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pIUJ ILJ i 1 JillliiDiivl Mli JilmilM Ibii Ik lA il 11 jj3j 0
IS, 52,00 PER ANNII
J'rijliiinl Jnrtq.
j t , Southern Literary Gazette.
1 N v'ITRE’S MUSIC.
I ,(in irinur evermore,
I ,he early tones of love,
1 , u'rv sea and shore,
I ihmi the realms above,
I ,y, man unseen string,
l a passing angel’s wing.
upon each .-tarry ray,
, !. upon the earth like clew,
~ ;ro in holier spheres away,
. our erringplanet too.
it may feel it, every ear
,:t murmuring tone may hear.
. wall tile dreams of youth,
m u-;c from a purer clime,
. t[ l( . - ill small voice of truth
,ioiu-1 by the wail of crime ;
;hc heart Lei cold and dead,
overs v. Uen their leaves are shed.
,jiiie • through all things, like a lone
ht bom tile very voice ol him
walked upon the eaith alone,
j i chief unnd the seraphim ;
it his glorious throne on high
iii to labour and to and. e. JEAN.
Ilelerttb dralta.
Till.; MA I'HEMATICIAN.
;,r Course ami a Dessert,” Bolin’s Illustrated
Library.
tii i keen and hurried glance he
j lu survey every object around
ihilc lie closed the door : he then
■ached the <*ta, and uttered a few
lino- epithets while he relieved
from the task of supporting
K Stress. Anxious to get rid of
Is. Bieimerhagen rapidly recov
iiiiJ her husband having, appar-
I n accident, mentioned that lie
Ia friend in the parlour, she
■ .him. hy all means, to return to
I -i. as she found herself compar-
I well, and desirous of obtaining
I repose. Blennerhagen kissed
I ek; and after recommending
I the care of Wilmot, passed
I the sntii to }■ writing desk, which
I iced on a table behind it, where
I lined a few minutes, and then
k .v withdrew.
fl ■ blennerhagen immediately re
■ her activity. “Now, my dear
I ■ t.” said she, “our only hope is
■v! the attorney down the back
I'.and away through the garden.”
■ .at is how 1 have settled it, mad-
I ai*v own mind,” said the woman:
■ ri won't be up again at least
B-c ten minutes.”
I mou have any pity, emancipate
I: mi this state of torture,” groaned
I Durdock : “1 would face a roaring
I ; her than remain here any long-
I reflections are most poignant.”
Ii i ions 1 leaven!” exclaimed Mrs.
I erhagen, “IVe lost the key.”
I'Theii, of course, you will permit
I io hurst open the door,” stiid the
■orrny.
f Nut on any account: be patient, I
ech you. Wilmot, where could 1
I e put it ?”
I don’t know, madam : you locked
dour yourself: search in your bo
"! have; but it is not there:—nor on
sola, —nor any where. You must
ve had it.”
“Indeed, madam, 1 never saw it since
a took it off the shelf to lock the
mr. ,;
lA\ omen!” exclaimed Ba rdock,whose
•'five was completely worn out;
>!i mischievous, accursed women !
> o notice that 1 have become desper
: and if you do not find the key and
acc n,e instantly. 1 shall certainly
■ k out, and depart at all hazards.”
“I m’ all our sakes have patience,
siid the lady, in a soothing tone;
quiet but for a few moments : I
Mr. Blennerhagen’s boot again.”
ik'tbrc his wife could reach the sofa,
‘b'linerlmgen strode in, accompanied
“y a stranger.
“'hitmg'ed, injured, as I am,” said he,
: ' :| g his dark eye indignantly on his
:1 '\ “I make no apology for thus intro
-1 “ing a stranger to your apartment.
■ ■'-eutleinan is my friend,and comes
wm with me, at my own request, to be
* witness of my shame; so that I may
■‘hie to obtain legal reparation, at
:i 't. trom the unknown assassin of my
■‘/(line's. Peterson,” added he, ‘‘take
r key and open that closet-door.”
“i-oid 1 Mr. Blennerhagen,” said the
l v - xvith a forced laugh ; “don’t carry
‘he joke with such serious faces ; I
l : M you, Wilmot, he would be too
rp for us:—see, now, if he hasn’t
- : ‘he key. Where did you find it,
love f
“1 took it, madam, from your hand,”
; plied Blennerhagen, “when your mind
■’ occupied in affecting a painful and
- fishing recovery from syncope. —
’ may be a jest to you, but it is
i;e to “me; nor shall it be to him
has wronged me. 1 have set my
i; upon the villain: —perceiving a
rtion of male attire, which I could
’ recognise as my own, hanging from
’ crevice of the closet-door, while 1
jicared to be busy at the desk be-
M you, I cut it off: 1 have it here,”
1 led Blennerhagen, producing a tri
■ dar piece of brown cloth trom his
. ’cket: “let the man who owns it
m it if he dare.”
“Adam Burdock dares to claim his
1,1 in any place,” exclaimed the at
. rney. bursting the door open with one
’ jl'ius effort: “that’s apiece of the
“ I of my coat.”
“Mr. Burdock !” exclaimed Blenner
hagen.
“Ay, sir, Air. Burdock, —heartily
“d,ained of himself, for being made a
llinn y by your wife, or a dupe by both
“yp'u and my precious friend, Mrs.
i’niot. You all look astonished;
JU b he assured, there is no one half so
’ ■Uch astonished as myself. I believe
• 011 to be capable of anything, Blen
■hagen : but, on a moment’s consid
eration, 1 think your wife is too much
‘ A a simpleton to act as your confede-
a fiffliiri mmar mmm m Lmunm, tm am am mmm. aib n mm&k mmMmiWL
, IN ADVANCE.
rate, in a plot on my pocket; and not
withstanding you skill in mathematics,
1 am willing to attribute this to mere
accident.”
“He calls me a simpleton, Wilmot;
he casts a slur on my intellects, Mr.
Biennerhagen,” exclaimed the lady.
“In that he is more uncharitable
than myself, madam,” said Biennerha
gen : “it may be an accident, it is true;
but 1 question whether the gentleman,
with all liis professional skill, will be
able to persuade a special jury to think
so.”
“1 am sure my mistress is as inno
cent as the child unborn,” observed
Airs. \\ ilmot.
“IIo!d your tongue, woman, and
leave the room,” said Biennerhagen,
angrily.”
“Indeed, I shall not leave the room,”
said Wilmot: “I’ll stand bv my mis
tress to the last, and won’t leave her
for you or anybody else. You’re a
couple of vile wretches; and there
isn’t a pin to choose between you.”
“Oh! Wilmot, thou art ihy poor
heart-broken mistress’s only friend, af
ter all,” sobbed Mrs. Biennerhagen ;
“she is the victim of circumstances and
her own refined feelings.”
“Peterson,” said Biennerhagen, “I
am under the unpleasant necessity of
requesting you to remember all that
you have just witnessed. You will
agree with me, 1 think, that 1 ought to
make this man quit my house before
I leave it myself.”
“Unquestionably,” replied Peterson.
“I shall do no such thing,” said Bur
dock ; “conscious of my innocence, 1
defy you;—l laugh at you: and, be
fore I quit this roof, 1 will make you
wish you had sooner crossed the path
of a hungry wolf than mine. I dare
you to give me half an hour’s inter
view.”
“< bight I to do so, Peterson ?” calm
ly inquired Biennerhagen.
“Not without a witness, 1 think,”
was the reply.
“With a score of witnesses, if you
will,” said Burdock:—events have pre
cipitated my proceedings : with a score
of witnesses, if you will. But mark
me, man, you shall lament, if we are
in solitude, that there will be still one
awful witness of your villany. 1 will
unmask your soul; 1 will shew you to
yourself, and make you grind your
teeth with agony,unless you are, indeed
a demon in human form.”
“Heavens! Air. Burdock,” exclaim
ed Airs. Biennerhagen, “what car you
have to say against my husband ?”
“It matters not, madam ; he shall
hear me in this place or elsewhere here
after.”
“1 scorn your threats, sir,” said Bien
nerhagen ; “and publicly or privately,
1 will meet any accusation you may
have to make against me.”
,‘Privately be it, then, if you dare.”
“Dare, sir: Leave the room every
body :—nay, 1 insist; —Peterson and
all. Now, sir,” said Biennerhagen,
closing the door after his wife, Wilmot,
and Peterson, who, in obedience to his
command, had left the room; “now,
sir, we are alone, what have you to
say ?”
“Biennerhagen,” said the attorney,
fixing his keen eye on that of the
Mathematician, “George Wyburn has
been arrested.”
“It is an event that lias been long
looked for. Jam rather hurt that, in
communicating with his friends on the
subject, he should have given you a
priority over myself. I lament to say
that he has fall n into bad hands.”
“11c has, replied Burdock ; “but 1
will endeavor to release him.”
“1 thank you on behalfof my friend,”
said Biennerhagen, with a malicious
smile; “but 1 would suggest, with
great humility, that you will find suffi
cient employment, at present to extri
cate yourself.”
“Sir,” said Burdock, “I wanted but
the key-note to your character : every
word you utter is in unison with your
actions.”
“We are alone,” said Biennerhagen,
“and 1 can allow you to be vitupera
tive. Detection renders you desperate;
that philosophy which enables me to
gaze calmly on the wreck of my own
peace, teaches me, also, to bear with
those who are so unfortunate as to be
guilty. 1 would not personally bruise
a broken reed: 1 cannot descend to
chastise the man, who has injured me
deeply, for an insult in words. The
highwayman who has robbed us, may
defame our characters with impunity ;
the lesser merges into the greater of
fence: we do not fly into a passion,
and apply the cudgel to his back ; we
pity, and let the law hang him. If your
hands were quite at liberty, pray what
course would you adopt to benefit
George Wyburn?”
“1 am so far at liberty, 1 thank Prov
idence,” replied Burdock, “as to be able
to bail him; and I mean to do so with
in an hour.”
“You do?”
“Ay, sir, to the confusion of his ene
mies, as sure as I’m a sinner. You
seem amazed.”
“I am indeed. —to say the least, —
surprised, and naturally delighted to
find fortune should so unexpectedly
raise him up a friend.
“1 am rather surprised myself; but
I’ll do it, I’m determined, hap what
will.”
“It is truly grievous,—a matter of
deep regret, —that I cannot fold you in
my arms,” said Biennerhagen. “How
strange it is that the same bosom should
foster the most noble and the basest of
thoughts. In the human heart, the lily
and the hemlock seem to flourish to
gether. If it were possible that your
offence against my honour could admit
of palliation or forgiveness —but 1 beg
pardon; I must be permitted to write
a hasty line, on a subject of some im
portance, which, until this moment, I
had furgotton. It is the miserable lot
of man, that, in the midst of his most
acute trials, he is often compelled to
attend to those minor duties, the ne
glect of which, would materially preju
dice some of those about him. I shall
still give you my attention.”
“Every syllable—every action of
this man, now amazes me,” said Bur
duck to himself, walking towards the
window :“ he almost subdues me from
my purpose.”
“1 shall be entirely at your service
in an instant,” said Biennerhagen. ad
vancing to the door with a note, which
he had hastily written, in his hand :
“1 beg pardon,—oblige me by ringing
the bell.”
Burdock mechanically complied with
his request: and Biennerhagen stepped
outside the door to give his servant
some directions, as Burdock conceived,
relative the the note. During his brief
absence, the attorney, acting either
from experience or impulse, east a
glance on the little pad, consisting of
several sheets of blotting-paper, which
lay on the eserutoire. Biennerhagen
had dried his note on the upper sheet,
it was rapidly penned in a full, bold
hand: and the impression of nearly
every letter was quite visible on the
blotting-paper. To tear off the sheet,’
to hold it up against the looking glass,
so as to rectify the reverse position of
the words, and to cast his eye over
those which were the most conspicuous
was the work of a moment. It ran
thus ; —“Gii.lard—l must change my
plan—let Wyburn be instantly released
—contrive that he shall suspect that he
owes his liberty to my becoming secu
city for the debts—Blennerhagen.”
Burdock had conveyed this precious
document to the side-pocket of his
coat before Biennerhagen returned : he
resolved not to act rashly upon it, but
to consider calmly what would be the
most efficacious mode of using it. He
felt highly gratified that he now pos
sessed the means of supporting Airs.
W yburn’s statement as to Biennerha
gen s treachery. It afforded him con
siderable satisfaction, also, that he
might, in all probability, not only, in
some measure, benefit Wyburn, blit,
by politic conduct, force Biennerhagen
to desist from giving him any trouble
on account of the awkward situation
in which he had been placed by Airs.
Blennerhagen’s folly.
All these ideas darted through his
brain with the rapidity of lightning.
He felt pleased; and, doubtless ex
hibited some symptoms of his internal
satisfaction in his countenance; for
Biennerhagen resumed the conversation
by saying, “You smile, sir: the pros
pect of doing a good action lights up
your countenance, and makes you for
get your personal troubles. Until this
day, you have, to me, been an object
of respect. What could induce you
to act as you have done, —to injure
and then brave me? You threatened
to unmask me —to make me crouch
and tremble before you: l am still
erect, and my. hand is firm.”
“Let that pass, sir,” said Burdock;
“the novelty—the ridiculous novelty,
of my situation, must be my excuse.
You can, perhaps, imagine the feelings
of an innocent man, labouring under a
sudden and severe accusation.”
“I can, indeed,” replied Biennerha
gen. “Do you say you are innocent?”
“1 scorn to answer such a question.”
“Truly, your manner staggers me:
—your character has its weight, too:
I should be exceedingly glad to see
you exculpated. May 1 ask what
brought you to my wife’s dressing
room ?”
“To that I will reply: — I received a
summons from Mrs. Biennerhagen, and
was conducted to this apartment by
her servant: the idiot wanted to smug
gle me in the back way, but 1 wouldn’t
put up with it.”
“One inquiry more, and I have done.
On what occasion, and for what pur
pose, were you so summoned ?”
“Jih ! why—gadso ! it’s very absurd,
to be sure; but there 1 stand at bay.
1 must consider before I answer your
question: I’ll speak to Hassel about it
and hear what tie says on an A B case,
without mentioning names. Perhaps
it wouldn’t be a breach of professional
confidence either; but we shall see.”
“Air. Burdock, 1 am almost inclined
to think, although appearances are
powerful, that 1 have not beet, wronged.
Airs. Biennerhagen, although 1 respect
and have married her, is not a woman
for whom a man, with any philosophy,
would carry an affair of this kind to
extremities, particularly where the in
ternal evidence is weak. lam willing
to give you the full benefit of my
doubts ; but, sir, at the least you have
heen indiscreet. Your conduct may
cost me much: which, however, I must
admit, may be silenced. Should I con
sent to smother this matter, will you,
iu return, comply with such request as
1 may make without questioning my
motives or betraying my confidence?”
“What if 1 decline to do so?”
“Then 1 will accept nothing less than
a thousand pounds.”
“As hush-money, 1 suppose, you
mean ?”
“Call it what you please. I shall put
you to the test, most probably within
a week. You know the alternative ;
if you decline that too, l shall go on
with the action, which, in justice to
myself, 1 am compelled to commence
immediately. That I may not be de
feated, 1 must also leave my house, or
turn my wife out of doors, to wait the
result, Do not be alarmed, I will
abide by what I have said, —your ser
vices or a thousand pounds. After
this, I need scarcely say to you, that 1
do not think 1 have been actually in
jured: but the case is clear against
you ; other eyes have witnessed appear
ances which go to impeach Airs. Blen
nerhagen’s virtue; and 1 act as any
other man would, in demanding atone
ment, in some shape or other. I shall
now send up my friend to see you
out.”
u ßem quocunque modo rem /” ejacu
lated the attorney, as Biennerhagen
closed the door after him. “This fel
low is a fearful one to strive with ; and
I am, unfortunately, iu some degree,
fettered by the fact he alludes to. But
cheer up, Adam !—your cause is good ;
be courageous,and you shall surely con
quer.”
Without waiting for the arrival of
CHARLESTON. SATURDAY, JAN. 18, 1851.
Peterson, Burdock snatched up his hat
and cane, hastily descended the stairs,
and, without looking to the right or
left:, quitted the house. He got in a
coach at the first stand ho came to, and
directed the coachman to set him down
as quickly as possible, in Serle’s Build
ings, Carey-street. On arriving at the
lock-up house, he found that George
Wyburn had already been liberated.
He was, in some degree, prej ared for
this intelligence, by Blennerhagen’s let
ter to Giilard, of which he had so
lucklily obtained a copy. His regret
at being thus anticipated by the agent
of Biennerhagen, did not make him
forget that it was a full hour beyond
his usual dinner-time: he hastened to
Sy mend’s Inn coffee-house : where, not
withstanding the unpleasant scenes of
the morning, he ate a very hearty din
ner, drank an extra half pint of wine,,
and perused the daily papers, before
he returned to his chambers.
On entering his office, one of the
clerks informed him that there was a
lady in his private room, waiting, in
the utmost anxiety, for his return. —
Burdock immediately walked in, and,
to his great indignation and amazement
beheld Airs. Biennerhagen. He recoil
ed from the sight of her unwelcome
countenance, and would, perhaps, have
fairly run away from her, if the lady
had not pounced upon him before he.
could retrograde a single pace. She
dragged him into the centre of jhe
room ; where, clasping one of his arms
in her hands, she fell on her knees, and
implored him to pity and relieve the
most ill-starred gentlewoman that ever
breathed. “Nothing shall induce me
to rise from this spot,” continued Mrs.
Biennerhagen, “until you promise, at
least, to hear me.”
“1 submit to my fate,” replied Bur
dock. “Pray release my hand; these
building are old, and 1 stand exposed
to a murderous rush of air. lam nat
urally susceptible of cold, and have
been taught by experience to avoid
this spot. Release me instantly, or 1
must call the clerks to my assistance.”
“Promise, then, to hear me.”
“Anything, madam !—Odso!—have
1 not already told you l would submit
to my fate? And a hard fate it is,”
continued Burdock, taking up a strong
position belli■ and his writing table as
soon as his arm was at liberty ; “1 con
sider myself particularly unfortunate
in ever having heard of the name of
Burdock, or Winpennie either.”
“Don’t asperse my late husband,”
said the lady ; “call me what you like,
but don’t asperse Paul. 1 am a wretch
ed woman, Mr. Burdock.”
“You’re a very silly, self-sufficient
woman, Airs. Biennerhagen,” replied
the attorney. “Are you not ashamed
to look me in the face, after having, by
your absurd conduct, and the assistance
of your satellite, your female familiar,
brought me into a situation so distres
sing to a man of my respectability ?”
“Don’t speak against my poor Wil
mot; —don’t call her names: call me
names, if you must be abusive, and I’ll
bearitall patiently. As to yoursneer
upon my being familiar with her, I can
safely say that, faithful as she is, 1 have
never forgotten that Wilmot is a ser
vant. A woman who has seen so much
of this vile, odious world, as I have, is
not to be told that too much familiari
ty breeds contempt.”
“You misunderstand me, madam ;
but to explain would be useless. Al
low me to ask you, coolly and temper
ately, —after what has taken place,
what the devil has brought you here?
You must be out of your senses —I’m
sure you must —or you’d never act
thus.”
“You will not say so when you know
my motives: but, anxious as 1 feel to
explain them, 1 can’t help observing,
how cruel it is for you to upbraid me
with what took place to-dav. 1 can
lay my hand upon my heart, and de
clare that 1 acted for the best: any pru
dent woman would have done exactly
as i did ; for who could expect that ever
a man of you years and experience
would let the tail of his coat be caught
in the closet-door ?”
“Pray don’t go on at this rate :—go
home, my good woman, —go home at
once.”
“Good woman, indeed, Air. Bur
dock ! You forget, sir, that you are
talking to the relict of the late Paul
Winpennie. 1 hope you do not mean
to add insult to the injury you have
done me.”
“Zounds! Mrs. Biennerhagen, it is /
who have been injured —injured by
you, madam.”
“Oh ! I beg your pardon ; if you
had only recollected that your coat—”
“Talk no more about it; —It shall
be as you please, if you drop the sub
ject, and come to the point at once. —
Why do 1 see you here ?”
“1 hope I may be permitted to sit.”
“Oh ! certainly. —I beg pardon,” said
Burdock, handing Airs. Blhntierhagen
a chair, and immediately returning to
his position behind the writing-table.
“1 am at this moment exceedingly
indisposed, you will recollect,” said the
lady ; and I ought to be in bed, with
a physician by my side, rather than in
Fernival’s Inn, talking to an attorney.”
“You are perfectly right, madam;
and 1 beg to suggest that you should
avoid the fatigue of conversation as
much as possible.”
“I thank you for your friendly hint,
Air. Burdock, and 1 will endeavour to
profit by it. Now I’m going to sur
prise you. Wilmot —no matter how
—contrived to overhear a great part
of your conversation with Air. Bienner
hagen. It seems that a thousand pounds
was the sum mentioned ; but Wilmot
thinks, and so do 1, that, by good man
agement, with a solemn declaration
and her oath, half the money would
settle the matter. Now, my dear Air.
Burdock, as you are a little obstinate
and sdf-willed, —you know you are, for
you’ve too much sense to be blind to
your own little failings—l thought I
would comedown at once, and, if you
wavered, throw my eloquence and in
terest into the scale. I need not point
out to you how much trouble it will
‘ave us both, if you can prevent this
little affair from being made public.—
What say you?”
“Why, truly, madam, your match
less absurdity almost deprives me of
utterance. You heap Pelion upon
Ossa with such celerity, that, before I
can recover from the surprise which
one rediculous action has produced,
you stun me with a still more prodig
ious achievement.
“And can you really hesitate?”
“Hesitate, woman ! Not at all: —
I’m resolute! —Biennerhagen shall nev
er see the colour of my coin.”
“Why, Air. Burdock! are you a
man ? Can you, for a moment, se
riously think of suffering an injured
lady ‘s reputation to be placed in jeop
ardy for the sake of so paltry a sum?”
“Pray hold your tongue, or, vexed
as 1 am, I shall positively laugh in
your face. Do you think lam mad,
or that 1 find my money in the streets ?
But that I can scarcely conceive Bien
nerhagen is fir i enough to think 1 am
such a gudgeon as to bite at his bait, I
should certainly be led to suspect what
i hinted this morning to be true.”
“That 1 am his confederate ? and that
we had laid our heads together to en
trap you? —I would rather die than
you should imagine that 1 was so vile
a wretch !—Oh ! Air. Burdock, I could
not exist under such an imputation.—
l’o prove that I do not merit your
odious suspicions, and as you are so
ungenerous as not to come forward
with your own money on this occasion,
I'll tell you what Fll do :—l’ll pledge
the pearl necklace, tiara, ear-rings, &c.,
which poor Air. Winpennie gave me
on my wedding-day, and never would
let me part with even when lie was
distressed, —Fll pledge those, and the
ruby suite 1 was last married in, with
my two gold watches, and as many
little trinkets as will make up the
money, which I’ll give you before 1
sleep, if you will promise to k°ep the
secret, and make the matter up with
Biennerhagen; so that there may be
no piece of work about it. Now what
do you think of that ?”
“Mrs. Biennerhagen,” said Burdock,
advancing from the situation which he
had hitherto occupied,and kindly taking
the lady’s hand, “you area very weak,
imprudent woman; —excuse me for
saying so ; —it is the fact: and if you
are not more careful, you will, in all
probability, get into a position, from
which you will find it impossible to ex
tricate yourself. The present case is
bad enough, in all conscience ; but I
have some reason to hope, that it is to
be got over without the sacrifice of
your pearl necklace, or the ruby suite
in which you were last married ; at all
events, let them remain in your own
jewel-box for the present. We will
not have recourse to either, unless, and
until, all other earthly means fail.—
Let me, however, advise you as a
friend, should you escape scot-free on
this occasion, to be more careful in
your conduct for the future. Now don’t
say another word, but go home and
make yourself easy.”
“Oh! Mr. Burdock,” exclaimed the
lady, “this is, indeed most fatherly of
you. Your words are balm to my
agitated spirits ; a sweet calm pervade
inv bosom; —good Heaven’s! what’s
that?”
“What, madam?” eagerly inquired
Burdock, casting a hurried glance
around him.
“x\s Fm a living creature, I heard
the creak of Blennerhagen’s boot!—
lie’s corning ! I’m sure he’s corning !”
As the lady spoke, someone knock
ed at the outer door ; and, immediately
after, one of the clerks came in to an
nounce, that the moment Air. Bur
dock was disengaged, Air. Biennerha
gen would be glad to speak with him.
lhe attorney and tiis fair visitor
gazed upon each other in a very ex
pressive manner, at this information :
the lady whispered, “1 shall faint; Fm
sure I shall!” Burdock, after a brief
pause, told the clerk that he should
be at liberty in one minute, and the
young man retired.
“How exquisitely annoying!” ex
claimed the attorney, as soon as the
door was closed ; “this is the conse
quence of your indiscretion, madam.”
“Don’t abuse me, sir; —don’t tread
upon a worm !” replied the lady. “We
should not lose time in talking, but
set our wits to work at once. Oh ! if
Wilmot were here, now !—That stupid
clerk! couldn’t he as well have said
you were out, or particularly occupied,
and told Mr. Biennerhagen to call
again?—Where shall 1 conceal myself?
Have you no little room ?”
“Not one, lam happy to say.”
“Nor even a cupboard? —of course
you have a cupboard : —1 can squeeze
in anywhere, bless you !”
“There is not a hiding-place for a
rat; the window is two stories from
the ground,and excessively narrow into
the bargain : so’ that circumstances
lucklily compel you to adopt the plain,
straight-forward course, which is al
ways the best. I strongly suspect your
husband has followed you here: to
conceal yourself would be useless, —
nay, fatal. You must face him.”
“Oh! Air. Burdock, you drive me
frantic!”
“Nay, nay, madam; —pray becalm;
don’t tear your hair in that frightful
manner!”
“Talk not of hair; —besides, they’re
only ringlets which I wear in charity
to Wil mot; it takes her an hour to
dress my own: —I scarce know what
I’m doing or saying —Stay, if I open
the upper and lower right hand doors
of that press or book-case, or whatever
it is, won’t they reach to the other
wall?”
“Possibly they may.”
“Then I can hide myself in the cor
ner.”
“Notwithstanding my caution, you
are acting as unwisely as ever. 1 pro
test against all this, and give you no
tice that I will be no party to the con
cealment.”
“Do hold your tongus and be guided
by me: —you men have really no
brains. There,” said the lady, placing
herself behind the two doors, which, a
the side of the piece of furniture to
which they belonged stood within a
short distance of the corner of the
room, effectually concealed her from
observation, “now, if you’ll only get
rid of him quickly, I’ll warrant you 1
shall be safe.”
Burdock immediately rang a little
table bell, and his clerk ushered in the
Mathematician.
“You are doubtless surprised to see
me so soon, sir,” said Biennerhagen.
“Not at all; I shall never be sur
prised again.”
“A wise man should wonder at noth
ing, perhaps. Unexpected circumstan
ces, which I will explain, have led me
to visit you this afternoon. In the first
place, I understand, from my servant,
that a female has been sent to my
house b your directions : her appear
ance and story, it seems, were equally
extraordinary. Alay Ibe excused for
having a natural curiosity to know
who she was, and what she wanted?—
She was sent up, I hear, to Airs. Bien
nerhagen ; 1 have no wish that she
should trouble my wife again.”
“Are you anxious to keep her busi
ness with you a secret from Mrs.
Biennerhagen?”
“Possibly 1 may be; but l don’t
know until I discover what it is:—
we have all been voting. Why do you
ask ?”
“Simply because your wife is in this
room.”
“1 don’t understand you.”
“Airs. Biennerhagen is now within
hearing: she stands behind the doors
of that old book-case.”
“Excuse me, sir; —you have dined,
no doubt; —but 1 am serious.”
“And so am I,” replied Burdock. —
“If you disbelieve what 1 say, go and
see.”
“Oh! you vile creatures !” exclaim
ed Airs. Biennerhagen, rushing from
the place of her concealment: —“you
pair of wretches! A plot! a plot!
There’s a vile plot laid between you to
delude—to vilify—to destroy me. —
I see through it all. And you.—you
old, abandoned man,” added the lady,
addressing Burdock, to lend yourself
to such a scheme ! —Fm ashamed of
you !—you’ve played your parts well;
but I will be a match for you. Oh!
Heaven ! is this the way to treat a
wife ? Mr. Biennerhagen, you may
well look confounded.”
“Confounded!” exclaimed Bienner
hagen ; “Fm thunder-struck!”
“Ay ! no doubt you are. What, I am
to be got rid of I suppose, by this
vamped-up affair between you and
your satellite, —as lie dares to call poor
Wilmot, —to make room for your crea
ture in sapphire and yellow, If I die
in the attempt, 1 will see the bottom of
it all, and expose you both!” Airs.
Biennerhagen now bustled out of the
office.
“This woman is foolish,” said Bien
nerhagen.
“1 think so, decidedly,” quoth the
attorney.
“What brought her here, pray ”
“Why, as 1 was a little obstinate
and self-willed, she came to throw her
interest and eloquence into the scale,
(1 use her own words,) and induce me
to prevent our little affair from being
made public. Her woman, who over
heard the conversation which I had
with you this morning, seems to think
that, although you ask a thousand
pounds, with a little management, a
solemn declaration of innocence, and
her own oath, half the money would
settle the matter. Ha, ha !”
Biennerhagen bit his lip. After a
short pause, he inquired if the attor
ney had yet made up his mind to state,
on what occasion, and for what purpose
he had visited Mrs. Biennerhagen in
her dressing-room.
“1 have not spoken to Hassell on
the subject,” replied Burdock ; “but 1
feel no repugnance, under present cir
cumstances, to say that she sent for
me because she was jealous of the wo
man in brimstone and blue. 1 have
her note if you wish to look at it.—
When she heard you coming, I was
pushed, nolens nolens, into the cupboard,
by your wife and her maid. That,
briefly, is the whole of the matter. —
By-the-by, I should add, that 1 acquain
ted Airs. Biennerhagen with the lady’s
business, and 1 am now willing to do
you the same service.”
“You are very obliging :—to ascer
tain that, is partly my object in calling
on you.”
.Burdock now went through the par
ticulars of the poor woman’s case with
great minuteness. Biennerhagen lis
tened very attentively, and, at the con
clusion of the recital, observed, “This
is all new to me.”
“Ol course it is,” replied the attor
ney ; “because, legally speaking, you
have nothing to do with it. It concerns
the executors iu the first instance ; and
not you, who, by your marriage, mere
ly represent the legatee ; their straight
forward course is to send the woman
about her business, because she is a
feme covert , and oannot give a release,
—the title being in her blackguard
husband. The executors are bound to
act strictly ; but if you, who are the
party beneficially interested, out of
motives of feeling think fit to run the
risk of consenting to her paltry claim
being paid off', out of your enormous
legacy, why, of course, they would
willingly do it. To give her a chance
I took leave to refer to you, in order
that you might hear the story from
her own lips.”
“I shall be happy to be guided by
you,” said Biennerhagen; “but I see
nothing, for my own part, in this case
that should induce us to go out of the
usual course. Were we to put our
hands into our pockets to relieve every
deserving object that occurs to our no
tice, we should soon become paupers
ourselves. Those who are rich have
have often as powerful calls on their
charity for hundreds —nay, thousands
—as pence; but they are compelled
to exert their philosophy, and conquer
their inclinations to relieve ; in fact,
for their own sakes, to marshal reason
THIRD VOLUME-NO. 38 WHOLE NO 138.
against mere feeling. You ground your
appeal on the score of charity ; but 1
could name much greater objects of
charity than this woman. She must
abide by the consequences of her own
folly. She has been stripped of her
property, and deserted by her husband,
you say : well, —that’s hard, I confess;
but you know such cases are continual
ly occurring. It would require the ex
chequer of a Croesus to remunerate, —
for that is the proper word,--to remu
nerate all the women who have heen
plundered by those whom they have
chosen to make legal proprietors,—ob
serve me, —legal proprietors of their
property. Besides, we have only this
person’s own word in support of her
strange s'ory: how do we know but what
she was quite as improvident as her
husband? And who is to say that, in
stead of his deserting his wife, the lady
herself might not not have driven him
from his home? It is in the power of
some of the sex to do such things.”
“That may be true enough,” said
Burdock ; “but I am warranted in say
ing die contrary is the fact, in the pre
sent case, by the letter of a most re
spectable correspondent, which the wo
man brought with her. That the hus
band was a most consummate villain
l have ample evidence, My inform
ant states, —but 1 will read that por
tion of his epistle,” continued Burdock,
taking a letter from his desk : “speak
ing of the husband, he says, ‘during his
short stay in our neighbourhood, pre
viously to the marriage, he contrived,
by obtaining goods on credit from sev
eral tradesmen, to support a respecta
ble apppearance; and my unfortunate
client, believing him to be a man of
some property ; although nobody knew
who he was, or where he came from—
encouraged his addresses.’ And then
a little below, it is stated, that ‘on ac
count of a sudden indisposition with
which she was attacked, the wedding
was postponed. The delay thus pro
duoed had nearly proved fatal to the
hopes of our adventurer: bills, which
he had given to some of his creditors,
became due, and were dishonoured.—
Proceedings being hinted at, he called
the tradesmen together, and very cool
ly requested them to give him time.
The creditors said they did not feel in
clined to do so, because’—favour me
with your attention, Air. Biennerhagen
—‘because they had strong suspicions
that the bills were forgeries ; and that,
if such were the case, —and they had
but little doubt of the fact, —it was in
their power to hang him. This inti
mation, which would have staggered
any man but him to whom it was ad
dressed, did not produce any visible ef
fect on his feelings. He very calmly
told them, in reply, that even if the
bills were forgeries,—which, of course,
he could not admit, —he should feel un
der no apprehension : for, said he, I
know that you are all too needy to
sacrifice your own interests for the
sake of public justice : and lose it, you
certainly would, as you all very well
know, if you prosecuted me to convic
tion. Were Ia wretch, without pres
ent means or future expectations, 1
should expect no mercy; but as you
are aware that I am on the eve of mar
riage with a woman of some property,
you will act upon that excellent maxim
—charity begins at home, and keep the
alleged forgeries in your pockets, in
hopes that 1 shall take them up as soon
as lam married. You owe a duty to
the public, but you owe a greater to
yourselves and to your families ; and
you’d much rather take ten shillings in
the pound, than see me, even if I were
guilty, dangling at your expense in any
devil’s larder in the country.’ ”
“Well, sir, the creditors waited.”
“They did; but the deuce a bit did
he pay them : he got what money he
could together, as soon as he was mar
ried, and left them as well as his wife,
in the lurch. They have now sent me up
the bills, as there’s no hope of his paying
them,and begged me to get hold of him if
l can : they say he has been seen in
London without his whiskers; and that,
in a few days, they hope to afford me
some clue to his present haunts. They
refer me to his wife for a description
of his person, which I mean to get of
her at our next interview, if I can per
suade the woman to be calm enough to
give it me.”
“What is her name?”
“Tonks.”
“Then 1 am right in my suspicions.”
“To what do vou allude ?”
%j
“Air. Burdock,” said Biennerhagen,
“1 will not scruple to confess that I
know the man. Tainted as his charac
ter now is, he has been worthy of es
teem. Once iu his life, sir, he did me
so essential a service, —greatly to his
own detriment, —that 1 have ever since
groaned under the obligation, and nev
er, until this moment, did 1 entertain a
hope of being able to relieve myself
from its weight.”
“This is very odd,” said the attor
ney : “but I am resolved not to be
amazed, And, pray, on what do your
hopes to help him rest?”
“On my interest with you.”
“That is not worth a button ; and,
if it were, I don’t see how you could
benefit the man. Professional pursuits
have not altogether destroyed my feel
ings : but 1 don’t think that l should
repent having been instrumental in
bringing such a villain as this to jus
tice.”
“Do not let us be too hasty in con
signing a man to infamy,” replied Bien
nerhagen.” “Circumstances are often
powerful palliatives of guilt; and cir
cumstances, you know, are not always
—are they ever ? —under our own con
trol. Offences, which, abstractly con
sidered, appear heinous, would lose
much of their odium, were we in pos
session of the whole chain of conse
quences, from the first inducement to
commit crime, to its final consumma
tion ; and it would be but common
charity to hope that such may have
been the case in the present instance.
I stand excused, at least, I trust, for
endeavouring to evince my gratitude
, to this man.”
“How can you possibly do so?”
“By procuring the destruction of*
those bills.”
“What did you say?”
“Destroy these acceptances in my
presence, and do me a trifling favour
which I shall presently mention, —un-
derstanding, of course, that you will
solemnly assure me I have not been
injured,—and the events of this morn
ing shall be buried in oblivion.”
“W hy I really thought you had more
sense to make so absurd a proposal, ’
said the attorney : “how am I to ac
count to my clients for the loss of their
papers ?”
Oh ! every one knows that man is fal
lible, and may mislay things : clerks,
too, —who have access to an attorney's
private room, —are poor, and open to
temptation : laundresses frequently
sweep valuable documents off the floor
and burn them : even iron chests are
not impregnable : and robberies take
place in spite of every precaution.”
“1 certainly never met with your
equal, Blenncrhagen : and I’ll tell you a
piece of my mind presently ;—some
thing has just struck me.”
“I’ll hear you with pleasure: but let
us dispose of this little matter at once:
—hand me over the bills, pay the wo
man what she wants, and send her back
into the country to-morrow morning.
Tonks has many excuses for his con
duct, with which, however, it is need
less to trouble you. He has acted
improperly, —I will even say criminal
ly,—but I cannot let this opportunity
escape of balancing our obligations.—
1 shall feel much more easy after it. —
1 must, therefore, press you to oblige
me.”
“You stated just now, that you had
some other little favour to ask.”
“Had we not better settle this affair
first? My plan is always to clear away
as I proceed.”
“I, on thecontray, when any arrange
ment is contemplated between parties,
like to bring every point into hotch pot
as a preliminary step.”
“Say no more, Mr. Burdock; —I
will yield with pleasure. It is rather a
disagreeable subject on which 1 am
compelled to touch’ but I will go into
it at once. Wyburn’s wife has been
with you to-day ; —she stated some
thing to my disadvantage.”
“What induces you to suppose so ?”
“To be candid, —your threats this
morning aroused my suspicions. I
have since seen Mrs. Wyburn, and ex
tracted the facts from her.”
“What facts?”
“ Imprimis , —that she has visited you
to-day.”
“Granted.”
“Item, —that she has thrown out
hints which, if founded in truth, would
not, perhaps, tend materially to the
enhancement of my reputation.”
“I shall say nothing on that s'ubject.”
“Can you deny it ? —lf I am wrong,
why not deny it? Will you deny it?”
“No, I won’t.”
“Then it is as I imagined. Now,sir,
as you are kindly disposed towards my
friend. 1 wish to warn you, seriously,
against that young woman. She la
bours under gross delusions: an idea
has entered her head, that 1 am hei
husband’s enemy, and an admirer of
her person. Nothing can be more pre
posterous. She has reproached me bit
terly, for every step that I have taken
to benefit George Wyburn, under the
impression that my proceedings would
be prejudicial to him. I acquit her of
malice; but she certainly is very defi
cient in common sense. Perhaps, how
ever, 1 am uncharitable in saying so;
for women, in her sphere of life, are
totally incapable of forming a just opin
ion on the actions of man in mere mat
ters of business. They are like those
s; ectators of a chess-match, who, hav
ing obtained only a slight glimmering
of the mysteries of the game, consider
those moves of a piece which are, in
fact, master-strokes of skill, as tending
to bring the king into check-mate.”
“You are a chess-player, I presume,
Mr. Blennerhagen,” said Burdock.
“I am, sir; chess is my favourite
game. But to proceed with my state
ment : —George Wyburn himself is by
no means a man of business. Proud
and ridiculously affecting independence,
although he scarcely possesses a shil
ling, he would disdain the slightest fa
vour I could offer him; he will not
willingly be under an obligation to any
man. That assistance, which in extre
mity he might accept from a stranger,
he would scorn if proffered by a friend:
1 am, therefore, under the necessity
of acting in the most circuitous man
ner, to benefit him. If I do good, in
my office as a friend, 1 must do so by
stealth. Mrs. Wyburn has not mind
enough to perceive this : a combination
of manoeuvres is to her mysterious,
and consequently fearful; for she can
not imagine how anything can be fair
that is not manifest to her limited ca
pacity. Now, sir, I have already made
considerable progress in relieving my
friend from his difficulties, and I do not
wish to be thwarted, either by this
woman’s weakness, her whims, or her
delusions, lean convince you,at once
of the honesty of my intentions; and
I call on you, as at least a well-wisher
to George Wyburn, not to countenance
his wife’s follies, but to put on the wis
dom ot the adder, and be deaf to her
tales; —in fact, not to bring yourself
into trouble, by becoming the confidant
of another man’s wife, and her abettor
without his knowledge, in counteract
ing such measures as his best, friend
may think fit to adopt for his ultimate,
if not immediate, benefit. lam urged
to make this communication; Ido it
unwillingly, but I think you will feel
that I am right.”
“And this is your request, Mr. Blen
nerhagen ?”
“Ir is.”
“Have you any thing else to ask ?”
“Absolutely nothing: I require noth
ing but your promise on this point.”
“And the bills—”
“Oh !—of course, the bills : —your
promise and the bills.”
“You have omitted to prove to me