Rosa Lambert — page 247: what you’re looking at

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

236 sense of the fearful wrong which some time back I had experienced at Winter's hands, I should observe that my groom attended at the inquest which was holden on his remains,—my own pre- sence being unnecessary. My domestic informed me that he beheld the corpse, which was so horribly mutilated, mangled, and shattered, that he should never again think of it without a cold shudder and a sensation of horror. It was about a fortnight after the tragedy, and when the hideous impression it had produced upon my mind was beginning to wear off, that the following occurrence took place. It was my custom to dine at five o’clock; and one evening, I had just concluded my repast, when a servant entered and said that a young female requested to see me. I ordered her to be admitted; and when she entered the room, I saw that she had a most respectable appearance—that she was_ tolerably eood-looking—with an air of becoming modesty— but yet with a certain anxiety expressed upon her countenance. She was plainly but neatly dressed, and seemed like a small tradesman’s daughter. The servant retired; and I asked the young woman her business. “Tf you please, ma’am,” she said, “I come upon a very distressing. subject I live at Woolwich, with my parents * Woolwich!—that name immediately smote me with the idea that the young woman’s visit was in some way connected with my brother. I bade her sit down, and entreated her to tell me at once whatsoever she had to impart. “T come, ma’am,” she responded, “ on behalf of one who is closely connected with you.” Cyril !—my brother !” I ejaculated in feverish anxiety. “ What of him Speak ! speak !” “Pray do not flurry yourself, ma’am,” said the young woman, who had the air of being a kind- hearted creature, and who hesitated to reveal the full truth at once, so that I apprehended some- thing dreadful and was tortured by suspense. “ Mr. Lambert—your brother i “Yes, yes!” I ejaculated: “he is my brother For God’s sake, speak !” “Do not be offended, ma’am, if I make an un- pleasant allusion But he has escaped ‘ « Ah !—escaped ?” and for the moment I felt relicved: but another glance at her countenance showed me that there was more yet behind. “Yes, ma’am—he has escaped,” continued the young woman: “but—but—he received a shot from a sentinel’s musket 3 “ Good God!—and he is dead?” I murmured shudderingly. “No, ma’am,” rejoined my visitress: “ but—but 19 —he is dying! “Dying! And he has sent you to me?” “TL came up from Woolwich on _ purpose, ma’am. Your poor brother besought that he might see you once again before he breathed his last. He is very penitent—quite resigned to die——”’ “Oh, I will accompany you at onco!” I ex- claimed, starting up from my seat in a condition of nervous excitement: but as a thought suddenly struck me, IL hesitated—stopped short—turned again towards the young woman-—and contemplat- ing her with piercing scrutiny, inquired, “ But how did you find out my abode ?’’—for I perfectly le A Ae il ROSA LAMBERT. —— a O08 ee wee Ce ee eee ee ore 1 eet ee eee a em ae ee em err On well remembered that on no occasion of my inter- views with Cyril in Newgate had I mentioned the place of my residence. Indeed, L had pyrposely abstained from doing so. The young woman met my look with all the modest composure of sincerity and truthfulness— and unhesitatingly replied, “ Your brother could not tell me, ma’am, where you lived: but he directed me to Mr. , the solicitor in Newgate Street, to whom I explained the object of my visit to London ; and he told me to come here.” “You are a good young woman,” I answered; “ and I will prove my gratitude,” I was then about to order the carriage; but E reflected that if I proceeded in my own equipage, the servants accompanying it would be almost sure to discover that which I had all along been so anxious to keep concealed from them—namely, my close kinship with the Cyril Lambert whose trial for forgery was paraded in all the public prints. “Are there any means, by public conveyance,” I said to the young woman, “of reaching Wool- wich this evening and speedily P” She responded that there would be a coach leaving Gracechurch Street at seven o’clock, and that it was her purpose to return home by if. IL at once said that I would accompany her; and expecting to be detained away from home until the morrow at least—if not longer—L rang the bell for my maid. “This young woman,” I said, “has brought me the intelligence that a near relative of mine is lying dangerously ill at some little distance in the country. Iam going with her: I may be absent for a day or two. Put me up a few necessaries in the smallest portmanteau ; and bring me down my plainest bonnet and shawl.” These instructions were speedily executed; and in the meantime I learnt that the young woman’s name was Fanshawe, and that her father was a clerk in the dockyard at Woolwich. I put to her a question or two in respect to the solicitor of Newgate Street, in order to convince myself that she had really seen him: but I did not suffer her to perceive that I was thus speaking for a special motive. Her answers were completely satisfactory ; and if there had been any lingering doubt in my mind as to her truthfulness, it was now completely cleared up. The reader may easily comprehend wherefore I was thus upon my guard: for I had resolyed not to be taken unawares, nor easily led into any snare, by the villanous machinations of the Marquis of Belmore. When however I looked at the innocent countenance of Miss Fanshawe— | observed the ingenuousness of her language—and reflected on the perfect consistency of her tale, it was impossible to suspect any longer that there was aught sinister in her mission. : My maid entered with the apparel I had or- dered: the portmanteau was in readiness in the hall; and the groom was summoned to follow us with it to the nearest point at Highbury where a cab could be obtained. To be brief, Miss Fan- shawe and myself reached Gracechurch Street just in time to save the Woolwich coach, and to secure two places inside. As the other two were occupied, we were unable to converse on the sad topic which was uppermost in my mind; and as [ had no heart to talk on other subjects, the journey was pursued for the most part in silence. een ee ee \ Gcomilchbook ee