Penny Dreadfuls, 1854 · page 338 of 400
Rosa Lambert — page 338: what you’re looking at
A restored page from Penny Dreadfuls, 1854. Page through the whole issue in the reader above.
📄 Transcribed text from this page (OCR, searchable)
Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.
ROSA LAMBERT. t 327 woman—she is not an ungenerous one. I have already repeated to you everything she said to me yesterday at the hotel: she knows that as a young man you are not likely to remain tied to her apron-strings—she is perfectly willing that you should indulge in all proper pleasures and becom- ing recreations—but it is easy to put one-self in her position and comprehend perfectly well that she must wipvee at the idea of her own money being used by her own husband for the support of other women. Now, you see I speak candidly C “And to what, my dear Rose, is this long sermon to lead?” asked Edwin, with a slight display of impatience. “Simply to this,’ I rejoined,—“that if you consulted your own interest, you would endeavour to make your peace with your wife ; and from what I know of her, I do not think she wil! be found implacable.” “Tell me, Rose,” said Lushington, rising from his chair and speaking severely, “that because I have suddenly become poor, I am no longer such a protector as will suit your views,—tell me this, and I shall understand you. We will in that case part at once !” “You see, Edwin,” I responded, throwing my arms about his neck, and caressingly compelling him to resume his seat, “that I am unfortunately so situated I cannot give you good advice without having a wrong construction put upon my motives. I appear most selfish at the very instant I am in reality most disinterested im “Pardon me, Rose!” exclaimed Edwin: “I see that I have done you an injustice. But pray do not again proffer me such counsel, however well- meant it may be. I have had enough of marriage with an old woman; and if you and I were to separate this instant, nothing would induce me to return to her. When penniless, I married her for her money: I would rather become penniless again than go back to live with her. Now, then, you understand me. If you yourself wish us to sepa- rate, 1t shall be so; and not a syllable of reproach will I breathe at parting. But if, on the other hand, you are sufficiently influenced by my love for I do sincerely love you, Rose to re- main with me, both of us cheerfully agreeing to struggle on in a pecuniary sense as best we can, with the small means at our command ‘4 Not another word, Edwin, upon the point!” I interrupted him: for I was deeply touched by his language, his tone, and his manner. “It shall be aS you say.” We embraced each other; and as by tacit con- sent, exerted ourselves to pass the remainder of the evening in as good spirits as possible. There was now no longer any necessity for | Edwin to be upon his guard, or to visit me stealthily : the discovery had been made in the quarter where it was dreaded—and thus the worst had happened. He therefore took up his abode altogether at Sidmouth Villa; and a few days after the scene with his wife, we compared the contents of our purses. The result was the some- what unpleasant discovery that in the shape of ready cash we had not twenty pounds in the house; and there were upwards of a hundred owing to different tradesmen in Cowes. Edwin’s income was paid half-yearly—namely, in July and January; and it wanted three months to the term when the next dividend would be due. That would be only a hundred and fifty pounds; and at the rate of our expenditure, we should owe five or six hundred,—even supposing that the trades- men would go on trusting us. I should observe that Edwin’s income was so settled he could not forestall it, nor could he raise a sum by means of mortgage. I suggested economy: but he would not listen to that. I saw that he was careless and extravagant in money-matters,—thinking only of the present, and utterly reckless for the future ; and I was filled with serious apprehensions lest he should involve himself in some inextricable diffi- culty. I proposed to put down the horses: but he declared that if we did, the tradesmen would grow suspicious at once and would insist upon im- mediate payment of their accounts. Then I pro- posed that by the sale of my jewellery we should liquidate the outstanding debts at the time of putting down the horses,—which would leave our credit unimpaired. But he vowed that he would never consent to such a sacrifice on my part: he talked recklessly of “something turning up ’’—and speedily led the conversation into another channel. Thus we went on living in our wonted style,— paying nobody, and maintaining the appearance of people with two or three thousand a year. I frequently remonstrated, and ventured upon various economical suggestions: but Edwin always evaded the subject as mtich as he could; andif I persevered in the discourse, it rendered him miserable. So at last I desisted altogether from the topic; and when [I had no longer the heart to envisage our increasing difficulties, nor the courage to insist upon grappling with them, I abandoned myself to the flow of circumstances with almost as much recklessness as Kdwin him- self displayed. At length the bills came pouring in; and as they remained unsettled, the tradesmen began to look discontented—then suspicious. The servants’ wages too were in arrear—rent was due —and duns were multiplying their visits at the door. Edwin now appeared to feel the necessity of doing something; and having accidentally heard that his wife was in London, he resolved to 20 across to Southampton to see two or three friends there, and borrow of them a few hundred pounds. I knew perfectly well that now his separation from his wife was a matter of notoriety, and he was reduced to comparative poverty, he would not succeed in obtaining a single shilling from his summer-day friends: but I expressed not my fears,—on the contrary, I encouraged him to depart, for 1 had my own special scheme in view. He went away one morning, promising to be with me by the evening of the next day at latest ; and no sooner was he gone, than I ascended to my chamber to estimate the worth of my jewellery. I had a quantity which I had purchased with a por- tion of the five hundred pounds which Alvanly had given me after I was robbed by Toby Gray- son : I had likewise the casket which Mr. Fenton gave me at Brighton as a recompense for restoring his pocket- book, and which the bankruptcy officials had suffered me to retain; and I had several handsome gifts from Edwin Lushington himself. I thought it would be strange if all these would not produce me at least five hundred pounds: for in the aggregate they had cost more than double | (E) GOMIG IOOK