Mary Eleanor Wilkins Freeman

In a small but exquisitely furnished apartment in Government House sat a young and beautiful lady. The room commanded a north-west view, showing a bright and silvery sheet of rippling water. This was the private apartment of Lady Rosamond. It is the hour when she is occupied in writing letters and attending to the many little matters demanding her attention. An open letter lies upon her lap. Lady Rosamond is listlessly leaning against a dressing-table, with one hand partially shading her beautiful face. Quickly turning round to look at some object beyond gives a full view, which reveals a tender sadness resting in the depths of those powerful dark eyes. Lady Rosamond is in a deep study—one which is not of an agreeable nature—one which she is not most likely to reveal. Alternate shades of displeasure, rebellion and defiance, flit across her brow, which remain, in quiet and apparently full possession, until reluctantly driven forth by the final ascendancy of reason, at the cost of many conflicting feelings of emotion and deep despondency.

Again Lady Rosamond reads the letter very slowly, as though to find, in each word and sentence, some other meaning which might allay her present distracting thoughts. Vainly did the reader search for relief. The diction was plain, clear and definite. No chance to escape. No fond smiles from Hope's cheering presence. Hope had fled, with agonizing gaze, as Lady Rosamond once more read that letter. Every word was stamped upon her heart in characters of bold and maddening outline. Heaving a deep sigh she folded the letter, placed it within her desk, and mechanically stood gazing upon the quiet river, peaceful and calm, save the little ripple on the surface. Lady Rosamond contrasted the scene with her troubled depths and superficial quiet exterior.

Quietly opening the window the cool sharp breeze of an October morning was grateful to the feverish flush partially visible upon the cheeks of Lady Rosamond. She was usually pale, save when an occasional blush asserted its right. Standing here in such a state of mind Lady Rosamond was indeed beautiful—a lovely picture with delicate expression and coloring. While she is thus engaged let us intrude upon the privacy of her feelings by taking forth the letter from its hiding place, and examining its contents. It seems a sacrilegious act, but it is in our great sympathy and interest on behalf of Lady Rosamond that we yield to the temptation.

The writing is in a bold, masculine hand, clear, legible, and uniform. If there be such a thing as judging the character of the writer by the chirography in the present instance, there was decision, firmness, bordering on self-will, and resistance to opposition. The letter ran thus:—

Chesley Manor, Surrey, Oct. 4th, 1824.

My Dear Child:

Having a few moments to spare this morning I devote them to your benefit, with a fond hope that you are as happy as the day is long. It does seem rather hard for me to be moping around this quiet house and my little girl away in New Brunswick, but it is useless to repine. In a few days I will take charge of a ship to go abroad for some months. Our fleet now demands my attention, which, I am happy to say, will drive away loneliness and repinings for the little runaway. Was much pleased to meet an old friend of Sir Howard Douglas—Colonel Fleetwood—who served in the same regiment while in Spain, and is ever loud in praise of his friend. Though an old soldier now, he has the true ring of military valor, which would gain the esteem of Sir Howard.

Your aunt is enjoying a visit to Bereford Castle; writes in good health and spirits. Your cousin, Gerald, is again on a political campaign, being sanguine in the prospect of being re-seated in Parliament the next session. I am watching the event as one which concerns us deeply. Bereford is a young man of much promise. He will indeed fill well his position as owner of Bereford Castle, as well as peer of the realm. Lord Bereford is truly proud of his heir as the noblest of this ancient and loyal family. My dearest child, it is my fondest desire that in you may be doubly united the families of Seymour and Bereford. Gerald is the son-in-law of my choice, and it is my earnest desire that you may favor a fond parent's views in this matter. That your cousin regards you both fondly and tenderly I am truly convinced. He expressed his opinion very freely on making a visit last week, when I gave him my unbounded confidence and direct encouragement. On leaving he requested me to intimate this feeling towards you in a quiet manner, which I now do, with sufficient knowledge of your character to know that a parent's wishes will not be opposed. Gerald Bereford will be in a position to give you that ease and affluence your birth demands. As Lady Bereford, Lady Rosamond Seymour will neither compromise rank, wealth, nor dignity, and will be happy in the love of a fond, devoted husband, and the blessing of a doting father. It is my great love for you, my child, that urges this settlement. I am certain that you will have no hesitation in giving your answer. You are young, and have as yet formed no prior attachments, for which circumstance thank heaven, and allow me to congratulate you for being so fortunate as to secure the heart and hand of Gerald Bereford. Do not imagine that it is our wish to shorten your stay in New Brunswick. You are at liberty to enjoy the companionship of your friend Mary till the years have expired, after which I think that my daughter will be anxious to see her only parent, and to form high opinions of her cousin Gerald. My dear, I do not wish to hurry you, already knowing your answer. Wishing to be kindly remembered to Sir Howard and Lady Douglas, and the family, with my fondest love.

Remain, Your Father.

Such was the tenor of the epistle which had caused these feelings within the bosom of Lady Rosamond. Sir Thomas Seymour was a man not to be thwarted in his designs. He loved his child with deep tenderness, and, as he said in the letter, this was the reason of his solicitude. It had always been the secret pride of the Admiral's life that Gerald Bereford should wed Lady Rosamond, but he kept his favorite plans closely guarded until means were offered to aid him. Many times Sir Thomas fancied that Gerald Bereford admired his lovely cousin, and had a faint hope in the realization of his wishes. When the climax was reached, by those avowals on the part of the suitor, the great joy of the solicitous parent knew no bounds. He seemed to view the matter as one which would give entire happiness to all parties. Lady Rosamond was to be congratulated on the brilliant prospects of her future. The Bereford family were to be congratulated on their securing such an acquisition as Lady Rosamond, while Gerald Bereford was to be congratulated on having won the heart of such a pure and lovable being as his future bride. All those congratulations were in prospect before the mental vision of the Admiral as he lovingly dwelt upon the matter.

From the effect thus produced upon Lady Rosamond it was certain she viewed the matter in a different light. True, she had never, by thought or action, been betrayed to show the least possible regard or preference towards any of the many gallants from whom she oftentimes received many flattering attentions.

Towards her cousin Gerald she had always been considerate and friendly. When on several occasions he had taken particular pains to gratify her slightest wish, and pay more deferential regard than was necessary to the demands of their relationship, Lady Rosamond affected utter ignorance of the cause by treating him with a familiarity that gave him no opportunity to urge his suit.

When Sir Thomas gave consent to his daughter's reception in the family of Sir Howard Douglas, it was in the firm belief that on her return her mind would be matured to enter more fully upon plans relative to her settlement in life. At the death of Sir Thomas the lands and estate of Chesley Manor would be inherited by Frederick Seymour, the eldest son; a smaller estate, bordering upon that of Lord Bereford, affording a moderate income, went to the second son Geoffrey, while an annuity of four thousand pounds had been settled upon Lady Rosamond, with a marriage jointure of fifty thousand pounds, to be placed in the hands of the trustees. By the marriage of Gerald Bereford and Lady Rosamond, the latter would secure an inheritance of which she was next direct heir, being the niece of the present lord incumbent.

Lady Rosamond weighed all these arguments and tried to find by some means a possibility of escape, but all lay in the dark and dim distance, exacting heavy payment from her ladyship.

This was a heavy blow to a person of Lady Rosamond's sensitive nature. The thought was revolting to her. For some time previous a dim foreboding haunted her—a presentiment of gloom and of deep sorrow. On receiving the letter its weight seemed to lie heavily upon her. Now the contents again caused her much pain. To whom could she go for comfort? To whom unburden her mind? Leaning her head upon the table Lady Rosamond sought refuge in tears. She sobbed bitterly. "It is at this trying moment I miss my dear mother," murmured the poor girl in faltering accents of outspoken grief. "Heaven pity those who have no mother. With her loving and tender heart my mother never would have allowed the sanctity of my feelings to be thus invaded and trampled upon. And my dear father, I love him, but can I fulfil his wishes? It is my duty! Oh, heaven direct me!"

Poor Lady Rosamond! Her sorrow was indeed deep. In the midst of such murmurs she arose, walked to the window, and once more fanned her cheeks with the cooling breath of heaven, which afforded momentary relief.

As the large plate mirror opposite reflected the tear stains upon her pale but lovely face, Lady Rosamond resolved to banish all traces of sorrow. Returning from the adjoining dressing-room not a shade clouded the features of the suffering girl. The silken ringlets of her raven black hair were rearranged with bewildering profusion, while the feverish blush added to her surpassing charms. A faint smile passed over Lady Rosamond's features as she tried to appear gay and assumed those girlish charms which made friends on every side, from Sir Howard to the youngest member in the household. "Oh, dear, what shall I do?" escaped the lips of the sufferer. "What will bring this matter to an end?" But pride would not allow Lady Rosamond to reveal her feelings. She would be a true Seymour. It were well that she possessed this spirit, being in this instance an offset to injured delicacy.

Having remained in privacy longer than it was customary, she reluctantly prepared to meet the family. Descending the upper stairway, she was met by one of the children who had come to summon her to join them in a walk.

Lady Rosamond was always a favorite with children and the family of Sir Howard formed no exception. They loved to accompany her on long walks in search of any thing the surrounding woods afforded. Scarce two months had passed since their arrival and they were familiar with all the cosy retreats, nooks and pretty spots to be found. Surrounded by her followers, Lady Rosamond appeared as a naiad holding revel with her sylvan subjects.

In her present mood the woods seemed to suggest calm. With her companion, Mary Douglas, and the romping children, Lady Rosamond was seemingly happy. A slight accident occurred which somewhat disturbed the enjoyment of all, more especially those whom it most concerned.

In crossing a narrow brook by means of a small plank which, being rotten, gave way, Lady Rosamond was thrown into the water with no regard to ceremony. A loud scream from Helen Douglas, who was standing near, brought the whole company, while terrified shrieks arose on all sides. In an instant Master Johnnie Douglas appeared in sight followed by Lieut. Trevelyan. The mischievous disposition of the former could not prevent an outburst of laughter despite all his high notions of gallantry. The young lieutenant came boldly forward, seized the hand of Lady Rosamond, and led her to a seat at a short distance. The dripping garments clinging to the form of the frightened girl moved the young soldier with pity and showed the tender nature of his manly heart. The heartless Johnnie was dispatched for dry wraps and more comfortable clothing. Lieutenant Trevelyan could not force a smile. The same puzzled expression which had baffled Mr. Howe forced itself upon him.

Mary Douglas had wrapped her companion's feet in the shawl taken off her own shoulders, and sat anxiously awaiting their courier. The children were more demonstrative in showing their grief. During the moments that passed the minds of the elder members of the group were busily engaged.

Lady Rosamond, regardless of her situation, was busied in projecting schemes the most fanciful. She was thinking of the contents of her father's letter. In spite of the strong efforts of will her thoughts would turn in another and far different direction, which, perhaps, on this occasion it would be more discreet to conceal. The painful and ill-disguised look was attributed to the accident. Well for Lady Rosamond if it were so. Yes, an accident, a painful accident—forgive the expression—an accident of the heart. Poor Lady Rosamond!

Ah, Mr. Trevelyan, we have an undue curiosity to follow the turn of your thoughts; but, as we once more note that puzzled look, think your generous heart and honest nature deserve more generous treatment. At least, this time, we grant you further respite.

Johnnie's arrival prevents further moralizing. No room for gravity when Johnnie Douglas is near. His mischievous spirit is infectious.