Authors: George W. M. Reynolds,James Malcolm Rymer
"Will you place yourself In my hands ?"
"I will - in every way."
"Then you will leave the establishment as usual at five
this evening; and trust to me to manage every thing. I have my plan ready
arranged; but you shall know nothing to-day :- to-morrow - tomorrow —"
The old man stopped short, and had recourse to his
snuff-box.
"Be it as you say, Michael," cried Tomlinson,
always bewildered by the terrors of his situation, and still half shrinking
from the daring plot which Greenwood had opened to his view; "I know that
you are my faithful friend - my best, my only friend :- it shall be as you
desire!"
COUNT ALTERONI'S FIFTEEN THOUSAND POUNDS
ON the Saturday morning following the Thursday on which the
above-mentioned conversation took place, the count and his family were seated
at breakfast.
The morning paper was late; and his lordship was one of those
persons who cannot enjoy their repast without the intellectual association of a
journal.
At length the wished-for print arrived; and the count was
soon burled in the preceding night's debate in the House of Commons - for he
felt deeply interested in all political affairs, no matter to which country
they referred.
"Really this Greenwood is a very clever man," he
observed, after a long interval of silence. "He acquitted himself well
last evening, notwithstanding the erroneous course he is pursuing in the
political sphere. The Tories of this country have obtained a powerful auxiliary
in him. It in a pity he is so unprincipled a villain - for, I repeat, he is
really very clever."
"It is astonishing how men of his stamp contrive to
push themselves forward in the world," said the countess, "while
those of honest principles and upright minds are either misunderstood, or
vilely persecuted."
"And yet vice only prospers for a time," observed
Isabella; "and virtue becomes triumphant at last. Those who are
misunderstood today will be comprehended and honoured to-morrow."
She thought of Markham as she
uttered these words: indeed, the image of her lover was ever uppermost in the
mind of the charming and affectionate girl.
"I am afraid," said the count, after a pause,
"that the moral you have just advanced, Bella, is rather that of the stage
and the romance than of real life. And yet," he added fervently, "to
entertain such an idea as mine is to question the goodness and the justice of
Providence. Yes - I must believe in earthly rewards and punishments. You are
right, my child - you are right: the wicked man will not ever triumph in his
turpitude; nor may the virtuous, one be oppressed until the end."
"No - or else were there small hope for us," said
the countess solemnly. "The great men of Castelcicala must some day
perceive who is their real friend."
"Alas!" exclaimed Isabella, "it is hard to be
mistaken and suspected by those whose good opinions we would fain secure."
The count resumed the perusal of the newspaper; but his eyes
had not dwelt many minutes upon the page ere he uttered a loud exclamation of
mingled astonishment and alarm.
The ladies looked towards him in a state of the most painful
suspense: and this feeling was not immediately removed, for the count, with an
ashy pale face, continued to read the article that had caught his eyes, for
some moments, ore he explained the cause of his emotion.
"Heavens!" exclaimed the countess, "are there
any bad tidings from Italy?"
"No - the hand which strikes the blow which ruins us,
is not so far distant," answered the nobleman; throwing the paper upon the
table. "Ah ! we were premature," he continued bitterly, "in
founding our hopes upon the justice with which virtue is rewarded and vice
punished!"
"The blow which ruins us?" said the countess, a
prey to the most acute anxiety.
"Yes - Tomlinson has stopped payment," cried the
Italian exile; "and - and we are ruined!"
"My dear father," said Isabella, hastening to
fling her arms around the neck of her much-loved sire, "all may not be so
bad as you imagine!"
"Ruined!" repeated the countess; and, taking up
the newspaper, the following article instantly met her eyes:-
"ROBBERY AND STOPPAGE OP TOMLINSON'S BANK.
The City was yesterday morning thrown into a state of the greatest
fermentation by a rumour which prevailed at about eleven o'clock, that the,
above-mentioned old-established and well-known banking establishment had been
plundered to an enormous amount, and had suspended its payments. Unfortunately
the rumour was but too true; and our reporter, upon repairing to Lombard
Street, found an immense crowd collected in front of the bank. The doors were
closed; and the following notice was posted up :- 'JAMES TOMLINSON
is under
the painful necessity of suspending the affairs of the
bank, at least for the present. The flight of the cashier, with money and
securities to an amount bordering upon a hundred thousand pounds, is the cause
of this unfortunate step. Further particulars will be made known as speedily as
possible
.' It is
impossible to describe the dismay which was depleted upon the countenances of
those amongst the crowd who are sufferers by this calamity; and many very
painful scenes took place. One widow lady who had placed her little all in the
concern, and who arrived upon the spot, to draw her half-yearly interest, only
a few moments after the doors were closed, was taken away in a state of
madness. We have since learnt that the unfortunate lady has entirely lost her
reason.
"Our reporter upon prosecuting his inquiries, gleaned
the following particulars of the occurrence which led to the stoppage of the
bank; and we have every reason it, believe that the narrative which they
furnish may be relied upon.
"It appears that the cashier, whose name was Michael
Martin, is a very old man, and has been for many years in the service of the
present and late proprietors of the bank. His presumed integrity, his known
experience, and his general conduct, had led to his elevation to the post of
head cashier - a situation which he has filled for upwards of ten years,
without exciting a suspicion relative to his proceedings. It is, however,
supposed that he must have been pursuing a most nefarious course for a
considerable length of time, for reasons which we shall state presently. On
Thursday evening, Mr. Tomlinson, who, it appears, is the sole proprietor of the
establishment, although the business has been all along carried on under its
original denomination of
Tomlinson & Co.
, quitted the bank at five
o'clock, as usual, leaving the cashier to see all safe, and close the
establishment for the day, according to custom. When Mr. Sanderson, one of the
clerks, arrived at the bank at nine o'clock yesterday morning, he was surprised
to find that the doors were not yet opened. The other clerks arrived shortly
afterwards, and their surprise at length turned into alarm. Still the integrity
of the cashier was not for a moment suspected; it was, however, imagined that
something must have happened to him - an idea that was strengthened by the fact
that the cashier occupied a room in the establishment. and there was
consequently no reason to account for the doors remaining closed. The
char-woman, who waited upon the cashier and swept out the bank, &c., came
up to the door while the clerks were thus deliberating, and stated that she had
not been able to obtain admission that morning as usual. It was now determined
by Mr. Sanderson to obtain the assistance of a policemen, and force an entrance.
This was done; and egress was obtained by breaking through the windows and
shutters (which close inside) of the bank parlour. Mr. Sanderson and the
constable immediately proceeded to the cashier's private room, which is on the
ground-floor, and in which the iron safe was kept. The bed had not been slept
in during the night Attention was then directed to the safe, when it’s found
that it was open, and its contents had been abstracted. The front door of the
bank was opened, and the clerks admitted. Mr. Tomlinson was then immediately
sent for. That gentleman arrived by ten o'clock; and a farther investigation
took place under his directions. The result of this search was a discovery that
not only had the specie, notes, and securities disappeared, but even the
cash-books, and all the papers that could throw any light upon the financial
affairs of the establishment. It is this circumstance which induces a belief
that the cashier must have carried on a system of plunder for a considerable
length of time.
We regret to state that the shock was so great that Mr.
Tomlinson was conveyed to his residence in a state bordering upon
distraction."
"FURTHER PARTICULARS
"A reward of £3000 has been offered for
the apprehension of the cashier; and a description of his person has been
forwarded to all the, principal seaports. [For
Description
see our advertising columns.] Our reporter learnt last evening
that Mr. Tomlinson was more composed, and had even exerted himself to consult
with some friends upon the· best course to pursue. It, however, appears that so
entirely did he confide in his cashier, that he is only able to give a vague
and meagre account of the nature of the securities abstracted. They were,
however, the bills and bonds of several great foreign and colonial mercantile
houses. We regret to hear that Mr. G. M. Greenwood, M.P., had paid a
considerable sum of money into the bank, on Thursday morning. it appears that
upwards of fifty thousand pounds in specie and notes (the numbers of which are
now unknown, they having been entered in one of the books taken away) and
forty-four, thousand in securities have disappeared.
"There is every reason to suppose that the delinquent
will be speedily coloured, as it is impossible for him to travel with a large
amount of specie without exciting suspicion."
"LATEST PARTICULARS.
"In order to institute the fullest and
most complete investigation into the affairs of the bank, it was resolved, at a
late hour last evening, at a meeting of the principal creditors, Mr. Greenwood
in the chair, that a docket should he struck against Mr. Tomlinson. At the same
time, it is our duty to observe that this is done with no ill-feeling towards
that gentleman, who is deserving only of universal sympathy, and, in no way, of
blame."
"The name of that man
Greenwood, in connexion with this affair," said the count, "impresses
me with the idea that all is not right. Moreover, how could the cashier have
removed a large quantity of specie without attracting attention in a thoroughfare
so frequented at all hours as Lombard Street? There is something wrong at the
foundation of this history of the robbery."
"Alas! little does it matter now to us, whether Mr.
Tomlinson be a false or an unfortunate man," said the countess;
"there is one thing certain - we are ruined!"
"Yes - my dearest wife, my beloved daughter,"
exclaimed the count, "we are in a pitiable situation - in a foreign land!
It is true that I have friends: the Earl of Warrington - Lord Tremordyn, both
of whom know our secret, and have faithfully kept it - would gladly assist me;
but I would not - could not apply to them - even though it be to settle the few
debts which I owe!"
"Still there remains one course," said the
countess, hesitating, and regarding her husband with anxious timidity.
"One course!" ejaculated the count. "Ah! I
know full well to what you allude; but never, never will I sell my rights for
gold! No, my dear wife - my beloved daughter - we must prepare ourselves to
meet our misfortunes in a becoming manner."
"Dear father," murmured Isabella, "your
goodness has conferred upon me an excellent education: surely I might turn to
advantage some of three accomplishments —"
"You, my sweetest girl!" cried the nobleman,
surveying with feelings of ineffable pride the angelic countenance of the
lovely being that was leaning upon his shoulder: "you - my own darling
girl - a lady of your high rank become a governess! no - never, never!"
"Isabella, you are worthy of your noble sire,"
said the countess enthusiastically.
And, even in the hour of their misfortune, that exiled -
ruined family found inexpressible solace in the sweet balm of each other's
love!
A WOMAN'S SECRET
IT was now seven months since Ellen Monroe became the victim of
George Greenwood.
She bore in her bosom the fruit of that amour; and until the
present time she had managed to conceal her situation from those around her.
She now began to perceive the utter impossibility of veiling
her disgrace much longer. Her health was failing, and her father and Markham
were constantly urging upon her the necessity of receiving medical advice. This
recommendation she invariably combated to the utmost of her power; and in order
to give a colour to her assurance that she suffered only from some trivial
physical ailment, she was compelled to affect a flow of good spirits which she
was far - very far from experiencing.
Markham had frequently questioned her with the most earnest
and friendly solicitude relative to the causes of those intervals of deep
depression which it was impossible for her to conceal;- he had implored her to
open her mind to him, as a sister might to a brother;- he had suggested to her
change of scene, diversion, and other means of restoring her lost spirits; -
but to all he advanced she returned evasive replies.
Richard and the aged father of the young lady frequently
conversed together upon the subject, and lost themselves in conjectures
relative to the cause of that decaying health and increasing unhappiness for
which the sufferer herself would assign no feasible motive. At times Mr. Monroe
was inclined to believe that the privations and vicissitudes which his daughter
had experienced during the two years previous to their reception at the
hospitable dwelling of Richard Markham, had engendered a profound melancholy in
a mind that had been so painfully harassed, and had implanted the germs of a
subtle malady in a system never constitutionally strong. This belief appeared
the more reasonable when the old man called to mind the hours of toil - the
wearisome vigils - and the exposure to want, cold, and inclement weather, which
had been endured by the poor girl in the court in Golden Lane; and Markham
sometimes yielded to the same impression relative to the causes of a mental and
physical decline which every day became more apparent.
Then, again, Richard thought that the fresh air of the
healthy locality where she now dwelt, and the absence of all care in respect to
the wherewithal to sustain life, would have produced a beneficial effect. He
enjoined her father to question her whether she cherished some secret affection
- some love that had experienced disappointment; but to this demand she
returned a positive negative: and her father assured his young friend that Ellen
had had no opportunity of obtaining the affection of another, or of bestowing
her own upon any being who now slighted it. Of course her true position was
never suspected for a moment; and thus the cause of Ellen's unhappiness
remained an object of varied and conflicting conjectures.
Seven months had now passed since that fatal day when the
accursed old hag, whose name we have not allowed to defile these pages, handed
her over to the arms of a ruthless libertine; - seven months of mental anguish
and physical suffering had nearly flown;- the close of July was at hand; - and
as yet Ellen had decided upon no plan to direct her future proceedings. She
sometimes thought of returning to Greenwood, and endeavouring to touch his
heart ;- but then she remembered the way in which they had parted on the
occasion of her visit to his house in Spring-Gardens;- she recalled to mind all
she knew of the character of the man ;- and she was compelled to abandon this
idea. She felt that she would sooner die than accept his succour in the
capacity of a mistress;- and there were, moreover, moments when she entertained
sentiments of profound hatred, and experienced a longing for revenge, against
the man who refused to do her justice. Then, again, she recollected that he was
the father of the child which she bore in her bosom; and all her rancorous
feelings dissolved in tears.
At other times she thought of throwing herself at her
father's feet, and confessing all. But what woman does not shudder at such a
step? Moreover, frail mortals invariably place reliance in the chapter of
accidents, and entertain hopes, even in situations where it is impossible for
those hopes to be realized.
To Richard Markham she would not - dared not breathe a
syllable that might lead him to infer her shame;- and yet where was she to find
a friend save in the person of her father and her benefactor?
Most pitiable was the situation of this poor girl. And yet
she already felt a mother's feeling of love and solicitude for her unborn babe.
Often - often in the still hour of night, when others slept, did she sit up and
weep in her chamber;- often - often,
while others forgot their cares
in the arms of slumber, was she a prey to an agony of mind which seemed to
admit of no solace. And then, in those hours of intense wretchedness, would the
idea of suicide steal into her mind - that idea which suggests a last resource
and a sure relief as a term for misery grown too heavy for mortal endurance.
But, oh! she trembled - she trembled in the presence of that dread thought,
which each night assumed a shape more awfully palpable, more fearfully defined
to her imagination. She struggled against the idea: she exclaimed, in the
bitterness of her agony, "Get thee behind me, tempter;"- and yet
there the tempter stood, more plainly seen, more positive in its allurement
than ever! That poor, helpless girl balanced in her mind whether she should
dare human scorn, or in one mad moment resign her soul to Satan!
There was a piece of water at the back of the house close by
the main road; and thither would her footsteps lead her - almost unvoluntarily,
for the tempter pushed her on from behind;- thither would she repair at noon,
to contemplate the sleeping waters of the lake within whose depths lurked one
pearl more precious in the eyes of the unhappy than the brightest ornaments set
in regal diadem, - the pearl of Oblivion! Thither did the lost one stray: upon
the margin of that water did she hover like the ghost of one who had sought
repose beneath that silver surface;- and, oh! how she longed to plunge into the
shining water - and dared not.
At eve, too, when the sun had set, and every star on the
dark vault above was reflected on the bosom of the lake, and the pure argent
rays of the lovely moon seemed to fathom its mysterious depths,- then again did
she seek the bank; and as she stood gazing upon the motionless pool, she
prepared herself to take the one fatal leap that should terminate her sorrows -
and dared not.
No - she shrank from suicide; and yet the time had now come
when she must nerve herself to adopt some decided plan; for a prolonged
concealment of her condition was impossible.
Markham's household consisted of Whittingham, Holford, and a
female domestic of the name of Marian. This woman was a widow, and had been in
the service of our hero only since his release from incarceration. She was
between forty and fifty; and her disposition was kind, easy, and compassionate.
One night - about an hour after the inmates of the place had
retired to their chambers - Ellen was sitting, as usual, mournfully in her
room, pondering upon her unhappy condition, and dreading to seek a couch where
her ideas assumed an aspect which made her brain reel as if with Incipient
madness, - when she heard a low knock at her door. She hastened to open it; and
Marian instantly entered the room.
"Hush:, my dear young lady," she said in a
whisper: "do not be alarmed;"- and she carefully closed the door
behind her.
"What is the matter, Marian?" exclaimed Ellen:
"has anything happened? is my father ill?"
"No, Miss - do not frighten yourself, I say,"
replied he servant. "I have come to console you; for I can't bear to see
you pining away like this - dying by inches."
"What do you mean, Marian?" said Ellen, much confused.
"I mean, my dear Miss," continued the servant,
"that if you won't think me impertinent, I might befriend you. The eyes of
a woman are sharp and penetrating, Miss; and while every body else in the house
is wondering what can make you so pale, and ill, and low-spirited, I do not
want to conjecture to discover the cause."
"My God, Marian!" ejaculated the young lady,
sinking into a chair "you - you really frighten me : you mistake -
you —"
And Ellen burst into tears.
The servant took her hand kindly, and said, "Miss,
forgive my boldness but I am a woman - and I cannot bear to see one of my own
sex suffer as you do. Besides, you are so good and gentle - and when I was ill
a few weeks ago, you behaved with so much kindness to me, that my heart bleeds
for you - it does indeed. I was coming down to you last night - and the night
before - and the night before that too; but I didn't like to intrude upon you.
And to-day I saw how very much you was altered; and I could restrain myself no
longer. So, Miss, if I have done wrong, forgive me; for I have come with a good
intention - and would go a hundred miles to serve you. In a word, Miss, you
require a friend - a faithful friend; end it you will confide in me, Miss, I
will give you the best advice, and help you in the best way I can."
"Marian, this is very kind of you - very kind,"
answered Ellen, to whose ear these words of female sympathy came ineffably
sweet; "but I shall be better soon - I shall get well —"
"Ah! Miss," interrupted Marian, soothingly,
"don't hesitate to confide in me. I know what ails you - I understand your
situation; and I feel for you deeply - indeed, indeed I do."
"Marian —"
"Yes, Miss: you cannot conceal it from others much
longer. For God's sake take some step before you kill yourself any your child
at the same time."
"Marian - Marian, what do you say?" exclaimed
Ellen, sobbing violently, as if her heart would break.
"Miss Monroe, you will shortly become a mother!"
"Ah! my God - kill me, kill me! Save me from this deep
degradation - this last disgrace!"
"Calm yourself, Miss - calm yourself; and I will be
your friend," said Marian. "I have been thinking of your condition
for some time past - and I have already settled in my mind a plan to save
you!"
"To save me - to save me!" exclaimed Ellen.
"Oh, how can I ever repay you for this kindness?"
"I am but a poor ignorant woman, Miss," answered
Marian; "but I hope that I do not possess a bad heart. At all events I can
feel for you."
"A bad heart, Marian!" repeated Ellen. "Oh!
no - you are goodness itself. But you said you had some plan to save me,
Marian?"
"Yes, Miss. I have a sister, who is married and lives
with her husband a few miles off. He is a market-gardener; and they have a nice
little cottage. They will be delighted to do all they can for you."
"But how can I leave this house and remain absent for
weeks without acquainting my benefactor Mr. Markham, and my poor old father?
You forget, Marian - you forget that were I to steal away, and leave no trace
behind me, it would break my father's heart."
"Then, Miss, you had better throw yourself at your
father's feet, and tell him all."
"Never - never, Marian!" ejaculated Ellen,
clasping her bands together, while her bosom heaved convulsively.
"Trust in Mr. Markham, Miss - let me break the truth to
him?"
"Impossible, Marian! I should never dare to look him in
the face again."
"And the person - the
individual - the father of your child, Miss -" said the servant, hesitatingly.
"Mention not him - allude not to him," cried
Ellen; then, after a pause, she added in a low and almost despairing tone,
"No! - hope exists not there!"
"And yet, Miss," continued Marian, "you must
make up your mind to something - and that soon. You cannot conceal your
situation another fortnight without danger to yourself and the little unborn
innocent. Besides, you have made no preparations, Miss; and if any sudden
accident —"
"Ah! Marian, you remind me of my duty,"
interrupted Ellen. "I must not sacrifice the life of that being who has
not asked me to give it existence - who is the innocent fruit of my shame, - I
must not sacrifice its life to any selfish scruples of mine! Thank you, Marian
- thank you! You have reminded me of my duty! come to me again to-morrow night,
and I will tell you what step I have determined to take without delay!"
The servant then retired; and Ellen remained alone - alone
with the most desolating heart-breaking reflections.
At length her ideas produced a mental agony which was beyond
endurance. She rose from her chair, and advanced towards the window, against
the cold glass of which she leant her brow - her burning brow, to cool it. The
moon shone brightly, and edged the clouds of night with silver. The eyes of the
wretched girl wandered over the landscape, the outlines of which were strongly
marked beneath the lustre of the moon; and amongst other objects, she caught
sight of the small lake at a little distance. It shone like a pool of
quicksilver, and seemed to woo her to its bosom.
Upon that lake her eye rested long and wistfully; and again
the tempter stood behind her, and urged her to seek repose beneath that shining
surface.
She asked herself for what she had to live? She did not seek
to combat the arguments of the secret tempter; but she collected into one focus
all her sorrows; and at length the contemplation of that mass of misery
strengthened the deep anxiety which she felt to escape from this world for
ever.
And all the while she kept her eyes fixed upon the lake that
seemed sleeping beneath the moonlight which kissed its bosom.
But her poor father! and the babe that she bore a in her
breast! oh! no - she dared not die! Her suicide would not comprise one death:
only ;- but it would be the death of a second, and the death of a third, - the
death of her father, and the death of her still unborn child!
She turned away from the window, and hastened to seek her
couch. But slumber did not visit her eyes. She lay pondering on the best course
for her to pursue; but the more she reflected upon her condition, the farther
off did she seem to wander from any settled point. At length she sank into an uneasy
sleep; and her grief pursued her in her dreams.
She rose late; and when she descended to the breakfast-room
she learnt that Richard Markham was about to depart immediately for the
Continent. Whittingham was busily occupied in packing his masters baggage in
the hall; and Holford bad been despatched into town to order a post-chaise.
Markham explained this sudden movement on his part by
placing a letter in Ellen's hand, saying at the same time, "This is from a
man who has been a friend to me: I cannot hesitate a moment to obey his
summons."
Ellen cast her eyes over the letter and read as follows:-