THE OLD HAG'S HISTORY.
"I must carry my recollection back between seventeen and eighteen years.
Not that it requires any effort to call to mind the leading facts in
this sad history; no—no—they are too well impressed upon my memory;—but
there are certain details connected with my own position at the time
which will need the fullest explanation, in order to show how one like
me could have become the friend of Harriet Wilmot.
"At that epoch I kept a boarding-house—a fashionable boarding-house, in
a fashionable street at the West End. I was not then ugly and withered
as I am now: I had the remains of great beauty—for I _was_ very
beautiful when young! I was also of pleasant and agreeable manners, and
knew well how to do the honours of a table. You will not therefore be
surprised when I tell you that I was a great favourite with the persons
who lodged at my establishment, and with the still more numerous
visitors. It is true that this establishment was a boarding-house; and
it was conducted to all outward appearances, in a most respectable
manner. But it had its interior mysteries as well as many other
dwellings in this metropolis. The fact is, that I was well known to a
large circle of nobles and gentlemen who employed all their leisure time
in intrigues and amours. Having been gay myself from fifteen to forty, I
was deeply versed in the various modes of entrapping respectable young
persons, and even ladies, in the meshes artfully spread to ensure a
constant supply of new victims to the lust of those men of pleasure.
Having changed my name and thrown a veil as it were over the past, I
opened the boarding-house by means of the funds supplied by my patrons,
and soon experienced great success. By paying all my tradesmen with the
utmost punctuality, I acquired a good character in the neighbourhood;
for your tradesmen can always make or mar you, their shops being the
scandal-marts where all reports, favourable or unfavourable, are put
into circulation; and as they consider that those who pay well _must_
necessarily be respectable, regularity on that point is certain to
ensure their advantageous opinion. Having thus founded the
_respectability_ of my establishment, the rest was easy enough. The
calculations made by myself and patrons were these:—Boarding-houses are
usually inhabited by ladies possessing incomes which, though derived
from sources that are sure, are too small to enable them to set up in
housekeeping for themselves. Elderly widows with their daughters,—young
widows who, coming from the country or from abroad, are strangers in
London, but who wish to marry again, and therefore seek that society
which is most easily entered,—friendless orphans who possess small
annuities,—aunts and their nieces,—grandmothers with their
grand-daughters,—these are the class of ladies who principally support
boarding-houses. Thus there is always a large proportion of _young
ladies_ in those establishments; and out of a dozen there are sure to be
three or four very good-looking. There can now be no difficulty in
understanding the motives which induced my patrons to place me at the
head of a boarding-house.
"I must now record the plan of operations. In all boarding-houses the
number of ladies preponderates greatly over that of gentlemen. My
average was usually about twenty ladies and four or five gentlemen.
Three times every week we had music and dancing in the evening; and as
there was a lack of _beaux_, I of course supplied the deficiency by
inviting '_some highly respectable gentlemen with whom I had the honour
to be acquainted_.' These were of course my patrons; and when they were
at the house they always took care to treat me with a proper politeness,
as if all they knew of me was highly to my credit and honour. They thus
became constant visitors, and were enabled to improve their acquaintance
with any of the young ladies whom they fancied. As they were very
attentive also to the elderly ladies, and as good wine and negus were
never spared upon those occasions, the mammas, aunts, and grandmammas
were very fond of our evenings' entertainments, and considered the
gentlemen whom I invited to be '_the most delightful creatures in the
world_.' Sometimes rubbers of whist would vary the amusements; and as my
patrons were not only all rich, but had their own private purposes to
serve in frequenting my house, they allowed the old ladies to cheat them
without manifesting the least ill will; or else they actually played
badly to enable the said old ladies to win. It was therefore impossible
that they could have failed to become especial favourites; and of these
advantages they availed themselves in their designs upon the young
ladies.
"The lodgers in boarding-houses are always mean and avaricious. The
smallness of their incomes does not permit them to indulge largely in
their natural taste for dress; and yet nowhere do females maintain such
desperate struggles to appear fine in their apparel. Thus the ladies in
boarding-houses can easily be persuaded to accept of presents; and of
these my patrons were by no means sparing. A gold chain was a certain
passport to a young lady's favour; and a velvet or silk dress would
secure the good opinion of the aunt or grandmamma, and even of the
mamma. Moreover, when one of my patrons appeared particularly attentive
to any young lady, she concluded of course that his intentions were
honourable; and in a very short time she became his victim. In a word,
my boarding-house, though ostensibly so respectable, was nothing more
nor less than a brothel conducted with regard to outward decencies, and
carefully hushing up scandals that occurred within.
"I must now proceed to the principal topic of my history. It was, as I
said, between seventeen and eighteen years ago, that the Marquis of
Holmesford, who was one of my best patrons, called upon me and said that
he had seen a beautiful young woman enter a humble lodging-house in a
street not far from my own; and he directed me to institute inquiries
concerning her. I did so; and in due course ascertained that her name
was Harriet Wilmot—that she lived with her father in poor lodgings—and
that they were by no means well off. I managed to get acquainted with
Harriet, and called upon her. Her father was very ill—dying, indeed, of
a broken heart, through losses in business. It moreover appeared that he
had arrived in London only a short time before, and with a small sum of
ready money, which he embarked in a little speculation that totally
failed. They were sorely pressed by penury when I thus sought them out;
and as I then knew well how to offer assistance in a delicate manner
that could give no offence, I was looked upon by the poor young woman as
an angel sent to minister to the wants of her dying father. The Marquis
supplied me liberally with the means of thus aiding them; and I called
regularly every day.
"My plan was to instil into Harriet's mind elevated notions of the
position which she ought to reach through the medium of her personal
attractions. I told her of great lords who had fallen in love with
females in obscure stations, and who had married them; and as I also
supplied Harriet with clothes, I took good care that they should be of
such a nature as was calculated to engender ideas of finery. But all my
arts failed to corrupt the pure mind of Miss Wilmot: she listened to me
with respect—never with interest;—she wore the garments that I gave her,
because she had none others. I saw that it was no use to think of
introducing the Marquis to her immediately; and such was the passion he
had conceived for her, that he did not become lukewarm with delay.
"In three weeks after I first became acquainted with the Wilmots, the
old man died. The purse of the Marquis supplied, through my agency, the
means of respectable interment; and when the first week of mourning was
over, I touched gently upon Harriet's situation. She threw herself into
my arms, called me her benefactress and only friend, and thanked me for
my kindness towards her deceased father and herself, in such
sincere—such ardent—and yet such artless terms, that for the first time
in my life I experienced a remorse at the treacherous part I was
playing. Harriet declared that she could not possibly think of being a
burden to me, and implored me to follow up my goodness towards her by
procuring her a menial situation—as she was determined to go out to
service. I told her I would consider what I could do for her; and I went
away more than half resolved to gratify her wish and place her beyond
the reach of the Marquis by obtaining for her a situation through the
means of my tradesmen. But when I reached my own house, I found the
Marquis waiting for me; and he was so liberal with his gold, and so
useful to me as my best patron, that I did not dare offend him. I
accordingly hushed my scruples, and communicated to him all that had
just occurred. He directed me to get Harriet into my house on any terms,
and leave the rest to him. I was over-persuaded; and the next day I went
to Harriet, and said to her 'My dear child, I have been thinking of your
wish to earn your own living; and I have a proposal to make to you. I
require a young person to act as my housekeeper: will you take the
place? You shall have your own room to yourself; and I will make you as
comfortable as I can.' The tears of gratitude and the tokens of
affection towards me, with which that friendless young woman met my
offer, actually wrung my heart. I wept myself—yes, I wept myself! And I
weep now, too, as all those memories return to me with overwhelming
force.
"Harriet Wilmot thus entered my service. But the very same day that she
came into my house, I was attacked with a sudden and malignant fever,
which threw me upon a sick bed. For ten days I was insensible to all
that was passing around me; and when I awoke from that mental darkness,
I found Harriet by my bed-side. For ten days and ten nights had she
watched near me, scarcely snatching a few moments' repose in the
arm-chair. She was pale and wan with long vigils; but how her beautiful
countenance lighted up with the animation of joy, when the physician
declared that I should recover. And this same physician assured me that
I owed my life more to the care of the faithful Harriet than to his
skill. I was overwhelmed by this demonstration of so much gratitude on
her part; and I determined to place her beyond the reach of danger the
moment I was convalescent.
"But when I recovered, and was once more involved in the bustle and
intrigues of my business, my good resolutions rapidly vanished—for the
gold and the patronage of the Marquis of Holmesford were so necessary to
me! The Marquis now became a more constant visitor than ever at the
house; and he found opportunities to pay his attentions to Harriet. But
she did not comprehend his hints; and he soon spoke more boldly. Then
she grew alarmed: still, as she afterwards told me, she did not choose
to annoy me by complaints; and she contented herself by shunning the
Marquis as much as possible. At length, one evening, when inflamed with
wine, he forced his way into her chamber, and declared his views in such
unequivocal terms, that the poor creature could no longer support his
importunities. She indignantly commanded him to leave her: he grew
bolder, and attempted violence. She escaped from him, and quitted the
house. From a lodging which she immediately took, she wrote me a letter,
detailing the insults she had endured, reiterating all her former
expressions of gratitude towards me, acquitting me of all blame in the
transaction, but declaring that, as she supposed I could not prevent the
Marquis from visiting at the house, she must respectfully but firmly
decline remaining in my service. I hastened to her, and was not very
urgent in my desire that she should return; for I remembered her
goodness to me when I was ill, and my heart was softened in her favour.
By means of one of my tradesmen she almost immediately obtained a
situation as nursery-maid in a family residing at Lower Holloway. I kept
this circumstance concealed from the Marquis of Holmesford, to whom I
declared that I knew not whither she was gone; and it was impossible
that he could now blame me, as he himself had driven her by his rashness
from my house.
"I must observe that all these incidents,—from the first moment of my
acquaintance with Harriet until she thus quitted my house,—occurred
within a period of three months.
"Harriet was not happy in her new place. She found that her mistress was
an ill-tempered vixen, and her master a despotic upstart. But an event
occurred which entirely changed her gloomy prospects, and enabled her to
leave her situation without the necessity of seeking for another. During
her walks with the children whom she had to attend upon, she met with a
gentleman of middle age, but handsome person and agreeable manners; and
some accident, which I have forgotten, made them acquainted. From that
time they met every day: the gentleman became deeply enamoured of her,
but never once did he make a dishonourable proposal. She told him that
she was a poor friendless orphan and he pitied her:—in a short time he
learnt to appreciate the purity of her mind—and he loved her. He offered
her his hand;—but his pride imposed a condition. He was wealthy—he was a
widower—he had two children; and he probably disliked the idea of
introducing to the world as his wife one who had been a servant. She was
unhappy in her place—without friends—without protectors; and she yielded
to his solicitations for a private union. They were married—married at
Norwood, where the register will doubtless attest the fact!
"This gentleman was Mr. Markham, of Markham Place. I never was in the
neighbourhood of that mansion until about a year ago; then I saw it for
the first time, and I sighed as I thought of Harriet Wilmot! For she
ought to have become the mistress of the spacious dwelling;—and so she
doubtless would have become, had not my treachery blighted all her
hopes—all her prospects! But I must go back to resume the thread of my
history in due course.
"Mr. Markham took a comfortable lodging for his young bride in a street
somewhere near Brunswick Square. Precisely ten months after their union
Katherine was born; and Mr. Markham now seriously thought of
acknowledging his wife and child. She had hitherto passed by the name of
Mrs. Wilmot since the marriage; and the husband regretted that he had
not at once boldly proclaimed his second matrimonial connexion to the
world. All these facts I subsequently learnt from Harriet's own lips.
"It was about three months after the birth of Katherine that I met
Harriet one day in the street; and she seemed to me more beautiful than
ever. She had written to announce to me that she was married, but
without saying to whom, nor indicating where she lived. When I thus
encountered her, holding her babe in her arms, she invited me to her
lodgings, for she said, 'My husband will not be offended with me for
communicating all the particulars of my happiness to you; since you were
the only friend I found in the time of my poverty and, when my poor
father was on his death-bed. Besides,' she added, with a smile of
infinite satisfaction, 'my husband is about to acknowledge me as his
wife and take me to his own home.' While we were yet speaking, the
Marquis of Holmesford rode by on horseback; and, as he turned to nod to
me, he instantly recognised Harriet. She also knew him, and hurrying
along with some alarm, entered her lodging, which was close by. I
followed her: the incident which had disturbed her was soon forgotten;
and she then told me all the particulars of her first meeting and her
subsequent marriage with Mr. Markham. And how she doted upon her child!
Never did I behold a mother so enthusiastic in her tenderness towards
the offspring which she loved—and in which she felt pride!
"I took leave of her, and promised to call soon again. On my return home
I was by no means disappointed to find the Marquis waiting for me. He
said, 'You are acquainted with Harriet's abode. How happens it that you
have kept it secret from me?'—I assured him that I had only just
discovered it—'Well, it may be as you assert,' he continued; 'but do not
deceive me in what I now require at your hands. Harriet looks more
lovely than ever; and all my passion for her is revived. She must be
mine; and to you I look for aid in obtaining for me the gratification of
my wishes.'—I told him that Harriet was married, and that the child he
had seen in her arms was her own; but I did not mention the name of her
husband.—'I care nothing for her marriage or her maternity,' said the
Marquis: 'she is charming, and that is all I choose to think of. When
money and cunning can produce any thing in this city, it is not probable
that I should entertain ridiculous scruples. The money I possess; and if
cunning were wealth, you would be the richest woman in England.'—I
remember this conversation as well as if it only occurred yesterday.
Vainly did I represent to his lordship the difficulty of accomplishing
the design he had in view. I assured him that Harriet's virtue was
beyond the possibility of corruption: he replied that artifice could not
fail to succeed, and that if I appeared cold in the cause, he would
employ another and less scrupulous agent. I trembled lest I should lose
his patronage and that of his friends; and I promised to do my best. The
Marquis left me, saying, 'Within a week I shall expect that you will
have matured some scheme that may make her mine; and your reward shall
be liberal.'
"I was now sorely perplexed: I no longer hesitated to obey the Marquis,
because my own interests were concerned; but I knew not what project to
devise. At length, after having racked my brain for some short time, I
hit upon a device which seemed to be the most feasible my ingenuity
could suggest; but I resolved to cultivate the intimacy of Harriet for
nearly a week ere I put it into execution. I accordingly contrived to be
almost constantly with her for the next five days, saving when she
expected her husband. Of his coming she was usually made aware by
letters from him: some of those epistles she read to me, in the
ingenuous confidence of her pure soul; and well might she rejoice in
them—well might she treasure them,—for they were replete with tenderness
and love. I know not exactly now what it was that prompted me to possess
myself of some of those letters, in which Mr. Markham spoke of Harriet
as his wife and the infant Katherine as his own child;—but I most
probably thought that my knowledge of that secret union and its fruit
might be turned to advantage, especially as I saw that a wealthy and
well-born man was struggling with his pride whether to proclaim to the
world his marriage with an obscure servant or whether he should continue
to keep the affair secret. At all events I cannot conceal the fact that
I abstracted, during a temporary absence of Harriet from the room on one
occasion when I called, three of the letters from her desk,—three
epistles in which Mr. Markham alluded in the most unequivocal terms to
his private marriage with Harriet and the existence of the fruit of that
union. These letters were addressed simply '_Mrs. Wilmot_,' and without
the mention of her abode on the envelope; because, as I learnt from
Harriet, Mr. Markham always sent them by a messenger from a tavern in
Lower Holloway—never from his own house, nor by any one of his servants;
and by omitting the address, no clue could be afforded to impertinent
curiosity should a letter thus sent happen to be lost.
"But to return to the scheme which I had formed for the ruin of Harriet.
During the five days that we were so constantly together, as I have
stated above, I professed the most sincere friendship for Harriet; and
she declared that the feeling was not only reciprocal, but that on her
part '_it was founded on the most sincere gratitude for my former
kindness_.' And grateful she really was. It was her nature to be
grateful and good towards any one who was good—or seemed good—to her.
But she could not even have hated her bitterest enemies, had she known
any persons who were openly and avowedly her foes. She was all
gentleness and amiability—all ingenuousness and candour. But why do I
thus dwell upon her excellent qualities—since the more blameless was
she, the less pardonable was I!
"When I took leave of her on the fifth evening she said to me, 'Mr.
Markham will not be able to visit me at all to-morrow: you would afford
me pleasure by dining with me and passing a long evening.'—The
invitation exactly suited my purposes; and I readily accepted it. But on
the following day, instead of repairing to Harriet's lodging at four
o'clock, as promised, I went straight to Holmesford House. The Marquis
was at home: he awaited my coming—for I had communicated my design to
him by note on the preceding evening.
"Holmesford House has long been notorious for the debaucheries of its
lordly owner. Separated from his wife, and enjoying an immense fortune,
the Marquis has for many years led a life which, were he a private
individual, would exclude him from society, but which does not in the
least degree injure him in the elevated sphere wherein he moves. His
dwelling is fitted up in the most luxurious—the most voluptuous manner,
and is provided with all possible means to facilitate his designs upon
those virtuous females who may be entrapped into his mansion, but who
will not yield to him save when overcome by violence. And to that
extreme measure has the Marquis never hesitated to resort;—for who would
think, however great her wrongs, of appealing to the law against a
nobleman so powerful, so wealthy, and so unprincipled as the Marquis of
Holmesford?
"There was one room in Holmesford House which I must particularly
describe. It was a bed-chamber—small, but furnished in the most
sumptuous manner. It had no side windows; but there was a sky-light on
the roof; and double sets of panes were fixed in the ample wood-work,
with an interval of perhaps four inches between each pair. Thus no
screams—no shrieks could penetrate beyond that strangely-contrived
window: the double panes deadened every sound which transpired in that
room. Similar precautions were adopted in respect to the other parts of
the chamber. The doors were double, and covered with thick baize, so
that they fixed tightly in their setting. The walls were also double,
with a considerable interval between them: there was even a false floor
half a foot above the proper one; and carpets were spread so thickly
that not even a footstep echoed in that chamber.
"I shall now continue the narrative of my project against Harriet.
Immediately upon my arrival at Holmesford House, I wrote a note to the
intended victim: it was thus worded:—'_Come to me, dearest Harriet,
without an instant's delay after the receipt of this. I am in sad
tribulation—at the house of a friend; but I cannot spare a moment to
give you an idea of the sudden misfortune which has overtaken me. If you
ever loved me—and if I have the slightest claim upon your kindness—come!
The bearer of this note will conduct you to the friend's house where I
am!_'—Poor Harriet! she naturally conceived that it must be some serious
event which could prevent me from keeping my engagement with her; and
she hesitated not to accompany the female servant who delivered the note
to her. She took her child in her arms: the servant of the Marquis
suggested that she should leave the babe in the care of Harriet's own
domestic; but Harriet would never separate herself from her beloved
infant! The servant could not offer further remonstrance on this point;
and Harriet entered the hackney-coach which was waiting to convey her to
destruction!
"It was in the very depth of winter and consequently quite dark when
Harriet reached Holmesford House. The lamps over the entrance had been
purposely left unlighted; and thus the poor young woman did not observe
the vast exterior of the mansion to which she had come. But when the
front door had closed behind her, and she found herself in the hall, she
exhibited some alarm; for, dimly as it was seen by the lustre of one
faint lamp, she observed enough to convince her that she was in no
common dwelling. The servant (who had of course received her cue)
noticed the impression thus made upon her, and hastened to say something
of a re-assuring nature. Thus, in a few minutes, Harriet was inveigled
into the chamber which I have before described. 'Permit me to hold the
baby, madam,' said the servant; 'your friend is ill in that
bed.'—Harriet, doubtless bewildered at the strangeness of the whole
proceeding, mechanically passed the child to the servant, and advanced
towards the bed, the curtains of which were drawn around. She heard the
doors close: she looked round—the servant had disappeared with the
babe;—and Harriet was now alone with the Marquis of Holmesford!
"Two hours elapsed! I was awaiting, in a distant part of the mansion,
the issue of that foul plot. Wine and generous cordials were on the
table; and I drank deeply of them to drown the sad thoughts which
oppressed me. Never had I before experienced—never have I since known
such terrible emotions! All the particulars of my connexion with Harriet
rushed to my mind. I remembered how I first beheld her, affectionately
tending the dying bed of her father,—how she sate day and night by my
side, ministering unto me in my malady as if she was my daughter,—how I
had seen her a happy wife, content with retirement and privacy—content
even with being, as it were, an unacknowledged wife, so long as she
enjoyed her husband's love,—and how she had conducted herself as a
tender mother, fondling and nursing her innocent little one! I thought
of all this; and at the same time I was almost distracted with the idea
of the infernal treachery which had now ensnared her! Years have passed
since that foul night; and its memory haunts me still. I have made
many—many lovely girls victims to the lust of my employers;—but none—no,
not one—do I regret, save Harriet Markham!
"Two hours elapsed, I say; and at length the Marquis of Holmesford made
his appearance. He was dreadfully frightened: his manner was wild and
excited. I could not gather, from the expression of his countenance,
whether he had triumphed or lost the victory to which he aspired over a
virtuous and defenceless woman. I interrogated him with a gesture of
impatience. '_Damnable woman!_' he exclaimed; '_if there were not such
creatures as you, there would be less scope for the vices of men like
me. Begone! I would not endure another such scene—no, not were I offered
a sovereign crown!_'—I made some observation; but he interrupted me
fiercely, and commanded me to depart. I dared not disobey—his manner was
actually terrific. He appeared as if he had just witnessed some horrible
spectre, or had perpetrated a dreadful crime. I returned home; and never
did I pass such a miserable night.
"All next day I waited in expectation of hearing from the Marquis; but
no communication arrived. In the evening I went to Harriet's lodging,
and saw the landlady. In answer to my inquiries, she said, 'Mrs. Wilmot
remained out until a very late hour last night, or rather this morning.
It was nearly one when she came home with her child. She was in almost a
frantic state, and talked so wildly and incoherently that I could not
comprehend her. I persuaded her to retire to her chamber, and offered to
sit up with her. She allowed me to conduct her to her room, but insisted
on remaining alone. Poor thing! I heard her walking up and down the
chamber until past five; and then all became quiet. I supposed she had
retired to bed. When I rose at eight, I learnt from the servant that she
had gone out with her child half an hour previously. She has not been
back since; and I feel alarmed at her absence.'—'Some sudden calamity
has perhaps overtaken her,' I said, terribly frightened at these
tidings. 'Have the kindness to send your servant to let me know when she
returns; but you need not tell her that you do so. I have my reasons.'
The landlady, believing me to be an intimate friend of Harriet, readily
promised compliance with my request. I was about to depart, when she
suddenly recollected something, and said, 'I had nearly forgotten to
tell you that about an hour ago, the messenger that usually comes from
the gentleman who visits Mrs. Wilmot, and who she says is her
husband—'—'Yes, yes,' cried I impatiently.—'The messenger has left a
small packet for her,' continued the landlady.—'Let me see it,' I said,
thinking that its contents might afford some clue to the mystery of
Harriet's disappearance: 'I am acquainted with all Mrs. Wilmot's
affairs, for you know how intimate we are.'—The landlady showed me the
packet without the least hesitation, and I instantly recognised in the
address the handwriting of Mr. Markham. I longed to open the parcel, but
dared not. So I took my departure, having reiterated my desire to be
informed of Harriet's return, the moment it might happen.
"The next evening came, and I had neither heard from the landlady, nor
seen the Marquis. I sent a note to the latter; but he had left town on
the previous day. A thought struck me: could he have persuaded Harriet
to accompany him? Had he so far overcome the virtue of that pure-minded
creature? I thought of the packet from Mr. Markham, and longed to
ascertain its contents. A strong suspicion lurked in my mind that it was
connected with the affair in some way or another. I however waited a
week; and, hearing no tidings of any kind concerning Harriet, went
boldly to her lodgings. 'Mrs. Wilmot's disappearance is so strange,' I
said to the landlady, 'that, having consulted my legal adviser, and
acting on the plea of being her intimate friend, I am determined to open
that packet which was sent for her, and which I think must afford some
clue to her absence.'—The landlady gave me the packet, saying, 'If you
take the responsibility on yourself, well and good; but I will have
nothing to do with the business.'—This was better than I had even
expected; and I departed with the parcel.
"I was not long in returning to my house, and the moment I had reached
my own chamber, I tore open the parcel. It contained four letters: but
the contents of one will explain the presence of the other three. That
one was from Mr. Markham, and ran as nearly as I can recollect thus:
'After the terrible discovery which I made last night, I can never see
you more. You have wantonly betrayed the confidence and affection of a
man who descended from his eminence to court your love in your social
obscurity. But the moral bond that united us is riven asunder; and the
legal one shall be equally broken should you dare to represent yourself
as my wife. The most horrible suspicion now haunts me that even _your_
child may not be _mine_. Keep that infant, then; and be good to it, if
your depraved heart will allow you. And that you may not sink into the
lowest grades of crime from the embraces of the noble libertine to whom
you have abandoned yourself, I have instructed my banker to pay to you,
as _Mrs. Wilmot_, a monthly stipend of ten pounds. I have destroyed all
your letters, save the _three_ which I enclose; and I return them to you
in the hope that a re-perusal of them will place before you in all its
glaring flagrancy the contrast between your protestations and your
deeds.
[Illustration]
"This terrible document bore no signature: but it was impossible, either
by its nature or the handwriting, that it could have emanated from any
one save Mr. Markham. The three letters accompanying it contained
expressions of sincere gratitude and fervent affection towards Mr.
Markham, and denoted three particular phases in Harriet's connexion with
him: namely, her assent to their union, the fact that she was in a way
to become a mother, and the announcement of approaching maternity. I
wept as I read them:—I wept as I thought of all I had done in
accomplishing the ruin of poor Harriet!
"The Marquis came no more to my house;—I saw by the newspapers that he
had returned to London, a few weeks after the sad incidents just
described;—again I sought an interview with him, but he would neither
see nor correspond with me. My other patrons deserted me: they had been
introduced by the Marquis; and, finding that he had some private reason
to shun me, they fell off rapidly. I was compelled to break up my
establishment: it ruined me in pocket, as it had ruined many, many young
females in virtue. But for none of my victims did I reck—no, not one,
save Harriet Markham.
"I fell gradually lower and lower in the scale of my avocations; but
still I contrived to gain a living in various ways which have no
connexion with the object of this narrative. It was about a year after
the sad events above recorded, that I one day met Harriet Wilmot face to
face in the neighbourhood of Bloomsbury. She was poorly clad and sickly
in appearance; and her countenance was expressive of profound mental
dejection. She held a letter in her hand; but she had not her child with
her; and she was hurrying rapidly along—most probably to the
post-office. 'Harriet!' I exclaimed, catching her by the hand.—She
started at being thus accosted; but the moment her eyes fell on my
countenance, she shuddered visibly, and cried out, '_You!_'—then she
darted away as if in affright, dropping the letter upon the pavement.
For some moments I was so stupefied by her abrupt flight, that I stood
as it were paralyzed. But seeing the letter upon the pavement, I
recovered the use of my limbs, and hastened to pick it up. It was
addressed '_To the_ _Marquis of Holmesford, Holmesford House_.' I
hurried away with it, saying to myself, 'Now I shall discover how far
the connexion between Harriet and the Marquis went.'—But I was
disappointed: the letter merely contained, as far as I can remember,
these words:—'I ought not to address your lordship, under the
peculiar—the distressing circumstances which made us acquainted; but
necessity compels me to appeal to your lordship's bounty. It is not for
myself, however, that I implore your aid; but for the sake of my child,
who is starving! Oh! my lord, if you only knew what the feelings of a
mother are when she beholds her infant shrieking for food, and turning
its eyes towards her countenance in so piteous a manner that they speak
the language of famine far more eloquently than its tongue could
possibly do, were it able to express its wants in words,—if you could
understand these feelings, you would not think ill of me because I thus
appeal to your bounty!'—An address was given in an obscure street in
Bloomsbury; and the letter was signed '_Harriet Wilmot_.'
"Again I felt for that poor creature, who was now reduced, with her poor
infant of fifteen months old, to such a state of penury; and I do not
say it to render myself less despicable than I must appear in the eyes
of those who may peruse this narrative,—but I merely state it as a fact,
that I hastened home, gathered together the few shillings which I
possessed, and hurried off to the address mentioned in Harriet's letter.
But when I reached the house indicated, I learnt from the landlady that
Mrs. Wilmot had suddenly departed half an hour before. 'She was very
poor,' observed the woman; 'but she was honest. She strove hard to
maintain herself with her needle, and starved herself to feed her
infant. She thought herself quite happy when she earned five shillings
in a week. Night after night did the poor creature sit up till she was
nearly blind, toiling constantly at her work. And when she went away so
suddenly just now, she offered me her shawl in payment of the little
arrears of rent due. My God! I would sooner have given her all I had
than have taken a rag from her! Ah!' added the woman, wiping her eyes,
'there's something very wrong somewhere in the country when such good
mothers are allowed to die by inches through sheer famine!'
"I went away, very miserable. I felt convinced that Harriet, when she
perceived she had lost her letter, suspected that it might fall into my
hands, and that I should thereby learn her place of abode. And it was
clear that she had departed so abruptly to avoid me! I have kept that
letter—as well as all the others to which I refer in my history.
"As nearly as I can recollect, two years and three quarters passed away;
and I again saw Harriet. It was in the month of January, about noon on a
bitter cold day; and I was walking through Long Acre, when I suddenly
perceived her enter a house, which was evidently let in lodgings to poor
families. She did not observe me; but I felt a violent longing to make
my peace, if possible, with that unfortunate victim of my treachery. The
door stood open for the accommodation of the various inmates; and I
hurried up the staircase. I heard footsteps before me—and I followed
them to the very top of the house: then I caught a glimpse of Harriet
entering a back garret. I advanced to the door, and knocked gently.
Harriet immediately opened it; but when she beheld me, she recoiled with
such an expression of horror and alarm upon her death-like countenance,
that I was dreadfully embarrassed. 'My dear friend,' I said, at length:
'pray—in the name of heaven! hear me!'—'_You!_' she cried, in that
shrieking kind of tone which had marked her utterance of the word when
we met before, and which showed her utter abhorrence of me—a sentiment I
well deserved: 'hear _you_! Oh! no—no!'—and she closed the door
violently. I knew not how to act. I felt convinced that she had never
communicated with Mr. Markham since the period when he made that
mysterious but '_terrible discovery_' to which he alluded in his letter
that fell into my hands. I thought I would acquaint her with the
existence of that letter and the nature of its contents; because it
promised an income which would have placed her above want. So I sate
down upon the stairs to reflect how I should proceed to induce her to
hear me. In a few minutes the door opened quickly, and Harriet, with her
child (who was then four years old) in her arms and a small bundle in
her hand, appeared on the landing. She shrank back when she saw me—she
evidently thought I was gone. Then, recovering herself, she exclaimed,
'_Wretch! why do you haunt me? Have you not injured me enough already?
Will you not even let me die in peace?_'—I started up, saying, 'Do hear
me! You know not how important——.'—But ere I could utter another word,
she rushed wildly past me, and ran down the stairs with a precipitation
which manifested her profound horror at my presence.
"Thus had I involuntarily driven her a second time from her humble home!
I was sorely afflicted, for many reasons—but chiefly because my motives
were not on either occasion wrong. I was about to take my departure,
when I thought I would cast a look at the interior of the chamber which
she had inhabited. By its appearance I hoped to judge of her
circumstances, which I sincerely wished might be improved. I entered the
room: it was evidently a ready-furnished garret. I am able to recognise
such facts at a glance. Though not absolutely wretched, it was mean—very
mean—too mean to permit the idea that she, poor creature! was
comfortable in her resources. Several papers were burning in the grate:
she had evidently set fire to them the moment ere she left the room in
the precipitate manner described. I hastened to extinguish the
smouldering flames, but redeemed the fragment of only one important
paper. It contained the commencement of a letter evidently written that
morning, as I discovered by the date. Strange to say, it was another
epistle addressed '_To the Marquis of Holmesford, Holmesford House_.'
Its contents were to this effect:—'Your lordship will pardon me for
again intruding myself upon your notice; but a deep sense of the duty I
owe to my child, and the dread of leaving the poor innocent girl to the
mercy of strangers—for the hand of Death seems to be already upon
me—must serve as my excuse for thus troubling you. And when your
lordship reflects that it is to you that I owe all the hideous misery
which has been my lot for nearly four years,—through you that I lost the
love and confidence of my husband,—your lordship's heart will not allow
this appeal to be made in vain. Hitherto your lordship has remained
unacquainted with the name of that husband of whom I speak; but now it
is my duty to reveal it to you, that your lordship may see him and ex——'
"The remainder had been so scorched that it was illegible. Conjecture
relative to the termination of the sentence was vain. Was the unfinished
word _explain_? Or was it _express_? Often—often have I sate and
wondered what the end of the passage originally was, ere the flames
singed that sad letter. _She felt the hand of Death already upon her_;
and I had driven her from the place where she wished _to die in peace_!
Wretch—wretch that I was!
"From that time forth I never saw her more!
"All that I know of Harriet Markham is now told. The only link that is
missing in the chain of my narrative is the detailed account of the mode
in which Mr. Markham discovered that his wife had become the victim of
the Marquis of Holmesford. That mystery the Marquis himself may be
enabled to explain.
"My task is terminated: nor would I for worlds be compelled to
accomplish it over again. It has given additional poignancy to thoughts
that frequently oppress me, and has aroused others equally painful, but
which had slumbered for years and years until now. And where I write—I
dare not name the place, nor even those at whose command I write—there
is a fearful gloom that is congenial, too congenial with those appalling
reminiscences. Perhaps I should have felt and expressed less remorse for
the past, had I written under more pleasant circumstances; perhaps, in
that case, many of those dread images which _here_ haunt my mind and are
reflected in the bewailings and self-reproaches which appear in these
pages, would not have visited me: still, had I performed this task in a
cheerful chamber and in the gladdening sun-light,—even then I must have
felt _some_ remorse—for of all the bad deeds of my life, the treachery
which I perpetrated towards Harriet is the blackest!
"May her sweet daughter Katharine be more happy—more fortunate!"