Rosa Lambert — page 111: what you’re looking at

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

— ee wees — —————— 5 re ee ee 8 ee 100 “Some of them,” rejoined Obadiah Seymour. “I never lend more than a hundred thousand pounds—never less than two hundred pounds. But what ‘a “I shall come to the point presently,” I again interrupted him. “ Suppose that I could save you from the loss of many, many thousands of pounds —or at all events from the risk of losing them-—if, in a word, I could give such information as would render you perfectly safe ty “Ah, dear me! what would I say P what would TY do?” ejaculated the miser, his nervous trepi- dation increasing. “ Don’t you think—don’t you think you had better leave it to my—my—gene- rosity ?” “Oh! understand me well, my dear sir,” I ex- claimed: “I am making the matter quite a busi- ness one.” “Ah! well, then, I suppose we must strike a bargain. What shall we say? You shall have your commission upon all you save me. Shall it be an eighth per cent. Come, come! we will say a quarter per cent. !” “‘ Nothing of the sort, Mr. Seymour.” “Ah!” gasped the old man, as if parting from life itself: “ we will say—we will say, one per cent. There, ma’am! will that suit you? Only think! one per cent. on many, many thousands of pounds !”” he added, emphasizing my own words which he repeated. “Now, I will be candid with you, Mr. Sey- mour,”’ I said, “and avoid further circumlo- cution . “Ah, ma’am!” he interrupted me, “you ladies are sometimes more difficult to deal with than gen- tlemen. But I stick to the one per cent.; and if the sum is very, very large, I don’t mind adding a bonus you understand me, ma’am—a bonus of —of—a five pound note!” and then he looked me very hard in the face with his disagreeable speaking eyes, as if to impress upon me the magnitude of his generosity. | “ Mr. Seymour,” I answered, “I do not require any pecuniary recompense at all.” “Dear me, ma’am! Then what do you re- quire P” he cried, now surveying me with mingled Suspicion and astonishment. ‘“ What am I to think? You want a recompense—but you won't take money. Ah, I understand!” he exclaimed, his countenance suddenly brightening up: “you expect a present! To be sure! a present—a very handsome present! Qh, leave it tome! I know what trinkets are fitted for young ladies: earrings —necklaces—perhaps a gold watch ‘4 “You see, sir,’ I said, opening my shawl, “ that I possess all these. You are still very wide of the mark.” “ Good heavens, ma’am !”’ almost shrieked forth the little old gentleman, springing up from his seat: “you don’t want a husband—do you? I have discounted a thousand bills in my time—have had countless money transactions—but never ne- gotiated on such terms in my life. I—I—ma’am —do not think of marrying again—although really—if I could be tempted—a beautiful young lady like you But how much money, did you say, it was that you could save me from losing— because that might be a consideration.” I could searcely prevent myself from bursting out into the merriest peal of laughter at Obadiah ~ A — < ROSA LAMBERT, Seymour’s judicrous mistake : but I contented my- self with a smile, as I said, “ I mean nothing of all this, You had better grant me your patience, while I explain,” “This is most singular!” muttered the old man to himself, but in an audible voice, as he resumed his seat. “A lady who neither wants money, nor a husband, nor yet presents oa “ Mr. Seymour,” I went on to say, “pray don’t interrupt me any more—but listen. These are the plain facts. I can save you from the loss of an enormous sum of money—or at least I ean prevent you from risking the loss. I crave a ree . ward: but it is not either of those recompenses which you have detailed. Neither is the boon which I seck at your hands, to be conferred upon myself. It is for another that I am inter- ceding . “Interceding ?”’ echoed the old man. “ Not for that swindler Sir Frederick Roebuck whom I sent to the Bench yesterday ?—nor for those rascals Twister and Yarnley that I struck a docket against this morning ?” “You see, Mr. Seymour, you will interrupt me,’ I exclaimed. ‘No, sir—it is not for those persons, with whom I am utterly unacquainted. But I am interceding for some one”—and then I added impressively, “I am interceding on be- halt of a penitent and wretched daughter, who implores permission to fling herself at her father’s feet.” “Well, ma’am,” cried the old man at once, “there’s no harm, you know, in her flinging her- self at my feet—if you forego your per centage.” “Yes, sir: but what I stipulate for, is that you forgive her—that you solemnly pronounce her pardon in my presence—or alone, if you prefer it— that you receive her back to your house—that you bury the past in oblivion ‘f “How many thousand pounds can you save me ?”? demanded the miser eagerly. “ Many, many,” I responded, determined not to specify the precise sum, lest it should at once afford him a clue to the nature of the transaction against which I sought to shield him: for if he were thus allowed to penetrate my secret, he might turn round and refuse the boon 1 re- quired. “Ts it twenty thousand ?” he asked. “Thirty? _ Forty? Fifty? Sixty? Seventy?” “ Ask me no more,” I interrupted him, having nodded my head in the affirmative to every sum he had named. “Now, sir, what is your de- cision? Let me assure you that your daughter, the unfortunate Caroline ‘4 “ Refused the best marriage that ever a parent was bent upon in behalf of his child!’’ cried the old man bitterly. “Shaw’s father is dead—and Shaw himself is now worth a quarter of a million, if he’s worth a farthing. Ah, he is a very warm man—a very warm man!” “Never mind all that,” I said: “let us revert to the previous topic. Your unhappy daughter, sir, has been terribly punished: she is proportion- ately repentant. A few days back, when you returned her letter unopened, she was starv- ing 9 “ Starving ?’? murmured Obadiah Seymour, eyi- dently somewhat touched. “No, no—you don’t exactly mean that ?” ee te 1 er EE ae ee 8 ges ——. oo @) ECOMIEHDOOKS.C' MOM ar TS yt ee eS