Rosamond became very unhappy. The uneasiness first stirred by her

aunt's questions grew and grew till at the end of ten days that she had

not seen Lydgate, it grew into terror at the blank that might possibly

come--into foreboding of that ready, fatal sponge which so cheaply

wipes out the hopes of mortals. The world would have a new dreariness

for her, as a wilderness that a magician's spells had turned for a

little while into a garden. She felt that she was beginning to know

the pang of disappointed love, and that no other man could be the

occasion of such delightful aerial building as she had been enjoying

for the last six months. Poor Rosamond lost her appetite and felt as

forlorn as Ariadne--as a charming stage Ariadne left behind with all

her boxes full of costumes and no hope of a coach.

There are many wonderful mixtures in the world which are all alike

called love, and claim the privileges of a sublime rage which is an

apology for everything (in literature and the drama). Happily Rosamond

did not think of committing any desperate act: she plaited her fair

hair as beautifully as usual, and kept herself proudly calm. Her most

cheerful supposition was that her aunt Bulstrode had interfered in some

way to hinder Lydgate's visits: everything was better than a

spontaneous indifference in him. Any one who imagines ten days too

short a time--not for falling into leanness, lightness, or other

measurable effects of passion, but--for the whole spiritual circuit of

alarmed conjecture and disappointment, is ignorant of what can go on in

the elegant leisure of a young lady's mind.

On the eleventh day, however, Lydgate when leaving Stone Court was

requested by Mrs. Vincy to let her husband know that there was a marked

change in Mr. Featherstone's health, and that she wished him to come to

Stone Court on that day. Now Lydgate might have called at the

warehouse, or might have written a message on a leaf of his pocket-book

and left it at the door. Yet these simple devices apparently did not

occur to him, from which we may conclude that he had no strong

objection to calling at the house at an hour when Mr. Vincy was not at

home, and leaving the message with Miss Vincy. A man may, from various

motives, decline to give his company, but perhaps not even a sage would

be gratified that nobody missed him. It would be a graceful, easy way

of piecing on the new habits to the old, to have a few playful words

with Rosamond about his resistance to dissipation, and his firm resolve

to take long fasts even from sweet sounds. It must be confessed, also,

that momentary speculations as to all the possible grounds for Mrs.

Bulstrode's hints had managed to get woven like slight clinging hairs

into the more substantial web of his thoughts.




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