Rosa Lambert — page 376: what you’re looking at

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

| at watnowtads . ROSA LAMBERT. that when I was poor and friendless—on the very verge of destitution—I found a friend in you— and Oh! how disinterested a friend!” “ But, Mr. Brydges,” I said, profoundly and painfully affected, “you are no stranger to the life I have been leading. Your uncle must have told you that he met me under circumstances which admitted of no doubt as to my relapse from the path of virtue zy | “ Yes—he told me that,” replied Arthur mourn- fully, but yet compassionately, and with no tincture of reproach in his accents: “but he would not tell me where it was you thus met—or I should have flown to you—I should have flung myself at your feet, to implore and beseech you to leave that path of shame into which I felt convinced that naught but the unrelenting sternness of circum- stances could have once more driven you.” “ Whatever I may be im your eyes, Mr. Brydges,” I answered, in a voice of the deepest melancholy, “ yet I will not consent to appear as a hypocrite; and therefore am I at once bound to inform you that it was not altogether through necessity that I abandoned the path of self- reformation after I stealthily quitted your uncle’s house. No—I might have toiled for my bread— but I had not the moral courage ” * Listen to me, Rose,” interrupted Arthur, in a gentle voice; and his looks were full of mingled love and sympathy: “let me repeat to you those assurances which some years back I gave when you dwelt in the vicinage of that incumbency which your own generous kindness procured for me. I was a stranger to you when you took com- passion upon me: you saved me from ruin—you gave me the means of earning my bread—you stretched out your hand to draw me up from the very abyss of destruction—and you placed me in 2 position of comparative affluence. My soul was filled with a boundless gratitude; and it ripened into love. A love that had such a basis, became indestructible: years have passed—and that love is as strong and as sincere as ever in my heart. Now therefore let me stretch out a hand to you— let me lead you away from a path which I know you do not pursue willingly—let me make you a sharer of the riches which I have inherited. It were a duty which gratitude enjoins, even if I loved you not. But loving you as I do, it is more than a duty: it would prove the joy of my life to be enabled to minister unto your happiness, even as you once ensured mine !” He held my hand in his own as he spoke; and there wasa pleading earnestness as well as a frank sincerity and loving tenderness in his language, which penetrated to my very heart,—so that it swelled in my bosom with ineffable emotions. I could not speak: my brain was dizzy—a faintness was coming over me—and the tears were trickling down my cheeks. “You will not refuse my prayer, Rose ®” con- tinued Arthur Brydges. “I do not ask you where or how you are living at present: all I entreat is that you will permit me to provide for you a respectable and comfortable home, until the year pf my mourning is expired—and then will I con- duct you to the altar. During the interval I will see you frequently; and when our hands are united, if this country have memories which are painful for you, we will seek a home in some 365 foreign land,—where we will either dwell in seclu- sion, or where the few select friends with whom we may surround ourselves, will know naught of your past life. Tell me, Rose—shall it be so? Think not that it is in an access of enthusiasm—in a paroxysm of ungovernable joy at thus so unex- pectedly meeting you—-that I make this propo- sition. No!—in again offering you my hand, I am only endeavouring to realize a hope which has never altogether deserted me since the day we were so cruelly separated at Meadowville Church. And fear not, Rose,” he continued, with increasing earnestness of tone, “that I shall ever repent the step that I so much yearn to take. It shall be my study to ensure your happiness in this life, as it will be my pleasurable conviction that I am con- tributing to the eternal welfare of your soul. Answer me, then But you cannot refuse! I know that you did love me, Rose, at the time you were about to give me your hand :—and when we so unexpectedly met last year beneath my uncle’s roof, { saw by your looks that my image was not altogether effaced from your heart.” “No, Mr. Brydges,” I replied, having regained all my self-possession while he was thus speaking : “towards you I never could play a selfish part. Heaven knows that [ have loved you !—but I can- not consent to become your wife. Instead of ensuring my happiness, it would achieve my ut- most misery, because I feel so utterly unworthy of you. And now leave me—I conjure you to leave me !” “Ts this your decision?” he asked, in a pro- foundly mournful tone, and with a kindred despondency of look. “Take time to reflect, f conjure you! I am residing at my late uncle’s house: let me hear from you to-morrow. If your answer be favourable to my hopes, I will hasten to any appointment you may choose to give me and if unfavourable,’ he added, in a broken and scarcely audible voice, “I shall at once go abroad —perhaps never to return !” “No, Arthur,” I said; “it is useless to keep you in a state of suspense. My mind is made up; and it is for both our sakes that I have come to this decision. I can scarcely look you in the face now: still less could I do so if I became your wife. One so good as you are, ought to mate with a woman of equal virtue. As for a duty towards me, you owe me none; your gratitude had already repaid me:—but that you should ever have thought of leading me to the altar, considering what I am, leaves me immensely indebted to your- self. I beseech you, Arthur, to banish me from your memory. Never, never can we be united! You have assured me that you are anxious for my happiness: but you would not accomplish it by wringing from my lips an assent to the pro- posal you have made. Go, Arthur—and may you be happy! God grant that you may be happy!” I gave him my hand, which he wrung with im- passioned fervour,—at the same time murmuring some words, but in so broken a voice that I did not catch their meaning. I disengaged my hand from his grasp; and blinded by wy tears, turned hurriedly away. A moment afterwards I heard the sounds of his horse’s hoofs in rapid retreat ; and overpowered by my feelings, I staggered agmust a gate leading into a field. I wept and a a et GOmMIIGaoOoks (EO)