The Mysteries of London. George W. M. Reynolds
to hour, during my sojourn here.
That thou in other realms may'st still be found
Prepared to echo back the welcome sound.
Scarcely had Isabella finished these lines, when a servant entered the room, and announced a Mr. Johnson, "who had some pressing business to communicate, and who was very sure that he shouldn't be considered an intruder."
Mr. Johnson—a queer-looking, shabby-genteel, off-hand kind of a man—made his appearance close behind the servant, over whose shoulder he leered ominously.
"I b'lieve you're Count Alteroni, air you?" was Mr. Johnson's first question.
"I am. What is your business with me?"
"I'm come from Rolfe, the attorney, in Clements' Inn," was the reply: "he—"
"Oh! I suppose he has sent you to say that he will accord me the delay I require?" interrupted the count.
"Not quite that there neither," said the man; then, sinking his voice to a mysterious whisper, and glancing towards the ladies with an air of embarrassment, he added, "The fact is, I've got a execution agin your person—a ca-sa, you know, for eighteen hundred and costs."
"A writ—a warrant!" ejaculated the count aloud. "You do not mean to say that you are come to take me to prison?"
"Not exactly that either," replied Mr. Johnson. "You needn't go to quod, you know. You can come to our lock-up in the New-Cut, Lambeth, where you'll be as snug as if you was in your own house, barring liberty."
"I understand you," said the count; then, turning to his wife and daughter, he added, "My dears, the evil moment is arrived. This person is a bailiff come to arrest me; and I must go with him. I implore you not to take this misfortune to heart:—it was sure to happen; and it might just as well occur to-day as a week or a month hence."
"And whither will they take you?" asked the countess, bursting into tears. "Cannot we be allowed to accompany you?"
"You can come, ma'am, and see his lordship to-morrow," said the bailiff; "and you can stay with him from ten in the morning till nine in the evening—or may-be till half-arter ten as a wery partick'lar faviour—for which you'll on'y have to pay half a sufferin extray. But there's my man."
A sneaking kind of knock—something more than a single one, not so much as a double one, and by no means as bold as a postman's—had been heard the moment before the bailiff uttered these last words; and while he went in person to inform his acolyte that the caption was made, and that he might wait in the hall, the count endeavoured to soothe and console the two afflicted ladies who now clung to him in the most impassioned and distracted manner.
"To-morrow, my dear father—to-morrow, the moment the clock strikes ten, we will be with you," said Isabella. "Oh! how miserably will pass the hours until that period!"
"Will you not now permit me, my dearest husband, to see the Envoy of Castelcicala, and—"
"No," answered the count firmly. "Did we not agree ere now to support with resignation all that fortune might have in store for us?"
"Ah! pardon me—I forgot," said the countess. "I am overwhelmed with grief. Oh! what a blow—and for you!"
"Show yourselves worthy of your high rank and proud name," cried the nobleman; "and all will yet be well."
At this moment the bailiff returned to the room.
"I am now ready to accompany you," said the count.
"So much the better," cried Mr. Johnson. "Me and my man Tim Bunkins come down in a omnibus; I don't know which vay you'd like to go, but I've heerd say you keeps a wery tidy cabrioily."
"It would be a monstrous mockery for any one to proceed to a prison in his own luxurious vehicle," said the count sternly. "As you came, so may you return. I will accompany you in an omnibus."
The count embraced his wife and daughter tenderly, and with much difficulty tore himself away, in order to leave a comfortable home for a miserable sponging-house.
CHAPTER LXXXV.
A FRIEND IN NEED.
TEN days after the arrest of Count Alteroni, a young lady was proceeding, at about eleven o'clock in the forenoon, down the Blackfriars Road.
She was dressed plainly, but with that exquisite taste which denotes a polished mind, and is in itself an aristocracy of sentiment. She looked neither to the right nor to the left: her pace was somewhat rapid, as if she were anxious to arrive at her destination:—and though there was something timid in her manner as she threaded her way along the crowded thoroughfare, few who passed her could help turning round to obtain another glimpse of the sylph-like form of that unassuming girl.
From the opposite direction advanced a young man of tall and handsome appearance, neatly dressed, and with a shade of melancholy upon his countenance.
In a few moments he met the young lady, and was about to pass her, when his eyes happened to catch a glimpse of her lovely features.
He started with surprise, exclaiming, "Signora! is it possible? Do we indeed meet again? Ah! it seems to me that it is an age since I saw you, dearest Isabella!"
"And since we last met, Richard, many unfortunate events have happened. My poor father—"
"Your father! what can have happened to him?" cried Markham, struck by the mournful tone of the beauteous Italian.
"He is in the Queen's Bench Prison," replied Isabella, her eyes filling with tears.
"In the Queen's Bench! And you are going to him now? Oh! Isabella, you must tell me how all this happened: I will escort you a little way;"—and with these words, Richard offered his arm to the signora, who accepted it with a ready confidence in him whom she loved, and whose presence was by no means displeasing to her at that moment when she stood so much in need of consolation.
"You are aware," resumed Isabella, "that my father intrusted a considerable sum of money to Mr. Greenwood."
"The villain!" ejaculated Markham warmly.
"I cannot explain to you exactly how it was that my father accepted the security of Mr. Tomlinson, the banker, for that amount, as I am not acquainted with matters of business;—but he did so, and released Mr. Greenwood."
"And Tomlinson failed—and your father lost all!"
"Alas! he did;—and he is now imprisoned for a sum for which he had become answerable to serve a friend," said Isabella.
"How long has the count been in—in—"
"In prison," added the signora mournfully. "He was arrested ten days ago; and, by the advice of a solicitor, he removed on the following day from the bailiff's private house to the Bench."
"And the countess?"
"My mother is very unwell to-day, and could not leave her room; and I am now on my way to visit my poor father. We have left Richmond altogether; and my mother and myself occupy lodgings in the Blackfriars Road, near the bridge."
"Ten days ago this happened, Isabella," said Richard reproachfully; "and you did not acquaint me with what had occurred?"
"Ah! Richard—you know well that circumstances forbade me;—or else—"
"Or else? Speak—dearest Isabella."
"Or else I believe you would have given my father the best advice how to proceed. He is too proud to apply to his friends; and he cannot—he must not remain in prison. His health would sink under the idea of degradation that has taken possession of him."
"That villain Greenwood!" said Markham, musing. "When will the day of retribution