And what is the use of boarding-houses if not to renew indefinitely the hope of marriage ?
She was not of the base order of women. Conscience yet lived in her, and drew support from religion ; something of modesty, of self-respect, still clad her starving soul. Ignorance and ill-luck had once or twice thrown her into such society as may be found in establishments outwardly respectable ; she trembled and fled. Even in such a house as this of Mrs. Banting's, she had known sickness of disgust. Herself included, four single women abode here at the present time ; and the scarcely disguised purpose of every one of them was to entrap a marriageable man. In the others, it seemed to her detestable, and she hated all three, even as they in their turn detested her. Rosamund flattered herself with the persuasion that she did not aim merely at marriage and a subsistence ; she would not marry any one ; her desire was for sympathy, true companionship. In years gone by she had used to herself a more sacred word ; nowadays the homely solace seemed enough. And of late a ray of hope had glimmered upon her dusty path. Mr. Cheeseman, with his plausible airs, his engaging smile, had won something more than her confidence ; an acquaintance of six months, ripening at length to intimacy, justified her in regarding him with sanguine emotion. They had walked together in Kensington Gardens ; they had exchanged furtive and significant glances at table and elsewhere ; every one grew aware of the mutual preference. It shook her with a painful misgiving when Mr. Cheeseman went away for his holiday and spoke no word ; but probably he would write. He had written to his friend Drake ; and all was over.
Her affections suffered, but that was not the worst. Her pride had never received so cruel a blow.
After a life of degradation which might well have unsexed her,
Rosamund
