Rosa Lambert — page 91: what you’re looking at

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

wt 80 ROSA LAMBERT. tS “T have been inveigled hither,” I said, “ by the most execrable treachery, in which you have borne a certain part. This unprincipled young man’— and I glanced with scornful indignation towards Horace Rockingham—*“ will tell you that I have not succumbed to his designs upon me; and he will in your presence beseech my pardon for th outrage. Do you not, sir?” , “TIT do, I do,” replied Horace, utterly discom- fited and crestfallen. “Then beware, infamous woman that you are!” I continued, “how you venture to breathe a single syllable to my detriment. On the condition of your good behaviour in this respect, depends my | forbearance from invoking the powers of the law | to punish you. And now answer me: is that. hackney-coach still at the door ?” “No, ma’am,” replied Mrs. Simpson, very much alarmed, and glancing in consternation from me towards Horace—then back again to myself. “ It has departed.” | “ Enough!” I exclaimed: and turning towards Rockingham, I said, “ It is for you, sir, to see the driver of that vehicle to-morrow—or this very evening—and bid him keep silence also in respect to this outrage :’—then, as I now perceived the woman had descended the stairs again, I added, “There is one other point on which I command silence; and that is with respect to my presence at_ the masquerade at Lady Sudbury’s house. Re-— member that if in one single tittle my injunctions | are disobeyed, the world shall that instant know of | your father’s ruined fortunes. Henceforth leave | me alone, and all connected with me: it is the only condition on which [ will spare your father and yourself.” “ And may I really hope, Rosa,” asked Horace, | in the most self-abasing entreaty, “that you will | keep this secret ?”’ “T will—on the terms that I have stipulated. Be you equally faithful and guarded on your side.” I then issued from the room, and descended the stairs. The door of the house stood open: I passed forth as quickly as possible, and shrinking as it were within myself like a guilty thing,—feel- ing indeed as if the eyes of the whole world were upon me. I looked neither to the right nor to the left—but sped along, and did not relax my pace, nor even pause to reflect or to inquire in what quarter of the town I was, until I had threaded three or four streets. Then I began to breathe more freely: it seemed as if I had entered into a purer atmosphere, and had escaped from the range of those eyes which might have seen me issue forth from that house of infamy. T looked at my watch: it was a little past six o'clock ; and being in the month of August, was still broad daylight. In a few moments I emerged into a square; and looking up to read the name on the corner house, [ found it was Fitzroy Square. I now knew the district to which I had been taken, and had no difliculty in reaching the nearest stand of public vehicles,—where I entered one, and in due time reached my own house in Sloane Street. —_ Ah et A tl i LL LLL LLL, LL LL LLL LLL LLL LLL LL a ccsttcataaa aia LL LLL CHAPTER XI THE BRIDGE. ON arriving at home, I experienced all the effects of the terrible excitement through which I had passed for the previous four or five hours. In- deed, | was exceedingly indisposed; and was half inclined to send for a medical man—only that I knew not exactly what explanation to give him, so as to account for the nervous trepidation into which I had been thrown. I forced myself to eat a few mouthfuls of the dinner that was served up; and I drank a glass or two of wine,—after which refreshment I felt somewhat better, I lay upon the sofa to reflect whether I should frankly explain to Reginald Fortescue everything that had occurred between Horace Rockingham and myself: or whether I should keep the whole iniquitous affair profoundly secret. I decided upon the latter course, for several reasons. In the first place, I knew that Fortescue’s brave and im- petuous character would prompt him at once to hasten off and inflict upon Horace a chastisement which would inevitably provoke a hostile meeting : and I shuddered at the idea of my protector being involved in a second duel on my account. Another motive for my resolve of silence, was my conyic- tion that Horace Rockingham himself would keep the matter secret; as it was evident that he was even far more horrified at the bare thought of his father’s circumstances being made public, than I had at first expected he would be. Thus, if there was really no chance of the occurrences reaching Reginald Fortescue’s ears, it would be useless to afflict him and perhaps to endanger his life by making the revelation. Moreover, he might pos- sibly think that a certain degree of blame was to be attached to myself in haying so unguardedly fallen into the treacherous snare laid for me; and what was worse still—his sensibilities might be deeply wounded by the bare thought that I had been in a house of an infamous description. I knew full well that if the delicacy of sentiment which enters into the contexture of love be once hurt, warped, or blunted, the feeling of love itself becomes undermined and its very existence en- dangered. Therefore, all things considered, I de- termined to keep the seal of silence upon my lips in respect to those incidents which have occupied so large a portion of the preceding chapter. | On the following morning I looked anxiously | for the arrival of Reginald Fortescue ; and as the hour drew near when I was aware he would come | off guard, my heart began to palpitate with in- | creasing violence. That he would “forgive me for | my jealous fears and for the proceeding which they | had prompted, I had no doubt: but I trembled | with the apprehension that the old gentleman I | had seen at his lodgings, might after all prove to be his father—that he had read the letters I had left unsealed—that he would thence have gleaned the secret of his son’s connexion with me—and | that he would take measures to put an end to it. | These were the alarms which harassed me; and | — when I heard, at about noon, Reginald’s well- | known knock at the front-door, I felt as if all my | happiness now depended on the cast of a die. : He came bounding up the staircase in his | | ~ comicbooks.com ‘ . 1 Dg: very ») e i a ‘@ ay ot RY