The Seamstress; or, The White Slave of England — page 58: what you’re looking at

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

ea fa . THE SEAMSTRESS. and although the young maiden could not have | of this world,—that she had not as yet seen enough defined to herself the real cause and meaning of | of life to destroy all the freshness of that sublime this delicate antagonism, she nevertheless yielded to its secret influence. “Do not tell me that I speak coldly to you, Julia,” she exclaimed, after that instant’s hesita- tion, and catching at the readiest means of evading a reply to the query which had been so directly put to her. “Am I not under the deepest obligations to yu——” * Well, I am glad to hear that you meant nothing unkind, Virginia,” interrrupted Miss Barnet. “I dare say it is because I myself am in an ill-humour, that I fancied something like coldness on your part. But I wish I knew where my Osmond lived: I would hasten and demand an explanation. Ah! Virginia!” she added with a profound sigh,—“I never was jealous until this evening—and now I do feel that I love that beautiful youth—and my mind is filled with misgivings. He never treated me so indifferently before !”’—and Miss Barnet burst into tears. The generous soul of Virginia Mordaunt was now deeply moved; and she said all she could in the way of solace to her afflicted friend. But she neverthe- less experienced the while a certain repugnance amounting almosé to an actual loathing, at the idea of making any positive and direct allusion to that illicit connexion which subsisted between Miss | Barnet and her Mr. Osmond. She felt that it was a matter of which she herself should know nothing,— an affair which never oucht to have been revealed to her ears, and to which anything that she did not say in its disfavour might seem like encouragement. * Well, if is of uo use to make myself miserable about the business,” exclaimed Miss Barnet, wiping her eyes. “We shall see what time will bring forth: and if Osmond does not come and offer a very satisfactory apology in the course of to-morrow or Rice day, I shall know what to think and how to act. Thank my stars, I am handsomer now than when I first knew him. And yet,” she added, with another profound sigh, “ I do really love him.” She paused for a few moments—surveyed her countenance with complacent admiration in Vir- ginia’s broken piece of looking-glass—and then smoothed down the rich masses of her raven hair. * Well, I wish he had come!” she exclaimed, with another sigh: then, turning towards the young seam- stress, “‘ 1 am quite unsettled this evening, and shall go to the theatre at half-price. If you will accom- pany me, I will treat you.” “No—oh! no,” cried Virginia, shrinking from the thought of visiting such a seene of gaiety with no better protection than that of Miss Barnet. “T thank you sincerely, Julia—but I much prefer continuing my work.” “Well, then, I shall go alone,” said the dark-éyed young woman: and bidding Virginia ‘‘ good night” she quitted the chamber. CHAPTER XV. THE MEETING. GENTLE reader, have the kindness to remember that Virginia Mordaunt was very young and but little | experienced in the wickedness, duplicity, and déceits confidence which belongs as it were to the very nature and disposition of the youth of both sexes, —that she owed a debt of deep gratitude to her deliverer, whose handsome appearance and fascinat- ing manners were only too well caleulated to strengthen the favourable impression which his © gallant conduct had made upon a mind naturally tender and susceptible,—that he had emphatically avowed the most honourable intentions, and had invoked her assent to another interview by the sanctity of that respect which a brother would ma- nifest towards a dearly-cherished sister,—be pleased to remember all this, gentle reader,—and likewise bear in mind the not less important fact that some still small voice had whispered the name of Love in the secret depths of Virginia’s soul;—and then you will not be surprised if you hear us declare that on © the day and at the hour specified, the young maiden bent her steps towards St. James’s Park. Although if was in the month of January, the weather was remarkably fine. The air was crisp with a frosty chill: the ground was hard as pave- ment ;—and there was just a sufficient gleam of the declining sun to give a brightness to the atmosphere. The evergreens in the Park, the ornamental water with its picturesque islands, the greenness of the grass-plots, and the general appearance of a verdure ‘that defied even the stern hand of winter, formed a scene that would have proved refreshing to the eye of the maiden, were not her mind so occupied with conflicting thoughts that all her senses were ab- sorbed in her reflections and all her looks were turned inward. Her gentle breast was heaving and sinking with quick undulations, while every pulse worked with a feverish celerity : her lips were parted with suspense, and revealed the teeth that appeared like two strings of pearls in contrast with moist coral. She was a prey to a painful nervous excitement: and yet her step was slow and uneven with the hesita- tion which constituted an under-current of feeling amidst the various emotions that were contending in her bosom. For while some impulses urged her fofward, others prompted her to turn back: while one voice in her soul whispered flatteringly and agreeably of the approaching interview, another seemed to give utterance to the words of solemn warning. Thus was it that with fluttering heart, quick-beating pulse, animated countenanee, and yet with laggard steps, the young maiden entered tho enclosure of St. James’s Park. Scarcely had she passed the gate in the iron- railings, when the hasty and furtive glance which she threw about her, encountered the joyous and impassioned look of her youthful deliverer: and in another moment he was by her side. Her hand was instantaneously seized and pressed warmly in his own; while some words of mingled tenderness and gratitude were breathed in her ear. But she had no power to withdraw her hand, and no faculty to comprehend the language in which the young Marquis expressed his fervid thanks that the ap- pointment had been kept: a confusion that was not altogether unmixed with pleasurable sensations, had fastened upon her like a spell ;—and when she began to recover from that strange bewilderment and was enabled to collect her thoughts, she found berself JOO S == ee COMA