Rosa Lambert — page 97: what you’re looking at

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

| I now comprehended wherefore the veil had been so scrupulously kept down—and why Lucia had locked the door. “ But, my dear friend,” I said, “ you will have to remain here a couple of months; and during that interval it is altogether impossible: you can bury yourself in your bed-chamber.” “Is there much of a garden to the house ?” inquired her ladyship: “I mean at the back of it—and which is not overlooked by other dwell- ing's P”’ “ Yes—a large garden, surrounded by a very high hedge, and in no way overlooked.” “Then I can occasionally take exercise there, of an evening, with my veil on.” “ But this conduct on your part,” I suggested, “will only excite the very suspicions which you ought to be so anxious to avoid.” “Oh!” exclaimed Lucia, who appeared to have every detail of her conduct during her sojourn at Jasmine Cottage, marked out and settled before- hand ;' “it is by far better to risk suspicion and conjecture—which, after all, can only be of the vaguest and dimmest quality—than to incur posi- tive dangers by letting my face be seen, thereby standing the chance of future recognition.” “You certainly shall have your own way in everything,” I answered: “ but when the crisis comes—the medical attendant i “T shall be veiled, and the room shall be darkened,” was Lady Lucia’s quick and ready response. “ Ah, my dear friend!” she added, in an excited manner, “pray do not endeavour to alter my plans! I should never be enabled to go forth into the world again, if I stood the chance of being recognised by those who could point a finger af me. Maria is trustworthy—yow would not betray me—and the villain Rockingham is not likely to make a boast of his fiendish atrocity ;’— these last words being uttered with a deep concen- trated bitterness, so that 16 was evident enough the young lady entertained not one particle of love—but, on the contrary, a burning, rancorous hate, towards the father of the babe which she bore in her bosom. “JT again assure you, my dear Mrs. Richards,” I said, “that everything shall be conducted and arranged just as you think fit. Iam here to help, and not to coerce you—to befriend, and not to grieve or annoy. But I scarcely expected you to- night. How was it that you did not favour me with a single line i “ Oh, my dear friend!” cried Lucia, embracing me; “pray forgive that seeming neglect—do not think me ungrateful—make allowances for the dreadful excitement, the torture and anguish of mind, which I have undergone! is “T do, I do! No apologies are necessary. Hiad you any difficulty,” I asked, “in persuading your aunt to allow you to accept the invitation ?” “ None at all,” responded Lucia. “ Your letter was so admirable! Nothing could be more graphic than the style in which you recalled to mind those feigned school-day reminiscences. Really you pos- 6ess great talent: you ought to write a novel.” “At all events,’ [ observed, not thinking the compliment a very delicate nor considerate one, “J plunged headlong into that tissue of fabrica- tions for your sake.” ‘“ieavens! do not take offence, my dear friend,” r, if apd: © reg, - —_——— EEE EEE nnn ee a ROSA LAMBERT. , evied Lucia earnestly, as she seized my hands in both her own. “I did not mean to say anything unkind or unfeeling. I know you have done much for me—far more than I can ever repay !” At this moment there was a knock at the door ; and Lucia, hastily snatching up her veil, threw it over her head, exclaiming in affright, “Oh, if that should not be Maria !” “J will see :”’—and I hastened to open the door : but it was Maria, bearing the tea-tray, with whieh she entered. She was, as Lady Lucia had de- scribed her, a woman of about eight-and-twenty, and with the appearance of discretion and reserve. She was by no means good-looking, but genteel and dressed with great neatness. She gazed some- what hard at me for a moment—no doubt to dis- cover whether I also was trustworthy, and whether by my looks I might be taken as a real friend of ber mistress. She was apparently satisfied on these points, and spoke most civilly when I had oe- casion to say something to her. I had made up my mind to stay three more days at Jasmine Cot- tage, for two reasons: in the first place that Lucia might not be consigned to a too sudden loneliness after her arrival there—and in the second place, that I might prolong my absence from London sufficiently to keep Reginald in the belief that IL had really been into Cheshire to see my parents. Tor the three clear days that I thus remained at the cottage after Lucia’s arrival, she pursued the exact line of conduct which she had previously marked out. She took all her meals in her bed- room, the door of which she kept locked—only opening it on recognising the voice of either myself or her maid. In the evening, when it was quite dusk, she put on a thick veil and walked for an hour in the garden, but keeping the while entirely in the shade of the hgh hedge which enclosed the rearward end of the grounds. I took an oppor- tunity to hint to Mrs. Bunting that my friend Mrs. Richards had her peculiarities; but I begged the good woman to humour them as much as possible. With much evident sincerity, she expressed her willingness to do so,—adding that it was her place to obey, without asking questions or troubling her- self.as to motives. When the morning for my departure arrived, Lady Lucia Calthorpe inquired if I had seen or retained a medical attendant, as well as a nurse for the expected infant? I said that I had as yet done neither; for that I was fearful of anticipat- ing any arrangements which she herself might think fit to make. She begged me to take this additional trouble on myself; and I consented. “ But remember,” I observed, “if you have a nurse, she will require to be in the room with ou is a Not with me!” responded Lady Lucia quickly. — “ Maria alone shall be my attendant. But if the child lives and [ hope it will not,” she added slowly but emphatically, “the nurse must take care of it in another room. Heaven knows I shall never wish to see its face!’ I was shocked at the manner in which she thus — spoke ; and my good opinion of her sank consi- der ably. . “Oh, my dear Mrs. Wilton!” she cried, with some degree of bitterness, “I dare say you think me very cruel and hard-hearted: but a. put yourself in my place ns re bail pe Mae a A ‘ i