to prosecute you for felony.” 1 “Felony!” replied the baronet, proudly. “Marder, then, if you prefer it,’ added Prim; | “ accessory before the fact.” * Pshaw! you trifle with me, You in such case would hang with me.” “I know it,” calmly answered his visitor. “ Consider the gallows.”’ | “ Ags well by the hands of the executioner as my own,” hurriedly exclaimed the lawyer, at the same | time rising from his chair. ‘I give you till to-mor- row to consider of my offer, so employ the time wisely either prepare to acknowledge your grandson, or BR give myself up te justice as the murderer of his mother — and implicate you in my fate.” “Yon cannot! What proof?” * Your letters. Besides, if that should fal, therein still the forgery of your son’s name,” — ehook COLA Eom