The Mysteries of London. George W. M. Reynolds
CHAPTER C. THE MYSTERIES OF THE GROUND-FLOOR ROOMS.
CHAPTER CII. THE REVEREND VISITOR.
CHAPTER CIII. HOPES AND FEARS.
CHAPTER CVI. THE GRAVE-DIGGER.
CHAPTER CVIII. THE EXHUMATION.
CHAPTER CIX. THE STOCK-BROKER.
CHAPTER CX. THE EFFECTS Of A TRANCE.
CHAPTER CXI. A SCENE AT MR. CHICHESTER'S HOUSE.
CHAPTER CXIV. THE CONTENTS OF THE PACKET.
CHAPTER CXV. THE TREASURE.—A NEW IDEA.
CHAPTER CXVI. THE RATTLESNAKE'S HISTORY. [82]
CHAPTER CXVII. THE RATTLESNAKE.
CHAPTER CXVIII. THE TWO MAIDENS.
CHAPTER CXX. THE FATHER AND DAUGHTER.
CHAPTER CXXII. A CHANGE OF FORTUNE.
CHAPTER CXXIII. ARISTOCRATIC MORALS.
CHAPTER CXXIV. THE INTRIGUES OF A DEMIREP.
CHAPTER CXXV. THE RECONCILIATION.
CHAPTER CXXVI. THE RECTOR OF SAINT DAVID'S.
CHAPTER CXXVII. BLANDISHMENTS.
CHAPTER CXXX. MENTAL STRUGGLES.
CHAPTER CXXXII. AN OLD FRIEND.
CHAPTER CXXXIII. SKILLIGALEE'S HISTORY.
CHAPTER CXXXIV. THE PALACE IN THE HOLY LAND.
CHAPTER CXXXV. THE PROPOSAL.—UNEXPECTED MEETINGS.
CHAPTER CXXXVI. THE SECRET TRIBUNAL.
CHAPTER I.
THE OLD HOUSE IN SMITHFIELD.
OUR narrative opens at the commencement of July, 1831.
The night was dark and stormy. The sun had set behind huge piles of dingy purple clouds, which, after losing the golden hue with which they were for awhile tinged, became sombre and menacing. The blue portions of the sky that here and there had appeared before the sunset, were now rapidly covered over with those murky clouds which are the hiding-places of the storm, and which seemed to roll themselves together in dense and compact masses, ere they commenced the elemental war.
In the same manner do the earthly squadrons of cavalry and mighty columns of infantry form themselves into one collected armament, that the power of their onslaught may be the more terrific and irresistible.
That canopy of dark and threatening clouds was formed over London; and a stifling heat, which there was not a breath of wind to allay or mitigate, pervaded the streets of the great metropolis.
Everything portended an awful storm.
In the palace of the peer and the hovel of the artisan the windows were thrown up; and at many, both men and women stood to contemplate the scene—timid children crowding behind them.
The heat became more and more oppressive.
At length large drops of rain fell, at intervals of two or three inches apart, upon the pavement.
And then a flash of lightning, like the forked tongue of one of those fiery serpents of which we read in oriental tales of magic and enchantment, darted forth from the black clouds overhead.
At an interval of a few seconds the roar of the thunder, reverberating through the arches of heaven—now sinking, now exalting its fearful tone, like the iron wheels of a chariot rolled over a road with patches of uneven pavement here and there—stunned every ear, and struck terror into many a heart—the innocent as well as the guilty.
It died away, like the chariot, in the distance; and then all was solemnly still.
The interval of silence which succeeds the protracted thunder-clap is appalling in the extreme.
A little while—and