The Seamstress; or, The White Slave of England — page 99: what you’re looking at

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

—- how she stood in need of their friendly assistance, so far as a guarantee for her honesty was concerned. To this request the old man cheerfully acceded ;— and then with a flush appearing for a few moments upon her cheek, and with downcast eyes, she in- quired whether Mr. Osmond had ever been to take possession of the things which she had left behind her. “ Ah! my dear girl!” exclaimed the old woman, “we had a truly touching scene here one day, I can assure you; and if his grief was affected, then never did the world produce a greater hypocrite. You had not left us a week, when a tall, thin, handsome young gentleman—Ah! so handsome, I don’t wonder you loved him—knocked at the door and inquired in a tone of agitation and ex- citement, if Miss Virginia Mordaunt lived here. He evidently was dying for the answer—I mean, he was almost mad with impatience: and when I told him that you had lived here, but that you had gone away about a week previous, he burst forth into the wildest exclamations. Then he put a thousand questions to me, all in a moment: whether I knew why, you had gone—with whom you had departed — under what circumstances — and all manner of queries showing, or at least seeming to show, that he could not for the life of him understand your conduct towards him. I then told him as much as I know,—that you had come home one evening, a week back, in a dread- ful state of mind, having had positive reason to believe that he was playing you false—that you had resolved to depart for the purpose of never seeing him again—and that you had left behind you, in case he should discover the house and call, everything which had been purchased by the money you had received from him. Ah! how the young gentleman yes—wept bitter, burning, scalding tears, as he listened to all I told him. I never saw a woman weep in a profounder agony. He leant against the wall in the passage —he covered his face with his hands—he groaned in spirit. I pitied him—Oh! I pitied him: for I saw that he loved you well and truly, whether treacherous or not. At last, when I told him about the things you had left behind, he implored me to allow him to ascend to the chamber” which you had occupied: and when I conducted him up- stairs and gave him the keyof the trunk, he opened it—he stooped down—kigsed the wedding- dress which lay at the top—gnhd then fell once more into a fit of such anguished weeping that the tears ran like rain down my\own cheeks. His lamentations were most piteous—his ejaculations most impassioned. He declared that some trea- chery, or else some fatal misunderstanding had worked all this mischief: and he vowed never to rest until he had found you out again. Then, when his grief had somewhat subsided, he gently —and with an evident delicacy—removed the things from the trunk, one by one—no doubt in the hope of finding a letter from you. But there was none: and when he discovered the money which you had placed in the trunk, he exclaimed, ‘My God! even to this has she left behind her everything for which she could in any way have considered herself indebted tome! Ah! what a fine spirit—what a noble nature! And shall I renounce such a being as this? shall I abandon all hope of meeting her again? No, no: if I were compelled to walk barefoot all over the world OF ee ee ee ee oe ee eee ee THE SEAMSTRESS. a eee we ee ee ee to find her out, I would not shrink from the task.’ —Then he replaced all the things in the trunk; and demanding of me the rent of the room, he said, ‘ You will not remove that box: you will consider this apartment to be still Virginia’s. I will pay you six months, or a year, or for any period you like in advance: for it would be dese- cration to remove anything that has belonged to her.—Vainly did I remonstrate: Mr. Osmond worked himself into.a pitch of passion that alarmed me ; and I therefore took the five guineas which he tossed down upon the table. He then went away; and at the expiration of a week he returned to ascertain if I had received any tidings of you. I told him that I had not: and he charged me to write to him without an instant’s delay, should I obtain the slightest clue to your abode. He desired that the letter should be ad- dressed to him, under cover to some fashionable tailor at the West End, whose card he gave me, telling me at the same time that he should call there every day in the hope of finding a communi- cation from me. Of course this hope has expe- rienced incessant disappointment: but he called here frequently—at least every two or three weeks —to assure himself that I remembered my promise to write to him. Ah! Miss, he is greatly altered —sadly altered indeed,—almost as much as you are yourself !” While the good old woman was narrating her tale,—not, however, in precisely the words which we have put into her mouth, but fully to the same effect,—Virginia struggled hard to keep down her emotions. But they rose—they rose, defying all resistance: higher and higher they surged, like gathering billows in the storm—until at length the tears flowed in torrents down her cheeks—her bosom was convulsed with sobs—and she was melted iuto a tenderness so complete that had her lover entered at the moment, she would have rushed into his arms. And for some time after the dame had concluded her narrative, Virginia continued to weep and sob, while her hands were clasped firmly together, and her bosom palpitated violently. But relieved by this outburst of feeling, and recalled to a stern sense of duty and propriety—or rather, what she believed to be such, under the impression that still remained immoveably upon her mind,—she said in a low deep tone, full of touching pathos, “ Be not surprised at this weakness, my friends: I cannot conquer the natural emotions of the heart! Would to God that I could believe Charles Osmond to be as honourable as he is affectionate. That he loves me, I have no doubt: but I have received such unmistakable proofs of his perfidy towards another and of his want of principle towards myself, that I dare not think of him—save as one whom I must never meet again. Besides, my dear friends—he is married—yes, married to another——and I saw him with his bride! The sister of a lovely and con- fiding girl whom he betrayed and abandoned, pointed him out to me on that never-to-be-forgotten day when I quitted your dwelling six months back. Let us, then, mention him no more. Yet another word,” she added, after a pause, “ere I abandon the subject. you not to give him any tidings of me. The ex- planations which I have glanced at, will convince you that he is not in a position to bestow an honourable love upon me !” Should he return, my friends, I charge © 16 \(0\6) “S