Yet, if the truth were known, many of these fine “sparks,” and “gallants,” deserved to be in, rather than out of such an institution.
More than one, had justice been cognizant of their “little speculations,” would have consigned them to worse apartments than that assigned to the brave-hearted, but foolish, Charley Warbeck.
Of all who knew him in his days of prosperity, gaiety, and unimpeachable character, there was not one who visited him, or made the slightest inquiry regarding his wants or necessities.
He was consigned to oblivion in general estimation, and many of his former acquaintance stoutly denied that they had ever known or spoken to him in all their lives.
Old Sir Richard called at the gaol several times, and proffered all the aid in his power; but as Charles had already publicly acknowledged his guilt, and persisted in avowing it, legal assistance was considered to be of little avail.
Dame Worthington was an almost daily visitor, and brought every kind of refreshment for the prisoner, and her tears ever flowed copiously as she embraced “her dear son,” as she endearingly called him.
In truth, she frequently transgressed the rules of the prison, and remained much longer in her visits than the regulations allowed.
But her sorrow was so sincere and apparent to all, that the turnkeys, individuals apparently constituted partly of iron, and partly of stone, looked on with much compassion, and always remarked as she departed—
“If that there old lady was his own mother, she couldn’t hang around that young man more tenderly and lovingly than she does.”
Mistress Haylark and daughter were also frequent visitors to the unhappy youth, and brought him many little trifles which might comfort and console him in his solitude.