"Though I am the vilest of beings, I
have not forgotten every virtue; gratitude, I hope, I shall still
have left."--He took a larger stride--"Powers of mercy that surround
me!" cried he, "do ye not smile upon deeds like these? to calculate
the chances of deception is too tedious a business for the life of
man!"--The clock struck ten.--When he was got down-stairs, he found
that he had forgot the note of her lodgings; he gnawed his lips at
the delay: he was fairly on the pavement, when he recollected
having left his purse; he did but just prevent himself from
articulating an imprecation. He rushed a second time up into his
chamber. "What a wretch I am!" said he; "ere this time, perhaps--"
'Twas a perhaps not to be borne;--two vibrations of a pendulum would
have served him to lock his bureau; but they could not be spared.
When he reached the house, and inquired for Miss Atkins (for that
was the lady's name), he was shown up three pair of stairs, into a
small room lighted by one narrow lattice, and patched round with
shreds of different-coloured paper. In the darkest corner stood
something like a bed, before which a tattered coverlet hung by way
of curtain. He had not waited long when she appeared.
Pages:
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73