Rosa Lambert — page 81: what you’re looking at

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

formed,—elegance and dignity combining in her gait, As for the condition of the unfortunate young lady in respect to being in the way to be- come a mother, this was not visible to any one who suspected not the circumstance. As she drew near where I stood, she stopped short ; and I saw that she was trembling nervously, ROSA. LAMBERT. as she contemplated my countenance through the | thick folds of her veil. “Tt is LT whom you seek, Lady Lucia,” I said in a kind voice. “ Let us walk away to the most se- cluded spot amongst the trees.” “You are very good to have kept this appoint- ment,’ she answered in a tremulous voice; “ be- cause you assured me that it was for a friendly purpose—and I believe it. There is something in your countenance which gives me this con- viction.” “You may indeed believe it, Lady Lucia,’ I responded: “for I have no earthly reason to de- | ceive you—but every motive to befriend you. We will not however speak another word until we gain a spot where we may converse without re- straint.” in a few minutes we reached such a spot—and placed ourselves on a bench beneath one of the large trees on the southern side of the Serpentine. Lady Lucia now raised her veil: she evidently thought it would be too coldly formal, and even ungracious on her part, to retain it over her fea- tures, as mine was thrown back. As the reader will recollect, I had not before seen her counte- nance: it was eminently handsome;—but even allowing for the present agitation of her feelings, 1 concluded that 1t must be naturally inexpressive and passionless. Her hair was of raven darkness, with the richest gloss upon it: her eyes, of cor- responding hue, were large and bright—but with a meaningless lustre, if the term can be understood. There was no softness of sentiment—no vibrating play of feeling in those orbs. Her complexion was of alabaster fairness—but of that transparency which showed the delicate tracery of blue veins ; so that it was not a dead inanimate whiteness. Her features were Grecian—classically chiselled— the lips of a bright vermilion—the teeth faultlessly beautiful. The brows were nobly arched—darkly but not coarsely pencilled: the lashes formed thick fringes for the fine dark eyes. There was certainly something rigidly statue-like in that countenance ; and I could very well fancy that when entirely unruffled by any particular feeling or emotion, it had a cold inanimate look, with an air of patrician dignity which over-awed and chilled rather than with that true feminine affability which en- courages cheerfulness of conversation. That she was one who would have voluntarily surrendered herself up to Horace Rockingham’s arms, was not for an instant to be supposed: her very pride would have formed the best bulwark of her virtue, even if her temperament were not naturally cold. But with the first glance which L threw upon her countenance, [ read in its passionless expression the complete confirmation of the tremendous charge of diabolic outrage which, in the dark avenue in her aunt’s grounds, she had levelled against that wascrupulous young miscreant, I did not gaze upon her long enough to pro- duce any confusion on her part: a few instants’ survey of her countenance were suflicient to show | doubtless already surmised it. 3 me in what it was attractive, and in what it was deficient—and that it was the face of a beautiful statue, without the light of the mind or the reflex of the heart’s emotions playing upon it. “Your ladyship had better resume your veil,” I said; “for it were not well that you should be recognised by any one passing: and I also will lower mine.” “You know who I am,” observed Lucia, as she followed my suggestion: “but perhaps you have forgotten that as yet I know not who you are— and that I can but barely conjecture how my secret should have become revealed to you. But even then I am at a loss to conceive how your sympathies should have been enlisted on my be- half.” “Tam Mrs. Wilton,” was my answer: for I had previously made up my mind not on any account to let Lady Lucia know who I really was. “My husband is abroad—in the East India servico— and I am for the present living with an elderly female relation in London. As to the manner in which I beeame possessed of your secret, you have At all events I will explain. The night before last my veil and mask eame off in the confusion which followed the incident at the pagoda. As I fled, fearing to be overtaken by the sparks which the rocket shed forth—and being separated from the gentleman (a cousin of mine, I should observe) by whom I was accompanied—I beheld the gray domino lying on the ground. Half in bewilderment, and half in jest, I put it on: but no sooner had I assumed if, than a gentleman caught me by the hand, ex- claiming, ‘This way! this way! I was again seized with a pamie-terror. In my confusion L thought he was considerately hurrying me away from some threatenmg danger—and I aceom- panied him. He led me to a seat, on which T fell half fainting with fright and exhaustion. Then, addressing me as Lucia, he began pouring forth a volley of words, every one of which was a startling revelation. He mentioned the Marchioness of Sudbury as the aunt of her for whom he took me; and thus was it that I comprehended that I was so taken for your ladyship’s self. I was so as- tounded at all I heard, that I had not the power to interrupt him: my lips were sealed—I was petrified with wonderment. Voices and footsteps were heard approaching—we separated—I threw the gray domino upon the grass, on resuming my own disguise, which my cousin, whom I speedily encountered, had happened to pick up and re- ecognised to be mine. When I was enable “ “But to that cousin of your’s, Mrs. Wilton,” said Lucia, with the anxiety of suspense,—“ did you breathe a syllable | “Not a.syllable!” I ejaculated: “I would not for worlds have done so! But when I subsequently reflected on all I had heard, I could come to no other conclusion than that you must stand in need of a faithful female friend—of one who, when the hour of trial approaches, would render you all possible succour—and who would even help you to veil your secret from the world a friend who from purely sympathetic motives would do all this! And that friend you have now by your side, if you choose to trust her.” «“T know not how to express my gratitude for |- so much kindness,” answered Lady Lucia, taking | — a?