Rosa Lambert — page 263: what you’re looking at

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

952 ROSA LAMBERT. 7 ne eee ee a eS > ae Rane eee ee cane eee i era eat a ae eee man. Jelix was as generous as he was ardent; | settled for the following day’s recreation, “you and if I had suffered him, he would have pur- chased for me the contents of half the jewellers’ and mercers’ shops in the town. But this I would not permit: for knowing exactly what his income was, I did not choose that he should run into ex- travagances which might make his expenditure exceed his resources. At the end of the first week we liked our quarters so well that we engaged them for another; and at the expiration of that term, we still decided upon tarrying yet a little longer at Dover. It was the autumn season: the weather was beautiful—the place was crowded with visitors~and I enjoyed the scene. Thus, upwards of a month passed away,—when the inci- dent occurred which I am about to relate. One day, as Felix and I were walking together on the Marine Parade, he was accosted by that very friend whom he had stopped to inquire about at Woolwich on the occasion which first rendered us acquainted. This friend was a Mr. Williams— aman of about forty years of age, by no means good-looking—but with a frank honest expression of countenance, and an off-hand bluntness of manner which if unpolished, nevertheless merged not into rudeness nor coarseness. He was dressed in a Sailor-like costume, and carried a telescope under his arm. The greetings were warm on both sides; and Felixintroduced me as Mrs. Wel- lesley. Whether Williams fancied that I was really a wife, or knew at once that I was only a mistress, L cannot tell—nor indeed has it anything todo with my story. Suffice it to say that he gave me avery cordial shake of the hand,—declaring himself much honoured and flattered at forming my acquaintance. “* And how long have you been at Dover ?” in- quired Wellesley, as Williams turned to accom- pany us in our walk. “TI only arrived yesterday,” was the response. “I came round from Cowes in my yacht; and there she is,” he added, pointing with his telescope to a beautiful little cutter which was riding at anchor within a quarter of a mile of the shore. “If you are fond of sailing, Mrs. Wellesley,” he continued, turning to me, “I shall be delighted to give you a little cruise in the Gipsy. I know my friend Wellesley will not want to be asked twice: for he and I hada yacht between us some three or four years ago, before he took it into his head to go travelling on the Continent.” “T do not think that Rose will like the sea,” paid Felix. “Oh! onthe contrary,” I exclaimed; “ nothing would give me greater pleasure than to have a sail. When by the sea-side I have often and often wished it—but have neycr obtained the opportunity.” “Well then,’ said Mr. Williams, “at eleven o'clock to-morrow morning I shall be on the look- out for you both. The boat will be waiting for you on the beach. I shall have two or three friends besides yourselves; and I can promise you a tolerably respectable collation when the sea- breeze has put the appetite in order to enjoy it. And now you must excuse me: for I have got to go and give some orders in respect to this very trip.” “But, my dear Williams,” said Felix, who seemed rather annoyed at the arrangements thus ——— ome really must not expect us: for there is every prospect of the wind getting up—and I know that Rose’s courage will fail when the time comes,” “Ah! but Mrs. Wellesley has promised,” gaid Mr. Williams, in his off-hand good-natured man. ner; “and I reckon upon your company.” Thus speaking, he raised his hat and hurried away. “TI was in hopes,” said Felix, with a tone and look of tender reproach, “ that we were to be alto- gether by ourselves while at Dover, and not mingle in society where we must be separated.” “Tam sure, my dear Felix,” I answered, “I could not for an instant foresee that you would object to a little recreation of this kind—or else I should have responded differently to Mr. Williams’ invitation, But it is now too late for us to retreat.” “You heard him gay that there would be others of the party,” objected Felix; “and I cannot en- dure the thought of having a restraint upon us for several long hours.” ‘ “Oh! but we shall be in each other’s society,” I rejoined: and it was with some difficulty I could repress &@ certain display of ill-humour at the manner in which Felix treated the engagement that had been formed; for I thought it rather too hard that he should pin himself continuously to the skirt of ray dress, and that I should be deprived of a little pleasure when I had the opportunity of enjoying it. “Ah! we shall be in each other’s socicty,” ho exclaimed,——“ but still as much asunder as if there were a wall of adamant between us, Some friend of Williams will perhaps monopolize your atten- tion 4 “ And you, my dear Felix,” I interjected, forcing myself to smile as amiably as I could,—* must render yourself agreeable to any other lady who happens to be of the party.” “ Rose! how can you talk in this manner?” he said, with a look of mournful reproach. “Why,” I ejaculated, “you do not think f shall be jealous ?’—and I laughed merrily in the hope of cheering him. “Ah! but I shall be jealous of any attentions which are paid to you by another,” he rejoined, sinking into a perfect despondency. To confess the truth, I experienced @ feeling which bordered aimost upon disgust: for I thought that it was going a great deal too far—and I could not help saying, “ How foolish you are, my dear Felix! When we mix in society, we must receive and bestow all suitable courtesies. You cannot suppose that we are always to live together without secing a single soul. I am sure you would get tired of the monotony of such a life.” “There is no monotony in love,” he responded s and then he added with a sigh, “Ah, my dear Rose! you are different from me: for I could be ever alone with you—whereas I perceive you are already yearning for society, pleasure, and gaiety.” I gave the conversation a turn, for I was growing weary of it: but for all the remainder of that day Felix Wellesley was dispirited and dejected. His mind was evidently composed of extremes—being susceptible of fervid enthusiasm or of sentimental despondency. 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