Authors: George W. M. Reynolds,James Malcolm Rymer
that I was going raving mad. I made a desperate attempt to escape,
and was perceived. What then immediately followed I know not, for I became
insensible: in a word, Mr. Montague, I fainted!"
A deep blush suffused her countenance, as she made this
avowal - for it seemed to have a direct relation to her sex; and she was well
aware that the secret connected therewith had been revealed by her benefactor
to George Montague. On his part, he gazed upon her with mingled interest and
admiration.
"I awoke to encounter a scene of horror," she
continued, after a short pause, "which you must fancy; but the full extent
of which I cannot depict. I can only feel it even now. Those wretches were
conveying me to a room upon the ground-floor - a room to which the cells of the
Bastille or the Inquisition could have produced no equal. It had a trap-door
communicating with the Fleet Ditch! I begged for mercy - I promised wealth -
for I knew that my kind benefactor," she added, glancing towards. Mr.
Stephens, "would have enabled me to fulfil my pledge to them; but all was
in vain. The murderers hurled me down the dark and pestiferous hole!"
"Merciful heavens!" ejaculated Montague.
"It would appear that the house in question,"
proceeded Walter, "stood upon the side of, and not over the Ditch. There
can be, however, no doubt that the trap-door was contrived for the horrible
purpose of disposing of those victims who fell into the merciless hands of the
occupants of the dwelling; for when I had fallen some distance, instead of
being immersed in black and filthy mud, I was caught upon a sloping plank which
shelved towards a large aperture in the wall of the Ditch. I instinctively
clung to this plank, and lay stretched upon it for some moments until I had
partially recovered my presence of mind. The circumstance of having thus
escaped a dreadful death gave me an amount of courage at which I myself was
astonished. At length I began to reason whether it would be better to remain
there until morning, and then endeavour to reach the trap-door above my head,
or to devise some means of immediate escape. I decided upon the latter
proceeding; for I reflected that the morning would not afford light to that
subterranean hole to enable me to act with certainty; and I, moreover, dreaded
the extreme vengeance of those ruffians who had I already given me a sample of
their brutality, should I happen to encounter them on emerging from the
trap-door. Lastly, I considered that it was also probable that I might not
succeed in raising the trap-door at all."
"What a fearful situation!" observed Montague.
"Horrible even to think of," added Stephens, who
listened with the deepest attention to this narrative, although he had heard it
related on former occasions.
"With my hands and legs I groped about," continued
Walter, "and I speedily ascertained my exact position with regard to the
locality. My feet were close to a large square aperture in the perpendicular
wall overhanging the Ditch; and the floor of the cellar was only a couple of
feet below the aperture. I accordingly got cautiously off the board, and stood
upon the damp ground. After the lapse of several minutes, during which I nerved
myself to adopt the idea that had struck me, I passed my head through the
aperture, and looked out over the Ditch The stream appeared rapid, to judge by
its gurgling sound; and the stench that exhaled from it was pestiferous in the
extreme. Turning my head to the left I saw hundreds of lights twinkling in the
small narrow windows of two lines of houses that overhung the Ditch. The storm
had now completely passed away - the rain had ceased - and the night was clear
and beautiful. In a few minutes I was perfectly acquainted with the entire
geography of the place. The means of escape were within my reach. About three
feet above the aperture through which I was now looking, a plank crossed the
Ditch; and on the opposite side - for the Ditch in that part was not above two
yards wide from wall to wall - was a narrow ledge running along the side of the
house facing the one in which I was, and evidently communicating with some lane
or street close by. I can scarcely tell you how I contrived to creep
through the aperture and reach the plank overhead. Nevertheless, I attempted
the dangerous feat, and I accomplished it. I crossed the plank, and reached the
ledge of which I have spoken: it terminated in the very street where stood the
terrible den from which I had just so miraculously escaped. Indeed, I emerged
upon that street only at a distance of a few yards from the door of that
detestable place. To hurry away in a contrary direction was my first and most
natural impulse; but I had not proceeded far when the door of a house was
suddenly thrown violently open, and out poured a crowd of men and women, among
whom I was, as it were, immediately hemmed in."
"What! another adventure?" exclaimed Montague.
"One calculated to inspire feelings of deep disgust, if
not of alarm," answered Waiter. "It appeared that two women had been
quarreling and had turned out to fight. They fell upon each other like wild
cats, or as you would fancy that tigers would fight. A clear and lovely moon
lighted this revolting scene. A circle was formed round the termagants, and for
ten minutes did they lacerate themselves with fists and nails in a fearful
manner. Their clothes were torn into ribands - their countenances were horribly
disfigured with scratches - the blood poured from their noses - and their hair,
hanging all dishevelled over their naked shoulders, gave them a wild, ferocious,
and savage appearance, such as I never could have expected to encounter in the
metropolis of the civilised world."
"And in the very heart of the City," added Mr.
Montague.
"Suddenly a cry of '
The Bluebottles
!' was
raised, and the crowd, belligerents and all, rushed pell-mell back again into
the house. In spite of all my endeavours to escape I was hurried in with that
hideous mob of ferocious-looking men and brazen-faced women. In a few moments I
found myself in a large room, in which there were at least thirty wretched beds
huddled close together, and so revoltingly dirty that the cold pavement or a
hedge-side would have seemed a more preferable couch. And, oh! how can I
describe the inmates of that den, many of whom were crowding round a fire cooking
provender, which filled the place with a sickening and most fetid odour. There
were young girls almost naked, without shoes or stockings, and whose sunken
cheeks, dimmed eyes, and miserable attire contrasted
strangely with their boisterous
mirth. Some of these unfortunate creatures, nevertheless, retained traces of
original beauty prematurely faded. The men were hatless and shoeless; indeed
the entire assembly consisted of males and females evidently of the most
wretched description. Scarcely had I time to cast a glance around me when I was
questioned as to how I came there? what I wanted? and whether I meant to stand
anything? 'I tell tell you what it is,' said one to his companions, 'he's a
swell who is come to have a look at at these kind of cribs, and he must pay his
footing.' I immediately comprehended the nature of the impression which my
presence had created, and presented the individual who had spoken with a couple
of half-crowns. The sight of the money produced an immense feeling in my favour.
Heaven only knows how many gallons of beer were fetched from a neighbouring
public-house; and when the inmates of that lazar-house - for I can scarcely
call it anything else - had all partaken of the liquor, I was overwhelmed with
offers of service. One declared, that if I merely came to see the neighbourhood
he would take me round to every place in the street; another assured me, that
if I had committed a forgery or any other 'genteel crime,' he would either help
me to lie secure until the matter had blown over, or to escape from the
country; and so on. I suffered the wretches to retain the impression that
curiosity had alone led me thither; and as soon as I had made this announcement
the mistress of the house was summoned to do the honours of the establishment.
A blear-eyed old crone made her appearance, and insisted upon showing me over
the house. 'These rooms,' said she, meaning the two upon the ground floor, 'are
for those who can afford to pay threepence for their bed and who have supper to
cook.' We then ascended to the first floor. 'These are the four- penny beds,'
said the old woman, pointing with pride and satisfaction to some thirty or
forty couches, a shade cleaner, and the least thing further off from each other
than those down stairs. The rooms on the first floor were also filled with
lodgers; and another demand war made upon my purse. On the third floor and in
the attics were the most horrible scenes of wretchedness which I had yet
beheld. Those dens were filled with straw beds, separated from each other only
by pieces of plank about eight or ten inches in height. Men, women, and
children were all crowded together - sleeping pell-mell. Oh! it was a horrible,
horrible spectacle. To be brief, I escaped from that moral plague-house; and in
a few moments was traversing Smithfield once more. Even the tainted air of that
filthy enclosure was refreshing after the foul atmosphere from which I had just
emerged.
Louisa entered the room at this moment to announce that
luncheon was prepared in another apartment.
"And you never took any steps to root out that nest of
villains in the Old House whence you escaped alive so miraculously?" said
Montague, sipping a glass of exquisite wine after his luncheon.
"I wrote two anonymous letters the very next morning,"
answered Walter: "one to Mr. Markham, warning him of the contemplated
burglary at his house; and another to the Lord Mayor of London. It did not
altogether suit Mr. Stephens's plans —"
"No - not to make a fuss about an affair which would
have been sure to bring your name into notoriety," added this gentleman
hastily.
"That adventure has no doubt given you a distaste for
late rambles," said Montague.
"In the City - decidedly so," was the reply
"I seldom go into London, early or late - I have so few inducements - so
few acquaintances! By the way, a few evenings ago I treated myself to a
visit to the Opera, and there accident threw me into conversation with a
gentleman and lady who sat in the same box as myself. The result was an invitation
to the abode of the lady - a Mrs. Arlington-"
"Mrs. Arlington," ejaculated Montague, a alight
flush animating his countenance.
"The same. She is
the friend
of Sir Rupert Harborough. I am anxious to see something
of the world now and then - and to avail myself of my present garb for
that purpose. I accordingly called upon Mrs. Arlington last evening, and learnt
'a lesson of life.' I saw an elegant woman, a baronet, a fashionable gentleman,
and a very interesting young man, associating with a vulgar wretch of the name,
I believe, of Talbot, whose manners would have disgraced a groom. I must,
however, observe that the interesting young gentleman to whom I allude did not
seem to be more pleased with the conversation and conduct of this vulgarian
than myself. One coincidence somewhat extraordinary occurred - that same
interesting young man was no other than Mr. Richard Markham, one of the sons of
—"
"Ah! indeed - how singular!" exclaimed George
Montague, not waiting till Walter finished his sentence; "very
singular!" he added; then, having tossed off a bumper of Madeira, he
walked up to the window, where he affected to inhale with delight the exquisite
fragrance of the flowers that adorned the casement.
WE must now return to Richard Markham.
Sir Rupert Harborough and the Honourable Arthur Chichester
apparently took a very great fancy to him, for they were constantly making
appointments to meet him in town, and hastening to his own house to ferret him
out when he did not appear at their usual places of rendezvous. He dined at
least three times a week at Mrs. Arlington's, and, to confess the truth, his
morning calls were repeated at intervals which gradually grew shorter and
shorter.
Richard thus frequently passed hours together alone with
Diana. In spite of himself he now and then suffered his eyes to rest tenderly
upon her countenance; and by degrees her glances encountered his and were not
immediately withdrawn. Those glances were so languishing, and withal so
melancholy, that they inspired Richard with a passion amounting almost to a
delirium; and he felt at times as if he could have caught that beauteous
creature in his arms and clasped her rapturously to his bosom.
One morning, as be took leave of her, he fancied that her
hand gently pressed his own. The idea filled him with a joy till then unknown,
and which he could not describe even to himself.
On the following morning he called a little earlier than
usual. Diana was in a delicious
déshabillé
which set off her voluptuous
person
to its very greatest advantage. Richard was more tender than usual
- the Enchantress more enchanting.
They' were seated upon the sofa together, and a pause in
their conversation ensued. Richard heaved a deep sigh, and suddenly exclaimed,
"I am always thinking of the period when I must bid adieu to your charming
society."
"Bid adieu!" cried Diana; "and
wherefore?"
"It must happen, sooner or later, that our ways in the
world will be different."
"Then you are not your own master?"' asked Diana,
inquiringly.
"Certainly I am. But all friends must part some time or
another."
"True," said Diana; then, in a subdued tone, she
added, "There are certain persons who are attracted towards each other by
kindred feelings and emotions, and it is painful - very painful, for them to
part!"
"Heavens, Diana!" ejaculated Richard; "you
feel as I do!"
She turned her face towards him: her cheeks were suffused in
blushes, and her eyes were filled with tears. But through those tears she cast
upon him a glance which ravished his inmost soul. It seemed fraught with love
and tenderness, and inspired him with emotions which he had never known before.
The words "You feel as I do," contained the ingenuous and unsophisticated
avowal of a new passion on the part of a mind that was as yet as unskilled in
the ways of a this world as the unfledged bird in the nest of its mother is
ignorant of the green woods. But those tears which stood in the lady's eyes and
the blushes which dyed her cheeks, and the glance which, like a sunbeam in the
midst of an April shower, she darted upon the youth at her side, inspired him
with courage, awakened undefined hopes, and filled him with an ecstacy of joy.
"Why do you weep, Diana? why do you weep?"
"You love me, Richard," she replied, turning her
melting blue eyes fully upon him, and retaining them for some moments fixed
upon his countenance: "you love me; and I feel - I know that I am not
worthy of your affection!"
Richard started as if he were suddenly aroused
from a dream - as if he had
abruptly awoke to a stern truth from a pleasing vision. He suffered her hand,
which he had taken in his, to fall from his grasp; and for some moments he
remained buried in a profound reverie.
"Ah! I knew that I should remind you of your duty
towards yourself," said Diana, bitterly. "No - I am not worthy of
you. But that you may hereafter give me credit for frankness and candour, -
that you may be actually warned by myself against myself, - that you may learn
to esteem me as a friend, if you will, I shall in a few words relate to you the
incidents that made me what I am!"
"Proceed," said Richard, "proceed! Believe me
I shall listen with attention, - with the greatest attention!"
"My father was a retired tradesman," began Mrs.
Arlington; "and as I was his only child and he enjoyed a competency, he
gave me the best education that money could procure. Probably the good old man
made up his mind that I should one day espouse a nobleman; and, as my mother
had died when I was very young, there was no one near me to correct the vanity
with which my father's adulation and ambitious pretensions inspired me. About
three years ago I met at the theatre - whither I went with some friends - a
young gentleman - tall, handsome, and fascinating like yourself. He contrived
to obtain a formal introduction to my father, and was invited to our house, at
which he speedily became a constant visitor. He had a happy tact in suiting his
humours or tastes to those with whom he came in contact; and he quite won my
father's heart by playing chess with him, telling him the news of the City, and
reading the evening paper to him. George Montague soon became an established
favourite; and my father could do nothing without him. At length Montague
proposed to him certain speculations in the funds: my father was allured by the
prospect of quadrupling his capital, and consented. I must confess that the
young man's handsome person had produced a certain effect upon me - a giddy
young girl as I was at that time; and I rather encouraged my father in these
schemes than otherwise. At first the speculations were eminently successful;
but in a short time they took a turn. Day after day did Montague come to the
house to announce fresh losses and the necessity of farther advances. He
declared that he should now speculate for a grand stake, which could not fail
shortly to turn to his advantage. A species of infatuation seized upon my
father; and I was not aware of the ruinous course he was pursuing until it was
too late. At length my father was totally ruined; and George come to announce
to us the failure of our last chance. My father now repented when it was too
late. Eight short months had sufficed to dissipate his whole fortune; he had
not even enough left to pay the few debts which he had contracted, and which he
had neglected to liquidate, trusting each day to the arrival of the lucky
moment when he should find himself the master of millions!"
"Oh! the absurd hope!" exclaimed Richard, deeply
interested in this narrative.
"Alas! this event was a fatal blow to my father's
health, at the same time that it wrecked his happiness," continued Diana.
"He implored Montague not to desert 'his darling child' - for so he called
me - in case anything should happen to himself; and that same day - the day on
which he saw all his prospects and hopes in this life blasted - he put a period
to his existence by means of poison !"
"This was horrible!" cried Markham. "Oh! that
villain Montague!"
"My father's creditors came to seize the few effects
which remained," said Diana, after a pause: "and I was about to be
turned houseless and unprotected into the streets, when Montague arrived. He
took gold from his pocket, and satisfied the demands of the creditors. He
moreover supplied me with money for my immediate wants. I was totally dependent
upon him; - I had no relations - no friends to whom I could apply for succour
or comfort. He seemed to commiserate my position —'
"Perhaps," observed Richard, "he was not so
very guilty, after all, relative to the loss of your father's property?"
"Judge by the sequel," answered Diana bitterly.
"He was as base as be was in reality unfeeling. The transition from that
state of dependence upon a young man to a more degraded one still, was to be
expected. He no longer talked to me of marriage, as he once had done; but he
took advantage of my forlorn situation. I became his mistress."
"Ah! it was base - it was ungenerous - it was
unmanly!" ejaculated Richard.
"He seemed to be possessed of ample resources; but he
accounted for this circumstance by assuring me that he had found another friend
who was backing him in the same speculations in which my poor father had
failed. We lived together for four months; and he then coolly informed me that
we must part. I found that I had never really entertained any very sincere
affection for him; and the little love which I experienced at first, had been
quenched in my bosom by his cold cruelty. He seemed unfeeling to a degree. Observations,
calculated to wound most acutely, fell from his lips upon all occasions —"
"The dastard!" exclaimed Richard, profoundly
touched by this recital.
"If I wept at this cruelty, he treated me with
increased brutality. You may, therefore, suppose that I was not deeply
distressed to part with him. He gave me twenty guineas, and bade me a chilling
farewell. From that moment I have neither seen nor heard of him. A few weeks
after our separation my money was exhausted. I resolved to lead a virtuous and
honourable life, and atone for my first fault. O God! I did not then know that
society will not receive the penitent frail one; - that society excludes poor
deceived woman from all hopes of reparation, all chances of repentance! I
endeavoured to obtain a situation as a governess;- I might as well have
attempted to make myself queen of England. Character - references! I had
neither. Vainly did I implore one lady to whom I applied to give me a month's
trial. She insulted me grossly. To another I candidly confessed my entire
history: she patiently heard me to the end, and then ordered her lacquey to
turn me out of the house. Oh! society does more than punish: it pursues the
unfortunate female who has made one false step, with the most avenging and malignant
cruelty;- it hunts her to suicide or to new ways of crime. These are the dread
alternatives. At that moment, had some friendly hand been stretched out to aid
me, - had I met with one kind heart that would have believed in the possibility
of repentance, - had I only been blest with the chance of entering upon a
career of virtue, I should have been saved! Yes - I should have redeemed my
first fault, as far as redemption was possible; - and to accomplish that aim, I
would have worked my nails down to the very quick, - I would have accepted
any position, however menial, - I
would have made any sacrifice, enjoyed any lot, so long as I was assured of
earning my bread in a manner which need not make me blush. But society treated
me with contempt. Why, in this Christian country, do they preach the Christian
maxim, that
'there is more joy over one sinner who repenteth,
than over ninety-and-nine just persons who need no repentance?
' Why is this maxim preached,
when the entire conduct of society expresses in terms which cannot be
misunderstood, a bold denial of its truth?"
"Merciful heavens," ejaculated Richard, "can
this be true? are you drawing a correct picture, Diana, or inventing a hideous
fiction?"
"God knows how true is all I say!" returned Mrs.
Arlington, with profound sincerity of tone and manner. "Want soon stared
me in the face what could I do? Chance threw me in the way of Sir Rupert
Harborough: compelled by an imperious necessity, I became his mistress. This is
my history."
"And the baronet treats you kindly?" said Richard,
inquiringly.
"The terms upon which our connexion is based do not
permit him an opportunity of being either very kind or very cruel."
"I must now say farewell for the present,"
exclaimed Markham, afraid of trusting himself longer with the Syren who had
fascinated him with her misfortunes as well as by her charms. "In a day or
two I will see you again. Oh! I cannot blame you for what you have done - I
commiserate - I pity you! Could any sacrifice that I am capable of making,
restore you to happiness and - and —"
"Honour, you would say," exclaimed Diana, firmly.
"I would gladly make that sacrifice," added
Richard. "From this moment we will be friends - very sincere
friends. I will be your brother, -dearest Diana - and you shall be my
sister!"
The young man rose from the sofa, as he uttered these
disjointed sentences in a singularly wild and rapid manner; and Diana, without
making any reply, but apparently deeply touched, pressed his hand for some
moments between both her own.
Richard then hastily escaped from the presence of that
charming and fascinating creature.