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CHAPTER XXIII.
 24. 


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23. CHAPTER XXIII.

FURTHER DISAPPOINTMENTS.—PLOTS, AND
THEIR CONSEQUENCES.

“The swains may in manners compare,
But their love is not equal to mine.”

Shenstone.


While Julia was anxiously awaiting Clifton's
appearance to explain the nature of the difficulties
into which he had fallen, he was occupied, as has
been seen, in perfecting the arrangements for a meeting
with Ellingbourne; but after the whole matter
had been placed in the charge of Shafton, his first
impulse led him to visit the residence of Miss Borrowdale,
and inform her of the true circumstances
connected with his unfortunate arrest. The reader
need scarcely be informed that her attendant had
rapidly improved in intrigue and deception under the
guidance of so able a teacher as De Lyle; and when
Clifton presented himself at the door, she boldly informed
him that Miss Borrowdale had been absent
for more than an hour, and that her visit would occupy
the whole of the morning. Profoundly regretting
the untoward circumstance which deprived him of
an early opportunity to vindicate himself with the


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lovely girl, he retired to his lodgings, and occupied
the time before the usual dinner hour in making
such memoranda as would be necessary if the meeting
with his antagonist should prove fatal to himself.
After the performance of this duty, he dwelt
with no little chagrin and mortification on the probability
of Julia's being informed of the circumstances
connected with his disgraceful arrest and public examination
while making her morning calls; and
the reflections attendant upon her apprehension of
such an event effectually overshadowed the feeble
ray of hope that had still gleamed around the prospect
before him.

Dinner disposed of, he again proceeded to the
dwelling of Mr. Elwell, and was certain that he observed
the form of Julia ascending the winding stairs
that communicated with the second story, as he
opened the hall door; but the treacherous attendant
again replied to his inquiries for Miss Borrowdale
that she was absent. Determined, if possible, to obtain
an interview, he gave the girl his card, which
he desired her to present to the lady, if she was in
the house, with his compliments, and say that he
solicited a moment's interview, on a subject of great
importance. This the girl affected to perform, but
returned, with the card, saying that Miss Borrowdale
was not at home.

Distracted with doubt and apprehension, he slowly
wended his way to his room, and, after a few moment's
reflection, determined to address a letter to


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Julia, avowing his innocence of the charges preferred
against him, and to ensure its safe delivery he
resolved to convey it himself to her residence.

In compliance with this resolve, he arranged his
writing materials, and indited the following epistle:


“Dear Miss Borrowdale,

“Why, oh why am I not permitted an interview
on which the whole happiness of my future life depends?
Can it be that the lovely and just being
whose partiality and goodness hesitated to chide my
presumption in tendering vows of love and fidelity,
has joined the censorious and heartless world in imputing
to me crimes at which my soul recoils? No,
no; it cannot be; and yet thrice have I called at
your residence without succeeding in obtaining an
audience; and when I made the last abortive effort
this afternoon, although your matchless form was
seen gliding from my sight, yet your servant stated
that you were not at home. How then am I to
account for this prostration of my dearest hopes?
Surely none of Mr. Elwell's family can bear me ill-will,
for with none have I the pleasure of an acquaintance,
unless that might be termed such which was
caused by my introduction to Miss Helen through
yourself at Mrs. Rainsford's soirée. Alas, a sudden
light bursts on my vision, by whose glare I perceive
the unwelcome truth. The rival whose malice has


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wrought the meshes of the fatal web in which my
character is ensnared, has, by some cunningly-devised
fable, forced an unwilling conviction of my
baseness on your mind; or, what is more probable,
has so prejudiced your relatives that they have directed
the servant to deny me the happiness of personally
exculpating myself from the charges preferred
against me.

“But, my dear Miss Borrowdale, whatever may
have been the cause of my inability to pour into your
ear the story of my wrongs, let no tale that slander
may invent for a moment deprive me of your esteem
—I dare not say of your love. If I do not perfectly
convince you of my innocence, nay, if the world is
not wholly disabused of every impression derogatory
to the purity of my character, no selfish views will
ever induce me to solicit your favourable notice.
Think you that I could be sufficiently base to desire
to link so bright and glorious a being as yourself,
to the fortunes of one who carried on his brow
the foul brand of the world's contempt and scorn?
No, dearest of all earthly objects; the love I bear
you draws its inspiration from a source too pure and
holy to excite in my bosom a single impulse unworthy
of yourself.

“That I shall be enabled to meet you this evening,
is, I fear, improbable, although I must renew
the effort, and, if I fail, will leave this communication
with the servant to be given you. Dearest
lady, life is at best uncertain; and if by any untoward


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event we should never again meet in this
world, blessed be our Creator, there is another sphere
where neither jealousy, nor malice, nor envy can
disturb our happiness. Perhaps you may feel inclined
to smile at this melancholy foreboding, but
coming events cast their shadows before me, and it
is needless to deny that I am surrounded by perils,
from which, however, hope persuades me I shall
escape unscathed. If I do, you will soon hear from
me again; if not, accept the devotion of one who
owns no greater frailties than ordinarily fall to the
lot of erring mortals; the most unpardonable of which
is the presumption that induces him to declare himself

“Your devoted and constant lover,

Sydney Clifton.”

After finishing and sealing his letter, Clifton again
directed his steps to the residence of Mr. Elwell, and
was met by Julia's maid, who, as usual, stated that
Miss Borrowdale was not at home; and as he gave
her the letter, with a particular request that it should
be delivered to the young lady in person and to none
other, the evident scorn which appeared in the curl
of her lip, and the half sneer with which she extended
her thumb and finger to receive it, were sufficient
evidence to convince Clifton that the busy tongue of
rumor had already wafted his disgrace to the ears of
Mr. Elwell's household.


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That his reflections connected with this subject,
and the hostile meeting with Ellingbourne, were
most unhappy, is true;—but even now hope whispered
that Julia was not aware of his exertions to
procure an interview, while the same smiling goddess
almost convinced him that he should not fall
by the bullet of his antagonist.

Shortly after Clifton's delivery of the letter to the
treacherous girl, an individual called at Mr. Elwell's
mansion and left another epistle, which was couched
in the following language:


“Mis borodel,

“the riter of these lines happins to bee an unfortunit
yuth whu wuld hav bin onnist and industrus
if hee hadn't hav bin siddused bi bad cumpennee
and got intu scrapes in that are way. now the reesun
that i rite this is to tel yu as hou mister sidnee
Cliftin has bin usin yur name pruttee cunsidderablee,
up to the blak hoal, as wee cal it, whear wee pla
lew and wist, and rolet, not to say nothin about a
tuch of farrow, and so on. in this hear way, yu
sea, mister Sidnee clifton got us al inter trubble last
nite; for, ses hee, arter hee had drinked plentee of
shampane, slappin his phist on the tabel, ses hee,
dam the man as ses Julee borodel ain't the bootifoolest,
and the hansimest, and the charminist gal in al
york; hear, ses hees, hur helth, and ile cramm the
glas doun annee rascils throte what won't go the


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hoal bumpur. So, yu sea, one uf our larks ses, ses
hee, Mistir cliftin, yu can't stuf yur gals doun mi
throte, no hou yu can ficks it. ime a sutthern chap,
ses hee; so, stranngir, yur barkin up the rong tree.
yu think yuv got a grean horn; but mi iis, ses hee,
ime a rale missisipee roarer, tru grit to the bak boan.
i doan't car a curs for all yur Julees nor Julise. So,
yu sea, the fite wus in, and sum won called wach,
and the wach cum, and wee was al captivated like
innersint lams. nou i thot that yu shuld no hou
yur name was insultid, bein as hou ime told yu are
a nise yung ladee: so notthin moar at prissint, but
rimmains yurs til deth.

“Blak Bil.”

Unlike its predecessor, which was retained for
other purposes by the treacherous servant, this classical
epistle reached its destination; but the object of
the writer was signally defeated, for the confiding
girl indignantly committed it to the flames immediately
after its perusal, perfectly assured in her own
mind that De Lyle was in some way connected with
a plot, of which this letter formed a part.

That she was correct in this conjecture, the reader,
no doubt, is prepared to believe; but if called on
for her reasons for her suspicions, they would probably
have appeared far from satisfactory to the uninitiated.