Rosa Lambert — page 103: what you’re looking at

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

92 was now vcry pale—but that pallor only rendered her all the more interesting ; and she looked as if she were recovering from a long and painful illness. She had hair of raven darkness, and of extraor- dinary luxuriance: her eyes, also dark, were large, and wore now a soft pensive expression. Her features were small and classically chiselled: her teeth were of pearly whiteness. Her figure, though slight, was of symmetrical proportions: it was not tall—but, as I recollected her appearance at the Opera, it was replete with elegance and grace. There was an air of superiority, or at least of gen- tility about her; and her age might be nineteen or twenty. I entered, I say, with a reassuring countenance, and with a few kindly appropriate words. Caro- line raised herself in the bed—looked at me ina half-timid half-anguished manner for a few mo- ' ments—and then, as I sat down on a ehair by the LS he SA i St side of the couch, she seized my hands, pressing them to her lips. She endeavoured to speak: but her heart was evidently too full for the utterance of what she felt—and the tears gushed forth from her eyes. “Compose yourself,” I said; “give not way thus to your emotions. You need tranquillity. Rest assured that in me you behold a friend !” “Ah, Miss Lambert!” she exclaimed, with a sudden access of wildness; “if you only knew who I am f “I do know,” I answered gently : “your name is Caroline Seymour.” “ Ah, you know me, then ?” she ejaculated, sur- veying me with astonishment. “ But you do not know all I have done—all the wickedness of which I have been guilty!” “No: I am ignorant of the cause of these self- reproaches. But,’ I hastened to add, in a com- passionating tone, “after the scene of last night, whatever misdeeds you may have previously eom- mitted, no one would be cruel enough to reproach you for them.” ‘* Oh, that scene of last night!’ murmured Caro- line, shivering and shuddering all over. ‘“ Good heavens, it was dreadful!’’—and then she placed her fair white hands over her eyes, as if to shut out objects of appalling horror. “Do not distress yourself,” I murmured softly in her ear: “for inasmuch as you know me, you are probably, alas! too well aware that I am not one who has a right to reproach you. But tell me, Caroline—tell me at once—was it my brother « “Who drove me to desperation last night ?”’ she ejaculated quickly, as she withdrew her hands from her eyes and bent those orbs upon me. “No, no—it was not he! It was a wretch—a villain—the vilest fiend that ever wore an angel- shape !” “Some one, perhaps, whom you loved ?” I said, still speaking in a soft soothing voice. “One whom I did love,” rejoined Caroline,— “and one whom you know likewise but too well. Horace Rockingham !” “ Horace Rockingham ?” I ejaculated, stricken with amazement. “What! has he wronged you —has he outraged you i “Oh! it is such a history,” eried the unfor- tunate creature, “that if I can calm myself suf- ficiently to tell it But yes, I must! I have a a iii. ‘ 7 resolved to make you aware of everything. It is the only atonement I can offer for the past. Ah! you look upon me with surprise? You little think, Miss Lambert, how much I have had to do in the detestable machinations of that vile young man!’ “Compose yourself, Caroline,” I again said. “Whatever you may have to tell me, I pray you to enter upon the narrative without excitement. You will only do yourself harm; and I can assure you that so far as I may be concerned, you have my free and full forgiveness on account of the past. At the same time, I am totally at a loss to understand how you could ever have had anything to do 9: “Listen, and I will tell you everything!” in- terrupted Caroline. Then, lying back upon her pillow, she remained silent for several minutes, during which she wag evidently composing her feelings as well as she could, and collecting her ideas for the promised revelations. I should observe that in the paroxysm of her excitement which was now passing away, I had noticed the flashings of wild and unnatural fires in her eyes—flashings which were strangely different from the pensive look which she had worn when I first entered; and those flashings also bespoke the strong fervid passions of which her nature was susceptible. “Tam the daughter,” proceeded Caroline, at length breaking her long pause, “of wealthy parents. JI was their only child. My mother doted upon me and spoilt me. My father—a very different being from my mother—was tco much engrossed in his money-getting pursuits, to pay much attention to me; and he was rather proud than fond as I grew up in beauty. Think me not vain for this allusion to my personal attractions I ought to curse and abhor that loveliness,” she exclaimed with vehement bitterness, “rather than be proud of it! My mother died when I was twelve years old; and in her I lost my good genius. I was then sent to a boarding-school— where I remained, with the exception of the vaca- tions, until I was sixteen. That was three years and a half ago: for twenty summers have not yet passed over my head—although I have seen and gone through so much.” These last words were spoken with a profound mournfulness; and the transitions from impas- sionate vehemence to an exquisitely pathetical sorrow, which frequently characterized her narra- tive, gave me a still deeper insight imto her im- pulsive and variable disposition. “My father,’ she continued, “though an ex- ceedingly rich man—I may say literally rolling in wealth re “ Pardon me for a moment!” I interrupted her somewhat impetuously, and with a look of excite- ment which I could not possibly control: “ but what is your father’s Christian name ?” “ Obadiah,” she answered. ‘“ Everybody knows Obadiah Seymour, the great capitalist of Broad Street. But wherefore did you ask? what has arisen in your mind P” “T will tell you presently,” I said, more than ever struck by the strange coincidences which had occurred within the last few hours. “ Proceed with your narrative.” “T was saying,” resumed Caroline, “ that when ROSA LAMBERT. '€O