Alfred de Rosann by G.W.M. Reynolds — page 262: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Alfred de Rosann. 227 senses, that she could not find a single morsel. In this dilemma she bethought herself of the well-known charitable and compas- sionate disposition of Mrs. Clayton; and hurried to the apartments occupied by that lady, to solicit the wherewith to arrest the ebbing tide of life that issued from the wounds of the dying man. Her request was instantly granted; and Mrs. Clayton, accompanied by her brother-in-law, descended to aid the portress in her humane task. Belle-Rose had opened his eyes during her absence, and was gazin wildly around him when his benefactors entered the lodge. is glance encountered that of Mr. Clayton, and a smile of satis- faction animated his pallid countenance. He raised himself with considerable difficulty on his right arm—repulsed the portress who advanced towards the bed bearing linen and bandages in her hands—and beckoned Mr. Clayton to approach. ‘¢T have but a short time to live,” said Belle-Rose in a faint voice almost depressed to a mere whisper, “and I am desirous of quitting this world in peace with all men. You are acquainted with Alfred de Rosann—he was my friend—my benefactor. He acted liberally towards me—and I repaid his kindness by ingrati- tude. There breathes not a nobler character than De Rosann— tell him I said so in my last moments. Tell him that I—yes, I— was one of the three robbers who endeavoured to despoil him of the treasures which were confided to his charge by a mercantile house in London, and which were destined for a person named Leblond, in Paris. Tell him I have done him that grievous wrong—but do not forget to say—” ‘* And his attachment to Miss Robson, the banker’s daughter,” cried Mr. Clayton, unable to restrain his impatience, “ the proposal he made for her hand—his repulse—his disappointment—' ‘‘ All false—all pure invention—all calumny !’’ returned Belle- Rose, hanging down his head, and stifling a sob. ‘God be thanked !” said Mr. Clayton: “his defence is as trug and correct as I could have wished it to be. We need not wait for Mr. Robson’s letter.” | ‘¢ If my levity—my unpardonable misrepresentations have done him harm in your estimation,” continued Belle-Rose, ‘‘ hasten to render him the justice he deserves; for I repeat, that there exists not a nobler character than Alfred de Rosann |” ‘¢ Bind his wounds—take care of him—comfort his poor soul— and assure him of pardon on the part of De Rosann ;—I accept his apologies in the name of my friend—tell him he is forgiven,” cried Mr. Clayton in a hurried tone of voice; and without waiting fora reply, he hastily left the lodge to the astonishment of the portress, who nevertheless proceeded to dress the wounds of the dying man. But all her care was vain—Belle-Rose’ last hour was come—and no human agency could add another day ‘to his existence, nor ex- tend his mis-spent life. He died insensible to the feeble endeavours of those around to procrastinate the fatal moment—and in his death he enjoyed a more honourable reputation than he had acquired during the numerous years he had devoted to dissipation, to folly, and to crime. He was subsequently interred in thecemetry of Pére 2 COnicbooolks (GO)