“Yes—at what hour?” demanded the surgeon, the slow solemnity of his tone changing to a strange rapidity of utterance: “was it not a little before midnight?”
“Sir—what do you mean? why do you question me thus?”
“On that night,” continued the surgeon, gazing fixedly upon Ellen’s countenance, “a man with his eyes blind-folded—”
“His eyes blindfolded?” repeated Ellen mechanically, while a fearful shudder passed through her frame.
“Led by a servant wearing a black veil—”
“A black veil?”
“Entered this room—”
“Ah! my God—spare me!”
“And delivered a lady of a male child.”
“How do you know it, sir? who told you?”
“That man was myself!” cried the surgeon emphatically.
“Oh! kill me—kill me!” exclaimed Ellen; and covering her face with her hands, she burst into an agony of tears and heart-wrung sobs.
“Yes,” continued the surgeon, pacing the room, and glancing rapidly on all sides: “there is the chest of drawers against which I dashed my foot—here stood the bed—here the table—I sate down in this chair—Oh! now I remember all!”
And for some moments he walked up and down the room in profound silence.
Suddenly Ellen started up to a sitting posture in the bed, and exclaimed. “My child, sir? Tell me—have you taken care of my child?”
“Yes—Miss—Madam,” replied Mr. Wentworth; “the little boy thrives well, although deprived of his natural nourishment.”
“Thank you, sir—thank you at least for that assurance,” said Ellen. “Oh! sir—you cannot understand how deeply a mother feels to be separated from her child!”
“Poor girl,” said the surgeon, in a compassionate tone; “you have then suffered very much?”
“God alone knows what I have endured for months past, mentally and bodily!” cried Ellen, clasping her hands together. “And now you know all, sir—will you betray me? say, sir—will you betray me?”
Mr. Wentworth appeared to reflect deeply for some moments.
Ellen awaited his reply in a state of the most agonising suspense.
“Miss Monroe,” at length said Mr. Wentworth, speaking in his usual solemn and grave tone, “you know your own affairs better than I; but would it not be well to confide in those friends by whom you are surrounded?”
“I would die first—die by my own hand!” answered Ellen emphatically. “If you tell me that you will betray me—if you leave this room to communicate my secret to Mr. Markham, who brought you hither, or to my father—I will not hesitate a moment—I will throw myself from the window—”
“Calm, yourself, Miss Monroe. Your secret is safe in my hands.”
“Oh! thank you, sir—a thousand times I thank you,” exclaimed Ellen. “There are circumstances which render it necessary that this secret should not transpire—circumstances, not altogether connected with my own shame, which I cannot, dare not reveal to you.”
“Enough, Miss Monroe—I do not seek to penetrate into those mysteries. Your child is with me—I will be a father to him!”
“And heaven will bless you!” said Ellen pressing the surgeon’s hand with the warmth of the most fervent gratitude.
“In time you will be able to call at my house,” observed Mr. Wentworth; “and you can see your son—you can watch his growth—mark his progress—”
“How kind you are! Oh! now I am rejoiced that you know all!”
“And no one will ever suspect the real motive of your visits,” continued the surgeon. “Mrs. Wentworth shall call upon you in a few days; and thus an acquaintance may be commenced. With reference to my visit of this morning, I shall inform Mr. Markham that you will be convalescent in a few days.”
Ellen once more expressed her sincere and heartfelt thanks to the surgeon, who shortly took his leave of her, after strictly recommending her to take the medicaments which he should send in the course of the day.
And now the recovery of the young invalid progressed rapidly; and her own mind, relieved of many sources of anxiety and alarm, aided nature in conducting her to convalescence; for she longed to behold and caress her child!
CHAPTER LXXXIII.
THE BLACK CHAMBER AGAIN.
A FEW days after the incidents just narrated, the following letters were opened in the Black Chamber of the General Post-Office.
The first was from the Under Secretary for Foreign Affairs of Castelcicala to the representative of that state at the British court:—
“Montoni, Castelcicala.
“The undersigned is desired by his lordship the Marquis of Gerrano, Minister of Foreign Affairs, to inform your excellency that the information you forwarded relative to the Englishwoman Eliza Sydney, has failed to produce the desired effect. Your excellency stated that Mrs. Arlington, the correspondent of the said Eliza Sydney, was the mistress of the Earl of Warrington; and that Eliza Sydney herself had been confined for two years in a criminal prison in England. Your excellency moreover forwarded the English newspapers of the time, containing a full and detailed report of her crime and trial. These statements have failed to produce any effect in a certain quarter, in consequence of the infatuation of a high personage in respect to this Eliza Sydney, and the apparent frankness (as the Marquis of Gerrano has learnt) with which she avowed the entire history of her past life to the high personage alluded to. It is now of the greatest consequence that your excellency should ascertain whether Eliza Sydney’s conduct has ever been tainted with incontinence; whether, in a word, she has not indulged in immoral and vicious courses. The result of your excellency’s inquiries must be forwarded by courier without delay; as you will perceive, by the inclosed copy of a ducal ordinance issued this morning, that the infatuation above alluded to grows to a very dangerous point.
“The undersigned avails himself of this opportunity to state that the Marquis of Gerrano is greatly afflicted at the perverse and obstinate conduct of the Prince Alberto, in steadily refusing the offers of a pension for life made by the Government of his reigning Highness through your Excellency. The Marquis of Gerrano desires your Excellency to redouble your assiduity in inducing the Prince to accept the terms proposed, for which purpose a farther delay of three months will be granted; and should his reply then continue unfavourable, the Government of his Highness will adopt measures to ensure the succession to the ducal throne of Castelcicala to a Neapolitan Prince.
“The undersigned renews his expressions of perfect consideration toward your Excellency.
“BARON RUPERTO,
“Under Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs.
“July 13, 1839.”
The following is a copy of the ducal ordinance to which reference was made in the above letter:—
“ANGELO III., BY THE GRACE OF GOD, GRAND
DUKE OF CASTELCICALA.
“To all present and to come, Greeting:
“We have ordered and do order that which follows:—
“I. The style and title of Marchioness of Ziani are conferred upon the Signora Eliza Sydney.
“II. A pension of one thousand ducats annually shall be paid to the Marchioness of Ziani from the public treasury.
“III. Our Minister Secretary of State for the Department of the Interior will execute the first article of this ordinance; and our Minister Secretary of State for the Department of Finance will execute the second article.
“By the Grand Duke, ANGELO III.
“MARQUIS OF VINCENZA,
“Minister of the Interior.
“COUNT OF MARCOTTI,
“Minister of Finance.
“July 13, 1839.”
The next letter, read in the Black Chamber upon this occasion, ran as follows:—
“Montoni, Castelcicala.
“I received your charming letters, my dearest Diana, and return you my most sincere thanks for the kind expressions of love and friendship which they contain, and for the advice which you proffer me. You moreover inform me that you have shown my letters of March, April, and May, to the Earl of Warrington; and that his lordship approves of the cautious manner in which I have acted, and recommends me to accept the honourable offer of marriage made to me by his Highness Angelo III. I assured you that his highness never once insulted me by hinting at the possibility of a connexion upon any other terms than those of marriage; and when he proposed a morganatic union, it was merely in accordance with the practice of many European sovereigns. I however expressed myself firmly to his serene highness upon this head, stating that, although a morganatic marriage was perfectly valid so far as the religious ceremonies went, still it was not strictly legal, and would not please those who wished me well in England.
“In my last letter I informed you that some one had represented to the Grand Duke my misfortunes in England. Happily this announcement failed to produce any change in his conduct or views with regard to me, as I had previously made him acquainted with all those particulars of my own accord.
“In a word, my dearest Diana, his Serene Highness has offered me his hand,—offered to raise me to a seat by his side on the ducal throne,—offered to make me his bride in sight of the world. Could I refuse? or why should I? You ask me if I can love his Serene Highness? Ah! how can I help revering one who shows such love for me? And then, human nature has its weak points; and rank, honour, wealth, and distinction cannot fail to attract even one naturally so retiring as myself. Oh! how pleasant will it be to possess riches and influence for the mere purpose of doing good!
“Well, then—all is decided: I am to be Grand Duchess of Castelcicala. The marriage is to take place in six weeks from the present date. The daughters of General Grachia are to be my bridesmaids. As a preliminary step towards this high honour, the Grand Duke has conferred upon me a title and a pension. To the world I am now the Marchioness of Ziani: to you, Diana, I am still, and always shall be—Eliza Sydney.
“I was surprised to learn from you that the villain Montague Greenwood has succeeded in obtaining a seat in the English Parliament. Ever since I have had power and wealth in the prospective, I have meditated upon the best means of protecting others from that villany which he designed against me, but which Providence so signally frustrated. At length I thought of a plan, and despatched a trusty person to England a few days ago to execute it. This person has instructions from me to call upon you on his arrival in England, and communicate to you my scheme. He is also the bearer of a trifling token of my sincere friendship and gratitude towards you, dear Diana, and which little token I hope you will accept for my sake.
“I need scarcely say that you will oblige me by tendering my best thanks to the Earl of Warrington for the kind advice he sent me through you, and renew to him the expression of my eternal gratitude for all he has done for me.
“You shall hear again shortly from your devoted and attached
“ELIZA SYDNEY.
“July 13, 1839.”
The third letter read upon this occasion, was addressed to Count Alteroni, Richmond, and ran in the following manner:—
“Montoni, Castelcicala,
“July 13, 1839.
“Things, my lord, are growing towards a crisis in this country. No. 29 is literally infatuated with No. 1. He has this morning created her a marchioness; and in a month or six weeks he will, it is said, espouse her. There is no possibility of preventing this, No. 29 being quite despotic; and now his foolish ministers see their mistake in having maintained him in his absolutism, and refused the country a constitution.”
“Number 29, you will understand,” interrupted the Examiner, “evidently means the Grand Duke; and No. 1 represents Eliza Sydney. Proceed.”
The clerk who read the letter continued as follows:—
“The ministers know not what to do. They are at their wits’ end. I know for a fact that they obtained from England certain information relative to No. 1, which proved that she had been in a criminal gaol; but No. 29 made no account of it. No. 1 is very beautiful; fascinating in manners; somewhat shy and reserved; and yet amiable. She is also accomplished. When she first came to Montoni she spoke the Italian language imperfectly: she now speaks it fluently;—and this knowledge she has acquired in a few months. There can be no doubt that she will exercise an immense influence over No. 29, if she choose to make use of it. And who knows what a woman, suddenly rising from private life to the first ducal throne in the world, may do? She does not, however, seem to be ambitious. Nevertheless, something ought to be done. If this marriage take place, you are well aware that issue may follow, for No. 1 is young; and in that case * * * * I really think that if your lordship were to land suddenly upon the Castelcicalan coast, without delay, this union might be prevented. I hinted to your lordship in my last letter the immense ascendancy gained by No. 1 over No. 29: your lordship’s reply astonished me. Your lordship states that if No. 29 choose to marry according to his fancy, no human power has a right to control him. With due deference, is not this carrying liberality of opinion a little too far? Your lordship expresses a determination to trust to the issue of events, and do nothing that may stand the chance of plunging the country into a civil war. These self-denying sentiments are no doubt highly patriotic and noble;—but is it in human nature to resign without a struggle? * * * * In any case I am your lordship’s faithful servant, and am anxious only to execute your lordship’s wishes. I therefore await your lordship’s instructions.
“NUMBER 17.”
“You have taken copies of these letters?” said the Examiner.
“Yes, sir,” replied the clerk thus addressed.
“Then let them be immediately conveyed to the office of the Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs, as their contents are highly important.”
“Yes, sir.”
And this order was forthwith obeyed.
CHAPTER LXXXIV.
THE SECOND EXAMINATION.—COUNT ALTERONI.
FORTY-TWO days after the appearance of Mr. Tomlinson’s name in the Gazette, among the category of Bankrupts, the second examination of this gentleman took place at the Bankruptcy Court in Basinghall Street.
In an arm-chair, behind a desk raised upon a species of dais, sate the commissioner, embellished with a wig and gown. Close under the desk was placed the registrar, also with wig and gown; and two or three barristers, who were retained in the case, were similarly adorned. In a sort of pew on the right of the commissioner sate the official assignee, with a pile of books and papers before him. About two hundred persons thronged the room—most of whom, by their sullen and sinister looks, might be easily recognised as the creditors of the bankrupt. At a distance from the box in which witnesses were placed during examination, stood Count Alteroni, with folded arms and severe countenance.
A few moments before eleven o’clock a bustle was heard near the door; and a whisper of “Here’s the trade assignee,” ran through the crowd.
Mr. Greenwood entered the court with a patronising smile upon his countenance, and an easy kind of gait, as if he were by no means dissatisfied with himself. He was dressed in the most elegant manner; and his left hand played negligently, as usual, with the costly gold chain that festooned over his waistcoat.
As he passed through the crowd of his friend’s creditors, many of whom were known to him, he addressed a few words in an off-hand and patronising manner to those whom he recognised at the moment.
“Fine day, Mr. Styles. How are Mrs. Styles and those dear children?” (Mr. Styles was an old batchelor.)—“Ah! Mr. Milksop, how are you? quite delighted to see you! Why, upon my word, you are getting quite stout.” (Poor Mr. Milksop was as thin as a lath.) “But every
thing prospers with you, I suppose!—Well, Mr. Chivers, how do you do? Any thing new on the Stock-Exchange? I believe you don’t suffer much by this business of Tomlinson’s, do you?”
“Only three thousand—that’s all!” returned Mr. Chivers, with a smile which would have turned new milk sour.
“Oh! a mere song!” exclaimed Greenwood, tossing up his head. “Well, Vokes, are you here?—you don’t mean to say that you’re wasting your time in this manner, eh?—Ah! Tullett, my good friend—delighted to see you. Why, how well you do look, to be sure!” (Mr. Tullett was in a rapid decline; and he “grinned horribly a ghastly smile” at this salutation.)
In this manner did Mr. Greenwood work his way through the crowd, until he reached the desk of the official assignee, by the side of whom he took a seat.
“Where’s the bankrupt?” exclaimed the clerk of the court in a loud and imperious tone of voice, while Mr. Greenwood bestowed one of his patronising smiles upon the Commissioner.
“Here,” replied Tomlinson; and he stood forward close by the witness-box.
He was pale and altered; and the marks of care and anxiety were visible upon his countenance. The glance he cast around him, as he took his stand in the presence of the Commissioner, was hurried and fearful:—he almost dreaded that the face of Michael Martin would meet his eyes as he thus hastily scanned the crowd by whom he was surrounded. But his alarm was without foundation: the old cashier was not there.
The Mysteries of London Volume 1 Page 84