The Mysteries of the Court of London — page 398: what you’re looking at

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

a : . 1 * s ” ok . “ . THE MYSTERIES. 382 CHAPTER CX. ROSE FOSTER AGAIN. Five days had elapsed since tirat fatal night on which Rose Foster fell once mere into the power of Mre. Brace; and during this interval the orphan girl had beca retained a close prisoner in a bed-cbamiber the windows of which looked upon the small yard that ley between the two houses. The door was kept constantly locked; and thus ail possible precautions were taken against another escape. Harriet the jady’s-maid took her np her meals at} the proper hours: but, althoggh civil and obliging in her general conduot, the domestic held her peace when questioned by the tesxified girl respecting the meaning of this imprisonment and the ultimate ob- pects which Mrs. Braee might havein wew concerming ber. Vainly did Rose implore, through Harriet, an intesview with the millinat, wbom she hoped to be able to move with her entreaties and her tears if ahe ciuld anly see her: but 4m. Brace went not near the efflicted, bewildered, and almost heart-~broken girl. Oh! how heavily—how wearily—and how mise- rably passed the time! By day the hours dragged their slow length along as if they were interminable; and by night the maiden could not eleep—for not only did the bitterness of her sorrow chase away slamber, but ahe feared to close her eyes lest some treacherous adyantage should he taken of the moments of unconsciuusuess, Tears maistened net the ponplation that they uaually impart when serving as a vent for grief,-—-but tears which flowed as it were Sao heart gohing with a fountain of woe What had she done—this poor helpless, harmless giri—to be thus cruelly persecuted ?—had heaygn in ber ennp forgotten its pledge to protect the father- sane fo bow be she deseryed she infliction of so ? Her life had heen purp and spotless: neither in word or deed had she evar offended against God or map ;—and in those happier days which were gope apparently never to be recalled, she had her oat nd ne no niggard hand. sided ib was phe doamed to to aare thy tove's {fie nnd be plucked by the ruthless hand of the spoiler, to be seattered and stre\rp after having ministered to his evanescent caprice with its richness of perfume and It was about tw o’¢lock in the afternoon; and seated fa her “ison cbaraben with her d leaning or pnd and her yee fixed , seal here werp books on the ae a aarp in one comer of the room— ers went mj aterials for fancy-work at hand: to none of heir favourite recreations could the HES « —_—_ - 2 = —_— orphan turn her mind or direct her attention. Too deeply absorbed was she in her own sorrows to be able to follow in imagination the afflictions ef the heroine of a romance: teo harsh were the discordant notes that vibrated in her heart, to permit ber feelings to hope that music would sooth them ;—and the hands that were now so often wrung in despair could not be tutered to ply the needle! Miserable—very miserable was the orphan ;—and more than sa hundred times in every hour did she wish that she was with her parents in that cold grave over which the roughest human foot may pass without injuring those who sleep beneath. Suddenly the nowe of the key turning in the lock fell upon the maiden’s ear; and, starting from her reverie like a timid roe, ahe waited in breathless sus- pease and with afirighted looks for the presences of the visitor—this being an hour at whick Harriet never was wont to make her appearance there. The door opened—and Mrs. Brace advanced into | the room with a emiling countenance and all her: usual affability of manner. “My dear child,” ahe said, taking the orphan’s hand and looking kindly upon her—so kindly that she must have been a very fiend incarnate if the honey of her smiles were belied by the venom in her heart,—-* my dear child, I am come to sae you at last! You have sent for me very often : but I have been so much engaged——” “Oh! madam,” exclaimed Rosa, in a voice of the most touching pathos—withdrawing her hand at the same time,—“if you had any hope to give me er. any humane feeling to testify towards me, surely you could have spared one single moment to become the bearer of the good tidings. But we will not ex- ohange unnecessary words, Tell me at ance—tall me, I conjure you—am I to consider myself a prisoner any longer t” “ A prisoner is not the proper term, my love,” said she milliner, evasively. “ You do not know who arp your real friends: and therefore I was compelled to use a little restraint——” Comnelled, madam!” exclaimed Rose. “Am I your slave—or your daughter—or your apprentice? No—I am none of these! By what shadow of Gis- | right, then, do you exercias any control or coercion ever me?” “This is not language, my love which it becomes you to utter or me to hear,” aaid Mra. Brace. “Do not excite yourself—I meaf you no hasm——? “ Madam,” iatesrupted the orphan, with solemn earnestness of tone and manner,—“ you do not know who I really am: but I will tell you!” “Yes, my child—I am aware that Camilla Morten was but a feigned name,” answered Mrs. Braco; “and that you are properly called Rose Foster. A eweet name is Rose—a name which I love dearly; and if you are a good girl and will only listen to reason, I will point out to you a path leading to euch happiness that you will become the envy of all the other young ladies in my establishment.” “You know, then, who I am,” said Rose, in a musing tone: “and yet you have no com upon the poar friendless orphan whose parents met with so dreadful a death! Oh! I am amased—I am shocked; and if the world be full of such wickedness, suicide cannot possibly be a crime, inas- mruch as it ig the only means which heaven has placed in the power of the innocent and pure-minded to enable them to escape from ruin at the hands of CONRAN ateilo) S COMM