Still she fancied it would be very charming--and then her grandmother's injunction came powerfully to her recollection--she sighed, and turned from the window--and walked up and down her little room.
Ever, when she looked at the window, the wish returned. It was not so _very late_. The neighbours were yet about, passing under the window to their homes--she thought, and thought again, till her sensations became vivid, even to painfulness--her bosom was aching to give them vent.
The village clock struck ten!--the neighbours ceased to pass under the window. Rosamund, stealing down stairs, fastened the latch behind her, and left the cottage.
One, that knew her, met her, and observed her with some surprize. Another recollects having wished her a good night. Rosamund never returned to the cottage!
An old man, that lay sick in a small house adjoining to Margaret's, testified the next morning, that he had plainly heard the old creature calling for her grandaughter. All the night long she made her moan, and ceased not to call upon the name of Rosamund. But no Rosamund was there--the voice died away, but not till near day-break.
When the neighbours came to search in the morning, Margaret was missing! She had _straggled_ out of bed, and made her way into Rosamund's room--worn out with fatigue and fright, when she found the girl not there, she had laid herself down to die--and, it is thought, she died _praying_--for she was discovered in a kneeling posture, her arms and face extended on the pillow, where Rosamund had slept the night before--a smile was on her face in death.
Fain would I draw a veil over the transactions of that night--but I cannot--grief, and burning shame, forbid me to be silent--black deeds are about to be made public, which reflect a stain upon our common nature.
Rosamund, enthusiastic and improvident, wandered unprotected to a distance from her guardian doors--through lonely glens, and wood walks, where she had rambled many a _day_ in safety--till she arrived at a shady copse, out of the hearing of any human habitation.
_Matravis_ met her.--"Flown with insolence and wine," returning home late at night, he passed that way!
Matravis was a very ugly man. Sallow-complexioned! and, if hearts can wear that colour, his heart was sallow-complexioned also.