Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Charles Franks
and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team.
ROSAMOND
OR
THE YOUTHFUL ERROR
A Tale of Riverside
AND OTHER STORIES
BY
MRS. MARY J. HOLMES
Author of "Tempest And Sunshine," "Lena Rivers,"
"Meadowbrook," Etc., Etc.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER I.
The Owner of Riverside
CHAPTER II.
Rosamond Leyton
CHAPTER III.
Ben's Visit
CHAPTER IV.
Rosamond's Education
CHAPTER V.
Brother and Sister
CHAPTER VI.
Marie Porter
CHAPTER VII.
Making Love
CHAPTER VIII.
News
CHAPTER IX.
The Guest at Riverside
CHAPTER X.
The Story
CHAPTER XI.
The End
-----
DIAMONDS
BAD SPELLING
MAGGIE LEE
THE ANSWERED PRAYER
ROSAMOND;
OR
THE YOUTHFUL ERROR.
A TALE OF RIVERSIDE.
CHAPTER I.
THE OWNER OF RIVERSIDE.
All the day long the September rain had fallen, and when the night
closed in it showed no sign of weariness, but with the same monotonous
patter dropped upon the roof, or beat against the windows of the
pleasantly lighted room where a young man sat gazing at the glowing
grate, and listening apparently to the noise of the storm without. But
neither the winds, nor yet the rain, had a part of that young man's
thoughts, for they were with the past, and the chain which linked them
to that past was the open letter which lay on the table beside him.
For that letter he had waited long and anxiously, wondering what it
would contain, and if his overtures for reconciliation with one who
had erred far more than himself, would be accepted. It had come at
last, and with a gathering coldness at his heart he had read the
decision,--"she would not be reconciled," and she bade him "go his way
alone and leave her to herself."
"It is well," he said; "I shall never trouble her again,"--and with a
feeling of relief, as if a heavy load, a dread of coming evil, had
been taken from his mind, he threw the letter upon the table, and
leaning back in his cushioned chair, tried to fancy that the last few
years of his life were blotted out.
"Could it be so, Ralph Browning would be a different man." he said
aloud; then, as he glanced round the richly furnished room, he
continued--"People call me happy, and so perhaps I might be, but for
this haunting memory. Why was it suffered to be, and must I make a
life-long atonement for that early sin?"
In his excitement he arose, and crushing the letter for a moment in
his hand, hurled it into the fire; then, going to his private drawer,
he took out and opened a neatly folded package, containing a long
tress of jet black hair. Shudderingly he wound it around his fingers,
laid it over the back of his hand, held it up to the light, and then
with a hard, dark look upon his face, threw it, too upon the grate,
saying aloud, "Thus perisheth every memento of the past, and I am free
again--free as air!"
He walked to the window, and pressing his burning forehead against the
cool, damp pane, looked out upon the night. He could not see through
the darkness, but had it been day, his eye would have rested on broad
acres all his own; for Ralph Browning was a wealthy man, and the house
in which he lived was his by right of inheritance from a bachelor
uncle for whom he had been named, and who, two years before our story
opens, had died, leaving to his nephew the grand old place, called
_Riverside_, from its nearness to the river. It was a most beautiful
spot; and when its new master first took possession of it, the maids
and matrons of Granby, who had mourned for the elder Browning as
people mourn for a good man, felt themselves somewhat consoled from
the fact that his successor was young and handsome, and would
doubtless prove an invaluable acquisition to their fireside circles,
and furnish a theme for gossip, without which no village can well
exist. But in the first of their expectations they were mistaken, for
Mr. Browning shunned rather than sought society, and spent the most of
his leisure hours in the seclusion of his library, where, as Mrs.
Peters, his housekeeper, said, he did nothing but mope over books and
walk the floor. "He was melancholy," she said; "there was something
workin' on his mind, and what it was she didn't know more'n the dead--
though she knew as well as she wanted to, that he had been crossed in
love, for what else would make so many of his hairs gray, and he not
yet twenty-five!"
That there was a mystery connected with him, was conceded by most of
the villagers, and many a curious gaze they bent upon the grave,
dignified young man, who seldom joined in their pastime or intruded
himself upon their company. Much sympathy was expressed for him in his
loneliness, by the people of Granby, and more than one young girl
would gladly have imposed upon herself the task of cheering that
loneliness; but he seemed perfectly invulnerable to maiden charms; and
when Mrs. Peters, as she often did, urged him "to take a wife and be
somebody," he answered quietly, "I am content to follow the example of
my uncle. I shall probably never marry."
Still he was lonely in his great house--so lonely that, though it hurt
his pride to do it, he wrote the letter, the answer to which excited
him so terribly, and awoke within his mind a train of thought so
absorbing and intense, that he did not hear the summons to supper
until Mrs. Peters put her head into the room, asking "if he were deaf
or what."
Mrs. Peters had been in the elder Browning's household for years, and
when the new owner came, she still continued at her post, and
exercised over her young master a kind of motherly care, which he
permitted because he knew her real worth, and that without her his
home would be uncomfortable indeed. On the occasion of which we write,
Mrs. Peters was unusually attentive, and to a person at all skilled in
female tactics, it was evident that she was about to ask a favor, and
had made preparations accordingly. His favorite waffles had been
buttered exactly right--the peaches and cream were delicious--the
fragrant black tea was neither too strong nor too weak--the fire
blazed brightly in the grate--the light from the chandelier fell
softly upon the massive silver service and damask cloth;--and with all
these creature comforts around him, it is not strange that he forgot
the letter and the tress of hair which so lately had blackened on the
coals. The moment was propitious, and by the time he had finished his
second cup, Mrs. Peters said, "I have something to propose."
Leaning back in his chair, he looked inquiringly at her, and she
continued: "You remember Mrs. Leyton, the poor woman who had seen
better days, and lived in East Granby?"
"Yes."
"You know she has been sick, and you gave me leave to carry her any
thing I chose?"
"Yes."
"Well, she's dead, poor thing, and what is worse, she hain't no
connection, nor never had, and her little daughter Rosamond hain't a
place to lay her head."
"Let her come and sleep with you, then," said Mr. Browning, rattling
his spoon upon the edge of his cup.
"Yes, and what'll she do days?" continued Mrs. Peters. "She can't run
the streets, that's so; now, I don't believe no great in children, and
you certainly don't b'lieve in 'em at all, nor your poor uncle before
you; but Rosamond ain't a child; she's _thirteen_--most a woman--and
if you don't mind the expense, I shan't mind the trouble, and she can
live here till she finds a place. Her mother, you know, took up
millinering to get a living."
"Certainly, let her come," answered Mr. Browning, who was noted for
his benevolence.
This matter being thus satisfactorily settled, Mrs. Peters arose from
the table, while Mr. Browning went back to the olden memories which
had haunted him so much that day, and with which there was not mingled
a single thought of the little Rosamond, who was to exert so strong an
influence upon his future life.