The Seamstress; or, The White Slave of England — page 84: what you’re looking at

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

THE SEAMSTRESS. to suggest the course which your lordship will have to adopt in making known my wishes to the Mar- quis of Arden and in persuading him to yield to them. I know that the scene will be a painful one for your Grace: it is even probable—nay, almost certain—that your lordship will be forced to confess everything to your son and throw yourself upon his mercy. But such considerations as these, much as I may deplore them for your lordship’s sake, cannot deter me from my purpose, which is fixed and settled. I therefore beg that your Grace will lose no time in breaking this matter to the Marquis of Arden.” While Clementine was delivering her long address, | the Duke of Belmont sate motionless in the arm- chair, gazing up into her countenance with a look of vacant terror and wild astonishment. He ap- peared like one who, with his eyes open, labours under the influence of an appalling dream. The reality seemed too dreadfui to be possible ;—and yet the wretched man could not persuade himself that it was all a vision. But when Clementine ceased from speaking, the Duke of Belmont’s harrowed feelings found for themselves a vent in a moan of such unspeakable anguish that the mental tortures which gave it birth must have been an ample punishment for any guilt, even the blackest, that could possibly weigh upon his conscience. And Clementine, unmoved by the spectacle of such excruciating woe, flung upon the wretched nobleman a last look of terrible significancy, and then quitted the apartment. CHAPTER XXIV. THE RUINED GAMESTER. For some minutes the wretched Duke of Belmont remained in the attitude of horror and consternation in which the Frenchwoman had left him. But suddenly starting from his chair, he dashed his hand twice against his forehead, mutmuring in ac- cents of utter desperation, “‘ Holy God! what is to become of me?—what must I do?” A feeling of profound oppression now came over him: there was a weight upon the brain and a sink- ing at the heart which made him fancy he was about to fall down in a swoon. The atmosphere seemed to grow intolerably hot and heavy—but it was only a sensation on his part. The effect was however the same: the air appeared of a stifling sultriness—he felt as if he were in his coffin. Snatching up his hat he rushed from the house, and hastened into Hyde Park. The cool breeze of the evening fanned his fevered cheeks refreshingly ; and approaching the water, he sate down upon one of the benches which dot the margin of the Ser- pentine and are shaded by little clumps of trees. There he gave way to his reflections; but the cruel difficulties which formed the topic of his thoughts, appeared like a tangled skein that it was impossible to unravel. To sacrifice his son to the ambitious Frenchwoman, was a deed which the Duke dared not resolve upon; and to treat her with defiance was an alternative that he found himself in no con- flition to adopt with safety. The Duke was vainly racking his brains for a sulution of the perplexity, when he heard footsteps approaching: and by the reflection of the starlight in the water, he beheld the figure of @ man slowly advancing along the bank. In afew moments the individual stopped short and gave vent to an ejacu- lation of despair, as he stretched out his arms to- wards the Serpentine. The Duke was now seized with such a sudden horror, that the remembrance of his own sorrows was absorbed for the instant in the dread lest a fellow-creature was on the point of committing self-destruction. But at the moment when he was about to spring forward and clutch the stranger by the arm, this individual exclaimed passionately, “‘No—no, I cannot do it!” and ad- vanced straight up to the bench where the Duke was seated. “Unhappy man! who are you—and what rash deed were you about to commit?” cried his Grace, whose nervous state of feeling was painfully excited by an incident that for a moment had threatened so tragical a catastrophe. “Ah! is any one here?” exclaimed the other, starting back as he heard a voice and beheld a form in the shade thrown by the trees: then, instanta- neously recovering himself, he said in a somewhat dogged if not absolutely brutal tone, “ Well, if you have any real sympathy for me—as I suppose you guessed what my intention was—you can show your good nature by relieving my necessities.” The Duke had risen from the bench at the mo- ment the stranger advanced so hurriedly up to it; and while exchanging the observations just re- corded, they took a rapid survey of each other. So far as the dimness of the place could possibly favour this mutual scrutiny, the Duke saw before him a tall, well-built young man, decently dressed, and with a countenance that was naturally good- looking, but which was pale with the traces of dis- sipation. On the other hand, the stranger’s eyes, which had a certain flashing wildness in their ex- pression, swept over the form of the nobleman and then settled upon the diamond pin that gleamed like a star on the bosom of his Grace’s shirt. “You ask me to relieve your necessities,” said the Duke, in reply to the latter portion of the young man’s observations: “ but first tell me who and what you arer” “My whole history may be summed up in five words,’”’ was the response. “I was brought up asa gentleman—which means, that my parents gave me no profession, which they ought to have done, and allowed me to live in idleness and pleasure, which they ought not to have done. But they were well off—and I was their only child: this, I suppose, was the reason of their conduct. They died when L was about twenty; and a year afterwards, on at- taining my majority, I came into a fortune of thirty thousand pounds. I am now twenty-seven; and as every farthing has gone to the gaming-table, I of course am going to the dogs. Confession, they say, is good for the soul—and if this is true, I ought to be benefitted by making a clean breast of my follies.” “You are utterly ruined, then, young man?” said the Duke of Belmont, irresistibly prompted by some unknown impulse thus to penetrate into the stranger’s history. “So completely, kind sir—whoever you may be,” was the blunt answer, “that I am both house- Go 6)(6)(0) <S (C (0)