century ago.




CHAPTER IV.

LADY ROSAMOND'S REVERIE.


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