Rosa Lambert — page 73: what you’re looking at

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

‘> 4 - i. a A ls from him; and if so, it must be this time of her own accord, as there were no circumstances of alarm nor turmoil to sever them. I made a rapid circuit of all that part of the grounds in the midst of which the lights were festooning in all manners of devices; and just as [ reached the vicinage of that very avenue into which Horace Rockingham had ere now led me, I beheld two figures, disap- pearing rapidly in the darkness that lay beyond the lights burning at the entrance. But that glimpse was sufficient to show me the well-known gray domino worn by Lucia, and the slight elegant figure of Horace Rockingham apparelled as a Page of Henry VIII's reign. : My black dress, as I have already stated, en- abled me to glide unperceived, as a spirit of dark- negs, amongst the trees; and my footsteps were noiseless as those of the sprite itself. The half- hushed but nevertheless excited sounds of voices quickly guided me to a particular spot; and I soon became aware that this must be where that very same bench was’ situated on which I had ere now sat by the side of Horace Rockingham. “What do you tell me?” were the first hurried and excited words which distinctly met my ears, as I stopped short to listen to the discourse that was goine on: and it was a female voice that spoke, “What strange thing is this you are saying, Horace? Are you beside yourself? or am I my- self frenzied, that I do not understand you ?” “Why, you must be frenzied,” was young Rock- ingham’s quick and somewhat brutal response. “Good heavens! what does he mean?” ex- claimed lucia, though still im an undertone. “You have spoken to me before this night, you say Pers “ Certainly,” answered Horace: “here—upon this very seat ——But I remember that you: were erying and would not speak a word yourself. What airs are these that you are putting on?” * Airs?” echoed the unfortunate: young lady: and there was the wildest despair in her accents. “Tell me once again, Horace, what you ere now said, that I may see if I can comprehend you!” “This is almost too much!” cried Rockingham impetuously: “but if you will make me recapitu- late, be it so. I tell you, then, that scarcely an hour has’ elapsed sinee you and I were seated here together. Of course I knew you by the gray do- mino, which you told me in your letter you. should. wear; and you likewise knew me, as you enjoined me in that self-same letter’ to come in this very costume which I have adopted.” “ Horace,” murmured Lucia in almost a dying voice, “there is some frightful error im all this ! Speak, for heaven’s sake! Tell me—was it imme- diately after the alarm and panic’ in front of the pagoda r | “Tt was,” rejoined Rockingham: quickly, and’ in a tone which began to testify bewilderment, if not positive alarm. “ An error, you say ? Impossible! there is not another masque present wearing’ a gray domino embroidered like yours.” “() heavens, what will’ become of me P what shall I do?” exclaimed Lucia, in an agony of grief “T lost my domino—some one must have self. appropriated it. It was not IT, Morace, whom you condueted hither! ‘Tell me, tell me—did! you say anything that could betray me ?' did you address me by name ?” ul ROSA LAMBERT. aS $$$. “T think I must have ealled you Lucia,” he re. sponded,—*“ but that is all. And you are not, you know, the only Lucia in the world. Ah! but I remember r *s “ What—what do you remember?” demanded the young lady, with feverish, frenzied excites ment. “T remember that I spoke of aunt, naming her as Lady Sudbury: and ineceelaae e 4 “Heavens! identifying me beyond all’ possibility of doubt! Horace, Horace, it is not sufficient that you ruined my honour by the foulest treachery— by violence—by force—but now, by your wilful; wanton recklessness, you have compromised me beyond the possibility of redemption !”—and the unfortunate young lady burst into the most an« guished weeping. > “Come, come, Lucia—if you mean to reproach me in this way,” said Horace, with the most hard« hearted callousness, “the sooner our interview ends the better. How the deuce could I suspect that another had put on your domino ?” “No, no—you could not!” murmured the af. flicted Lucia. “It was doubtless the jest of some masque—but that jest has put the one who»played it, in possession of a: seeret which is:death tone ! Oh, be not angry with me—treat me not» with im» difference! More than ever do: I require) your love! Tam at your mercy! Horace, I am»already your wife in the sight of heaven: let me at onee become so in that of the world. Weed I recapitu- late all that I said in my letter? Tell me, dearest Horace—tell me that to-morrow yow will make all the atonement which lies'im your power! Where shall I meet you.? I will contrive to steal forth——” “Listen, Siuecia,’ interrupted. Rockingham ; “for I see that I must repeat to you what D said to that other whom L just now took to be you. I am sorry, Lucia—but it is impossible.” “Impossible?” she echoed wildly. “Noy no— speak not that word—it will be my death!” “Calm. yourself—every moment is precious;” rejoined Rockingham: “ your father will: be look- ing for you. Listen—and. interrupt me not. Or rather, answer me a’ question Would you wed a beggar?’ “Oh! this is) eruel—too cruel, Horace!” mur- mured the afflicted: young lady. “It is a subter- fuge Great God! to think that you should have reduced me to this, and now seek to abandon me! Oh, it is too cruel!”—and low but bitter moans escaped Lucia’s lips. | “It is no subterfuge Would to heaven that it were!” ejaculated Horace: “because then I should not be the ruined being that I am!” “You ruined?” murmured Lucia: and her very accents showed that she was’ shivering’ and trembling all over in the anguish of her affliction. “My father is a ruined man, Lucia,” answered Horace; “and you know that I am. totally de- pendent’ on him. Ah! think you not that this truth is painful enough for me to speak ?P byt itis. one'that must be told! And now I again ask— will you wed a beggar?” “Yios; yos!” cried Lucia, almost frantic. “I must have a) father’s name for the child that I bear in. my! bosom !”’ | ‘This is ridiculous, Lueia,’ said Horace im- patiently! Poverty willbo bad enough for one—