Rosa Lambert — page 258: what you’re looking at

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

ow _ * a ett Oa ee gale be ed an har ne ee we em ~~ eer ew ree ROSA LAMBERT. at home whose heart beat with a constant love— whose soul was filled with the faithfulest devotion. Good God, how all those visions have been shat- tered into fragments!—how all my hopes have been engulfed, like the beautiful vessel which sank in the unfathomable waters, leaving me ship- wrecked and lost, clinging toa broken spar! On arriving in Hngland, L hurried:to the villa, expect- ing to find you there. As I reached the gate, I said to myself, ‘In another minute I shall be clasped in her arms’ ‘: “For heaven’s sake,” I cried, frenzied and dis- tracted, “address me not thus ! do not tell me all these things! Wherefore did you come to me? how did you discover my abode P’—and I put those questions wildly, scarcely knowing what I said. “The letter you wrote to the house-agent in respect to the seal, furnished your address. I tell you again,’ continued Beaumont, profoundly af: fected, “that I know not wherefore I sought you out. 1 was half mad when yesterday afternoon the fearful intelligence burst upon me that you had quitted the villa and gone, the person in charge knew not whither. I flew to the house-agent’s: I learnt from him the sudden circumstances of your departure six months ago. I was toid that there were letters for me at my navy-agent’s. I sped thither: I cbtained your communications—I read them—and more maddened still, I was impelled by some influence as irresistible as it was unac- countable, to journey at once to Sandgate and see you for the last time. Rose, you know not how much I have loved you: nor can you form an idea of how deeply, deeply I am wounded by your con- duct !”’ All the time that he was thus speaking, I was weeping bitterly: my soul was tortured—my heart was rent—my brain was enduring agonies. “Oh!” JI exclaimed, wildly and passionately, “T never foresaw this! I felt certain that you would believe me! I knew that everything must be at an end between us: indeed my conduct proves that I knew it and intended it! But still I fancied not that you would regard me as the vilest of hypocrites—the lowest of impostors—the most despicable of cheats. You have suffered much, you tell me——heaven knows how I also have suf- fered |” Beaumont surveyed me steadily: his eyes then wandered slowly from my countenance over my entire form; and I saw that he shook his head mournfully, but yet so slightly that it would have been imperceptible were not all my senses sharpened to the keenest powers of penetration. “Ah! J understand you,” I exclaimed, instan- tancously comprehending what was passing in his mind. “You see no ravages of care and anguish upon my person:—would to God that vou could fathom the depths of my soul! Yes, I have sut- fered—and suffered bitterly, bitterly! Were there no traces of tears upon the letter which you found at the navy-agent’s P Bunt it is useless for me to argue in my own defence. Fearful as were tue lessons which the world had already taught me,” I continued, with a revulsion of feeling which threw me ito a state of unnatural calmness,—“ and bitter as all my past experiences had been, I have nevertheless within these few minutes learnt an- other lesson more terrible still, and gained another experience ten thousand times more cutting, It - ee ee ee See Ce ae Oe ee eee ee Se ey et ee ee 24:7 —_—_—— me ee ~ wee. - is that the atrocity of the worst of men may render me a victim, while the generosity of the best of men does not extend far enough to believe my tale. You think that I am persevering in a falsehood : you are wrong! But no means short of a miracle can convince you of the truth; and I am too little favoured by heaven to have such a miracle wrought on my behalf! Now let us separate. You will go one way in the world, George Beaumont— while I pursue my own path in another direction. From the bottom of my soul ascends a prayer to heaven for your welfare! Yes—may that God who can read the secrets of all hearts, shower his choicest blessings upon your head !” “Rose, Rose, you are driving me mad!” mur- mured Beaumont; and with averted countenance he pressed his hand to his brow. “Mad ?” I ejaculated, half in frenzy and half with a deep concentrated bitterness: “itis LT who ought to talk of going mad!” Beaumont suddenly turned his countenance upon me with the profound, earnest, soul-seeking expression of one who is staggered in a previous belief, and who endeavours with a last effort to ascertain whether he be right or wrong in that opinion. I have no doubt that at the moment the bitter thoughts which were whirling in my brain—the hatred I at the instant experienced against all the world—the fearful sense of wrong under which I was smarting,—I have no doubt, I say, that all these combined to give a wickedness to my looks: for Beaumont, suddenly clasping both his hands in a despairing manner, cried out, “Wo, no! you have deceived me—you have de- ceived me !’”’—and like a maniac did he rush away across the spacious meadow. I stood for some minutes rooted to the spot, gazing after him—niy lips apart—my eyes staring in wild fixedness—my bosom upheaved—my breath suspended. He leapt over a stile: he darted across the adjacent field: he never once looked back—or at least 1f he did, I perceived it not; and he plunged into a grove at some distance. Then I regained my self-possession so far as to be enabled to reflect upon the scene which had just taken place. What other influence could it possibly have than to harden me? My better feelings had been wasted and spent in the anguish and the tears, the tortures and the excruciations, which had been my portion during the interview ; —and an unnatural calm succeeded. But this was broken at the expiration of a few minutes by a mocking laugh which rang forth from my lips, ——a laugh so false and wild, so fierce and so sardonic, that its sound startled my very self. “Fool that Lam,” I said, “to suffer maudlin sympathies and girlish emotions to get the better of me. The world is all selfish and ungenerous, harsh and vindictive, around me; and even the very best of the human species become infected with the same feelings. et me buckle on a kindred armour to wage a kindred warfare. Let me too be selfish and egotistical: let me think only of myself, and the pleasures and the enjoy- ments wherein I may revel. Let me dally with the world only to charm it with my beauty: but Jet me the while regard it with the inward horror, disgust, and loathing wherewith the Indian musician Jooks upon the dancing reptile that his melody enthrals and enraptures,” a SO Re a tn eae arcs Ne pa wy COE i a CONNIE OOO ee eet at eee Ss — see ee ee SS Oe - te