The Sun.
London, England, 1859-06-22 00:00:00

A ROMANTIC STORY.

On Saturday morning last a gentleman, who hap-
pened to be passing the Mansion-house before the
opening of the justice-room, was accosted in sorrow-
ful accents, by a neatly-dressed and rather pretty
yowlg woman, who asked him whether he could tell
her how to get access to the Lord Mayor. Struck
by her appearance, and anxious to aid the afflicted,
the gentleman questioned her as to the purpose for
which she wished to see the chief civic magistrate,
and learning that she was a stranger in London,
that she had been robbed and was penniless, and
that her object in seeking an interview with the
Lord Mayor was to apply for some assistance while
she was struggling for the means of living honestly
and honourably in the great world of London, he
took her up to the justice-room, through the private
entrance, and recommended her to the officers of
the court until she had an opportunity of stating
her case to the Lord Mayor himself. Upon this
recommendation she was kindly received, and had
a seat assigned to her, where she remained while
the charges were being disposed of,
About 18 years old, rather tall, somewhat slim in
form, with fair and intelligent features, a neat little
bonnet (but not too little), a modest little veil, a
holland jacket, and a well-fitting dress, she made a
considerable impression upon those who happened
to )-e present and heard the outlines of her history,
and when, as ever and anon was her way, sho lifted
her eyes from the floor and glanced upwards with
a sigh, then stooped and affected hastily to wipe
away a tear that would force itself from beneath
her eyelids, pity and sympathy were excited on her
behalf to a very appreciable extent; for she seemed
to be a martyr to the tricks of Fortune, who was
persecuting a sensitive mind by exposing it to the
tortures of a degrading but inevitable appeal to
charity in a public court. Some deference was
shows to-the apparent lacerated state of her feel-
ings by disposing of all other business, and giving
a hint that " strangers might withdraw," before
she was told that his lordship was at liberty and
would listen to her application.
Twice the officer gently urged her to ascend the
witness-box, and twice she shook her head with a
movement as if her very soul revolted from the
sacrifice. But the officer essayed his persuasive
voice a third time, and then, gathering up her
garments with dignity about her, she made her
way to the spot, and spoke, but in tones so discon-
solate and inarticulate, that the Lord Mayor sought
to encourage her by telling her to come nearer and
speak without fear.
Upon that invitation, so kindly given, she got
down-from-the-witness-box, and walked to the desk
which stood convenient for her purpose, about a
yard distant from his lordship „ • and whether it was
that the courage which before seemed to have
entirely forsaken her returned of-itself, or whether
it was conjured back by the benignant countenance
and paternal accents of the chief magistrate, cer-
tain it is that all at once she became a marvellously
self-possessed young woman, especially considering
the diffidence which, only a minute before, she had
displayed in responding to the invitations made to
her to come forward to state her case.
Upon the *desk before her she laid two small and
neatly-gloved hands (for she seemed in all respects
to be an fait to the proprieties) ; upon the desk,
too, she fixed two lustrous, but downcast eyes (she
had previously thrown up her veil) ; and so estab-
lished in a most favourable -Position, she made her
appeal, and thus ran her tale _
Her name was Anna Bell, and she was a native
of Carlisle, in which ancient city her parents for
many years occupied a respectable position in
society. But, alas, for
the uncertainty of all
things sublunary, her father and mother died, and
she was left to push her fortunes as best she could
in a cold-hearted and cruel world.. She had never
been to service, but she had served a year's appren-
ticeship to a milliner, without, however, being able
to maintain herself, as she desired to do. She had
no relations save one—an aunt, who lived at or near
Carlisle (she was not very explicit as to which), to
whom she had some little time ago paid a visit, and
might, perhaps, have continued there in comfort,
only her aunt introdu ,ed her to a gentleman whom
she (her aunt) thought Would mak her a good hus-
band and protector, but whom she herself loathed)

hated, and detested. [Here she lifted up her eyes
for a moment, paused, and looked furtively into his
lordship's face, to see, probably, what degree of
encouragement was in store for her.] Nevertheless,
she felt it politic to appear to acquiesce in her re-
lative's suggestion, and left Carlisle as if for the
purpose of being married; but instead of going to
the altar with her suitor she made the best of her
way to Newcastle, where she consulted some friends
as to what was best to be done. It was suggested
that she might perhaps be able to obtain a passage
to Australia as stewardess in some passenger ship,
and while some recommended her to go to Liver-
pool with that view, others told her that she would
be more likely to succeed in London. She took pas-
sage in a steamboat, and to London she.came, land-
ing at some wharf somewhere against the docks, on
the night of Tuesday week. She took lodgings, she
said, in some street of which she did not know the
name, but you went down the Minories to it, and it
was close by that place where the soldiers walk
about all day with those great high caps. [Conjec-
tured to be the Mint or the Tower] There she had
slept at night, making inquiry all day for employ-
ment, but without success. Worst of all, since she
had been in London—she did not know how, and
she did not know where [and she did not say when]
—some one had robbed her of all she had. It might
be at the house where she had lodged, for they seemed
to be a noisy, drinking set, but she could not say.
However, finding her money gone, she quitted that
lodging on Friday morning, leaving a quantity of
clothes behind her for 35., which she owed, and on
Friday night she slept at a coffee-shop. Alarmed at
finding herself helpless and destitute, and fearing
for consequences, she ventured, in accordance with
advice she had received, to ask his lordship for
some little assistance to enable her to struggle on
till she could look further for a situation, or get
assistance from her friends. [Here she gave ano-
ther and keener glance at the Lord Mayor's face.]
As for returning to Carlisle, that she hardly wished,
as her relative might still insist upon her marrying
the gentleman from whom she had fled. She -would
of course rather—much rather not have mentioned
this at all, but—[with such an air of candour]—as
she was making his lordship acquainted with her
history, she felt it was better to tell him everything.
Having thus finished the recital of her history,
and put her claims to sympathy upon a proper
foundation, she bowed down her head, relapsing
into her original weakness while she awaited a re-
sponse to her appeal.
The Lord Mayor, who had listened very patiently,
told her she deserved some little sympathy if her
tale were true ; but upon that point he could of
course say nothing until some inquiry had been
made. Nevertheless, as her position in London, ac-
cording to her own showing, was a dangerous one
for a friendless young woman, and as he was anxi-
ous to redeem her from destruction, he would do
something for her at all events. When could she
hear from Carlisle ? She could get an answer by
Tuesday, if she wrote that day, she said. Well,
then, she must write at once, and bring the answer
to the court on Tuesday. Meanwhile an officer would
go with her to her former lodging, redeem her
clothes, and then take her to a respectable house,
where ber expenses for a week should be paid from
the poor-box. Whether any more were done for her
must depend upon the result of the inquiries about
to be made.
With an ostentatious curtsy, and a most melo-
dramatic " Thanks, my lord," she then retired with
an officer, leaving the impression that she had
carefully studied her part, and got herself well up
for the occasion. She also left behind her a suspi-
cion that she was no stranger to the stage ; and alto-
gether it was apparent that she was no stranger to
the world and its ways, and by no meaas afraid to
battle with the little difficulties that a young un-
protected female has to encounter in pushing her
way onward and upward. While sitting below in
the officers' room, Munday, who is a good fatherly
sort of a man, gave her some sound advice, and
warned her against the snares which beset the
feet of the unwary in London, upon which she
became communicative and confidential, telling him
that last night, as she was walking about, looking
for a lodging, she met an old gentleman who offered
her gold, and that she refused his offers with scorn
and indignation, for she would sooner die than do
such a thing ; and Mundav, in the plenitude of his
sympathy, believed her. Therefore, he made haste
to obey the injunctions of the Lord Mayor, by going
with her to her lodging in Burr-street, East Smith-
field, where he redeemed her clothes, and then
placed her with a respectable widow woman, living
in Fenchurch-street. But first he had questioned
her connexions by way of references, and she gave
the name of her aunt, Mary Bell, living in Fort-road,
Carlisle, and also that of Madame la Comtesse de

Maricourt, or as she wrote it, in a scrawling hand
and very questionable orthography, " Counts de
Maricourt, Swinburn-place, No. 7, Newcastel."
Having fixed her comfortably, Munday left her to
the care of her new landlady, who, upon a subsequent
visit informed him that her young lodger had been
doing nothing all day long but reciting plays. This
strengthened the notion previously entertained
that she was by no means a stranger to the stage.
It must be said here that Munday, although in-
clined to trust in the virtuous asseverations of his
protege, took his own steps to ascertain her real cha-
racter and history. In the first place he made pri-
vate inquiry of the landlady in Burr-street, with
whom Anna Bell had told the Lord Mayor she had
lodged since she had been in London, with the ex-
ception of the Friday night, and then, with the
strong instinct of his calling, he applied to the police
of Carlisle and Newcastle, as the fountain-heads of
information on such a subject, the result being that
he was soon placed in a position to lay before his
lordship the following report :
" Mansion-house, June 20, 1859.
" My Lord,—By direction of your lordship I have made
inquiries respecting the young woman, named Anna Bell,
who applied to your lordship for assistance on Saturday last.
I have seen Mrs. Stephens, who resides at 51, Burr-street,
East Smithfield, and who stated that the girl has-been lodg-
ing at her house about ten days, but did not sleep there for
the last two or three nights; that she was at the theatre on
one of the nights she slept out, and that she (Mrs. Stephens)
had a very bad opinion of her, from her manner of conduct-
ing herself. I have also communicated with the police at
Carlisle and Newcastle, the result of which will be explained
in the accompanying letters.—l am, my Lord, yours, &c.,
" G. MUNDAY, Mansion-house Officer."
" City Police Office, Carlisle, June 19. 1859.
" Dear Sir,—ln answer to your letter of the 18th inst.,
I beg to inform you that Anna Bell left Carlisle about
six weeks ago, and was said to have gone to Sunderland
as a dressmaker. While in Carlisle she cohabited with
an officer of the 3d West York Militia, then stationed
at Carlisle Castle. She formerly lived at Blackhill, near
Berry Edge, Durham. She is a native of Carlisle. Her
mother, a very old woman, nearly blind, lives in Fort-road,
but she has no aunt living there. She is a tall, slender
girl, and is well educated; but she bears a very indifferent
character in Carlisle.—Yours, &c.,
" GEO. E. BENT, Chief Constable."
" Chief Police Station, Newcastle-on-Tyne,
June 19, 1859.
" Sir,--I have the honour herewith to acknowledge the
receipt of your communication this morning, and, in reply,
to forward you the report of the officer engaged in making
the inquiries.—I am, sir, &c.,

" JOHN SABBAGE, Chief Constable."
" Detective Department, June 19, 1859.
" Sir,—l beg to inform you that, in reference to the com-
munication from London respecting Anna Bell, I have seen
the Countess de Maricourt, who states the girl Bell was an
inmate of the infirmary in this town. The Countess was a
visitor there, and she then stated to her that she belonged
to Carlisle, and on her coming out of the infirmary she
called on the Countess and wished her to recommend her
to a situation. That is all she knows respecting her.
" JOHN ELLIOTT, Inspector.
" To the Chief Constable, Newcastle-on-Tyne.')
With this information before him the Lord Mayor
was well prepared to receive his expected visitor,
who yesterday once more appeared before him look-
ing as pretty, and as demure, and apparently as
unsuspicious as ever. She ascended the witness-box
with a curtsy and awaited his lordship's leisure.
The Lord Mayor did not keep her long in sus-
pense. He told her that the result of the inquiries
made since Saturday had, he was sorry to say, not
confirmed the truth of the statement which she had
then told him as to her having left Carlisle to escape
a marriage with a man whom she hated, as to her
having always led a virtuous life, and her being
anxious for assistance to preserve her in an upright
course. He would read to her the result of the in-
quiries, in the hope that it would be taken notice of,
and so prevent her from imposing on other's.
She curled her lip, in a way which was meant' to
be haughty, as his Lordship commenced reading
Munday's report; but her smile soon relaxed into
a grimace, and a strong nervous twitching of the
corners of her mouth bespoke a state of mind any-
thing but pleasant. She endeavoured to interrupt
his lordship, but he requested her to remain silent
until he had finished, and he then read to her the
letters received from the police at Carlisle and
Newcastle.

" Then," she said with some excitement, " as to
that militia officer at Carlisle, as God is my Judge,
and as you, gentlemen, here, arc Christians, it's all
false. And as to Mrs. Stephens, where I lodged, I
never was out after 10 o'clock at night, except once,
and then happening to walk towards the West-
end, I asked where I was, and was told it was the
Wellington Barracks ; and if that is indiscretion,
I don't know what is."

The Lord Mayor—And you were then walking
with a soldier.

Anna Bell—No, I Was not. Will you not allow
me to clear my character P
The Lord Mayor—l am quite satisfied with the
result of the inquiries, and would rather let the
matter conclude here. After this it is quite impos-
sible for me to give you any assistance.
Anna Bell—lf I can prove myself innocent, what
is' to be the result ?
The Lord Mayor—Why, if you are innocent, I
would advise you not to stay in London, or you
may not remain so.
With theatrical gestures she exclaimed, " With