The Mysteries of London (Vol. 1-4). George W. M. Reynolds. Читать онлайн. Newlib. NEWLIB.NET

Автор: George W. M. Reynolds
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must know the hope you have entertained in this respect?" said the manager.

      "To tell you the candid truth, this is my first essay," returned Markham; "and I am totally unacquainted with the ordinary value of such labour."

      "If this be your first essay, sir," said the manager, surveying Markham with some astonishment, "I can only assure you that it is a most promising one. But once again—name your price."

      "The manner in which you speak to me shows that if I trust to your generosity, I shall not do wrong."

      "Well, Mr. Preston," cried the manager, pleased at this compliment, "I shall use you in an equally liberal manner. You must be informed that you will have certain pecuniary privileges, in respect to any provincial theatres at which your piece may be performed should it prove successful; and you will also have the benefit of the publication of the work in a volume. What, then, should you say if I were to give you fifty guineas for the play, and five guineas a-night for every time of its performance, after the first fortnight?"

      "I should esteem your offer a very liberal one," answered Richard, overjoyed at the proposal.

      "In that case the bargain is concluded at once, and without any more words," said the manager; then, taking a well-filled canvass bag from his desk, he counted down fifty guineas in notes, gold, and silver.

      Markham gave a receipt, and they exchanged undertakings specifying the conditions proposed by the manager.

      "When do you propose to bring out the piece?" inquired Richard, when this business was concluded.

      "In about six weeks," said the manager. "Shall you have any objection to attend the rehearsals, and see that the gentlemen and ladies of the company fully appreciate the spirit of the parts that will be assigned to them?"

      "I shall not have the least objection," answered Markham; "but I am afraid that my experience——"

      "Well, well," said the manager, smiling, "I will not press you. Leave it all to me—I will see justice done to your design, which I think I understand pretty well. If I want you I will let you know; and if you do not hear from me, you will see by the advertisements in the newspapers for what night the first representation will be announced."

      Markham expressed his gratitude to the manager for the kindness with which he had received him, and then took his leave, his heart elated with hope, and his mind relieved from much anxiety respecting the future.

      When he left the manager's residence he repaired to an adjacent tavern to procure some refreshment; and there, while engaged in the discussion of a sandwich and a glass of sherry, he cast his eyes over The Times newspaper.

      A particular advertisement arrested his attention.

      A gentleman—a widower—required a daily tutor for his two young sons, whom he was desirous of having instructed in Latin, history, drawing, arithmetic, &c. The boys were respectively nine and eleven years old. The advertiser stated that any individual who could himself teach the various branches of education specified, would be preferred to a plurality of masters, each proficient only in one particular study. Personal application was to be made between certain hours.

      The residence of the advertiser was in Kentish Town; and this vicinity to Markham's own abode induced him to think seriously of offering his services. He did not feel disposed to pursue his literary labours until after the representation of his drama, as he was as yet unaware of the reception it might experience at the hands of the public;—and he was also by no means inclined to remain idle. The occupation of daily tutor in a respectable family appeared congenial to his tastes; and he resolved to proceed forthwith to the residence of Mr. Gregory, in Kentish Town.

      Arrived at the house, he was admitted into the presence of a gentleman of about fifty, with a serious and melancholy countenance, prepossessing manners, and a peculiar suavity of voice that gave encouragement to the applicant.

      Markham told him in a few words that he was once possessed of considerable property, the greater portion of which he had lost through the unfortunate speculations of his guardian, and that he was now anxious to turn the excellent education which he had received to some advantage.

      Mr. Gregory had only lately arrived in London with his family, from a very distant part of the country, where he had a house and small estate; but the recent death of a beloved wife had rendered the scenes of their wedded happiness disagreeable to him;—and this was the cause of his removal and his settlement in London. He lived in a very retired manner, and had previously known nothing of Markham—not even his name. He was therefore totally ignorant of Richard's trial and condemnation for forgery. The young man felt the greatest possible inclination to reveal the entire facts to Mr. Gregory, whose amiable manners gave him confidence; but he restrained himself—for it struck him that others were dependent upon him—that he ought not to stand in his own light—and that his innocence of the crime imputed to him, and the consciousness of those upright and honourable intentions which on all occasions filled his breast, were a sufficient extenuation for this silence.

      Mr. Gregory, who was himself a highly-educated man, soon saw that Markham was competent to teach his children all that it was desirable for them to acquire; and he agreed to engage the applicant as his sons' tutor. Richard offered to give him a reference to his solicitor; but Mr. Gregory declined to take it, saying, "Your appearance, Mr. Markham, is sufficient."

      On the following day Richard entered upon his new avocation. He was engaged to attend at Mr. Gregory's house from ten till three every day. The employment was a pleasant one; and the pecuniary terms were liberal in the extreme.

      Gustavus and Lionel Gregory were two intelligent and handsome youths; and they soon became greatly attached to their tutor.

      From the mere fact of having never been accustomed to tuition, Richard took the greater pains to explain all difficult subjects to them; and so well did he adapt his plan of instruction to their juvenile capacities, that in the short space of a month, Mr. Gregory was himself perfectly astonished at the advance which his sons had made in their studies. He then determined that the advantages of the tutor's abilities should be extended to his daughter, in respect to drawing; and Miss Mary-Anne Gregory was accordingly added to the number of Markham's pupils.

      Mary-Anne was, at the time of which we are writing, sixteen years of age. Delicate in constitution, and of a sweet and amiable disposition, she was an object of peculiar interest to all who knew her. Her long flaxen hair, soft blue eyes, pale countenance, and vermilion lips, gave her the appearance of a wax figure; and her light and airy form, flitting ever hither and thither in obedience to the innocent gaiety and vivacity of her disposition, seemed that of some fairy whose destinies belonged not to the common lot of mortals.

      Although she was sixteen, she was considered but a mere girl; and she romped with her brothers, and with the young female friends who occasionally visited her, with all the joyousness and glee of a child of ten years old.

      The animation of her countenance was on those occasions radiant and brilliant in the extreme:—a spectator could have snatched her to his arms and embraced her fondly—not with a single gross desire—not with the shadow of an unhallowed motive; but, in the same way as a man, who, being a parent himself, is attached to children, suddenly seizes upon a lovely little boy or girl of two or three years old, and covers its cheeks with kisses.

      Mary-Anne was by no means beautiful—not even pretty; and yet there was something altogether unearthly in the whole character and expression of her countenance. It was a face of angelic interest—indicative of a mental amiability and serenity truly divine.

      Without possessing the ingredients of physical beauty—without regularity of feature or classical formation of head—there was still about her an abstract loveliness, apart from shape and features, which was of itself positive and distinct, and seemed an emanation of mental qualities, infantine joyousness, and winning manners. It produced a sort of atmosphere of light around her—enveloping her as with a halo of innocence.

      Her face was as pale—as colourless as the finest Parian marble, but also, like the surface of that beautiful