Rosa Lambert — page 222: what you’re looking at

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

ee ee ee ee eee ROSA LAMBERT. but I should like it not to prove the selfish incen- tive to her own conduct in agreeing to become mine.”’ “1 am afraid, cousin,” I responded, still laugh- ing with every appearance of light-hearted gaiety, “you will have some difficulty in finding this paragon of perfection in the form of a mistress, when it is even difficult to discover it in the shape of a wife.” “‘ And yet there ave such beings in the world,” rejoined Haverstock, fixing his eyes upon me sig- nificantly for a moment: ‘and when I do succeed in finding the charming creature who has hitherto constituted my ideal, the very rarity of the species will render me all the more solicitous to cherish and retain so great a treasure. I was just now illustrating my meaning on one point by referring to the butterflies and bees. Let us go back to the same flitting and inconstant creatures for another illustration. Suppose a butterfly in a garden crowded with floral beauties: he culls the sweets of a lily—he flies to a pink—he settles for a few moments on a honeysuckle—he wings his way to a gaudy tulip—thence to a blushing peony—he coquettes with a dahlia—and he hovers upon the tendrils of the jasmine. But suppose, at length, when sated with that succession of sweets—when wearied as it were with his own inconstant flittings —he finds a lovelier flower than any with which he has as yet disported say a rose, for in- stance do you not think he would be a very silly butterfly indeed, if he did not thenceforth re- main faithful to that charming and ravishing rose P” | This simile was so pointed, even in the delicately Ingenious manner in which it was conveyed and wrapped up, that it was in itself a sort of oyver- ture: for the reader will perceive that it was my own name which he had chosen for the particular flower that was to rivet the love and constancy of the butterfly affording the illustration. But still I did not choose to have the air of comprehending it as an avowal directed expressly towards myself: it swted my purpose to wait until some future occasion when my cousin should become more ex- -plieit still, for fear lest if I prematurely displayed my indignation, he should turn coolly round upon me with the assurance that I had utterly and completely misapprehended his meaning. So I laughed,—exclaiming in the same tone of apparent gaicty as before, ‘ You are so exceedingly poetical, that I am more confirmed than ever in my opinion of your unconquerable fickleness and want of stability.” “Jt is precisely because I am poetical,” he an- swered, “that I feel a capacity for loving tenderly and well.” “Poets are dreamers,’ I rejoined; “and the Joye which exists in poems, is rather different from that which belongs to -the real world.” “This is an argument which I shall be glad to hold with you, fair cousin of mine,” answered the young Baronet. “I see that you are willing to humour me so far as to give me your advice; and this 1s of course a duty between relatives. May I call upon you at your own abode, and point out passages in some of our finest poets, which I think will convinee you that the love they depict is the same which the human heart in reality expe- riences P” : Smee 4 ee ae ne ee ew a mr em ae ee ee ee er rt eee 211 “Oh! I never should have the patience,” I ex- claimed, *‘to enter seriously upon such an argu- ment. As for calling upon me, cousin, I am out of doors so much that the little time I pass at my lodgings is wholly taken up by reading and writing letters, and so forth. Besides, to speak very candidly—and of course between cousins an honest frankness can give no offence—I could not receive the visits of one person without being at home to others; and there is nothing I abominate more in the world than the idle ceremony of morn- ing calls.” Haverstock made no reply—and indeed remained silent for nearly a minute. It was evident he knew not exactly what to think of my observations; and no dovbt fearful of going too far on this occasion, he turned the discourse into another channel. As the Marquis of Belmore had done, he offered me his arm for a ramble: but I assured him that I much preferred sitting on the sands to enjoy the sea-breeze ;—and in a few minutes he left me. About ten days passed, during which my society was courted alternately by the Marquis of Belmore and my eousin Haverstock. Each one grew more and more significant in the discourse holden towards me: they plied tender looks and meaning words as far as they thought it safe to venture ; but I always had the air of comprehending neither. During this interval I only saw Alvanly two or three times ; and then instead of accosting me, he merely bowed and passed on his way. The Marquis frequently expressed his desire to pay his respects to me at my own abode: but I invariably gave him a re- sponse which, though perfectly courteous, was suf- ficiently pointed to make him understand that I received no visitors. Si John Haverstock rallied me on what he called my unkindness and want of confidence towards a relation who was desirous to show me every possible attention: but I still re- mained firm in my refusal to let him call upon me, —at the same time couching this refusal in terms that could not give him offence, much less make him suspect that I had any inkling of his real motives. One day, when it was the Marquis of Belmore’s turn to prosecute the siege on his own account, I saw by his look and his manner that he was in- wardly resolved to make a grand attack. I was seated upon the sands, as usual, when he accosted me: but it happened that there were very few per- sons on the same spot on this particular occasion. He took a chair by my side; and after some few indifferent observations, said, “ Have you heard from Captain Beaumont since his departure ?” ““ Yes—twice,’ I responded : “and he assures me that whenever he has an opportunity of send- ing a letter by a homeward-bound ship, he will avail himself of it.” “If I mistake not,’ continued the Marquis, “Captain Beaumont was ordered to the Chinese seas? He will therefore be a yery long time ab- sent.” ‘“Three or four years,’ I answered: and I could not repress a sigh. “You are very much attached to him?” said Belmore, in a low voice, and gazing earnestly upon my countenance. “Very,” was my answer. “ And you can make up your mind,” proceeded the Marquis, “to all the gloom and dulness you CONNIE OOO ee ee en eee ee