Joseph Wilmot, or, The Memoirs of a Man-Servant — page 156: what you’re looking at

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JOSEPH. WILMOT; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF A MAN-SERVANT. (143 whien she effected my liberation from her father’s house! But while I was thus giving way to my reflections, sleep gradually stole upon me; and in my dreams did the image of Annabel stand con- spicuously radiant. When I awoke, it was evening: a light was burning in the room—and the nurse was seated by the bedside. In answer to her questions, I gave her the assurance that I felt much better: she made me take some refreshment which she had in readiness; and when I had partaken of it, she smilingly intimated that she would fetch my cousin to bid me farewell. In a few minutes Annabel was again with me: but still the nurse remained in the room—and I could not possibly feel offended that she should display this discretion and pro- priety. I was overwhelmed with grief at the thought of parting from Annabel with no certainty of again beholding her soon—with no certainty indeed that we should ever meet again: but yet I had faith in the goodness of heaven, and thus was I saved from utter despair. Annabel too was much affected: few were the words which passed between us—for of all the many topics whereon I wished to touch, there was none that could be approached without the risk of calling up some painful feeling in her mind; and I would sooner have perished than plunge a dagger into her heart. “ Joseph,” she said, “I have not forgotten my promise relative to the copies of certain papers, which contain explanations of many past circum- stances. But considering your weak and enfeebled state, I do not dare to place them in your hands at present. Dr. Pomfret will give you a sealed packet when you are convalescent. Make haste, therefore, and get well, dear Joseph, in order that you may relieve yourself from suspense without the danger of a relapse from the excitement of reading a painful narrative. And now I must bid you farewell: I depart very early to-morrow morn- ing—and ‘we must not meet again on this occa- “Oh, when shall we meet?” I murmured, press- ing her hand to my lips. “ Be of good cheer, and keep up your spirits,” she responded: but her voice was tremulous with the emotions which were evidently convulsing her ~besom ; and quickly averting her countenance, she ’ -of deceit—incapable of dissimulation. passed her kerchief over her eyes. * And you will not forget me, Annabel?” I said, when she again turned her looks upon me. “ Forget you no, Joseph! Iam incapable You un- derstand me: need I say any more ?” “T understand, dearest Annabel,” I answered, “that the fond and devoted love I bear for you, is not altogether without a reciprocal feeling.” She pressed my hand which clasped her own: she bent over me—her lips just touched my fore- head—and the next instant she was gone. Oh! that kiss, though slight as the touch of the butterfly upon the flower, was imprinted there :—IL felt it—and its influence thrilled through me, but with the holiest and purest sensation! Now I knew that Annabel loved me! As plainly as her modest and bashful nature would permit - her to make such an avowal, had she made it; ' and if was a source of ineffable solace to my soul - In the despondency of separation. ~ What to-me eee mother. a A ti i la LT CL CL TE were now all the future trials which I might have to encounter? what to me all the battlings and strugglings in the world, since I possessed the love of Annabel? To know that she was alive when I thought her dead—to know that she was immaculate when I had fancied her erring and lost —to know that she would now live for me as I should live for her—that we should be inspired by the same hope of seeing better days,—Oh, all these reflections constituted in one sense a sum of hap- piness which well nigh counterbalanced the an- guish of separation in another sense !. But I will not dwell at unnecessary length upon this portion of my narrative. On the following morning Annabel departed: we did not meet again: but the kind old nurse informed me that she sent me her most affectionate remembrances. Days passed on: I grew rapidly better—and was at length enabled to sit up for several hours together. To be brief, a fortnight passed after Annabel’s departure ; and I was now convalescent. Dr. Pomfret, who came up to my chamber twice every day, at length gave me to understand that he had a packet of papers to deliver over to me, and that on the following morning I should be put in possession of them. ‘The wished-for hour ar- rived—the packet was presented to me—the address was -in the well-known writing of the adored Annabel—and the instant I was alone I tore open the envelope. The contents were twofold. There was a sheet of paper, closely written, and filled with explanations of Annabel’s own: there was another sheet, containing a copy of a letter which her departed sister Violet had written to Mrs. Lanover a few days before her death, and which had led to Annabel’s visit to the doctor’s house. It was no doubt this very same letter which I had conveyed to the post, and the handwriting of the address of which had so strongly confirmed my belief that it was really Annabel herself who was beneath that roof. For I must observe that there was as remarkable a similitude between the writing of the two sisters as there was in respect to their personal appearance ;—and that this latter simili- tude must have been great indeed—almost miracu- lous—to have so long kept me in error as to the fact of Annabel and Violet being two distinct indi- viduals, the reader may well suppose. But without lingering any longer at present upon these points, let me hasten to give, in the ensuing chapter, an outline of those explanations and revelations which I gathered from the con- tents of Annabel’s packet. CHAPTER XXXII. THE TWIN-SISTERS. THE earliest ideas of the twin-sisters, Violet and Annabel, were associated with a sumptuously- furnished mansion, which was their home. It was situated in a fashionable Square at the West End of London; and Mr. Lanover’s mode of life seemed to indicate the possession of considerable wealth. But from their early infancy the sisters had an in- stinctive dread of their father,—with a propor- tionate amount of earnest affection for their So far as their recollections could be ElO@QO) SS (C@) im