FEMALE COURAGE.
Holywell Street was once noted only as a mart for second-hand clothing,
and booksellers' shops dealing in indecent prints and volumes. The
reputation it thus acquired was not a very creditable one.
Time has, however, included Holywell Street in the clauses of its Reform
Bill. Several highly respectable booksellers and publishers have located
themselves in the place that once deserved no better denomination than
"Rag Fair." The unprincipled venders of demoralizing books and pictures
have, with few exceptions, migrated into Wych Street or Drury Lane; and
even the two or three that pertinaciously cling to their old temples of
infamy in Holywell Street, seem to be aware of the incursions of
respectability into that once notorious thoroughfare, and cease to
outrage decency by the display of vile obscenities in their windows.
The reputation of Holywell Street has now ceased to be a by-word: it is
respectable; and, as a mart for the sale of literary wares, threatens to
rival Paternoster Row.
It is curious to observe that, while butchers, tailors, linen-drapers,
tallow-manufacturers, and toy-venders, are gradually dislodging the
booksellers of Paternoster Row, and thus changing the once exclusive
nature of this famous street into one of general features, the
booksellers, on the other hand, are gradually ousting the old-clothes
dealers of Holywell Street.
As the progress of the American colonist towards the far-west drives
before it the aboriginal inhabitants, so do the inroads of the
bibliopoles menace the Israelites of Holywell Street with total
extinction.
Paternoster Row and Holywell Street are both losing their primitive
features: the former is becoming a mart of miscellaneous trades; the
latter is rising into a bazaar of booksellers.
Already has Holywell Street progressed far towards this consummation. On
the southern side of the thoroughfare scarcely a clothes shop remains;
and those on the opposite side wear a dirty and miserably dilapidated
appearance. The huge masks, which denote the warehouse where
masquerading and fancy-attire may be procured on sale or hire, seem to
"grin horribly a ghastly smile," as if they knew that their occupation
was all but gone. The red-haired ladies who stand at their doors beneath
a canopy of grey trousers with black seats, and blue coats with brown
elbows--a distant imitation of Joseph's garment of many colours--seem
dispirited and care-worn, and no longer watch, with the delighted eyes
of maternal affection, their promising offspring playing in the gutters.
Their glances are turned towards the east--a sure sign that they
meditate an early migration to the pleasant regions which touch upon the
Minories.
Holywell Street is now a thoroughfare which no one can decry on the
score of reputation: it is, however, impossible to deny that, were the
southern range of houses pulled down, the Strand would reap an immense
advantage, and a fine road would be opened from the New Church to Saint
Clement Danes.
It was about half-past seven in the evening that Ellen Monroe, dressed
in the most simple manner, and enveloped in a large cloak, entered
Holywell Street.
Her countenance was pale; but its expression was one of resolution and
firmness.
She walked slowly along from the west end of the street towards the
eastern extremity, glancing anxiously upon the countenances of those
traders who stood in front of the second-hand clothes shops.
At length she beheld a female--one of the identical ladies with red hair
above alluded to--standing on the threshold of one of those warehouses.
Ellen looked upwards, and perceived all kinds of articles of male attire
suspended over the head of this female, and swinging backwards and
forwards, like so many men hanging, upon the shop-front.
Ellen paused--glanced wistfully at the Jewess, and appeared to hesitate.
Her manner was so peculiar, that, although the clothes venders do not
usually solicit the custom of females, the Jewess immediately exclaimed
in a sharp under-tone, "Sell or buy, ma'am?"
Ellen turned, without another moment's hesitation, into the shop.
"I wish to purchase a complete suit of male attire--for myself," said
Miss Monroe. "Serve me quickly--and we shall not dispute about the
price."
These last words denoted a customer of precisely the nature that was
most agreeable to the Jewess. She accordingly bustled about her,
ransacked drawers and cupboards, and spread such a quantity of coats,
trousers, and waistcoats, before Ellen, that the young lady was quite
bewildered.
"Select me a good suit which you think will fit me," said Miss Monroe,
after a moment's hesitation; "and allow me to try it on in a private
room."
"Certainly, ma'am," answered the Jewess; and, having looked out a suit,
she conducted Ellen up stairs into her own sleeping-apartment.
"And now I require a hat and a pair of boots," said Ellen;--"in a word,
every thing suitable to form a complete male disguise. I am going to a
masquerade," she added, with a smile.
The Jewess made no reply: it did not concern her, if her customer chose
to metamorphose herself, so long as _she_ was paid; and she accordingly
hastened to supply all the remaining apparel necessary to complete the
disguise.
She then left Ellen to dress herself at leisure.
And soon that charming form was clothed in the raiment of the other sex:
those delicate feet and ankles were encased in heavy boots; thick blue
trousers hampered the limbs lately so supple in the voluptuous dance; a
coarse shirt and faded silk waistcoat imprisoned the lovely bosom; a
collar and black neckcloth concealed the swan-like neck and dazzling
whiteness of the throat; and a capacious frock coat concealed the
admirable symmetry of the faultless figure. The hair was then gathered
up in a manner which would not betray the sex of the wearer of those
coarse habiliments, especially when the disguise was aided by the
darkness of the night, and when that luxuriant mass was covered with the
broad-brimmed and somewhat slouching hat which the Jewess had provided
for the purpose.
Ellen's toilette was thus completed, and she then descended to the shop.
The Jewess--perhaps not altogether unaccustomed to such
occurrences--made no comment, and took no impertinent notice of the
metamorphosed lady. She contented herself with asking a handsome price
for the clothes and accommodation afforded; and Ellen paid the sum
without a murmur, merely observing that she should send for her own
apparel next day.
Miss Monroe then left the shop, and issued from Holywell Street just as
the church clocks in the neighbourhood struck eight.
The reader has, doubtless, seen enough of her character to be well aware
that she had acquired a considerable amount of fortitude and
self-possession from the various circumstances in which she had been
placed: she was not, therefore, now likely to betray any diffidence or
timidity as she threaded, in male attire, the crowded streets of the
metropolis. She threw into her gait as much assurance as possible; and
thus, without exciting any particular notice, she pursued her way
towards the eastern districts of the great city.
The weather was cold and damp; but the rain, which had fallen in
torrents the day before, had apparently expended its rage for a short
interval. A sharp wind, however, swept through the streets; and Ellen
pitied the poor shivering, half-naked wretches, whom she saw huddling
upon steps, or crouching beneath archways, as she passed along.
Ellen walked rapidly, and having gained Bishopsgate Street, proceeded as
far as the terminus of the Eastern Counties Railway.
There she halted, and glanced anxiously around her.
In a few minutes, a tall man, wrapped up in a large cloak, came up to
the spot where she was standing.
"Is that you, Filippo?" said Ellen.
"Yes, Miss; I am here in obedience to your commands," returned Mr.
Greenwood's Italian valet. "I promised your servant yesterday evening
that I would be punctual to the hour--half-past eight--to-night; and I
have kept my word."
"I owe you a debt of gratitude, which I never shall be able to repay,"
said Ellen. "Your generous behaviour towards me on a former occasion
emboldened me to write to you when I required a friend. I told you in my
note not to be surprised if you should find me disguised in male attire;
I moreover requested you to arm yourself with pistols. Have you complied
with this desire on my part?"
"I have, Miss," answered Filippo. "Conceiving it to be impossible that
you could wish me to aid you in any dishonourable service, I have
attended to your commands in every respect. I mentioned to you when we
last met that my mission to England is from a lady now enjoying a
sovereign rank, and that it is devoted to good and liberal purposes.
Under those circumstances, I am ready to assist you in any manner
consistent with my own principles and with the real objects of my
mission.
"You will this night be the means of rendering an essential service to a
fellow-creature," said Ellen, in an impressive tone. "A foul conspiracy
against him,--whether to take his life or for other purposes of villany,
I know not,--has been devised; and he has blindly fallen into the snare
that has been spread for him. At ten o'clock he is to attend an
appointment on the banks of the canal at a place called Twig Folly. We
must proceed thither: we must watch at a little distance; and, if need
be, we must interpose to save him."
"A more simple plan, Miss," said the Italian, "would be to warn this
individual of his danger."
"I have done so; but he will not believe that treachery is intended,"
returned Ellen.
"Then another effectual manner to counteract the designs of villains in
such a case is to obtain the assistance of the police."
"No, Filippo; such a proceeding would lead to inquiries and
investigations whence would transpire circumstances that must not be
made known."
"Miss Monroe, this proceeding on your part is so mysterious, that I
hesitate whether to accompany you further," said the Italian.
While thus conversing, they had pursued their way, Ellen being the
guide, along Church Street into the Bethnal Green Road.
"Come with me--do not hesitate--I implore you," exclaimed Ellen. "If you
persist in penetrating my motives for acting in this strange manner, I
will tell you all, rather than you should retreat at a moment when it is
too late for me to obtain other succour. And be your resolve as it may,"
added Ellen, hastily, "nothing shall induce _me_ to turn back. Desert
me--abandon me if you will, Filippo; but, in the name of every thing
sacred, lend me the weapons which you carry with you."
The Italian made no reply for some moments, but continued to walk
rapidly along by the side of the disguised lady.
"I will believe, Miss Monroe," he said, at length, "that your motives
are excellent; but are you well advised?"
"Listen," exclaimed Ellen. "The individual, whose life we may perhaps
this night save, is Richard Markham--the generous young man who has been
a son to my father, and a brother to myself."
"I have heard Mr. Greenwood mention his name many times," observed
Filippo.
"He believes that he is to meet his brother, from whom he has been for
many years separated, this night on the banks of the canal," continued
Ellen. "For certain reasons I know most positively that the idea of such
an appointment can only be a plot on the part of some enemies of Richard
Markham. And yet I dared not communicate those reasons to him--Oh! no,"
added Ellen, with a shudder, "that was impossible--impossible!"
"I do not seek to penetrate further into your secrets, Miss," said
Filippo, struck by the earnestness of the young lady's manner, and
naturally inclined to admire the heroism of her character, as developed
by the proceeding in which he was now bearing a part.
"And the necessity of keeping those _certain reasons_ a profound
secret," continued Ellen, "has also prevented me from procuring the
intervention of the police. In the same way, should the result of our
present expedition introduce you to the notice of Mr. Markham, it would
be necessary for you to retain as a profound secret who you are--how you
came to accompany me--and especially your connexion with Mr. Greenwood.
Not for worlds must the name of Greenwood be mentioned in the presence
of Richard Markham! If it should be necessary to enter into explanations
with him, leave that task to me; and contradict nothing that you may
hear me state. I have my motives for all I do and all I say--motives so
grave, so important, that, did you know them all, you would applaud and
not doubt me. And now are you satisfied?"
"Perfectly," returned Filippo: "I will not ask another question, nor
hesitate another moment."
"My everlasting gratitude is your due," said Ellen. "And now, one more
favour have I to ask."
"Name it," answered the Italian.
"Give me one of your pistols."
"But, Miss Monroe--"
"Pray do not refuse me! I am not a coward; and I must inform you that I
learnt to fire a pistol at the theatre."
The Italian handed the young lady one of his loaded weapons.
She concealed it beneath the breast of her coat; and her heart
palpitated with pride and satisfaction.
Ellen and the Italian then quickened their pace, and proceeded rapidly
towards Globe Town.
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