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    BRADSHAW THE BETRAYER. 37

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    .+. " Oh Doricles ! Your Praises Are Too...

    dream is over . ' Faithless Bradshaw ! an impartial public shall decide our grievance .

    It was between four and six years ago . I had been all about the Preneesand a little way into Spainand was now jogging

    homey , , ward by easy stages through the north of France . Travelling alternately by rail and diligence , and occasionally settling down in

    some large town for the sake of exploring the neighbourhood , I came one day to the city of Abbil evle , and took up my quarters at

    the hotel Tete de Boeuf _. _" Mine inn" was spacious and gloomy ; my bed-room spacious

    and gloomy ; my bed a catafalque with dusty amber satin hangings . There were faded frescos on all the walls . There was a smell of

    damp earth in all the passages . Everything was dismal . Everything was decaying . The very waiter looked grey and mouldy , as

    if he had been laid aside somewhere and forgotten till the moment of my arrival .

    I sat down amid my luggage , and sighed . The waiter sighed likewise .

    " Anything to be seen in this town ? " I asked despondingly . The waiter stroked his chin , and eyed me contemplatively .

    " The Cathedral , M'sieur . " " Nothing but the Cathedral ?"

    " The city , M ' sieur . " " Oh" said I" the Cathedral and the city . Anything else ? "

    He coug , hed , , dusted a chair , and affected not to hear . T always know what that sort of deafness means . I am a travellerand used

    , to it . There was a long pause . " When can J I dine ? " I inquired at last .

    " _Table-dh 6 te at six , M ' sieur , " sighed the waiter . I glanced at my watch , and found that i t wanted ten minutes to

    four . * c Eh bien ! " said Iresignedly . " I wili stroll about till six . *'

    , Whereupon my melancholy friend bowed me down stairs , and into the courtyard .

    A few steps brought me to the Cathedral . It was grey and shadowy , and vast , and quite bare of decorations . There was a

    triangular stand of votive tapers nickering and guttering in on © cornerand a very old peasant woman on her knees before the altar .

    I sat down , on a stone bench , and fell into a musing contemplation of the stained glass oriel , and the long perspective of the il plared

    aisles . Presently the verger came out of the vestry-room . He was a short , plump , inquisitive-looking man , with a loose black gown ,

    and slender black legs , and a pointed nose . He laid his head on one sidelooked at me with one glittering eyeand picked his way

    , , daintily across the church towards where I was sitting . Altogether he was very like a raven . ,

    " Bonjour , Monsieur , " said he , with fluent politeness , and just the

    Bradshaw The Betrayer. 37

    BRADSHAW THE BETRAYER . 37

• Citation
  • English Woman’s Journal (1858-1864), March 1, 1858, page 37, in the Nineteenth-Century Serials Edition (2008; 2018) ncse.ac.uk/periodicals/ewj/issues/ewj_01031858/page/37/