Rosa Lambert — page 98: what you’re looking at

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

. ewe ee ROSA LAMBERT. On that subject,” I interrupted her, yen. that, eubject;’ Lintearupted her, “ we will not converse. I am now going to see the medical | dear Mrs, Wilton,” “You are determined to have your own way, my said Lucia, with a smile, “I attendant—and likewise a nurse, whom Mrs, Bunt- | never shall be able to express my gratitude suffi- ing has recommended. But there is one thing | ciently that I ought to ask you, and on which you have no doubt duly reflected. arrangement do you purpose “ Ah!” ejaculated Lucia, a dark shade lowering upon her beautiful countenance; “this 1s indeed something on which I have scarcely thought—on which I have not dared to think—yet relative. to which I have longed to speak to you. What am I to do? You are my guardian genius; and I will follow your advice. My father allows me two hundred guineas a year for my clothes, jewels, and pocket-money. My milliner’s and jeweller’ s bills abscrb nearly the whole amount of my income: but I might perhaps manage to spare such a thing as twenty pounds a-year. Of course, you know, I hope to marry well some day or another; and then perhaps I shall have more funds at my com- mand.” Lady Lucia spoke in a strain alike so selfish and unfeeling, that my opinion of her was still farther damaged: but yet, considermg the cruel circum- stances of her position, I did not choose to let her perceive that I was thus shocked and wounded by all she said. “Twenty pounds a-year,’ I observed, “ would no doubt be sufficient, during the child’s infancy, to induce some poor person to take care of it.” “Ah! my dear Mrs. Wilton,” exclaimed Lucia, If the child lives, what | joined. ‘short time would see the light. 2? “Not another word upon this subject,” I re- “When the crisis 1s approaching, you will write me a note, directed to the post-office in Cavendish Street, as before—and in a few hours If will be with you.” The post-chaise was waiting—Lucia embraced me with every appearance of a true sisterly affec- tion—and I took my departure. During the drive back to the metropolis, F, could scarcely think of anything else than of those Hétle incidents which had so much depreciated Lady Lucia Calthorpe in my opinion. I felt that, no matter how grievous the wrong she had suffer ed at the hands of Horace Rockingham—no matter how tremendous was the | outrage which in its consequences had reduced her to her present painful, embarrassing, and even perilous position—there was something shocking in the thought that she was prepared to visit her bitter rancour upon the innocent babe that in a It was no longer possible to conceal from myself that there was indeed a large amount of cool-blooded callousness and selfish heartlessness in the composition of Lady Lucia’s character; so that I began to suspect the sincerity of those vows of eternal gratitude, sisterly love, and imperishable affection which she had so profusely lavished upon me. However, L had embarked in the enterprise—heaven knows * you have now comforted and consoled me by this | with what true sympathy and with what compas- assurance. You are going to leave me to-day: but you have promised me to return at the time | when the crisis arrives—and then, if the babe should live, you will be good enough to carry out the arrangements which you have suggested.” Having promised to do so, I hastened forth to see the medical man and the nurse, both of whom were recommended by Mrs, Bunting. I gave them each retaining-fees—hinted that my friend Mrs. Richards was a lady of peculiar habits—and_ | begged that they would not attempt to call upon her until the moment came at which their services were required, when they would be duly summoned. A medical man is always discreet in such cases ; sionating motives!—and I was determined ta | pursue the same generosity unto the end. I have already said that the town of Sitting- bourne is exactly forty miles from London ; and as the post-chaise travelled only at the rate of about ten miles an hour, there being many steep hills to ascend—it was eleven o'clock before the vehicle entered the southern part of the metropolis. Either in ignorance of the nearest cut, or else conceiving it to be a better route, the postilion took the Waterloo Road instead of the Westmin- ster; and we thus had to pass Waterloo Bridge. We were at about the middle of the bridge, when the -_postilion—with a sudden ejaculation of horror, —drew in his horses of the amount SI placed in her hand. They of | abruptly, and sprang to the ground. Startled course both suspected that it was a case of a young | | from the deep reverie in which I was plunged, | Jady retiring temporarily from the world to conceal | and galvanized with the sudden apprehension that. her frailty: but they offered no comment on the | some accident had occurred, I looked forth from matter... The time oceupied in these visits, and the delay which occurred ere I succeeded in finding Mr. Hindley, the surgeon, at home, absorbed the entire morning and a considerable portion of the after- noon. Lady Lucia dined at five o’clock, and be- sought me to remain to partake of this repast with her—a. request which I could not find it in my heart to refuse. But still I was resolved to reach home that evening; and therefore ordered the post-chaise to be in readiness at seven o’clock. As the hour for departure drew near, I said to Lucia, “You are in my house, you know, and must accept my hospitalities just as if I re- mained here to dispense them. Pardon me, there- fore, if I give you the trouble of making the re- quisite outlays for the household :’—and I placed a considerable sum of money upon the table. the window. Never shall I forget the scene which at that instant met my view! A female was standing on the parapet of the bridge: the light of the nearest lamp streamed full upon her countenance—it was of a deadly whiteness—the features naturally of exquisite beauty, wore the imprint of utter despair: the raven darkness of her tresses throw out the ghastliness of that countenance into a relief perfectly hideous and appalling. It was but for a single instant that L thus caught a glimpse of her: but the recognition was immediate. It flashed to me like an inspira- tion; and as the name of Caroline Seymour was about to thrill forth from my lips, she gave one wild cry and cisappeared from my view. Oh, that cry !—it was so rending, so piercing, so penetrat- ing in its ineffable anguish and utter despair, that it swept through my brain with all the excruciating "GOMIGDOO ~ <S (E()