268 Liyhts and Shadows of London Life. 



It was some hours before they left Worthing. The wind had 

 risen, and howled wildly over the dark and heaving billows that came 

 slowly rolling in from the southward, and broke sullenly upon the 

 beach. The snow, which at first fell but lightly, was now whirled 

 in wreaths around them, and their carriage passed silently over the 

 surface upon which it already lay in sufficient quantities to cover all 

 traces of the road. Of all without its tenants took little heed. They 

 were each occupied by feelings which filled all thought and sensa- 

 tion : there was no room for other concern, where the breath that 

 took the form of language was drawn from anguish, and spoke de- 

 spair. No sound interrupted one syllable of the tale that froze his 

 blood, or cheated the ear of Chalcroft of one articulation of agony. 

 " It must be said," were the first words that convulsively escaped her 

 who lay at his side bowed down by the prostration of bitterness; 

 " all, all shall be told, though it kill me. Oh! too happy consummation 

 were I but fit to die ! Leslie, you will hate me but better that 

 for that which I am, than you should love me as that which I am not. 

 I have been guilty, am degraded, debased ; but, oh Father Eternal, 

 if the world refuse it, thou wilt think upon mercy, when thou seest at 

 thy judgment-seat one who in her weakness went forth upon her 

 pilgrimage without guide to direct or friend to aid. I had indeed 

 one who might have saved; but it was otherwise decreed. The 

 early part of my life, dear Leslie, is to me a blank ; the first of my 

 recollection reaches to a school, whence I was removed while yet a 

 little girl to the home of a near relative. That is the sole oasis of 

 my existence to which memory can look back and smile. My uncle 

 was a cold, reserved man, of whom I saw but little : my aunt was 

 not a person to be loved ; but they had a son, a boy rather younger 

 than I was, the gentlest and kindest of all beings ! You must not 

 chide me when I confess to you how dear he was to me, while yet 

 my affection was not a thing to spurn God be praised that he at 

 least knows it not even now. For some years after I was sent from 

 my uncle's I was en pension at a convent at Montpelier. My aunt, to 

 whom I always looked in the place of a parent, used occasionally to 

 correspond with me. A gentleman, who was proceeding into Swit- 

 zerland, was the bearer of a letter from her ; he made Montpelier 

 his way in returning ostensibly for the purpose of receiving an 

 answer, he visited me again. We had many interviews. I was in- 

 duced to leave with him for England clandestinely ; he was a villain, 

 and in a short time I was deserted. I was in London alone, without 

 friends. I did not dare reveal to my aunt my position : the sequel 

 of my story is that of which there are so many thousand broken- 

 hearted parallels. This is spoken calmly, my friend, yet do I feel 

 that the revelation will shorten my life. You are cold, dearest, your 

 brow is damp ah, those tears too ! oh, you indeed pity me let me 

 kiss them from your cheek why do you turn from me ? you do not 

 hate me, Leslie ! oh God, say you do not hate me !" 



The drifting snow made the night as dark as if it had been moon- 

 less : it was a welcome veil that hid the pangs by which the miser- 

 able Chalcroft was torn. With an effort of desperation he gained 



