The Mysteries of London; or, Lights and Shadows of London Life — page 313: what you’re looking at

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

to make the necessary preparations for the mast be 80 repugnant to your feelj marriage, ness, “Congratulate me, George!” exclaimed his friend, | © To. morrow the union will take place,” two young men met; “I am about to “I shall not be there to witness | both our parents have given their consent, and in a | of my murdered children, or _| few days I shall call her mine.” And are not you, George, happy ?” as the man who sits upon a mine, and hears | spoke—*“ contains just one hundred fusee beneath him. I cannot lead Divide it, my lord, between them.” compromise with patience; my heart is_| The bishop hesitated; he did & “ What will Sir Walter say 2” “ H’en what he pleases; I owe him neither love nor have established the honour of my mother’s name; as for his title, I shall never bear it.” George, the solitary iife of an exile,” saw his hesitation, and u ge a that.” packet. “Soon to be my wife; for the only bar to our union has lately been removed by the death of the fox-hunting squire her husband, who broke his neck in a steeple-chase.’’ _ “ Why not be married at the same time with my- self?” “I feared to ask it; but it would give a pleasure to my heart to let the same hour witness our union, | But perhaps your noble bride——” j “Has @ heart,” interrupted his friend, “ still and mortify them both.” “I promise you,” replied Fitzgerald. bowing humbly, left the house. } “Never!” replied Mowbray, firmly ; “ but my heir, , and sent repeatedly to see his grandson, who did should Heaven permit me to become a father, may | not arrive till after the third messenger had been live to claim You, I am sure, ‘would be his dispatched. friend and “So, sir, you are come at last!” exclaimed the times and old man, pale and exhausted with rage. “Ty ~ «Bat the Lady Adela 27 young man, coldly, yet respectfully. y Howa __ “Must find another husband; or if she has settled her mind upon a Mowbray, marry my grandfather. They would make aa excellent match—pride and . bh The young men separated, each to visit the object “And you dare to tell me so?” Was about to confide her happiness for life to his evening before the one appointed for the Prim, who had become terribly altered way slowly on foot to the residence of the of Tythetail, in St. James's Square. The pre- had given orders for the removal of his library effects to the palace of his see, intending to with. at once from political life, and resign his splendid immense fortune to his son, reservin | If such an income as the dignity of his . office rendered necessary. _ The lawyer was at once admitted to him; the was much shocked at the alteration which en place in him since he last beheld him; the ? : or inclinations? I owe you nothing.” ; proachfully exclaimed his grandfather, nume. To-morrow I quit this land for ever.” Appearance. would pursue you,” _ You have been ill, Mr, Prim,” he observed, Om __ en Sa ee in| trouble you with the presence of one whose ngs—is on bugi- Your son and his cousin are about to marry,” The old man placed the packet in his hand, and, At the same hour a very different scene was pass- ing in the mansion of Si: Walter Mowbray. The old baronet had heard of the intended marriage, attend your pleasure, Sir Walter,” said the “ Pleasure! then it is my pleasure to know whether “Dare!” repeated his grandson, with an expression of contempt so cold and withering that it wrung the iron heart of the old man. “Dare! Why should I either love or fear you? Why turn a hair’s breadth from my path, or consult either your feelings, wishes, “Call you the name of Mowbray nothing?” re “Take it back, lest it should ene day be coupled § | with that of George Sedler the felon—the prison-bird —the thief. I have vindicated my mother’s memory, { will not dishonour it by unworthily bearing her “What!” shrieked Sir Walter, “the last heir of my house expatriate hintself—leaya a gap in the | fallen away from his face, giving his high | inheritance of eight hundred years! No—impos- | bones and hollow eye an almost skeleton-like | sible! the malediction of your outraged grandfather “I am not aman whom curses can move from a _ “No, no; or, at least, I have not observed it. My | once determined purpose. Farewell, old man; contro] my lord—~and it is the last time I shall ever | the fierce passions of your nature, and bow your white sil | when the it—at least, not ag | marry the only being whom I ever did or can loves | a guest; shall not dare to offer a blessing to the boys 6ven a paltry gift, Of course it's right; I know and feel that itis right; but Happy Maybird!” I will not detain’ you, my lord. This packet” |he drew it from the inner pocket of his vest as he thousand pounds. not wish to wound doubt how it was acquired Withheld his hand. Priin it. “There is not @ penny of the sum,” he said, “ that has not been honestly, legitimately gained. Think you,” he added, in a voice of deep emotion, “I would enrich them with the price of their mother’s blood or of my crimes? No—no; [ am not so fallen as His son-in-law no longer réfused, but took the “And now, my lord,” resumed his visitor, “ fare- well. Promise me one thing—that you will never lot my grandsons know the tie which existed between us; it might weaken their love for their mother’s memory to know they sprang from sich a source—humble VOO SS) (CO) m » . . - — ~ ame OT — Ae A et gaat a tt = °°. wf ~~; a - Ce ee oe - — — —- u-_