Joseph Wilmot, or, The Memoirs of a Man-Servant — page 100: what you’re looking at

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

| JOSEPH WILMOT$ OR, THE MEMOIRS OF A MAN-SERVANT. | 87 and moreover, just at the very instané that I thus caught sight of her features, a lighi springing up in the shop-window, suddenly flung its glare upon that countenance of such angelic beauty. And she was dressed in that same modest and becoming manner which she adopted when I first knew her: she was even plainly dressed:—nothing mere- tricious—nothing showy nor gaudy in her garb,— nothing bold nor forward im her demeanour. On the contrary, there was a certain visible timidity in her lock, as if annoyed and alarmed at even being left for a few minutes standing alone on the pavement. In short, witha single glance did I perceive that she was the same innocent-looking, modest, and bashful Annabel that I had first known and whom I had learnt to love so fondly—aye, with all the affection of my boyish heart! Oh, had she left that profligate Sir Malcolm Waven- ham ? had she returned, so fay as a once fallen gil caw return, into the path of rectitude? was she thus plainly and modestly eapparelled in atone- ment, as if were, for the too gauzy garb she had worn at the theatre, and for the rich raiment in which she was clad when I beheld her dashing past on a proudly carecring steed, near the village of Charlton? Alas, the theught struck me at the instant, that she must be a consummate mistress of dissimulation and hypocrisy—mere girl though she were—if she could thus so easily resume that outward appearance of virginal innocence and modest ingenuousness which used to characterize her, and which now again she wore. But, Oh! to speak to her for a moment if only for a moment—at any risk—aé all hazards ‘Yes, even the very dread and horror in which I stood of her father, were over-ruied by this earnest longing at that instant. All these thoughts swept through my mind in the space of a few swiftly fleeting seconds; and issuing forth from the shade of the confectioner’s doorway, I accosted her—at the same moment making her a quick sign not to give vent to any ejaculation which might reach the ears of her father. She beheld me: she comprehended that sign. Indeed, without it she would have been upon her guard: for she flung a rapid, penetrating glance into the shop, near the threshold of which she was standing. “ Annabel!” I murmured, as I clasped the hand which she at once extended towards me; and I knew not at the moment whether my sensations of joy or of pain chiefly predominated. “O Joseph, I am so glad to meet you!”—and she stopped short, evidently overpowered by her emotions: for the tears were gushing down her cheeks. _ “ Dearest Annabel;’ I quickly answered,—“ for dear you must ever be to me, no matter in what circumstances you may be placed Oh! you know not how J. have wept and sorrowed on your behalf !”” . “ And I also for you, Joseph!” she responded in the soft melting tones of her silvery voice: and heavens! how beautiful did she appear at that moment: for a rich carmation mantied upon her cheeks—and her lovely azure eyes swam with a bashful tenderness. “ But tell me—are you happy, Joseph ?”—and then those eyes, so soft and melt- ing, surveyed me qogely from head to foot, as if to judge of my circumstances by my appearance. “You are struggling successfully with the world— are you not, Joseph?’ she immediately added, evidently satisfied by the survey: for I was well dressed in a suit of plain clothes, which I had pur- chased only a few weeks previously, and in painful anticipation at the time of the breaking-up of the establishment at Charlton Hall. “ Yes—I am earning my bread,” I answered,— “but in that same capacity in which you last say me—I mean as a domestic servant But you, Annabel—do tell me—have you altogether Oh, T dare not complete the question! You know what I mean f” Strange was the look with which for an instant she regarded me—a look which I could scarcely comprehend! But all im an instant it changed yes, it changed into one of terror and dismay, —as glancing towards the shop, she said with feverish excitement, “Fly, Joseph—for heaven’s sake, fly !” I pressed her hand—andin a moment was speeding along the strect. A diverging one was near: I plunged into it, without daring to look behind: for I comprehended but too well what she meanit:—her father, Mr. Lanover, was issuing forth from the shop at the instant she thus in ter- rified anxiety urged me to flight! Iran on, until within a dozen yards of the tavern: thenI relaxed my pace, and looked back to see if I were pursued. But neither in the gathering gloom in the middle of the street—nor in the flood of light which the shop-fronts now threw upon the pavement on either side—could I discern the horrible form of the humpback. I entered the tavern, and ordered some tea. While I sat drinking it, all my thoughts were centred in Annabel. Wasthere not some strange mystery surrounding this young creature? was she not a singular and incomprehensible being ? All within the space of some fourteen months, I had seen her under a variety of phases,—first the modest, innocent, artless girl, ministering with all the sanetity of filial affection to an invalid mother —then suddenly bursting, as it were, upon my presence in the meretricious garb and dazzling lustre of a stage—then gallopping past me in @ splendid riding-habit, with waving plumes in her hat, and in the company of a notorious profligate —now once more the modest and ingenuous girl, with innocence written upon her brow, whatso- ever consciousness of guilt there might be in the secret depths of her soul. Oh! and could this be the same Annabel who quitted me so abruptly at the theatre, and who scent out a message to the effect that she knew me not ?—was that the same Annabel with this one who but a few minutes back had greeted me with such unmistakable joy, amidst such overpowering emotions, and with a modest blush rising to her cheeks as she gaye me the assurance that she had often and often thought of me and wept in so thinking? Was this the same Annabel? Yes, yes—it was! But how could I account for all those varied phasesin which I had beheld her—unless it were by the belief that she must indeed be a thorough adept in the wiles of dissimulation, and that the artlessness of her looks was only equalled by the artfulness of her soul? wrung tears from my eyes—a thought which = could not repel, and which nevertheless was too Cruel, cruel thought—a thought which ° ———— -- — - -— .- a ee —. ~ mm et a et rs ee oe ees | aS SNS AISS ES EE 6 Be eee Oo gEE emer Elo@Ool<