Rosa Lambert — page 234: what you’re looking at

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

ee a oe ao a ROSA LAMBERT. the shopman, who through the window had no doubt seen me talking to Horace Rockingham. “They are indeed,” I observed; and having vnade my purchases, I re-entered the carriage. During the ride home, F reflected the whole way upon the abject condition to which Horace Rock- ingham was reduced: but amidst my meditations was blended the hope that he would not again molest me. A month passed away from the date of my first acquaintance with Joanna Haverstock ; and during this period she was a frequent visitress at my residence. Much as I had at first hked her, she still improved considerably upon a longer acquaint- ance. Never had. I met any one of my own sex endowed with so much genuine atmiability of dis- position, nor such unaffected simplicity of man- ners. Yet she was a thoroughly well-bred lady m all respects. Her conversation was gay and cheer- ful, without the least tinge of levity: she was completely guileless, unsuspicious, and confiding. Nevertheless, she did to a certain extent possess a spirit, which, though it could not have led her into evil, would on the other hand have induced her to persevere in any course which she felt or believed to be a proper and correct one. Thus, for instance—while her generosity prompted her to make every allowance for my fall from virtue, and indeed to overlook it, in the supposition that IT was now a respectably married woman—nothing could have induced her to abstain from visiting me. She was one of those in whose estimation there is a certain sanctity in the bond of kinship, and a certain duty prescribed by the existence of such bond. This duty she had supposed herself to be performing when she first called wpon me at the villa; and then her inclinations led her to repeat these visits frequently. She grew attached to me; she loved me as much as if I were her sister: she experienced iafinite pleasure in my society. Frank, candid, and artless in every other respect, she dissembled only towards her mother with regard to these visits. But she felt herself to be placed between the alternatives of either thus dissembling, or of openly rebelling against her parent’s authority; and she considered the former to be the lesser evi! of the two. Besides, she was backed by the injunctions of her brother ; and a sister imvariably acknowledges such an in- fluence,—especially when that brother has become by title, wealth, and position, the head of the family. The reader must have now obtained an insight into Joanna Haverstock’s character and disposi- tion; and it may easily be imagined that I rejoiced | in the friendship of such an amiable creature. The villa no longer seemed lonely in my estimation: each day she called, and passed hours with me, and when she was gone, I had the pleasure of looking forward to the morrow which would bring my friend again. We walked out together—we sat to read or work together—we went shopping together—and together likewise did we visit the artist who was engaged in painting her portrait. Mine was not as yet commenced,—he having soli- cited a delay of a few weeks. most agreeably ; and one of the happiest I had for a long time know, It one day came to my knowledge that there / ee ee a TS EE BY SW a itt eh alt i tt tN a ee a a oe. ee ee EEE LOL CLL LAL EOL LE, LOL LOE LL, LLL LL / / 0 So No V4 . a CO eet ee ee. er eet eee 22d was a poor family in Islington, who had been re- duced from a condition of comparative affluence to one of the direst destitution. The account reached me through my maid; and so touching—indeed so heart-rending were the details, that I was resolved to afford such assistance as layin my power. L first thought of sending my maid with a pecuniary remittance: but inasmuch as it was a genteel and. well-bred family which had thus become reduced, Ji reflected that such a course would not be the mof,t delicate which could be adopted. There might ‘pe consolations to administer and requirements ta ascertain, as well as immediate succour to be ren- dered. I therefore decided upon calling personally. Dressing myself in the plainest manner, and pro- ceeding on foot, I repaired to the place in question. I need not enter into any details on the subject : the incident is merely collateral with something that followed,—inasmuch as it was owing to this circumstance that I was thrown in the way of another spectacle which afflicted me even more profoundly, and certainly with a keener bitterness, than the one which I thus voluntarily sought. Having rendered ali the succour which I was enabled to afford the afflicted family—having con- jured up smiles to countenances that were pale with care and haggard with want—and having administered balm to the bruised spirit of the sufferers,—I was retracing my way homeward, when I suddenly encountered my brother Cyril. But, good heavens, in what a position! He was handcuffed, and in the custody of two policemen. That there had been a struggle, was evident enough: for his coat was torn, and his garments were covered with mud all down one side, as if he had fallen or been thrown upon the ground. He was without a hat too; and his countenance indi- cated a dogged ferocity. An ejaculation of despair and amazement burst from my lips; and I felt a8 if I were about to sink down in a state of utter unconsciousness. But all in a moment I was nerved with the sense that there was something for me to doin this mgtter: I was inspired with ‘the thought that perhaps it was a transaction which might be arranged. “ Ah, Rose! is it you?” said my brother, with a sort of careless, hardy indifference. “1 can’t offer to shake hands with you; for these fellows have gone and slipped the darbies on:’—and though he tried to laugh in tine same humour as he had spoken, there was nevertheless something false, unnatural, and hollow in the sound. “Good heavens, Cyril” I exclaimed, with an- guish depicted upon my countenance: “ what is it ? what have you cone r” “Ob, a mere rifle,’ he responded: “only written another entleman’s name in mistake for my own.” { staggered back as if smitten with a violent , blow. Woetwithstanding the horrible levity of his words aid manner, I comprehended the crime which yril had perpetrated. “ “fes, ma’am,” said one of the officers, in a stetm and almost vindictive manner; “it’s a for- gvéry ; and he made such a desperate resistance The time passed. | 4yhen we pounced upon him, that we couldn’t treat perhaps, altogether, the movth{ him like a gentleman and take him quietly which I have spoken of as having now elapsed ws through the streets: so he has only got to thank himself for being handcuffed.” ‘“ How much is it for?” I inquired, with the CL ee (e) 6)(0)(6) SS (C(O)