The Mysteries of London, v. 2/4Reynolds, George W. M. (George William MacArthur)
General
The Mysteries of London, v. 2/4
Reynolds, George W. M. (George William MacArthur)
London (England) -- Fiction; Penny dreadfuls
"In the morning the servant brought me up my breakfast. I asked her the
meaning of the bustle I had heard during the night. She answered
carelessly, 'Oh! Mrs. Harpy is very gay, Miss, and is fond of
company.'—After breakfast I got up, and had just dressed myself, when a
door was opened violently on the opposite side of the landing, and a
male voice exclaimed, 'Well, if the old woman won't give me credit for a
miserable bottle of champagne, after all the money I've spent in the
place, I'll never set foot in it again. So good bye, 'Tilda. Here's a
sovereign for you, my girl. It's the last time I shall ever sleep in
this house.'—Thereupon the individual, who had so expressed himself,
descended the stairs with a tremendous stamping of his feet, as if he
were very indignant at the treatment he had complained of; and Miss
Matilda—one of the _young ladies_ who had visited in my room on the
preceding evening—returned into her apartment, banging the door
violently behind her. This incident opened my eyes to the dread truth:—I
was in a brothel!
[Illustration]
"I threw myself on a chair and burst into a flood of tears. Merciful
heavens! for what fate was I reserved? Had I indeed fallen so low that
my only home was a loathsome den of iniquity like that? For some minutes
after the occurrence of the incident just related, I felt as if my
senses were leaving me. Suddenly the door opened, and Mrs. Harpy made
her appearance. She seemed astonished at the condition in which she
found me, and was about to make some remark, when I threw myself at her
feet, exclaiming, 'I conjure you, madam—if you have any pity for a poor
friendless orphan—let me leave your house this moment!'—'And where will
you go, my dear child?' she said.—'To the workhouse, ma'am: anywhere,
rather than remain here!' I answered.—'This is a pretty recompense for
my kindness towards you,' she observed. 'If it had not been for me, you
would have died in the streets.'—'Far better for me were it, had I so
perished!' I exclaimed.—'Now, Miss,' cried Mrs. Harpy, growing angry,
'what is the meaning of all this nonsense?'—'Can you ask me?' I
demanded. 'Oh! that the feelings which prompted you to assist me, should
have been any other save the disinterested benevolence for which I so
sincerely thanked you!'—'Then you know where you are, Miss, I suppose?'
she said, with a leer; and, before I had time to give any reply, she
added, 'I meant you to find it out in a day or two; and it's as well now
as a few hours later. Here you are, and here you will stay. You shall be
treated just in proportion as you behave; and this evening, I shall
introduce some fine nobleman or gentleman to you.'—'Never!' I cried:
then moving towards the door, I said, 'Detain me at your peril!'—'So I
shall,' answered Mrs. Harpy, coolly. 'I've got your I. O. U. for twenty
pounds; and if you go any where, it will be to Whitecross Street prison,
before you're many hours older. Remember, it's for _necessaries_; and so
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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