WILLIAM FITZ-OSBERT.

Nelson Evening Mail, Volume VI, Issue 62, 14 March 1871, Page 3

WILLIAM FITZ-OSBERT.

A STORY OF LONDON LIFE IN THE DAYS OP KICIIAKD COG UK. DE LION. From the Family Friend. Fitz-Osbert had irritated the armourer in the morning by not appreciating his services with respect to Sir Hugh; but it was necessary now to explain fully his change of purpose. Without disclosing his family secret, he told Armstrong that he had nowgood reason for desiring the recovery of the young Baron; and that Providence, which had mercifully intercepted his vengeance, seemed favorable to the accomplishment of his new purpose. A heavy burden was removed from Armstrong's mind. The dull thud of the Cru^ sader's head against the cold stone floor had rung in his ears ever since the eventful moment when he ended the desperate encounter by flinging him headlong into For remainder of news see Fourth pace.

the cell. His visit to the cell the following, when he found Sir Hugh stretched on the ground, impressed him with the belief that he was dead. lie had slunk away like a guilty, cowardly outcast. He had scarcely dared to look up to Heaven lest some avenging apparition should meet' his gaze. No wonder, therefore, that he heaved a sigh of relief, and that his contracted brow relaxed, as he heard the agreeable intelligence of Sir Hugh's safety. "And does this change of purpose end our contract?" he enquired, when FitzOsbert finished his explanation. "The contract is of no value, Armstrong, without the consent of the third party. I have always respected you as an honest and industrious citizen and a staunch partisan, but I cannot give you my only child unless her happiness as well as yours be enhanced by the alliance. Have you consulted her?" Fitz-Osbert spoke in slow and measured tones, for he began to regret the hasty promise extracted from him in a moment of violent passion, and he now saw difficulties and obstructions which he did not see then. Above all, he doubted whether Armstrong would succeed in obtaining Nelly's consent, and be secretly desired to elude the pain of parting with his daughter. "Here is Nelly — plead your own cause, and if she be willing you may yet receive your reward," he contined, as Nelly's i ootsteps were heard approaching. Armstrong was in terrible confusion. It was with great difficulty that he could restrain himself from running out after FitzOsbert, and it waa not without many nervous twitchings and several unwarrantable atacks on his unoffending head of hair that he arrived at the resolution to speak. "Have you been to Houndsditch to-day, Mistress Nelly?" I -was there this morning," replied Nelly, looking out of the window. "Your visits must be very welcome," he continued, gaining courage. "I hope so." "I almost wish that I — that you — that is, that I were one of the old and infirm to receive your attentions." "Do you?" "You are so beautiful, so kind, Mistress Nelly." Nelly turned round at these words and looked him full in the face. He was sitting on the bench supporting his chin on his hands, and resting his elbows on his knees. When Nelly turned towards him he immediately lost all command over himself. Her large eyes seemed to be reading his soul; everything appeared to swim around; and in utter despair he threw himself on his knees at her feet. "Nelly, I love you," he exclaimed, nearly choking with emotion. "Forgive me this rashness. Do riot turn away — give me hope — say you will be my wife. Say 'Yes' — one word of hope. I will be true to the death. I will " "Armstrong!" said Nelly, starting back with alarm and astonishment, "I do not understand you. Rise to your feet, or I must call my father." "Oh, forgive me — forgive me," cried the excited armourer, rising from his suppliant position; "I know not what I am doing. I adore you. Say that you will be mine. I will be your slave. I will worship you, and sacrifice every moment of my existence to your happiness." ''It can never be," said Nelly firmly but kindly. "It is useless to say more — it can never be." The words fell on Armstrong's ears slowly and distinctly, and the tone of candour vdth which they were uttered only increased the sharpuess of the sting. He reeled back and grasped the bench with one hand to support his huge body. "Is there no hope?" he stammered. "There is none," replied Nelly, advancing to the door. "By Heaven!" cried the armourer, rushing forward and seizing her hand; "do not leave me thus — do not condemn me to despair. This hope has been the light of my life; its extinction is worse than death. Relent — pray relent." "Free my hand and let me go," exclaimed Nelly indignantly. "I have answered you ; I can say no more." "Enough!" muttered the armourer, releasing her hand, and, without another word, he rushed from the room and staggered out of the house.