*
V/// s f/rf//rrjrfy////fr//
LI B R A R.Y
OF THE
UNIVERSITY
Of ILLINOIS
823 H673sa v. 4
SAYS SUE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, What?
IN FOUR VOLUMES,
BY
AN OLD-FASHIONED ENGLISHMAN,
Oh ! still be mine the gen'rous wish— to bless And wipe the streaming tear from pile Distress, Make keen-ey'd Malice hide her guilty head, O'er the dim mind bright Truth her lustre shed, Celestial Freedom ev'ry charm unfold, And firm Integrity the Fair uphold.
VOL. IV.
LONDON : PRINTED AT T II E
FOR A. K. NEWMAN AND CO,
LEADENIIALL-STRLFT.
1812.
?^3 (4 t,72>$<K
■Says She to her Neighbour, What t
CHAP. J.
Of men
Tlie liappiest he, who far from public life. Deep in the vale, with a choice few retir'd, Drinks the pure pleasures of the rural life.
Thomson .
-oLT the time when colonel Eldricke form- ed the acquaintance I mentioned as taking place at the house of Mrs. Montgomery, few circumstances could have occurred, equally agreeable to that gentleman's views, with the interview and its results. The colonel was, in the language of the ladies, a divine creature; but he was, nevertheless, •a very sinful one, for he was an unprin-
VOL, IV. B
2 SAYS SHE TG KER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ?
-cipled libertine, a systematic gambler, a man who every day professed love he was incapable of feeling, and incurred debts he lenevv himself to be incapable of paying; but it could not be doubted that he was a man of honour, since he could offer the satisfaction of a gentleman to any person who disputed his claims ; or, where it was more convenient, he could insinuate that c< the world had been unjust to him; that his errors were not of the heart ; that he had been careless in some cases, and tempt- ed in others, but that it was impossible for him to be base in any ; and that it would be easy for him to remove whatever might appear suspicious in his character, if the pride of integrity would allow him to do so." Under these colours he presented himself to the unsuspicious eye of Charles, who, too conscious that the most innocent, and even virtuous conduct, could not se- cure a man from detraction, was induced thus to pity the man he ought to have de- spised, and to receive that friendship with
SAYS SHE TO HER XEIGHEOUR, WHAT ? &
avidity, he would at one period have shrunk from with disgust.
The heaTt ever finds ready excuses for the misconduct of those it loves, so long as that misconduct is not directed against our own immediate comforts; it was not possible for Charles to be blind to the er- rors of his new friend; but he saw, or fancied he saw, a thousand amiable quali- ties so blended with these errors, and such a decided partiality for himself, such a par- ticular desire to " raze out the written troubles of his brain," and prepare <c some sweet oblivious antidote to his sorrows," in every scheme of pleasure that was pro- posed, that it would have been ungenerous to stigmatize that conduct with the name of vice, which had for its basis a virtuous friendship. The ideas of good and evil, thus blended and confounded, became yet more obscured, from the observation, that every where colonel Eldricke was received by the ladies with the most pointed atten- tion; and the kind glances with which he r2
4 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR., WHAT ?
liad been favoured by many, previous to his intimacy, were now directed with a surer, sweeter aim, as if he were rendered much more interesting by his attachment to a man so universally admired.
Lady Llanberry loved high play and fashionable parties; she would much ra- ther have had only respectable, very re- spectable people at them; but fashionable people were not always such, and they must be had; therefore, though rumour whispered that colonel Eldricke was en- deavouring to reduce her married daugh- ter, at the very time he was making love to her friend Mrs. Montgomery, and pick- ing the pocket of her relation, Mr. Beau- marris, whom she chose to consider the future husband of her younger daughter, yet the colonel, as a man of fashion, be- came her constant guest.
In fact, at this time the colonel was as much in love with Mrs. Wallingford as a man of his description could be; and he had affected friendship for the husband, in the hope that gratitude in the lady, aided
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ? &
by the indifference which he well knew succeeded the first fervours of what are called " love matches/' would aid his de- signs; he had undoubtedly some interest, for his family was noble, and on the right side for obtaining promotion ; but it was not his design to go beyond the appeal^- ance of being interested, since that might serve to awaken the feelings of the lady in his behalf, without adding to her personal accommodation ; and he well knew that a want of accustomed conveniences is very apt to lead the mind to consider the per-: son who has caused the privation in no pleasant point of view, however innocent he may be, and too great complacency to- wards the amiable being who is seeking to restore them.
When the generosity of Charles, in de- termining to purchase a majority for cap- rain Wallingford, occurred, the colonel determined to change his battery, and was> enabled to do so very successfully, from the earnest desire Beaumarris expressed for secrecy. The colonel presented the
& SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOR WHAT ?
promotion as from his own hand, and re- ceived those smiles and thanks which he deemed the earnest of future favours; and he had the happiness of lulling all suspi- cion in the lady for the present, by add- ing, that — " He had the pleasure of say- ing, that Miss Beaumarris had promised him to visit her sister that very morning;'* and he spoke of the young lady in terms which, though not directly expressive of love, indicated some kind of interest irk her, either with regard to her personal merits, or connexion with some one very dear to him.
It so happened that Mrs. Wallingford,. though the poorest branch of her family,. was possessed of one property ; the rest, as far as I have seen of them, could nofc boast — she had a heart; had the affections of this heart been cultivated by either pa- rent, friend, or sister, it is most probable she would have listened to the suggestions of any one dear to her, and have resisted the allurements of love, in the speaking glances of a poor subaltern ; but. this had
SAYS SITE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ? T-
not been her happy case — her heart there- fore found its first employment in the ex- ercise of a passion ever dangerous, but rendered doubly so when opposed by no other affection; and there is no doubt but she would have surrendered much sooner to the prevailing propensity, if the object of her love had not happily possessed that higher regard for her, which led him to postpone his happiness till his advance- ment enabled him at least to shield her from poverty ; in the interim, he had been engaged in actual service ; he had likewise seen much of the world, and he had risen from an amiable, to a sensible and worthy man; so that at the time when colonel Eldricke commenced his attack, Mrs. Wal- lingford was under a guardianship he was not aware of, a 'penetrating and aiiacliech husband ; his intercourse with life had shown him many husbands whose own con- duct had given them an insight into his- designs, which they were careless to coun- teract, from want of love to their wives.;;
$ SAYS SHE TO HER NEICifBOUB, WHAT?
and, on the other hand, he had seen tender and confiding husbands, whose honest hearts rendered them as unsuspicious as they were guileless* To meet with a man? who united the wisdom of the serpent with the harmlessness of the dove, and that too in a man of approved courage* was ex- tremely inconvenient;, but as noble na- tures are ever won by noble actions, the colonel had hoped that an effusion of gra- titude would warm the heart of Walling- ford on the present occasion, and give binv confidence, which, either sooner or later> would open his house and his heart, in such a manner as to afford him access to his lady, which vanity, and success in other cases, conspired to tell him was all he wanted.
The captain did not, however, receive his promotion with any rapturous thanks ; his behaviour was collected, manly, and guarded ; and* said, as plain as manners could say it — " I know you too well, co- lonel, to believe vou have mad^ me a dis-^
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ? 9
interested gift ; and whilst my love accepts it, for the sake of my wife, I shall learn to* guard that wife with double diligence."
Just as the colonel was translating the collected looks of the new major into this language, Harriet entered, and gave him a full opportunity of wiping away suspi- cion, by his attentions to her, and by his attending her home : and in order both ef- fectually to lull the fears of Walling ford, and to gain frequent access to Mrs. Mont- gomery, he became, as I have already mentioned, a perpetual visitor, from this- time, at lord Llanberry's, in company with ray brother, whom he introduced into every fashionable party which was yet new to him; he became a member of all the great clubs, a candidate for Newmarket fame, and, what was more than all, the decided favourite of the countess of Ri- pondale.
Our blooming cousin, the bride of lord William Graham, first made her appear- ance in London this spring, and Charles b a
10" SAYS SHE TO HBH NEIGHBOUR, WHAT?
was first seen at her house by the countess, who pronounced him monstrous handsome, "but prodigiously stupid; she saw him a month after, and declared him wonderfully improved; two months after this, her lady- ship undertook to polish him herself; and; as she was allowed to be the most skilful, lapidary now moving in the hemisphere of taste, it was not surprising, that with such, a diamond to work upon, something very brilliant should be produced, and that u the Beaumarris" should become the. u very pink and mirror'' of the day, te the observed of all observers/'
At the time when my father went to London, he had prescribed himself merely time for his parliamentary duties ; and as, there was really much business in the house, le was not able to see much of Charles;, he found him living in a style suited to his fortune, but not equal to his income; and/ lie rejoiced to see his health and spirits considerably restored. Whenever they were together, he pressed upon him .he adviseableness of purchasing an estate, ancfc
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ? II
thought it would be desirable to spend the- summer months in looking round for one;* in which search, he said, I could accom- pany him, as it would be of use to my health, about which he entertained many fears: he expressed constant expectations of hearing from Mrs. Danvers by some of the homeward-bound ships, and a wish to remain in London till such arrived; but said that no consideration could prevent him from visiting the Park in May, as I; should be of age, and he considered his presence necessary.
My father hoped that Charles would have proposed visiting us on that occasion ; but: he forbore to press him, feeling that he alone could judge how far he was enabled^ to endure the recollections such a visit could not fail to awaken. The fact was no* precisely as my father had formed it in his. own mind, for Charles had made his first engagement at Newmarket- at that very time, my birthday having slipped his me- mory, amongst the multitude, of engage-
$£ SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ?
ments now upon his hands, and which were so numerous, that if his health had not been thoroughly restored, he could not have endured the fatigue to which they, exposed him.
In the few parties my father was enabled* to enter this winter, he saw Charles at- tract universal admiration; but he had; more than once the bitter mortification o£ seeing whispers follow the looks of plea- sure he had excited; and perceived that some kind of tale was going round, which- bespoke the spreading of that poison he- liad fondly hoped was confined to Fairbo- rough, where it had now ceased to ope* rate : on his naming this to lord Llanberry,. his lordshjpi with an affectation of great; concern, said-^" That there was doubtless, a general prejudice against the morals of, his dear kinsman ; but that he trusted time* and the support of his friends, especially that of the house whose name he bore*, would enable him to overcome it"
" Surely," said my father, " his ua-
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ?" IS-
spotted honour, his virtuous life, his un^ sullied integrity, will, in the eyes of every
reflecting person 'r
" My dear sir Frederic, those who nod away characters, and wink away reputa- tions, are seldom reflecting persons ; but when they are, depend upon it there is no withstanding their malignity."
There was no denying this ; and my fa- ther assented with a sigh*
" If," continued the nobleman, " Mr. Beaumarris will get into parliament, as I trust he will, I can have-no-doubt but, with the talents he possesses, and the interest- he will have, that the lustre of his politi- cal career will quickly efface the memory of these juvenile indiscretions, which— — '*" u But my son committed no indiscre- tion, was guilty of no error— crime is ever amenable at the bar of public censure ;, and however I might mourn over his error,. I should justify his punishment in such a case; but Charles is innocent,"
" I have no doubt of it; slander is a ittur that sticks quite as firmJy to innocence
f4 SAYS SITE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ?
as guilt ; and generally attaches there much sooner, from the want of adroitness in the parties to ward it off. When, however,, our worthy young friend' is married and settled in the world, to a person of rank and connexion, I have not the slightest doubt but all will blow over."
My father went to Charles, and informed, him, that although he did not approve such very early marriages in general, yet under liis circumstances, he thought that if colo- nel Dan vers and his family should arrive ins the spring Indiamen, now daily expected, it would be desirable that he should fulfil- what he had long known to be the wishes of his heart, by making Emma an offer immediately ;. and he particularly entreat- ed him so to conduct himself in lord Llan- berry's family, as to avoid giving them- any reason to expect that he could engage himself to Harriet Beaumarris — an injunc- tion Charles had no difficulty in obeying, having never felt the slightest penchant -for Harriet, beyond the acquaintance of an kour : but had my father extended his in-
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ? 15
quiries, he would have found that there were places in which poor Charles had be- come more vulnerable : he, however,, de- parted,, happy in the persuasion that his son deserved well of the world, at least ; and that he was countenanced by a nume- rous, raid, in general, a respectable circle of friends ; and, he trusted, would bear the ordeal to which young men of fortune cannot fail to be exposed, better than he would have done if this unhappy accident Bad not befallen him. With this happy persuasion he returned to the Park.
As my health was still accounted deli- cate, my father proposed that we should make the tour of the Highlands, to which we ail joyfully assented. Our party com- prehended Mr. Eltringham, lady Eorrow- dale, colonel Harvey, his son, and two daughters : we provided every thing neces- sary for an expedition of this nature, and determined to enjoy our excursion in the true predatory style. Mr. Eitringham's in- fant son, and our little Emily, were once more committed to the care of the good
16 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ?
aunt; and we set out in the beginning of July, intending to take in our way, or at our return, the nearer beauties of lake scenery, exhibited in our own country; and to walk or ride, as might best suit the places through which we were to pass.
On arriving at Keswick, the second even- ing of our journey, we found the inn full of company, as the judges were passing through the town, on their return from the spring circuit ; but we were told, that beds might be procured for several of us in the town; and it was accordingly agreed that the servants and single men should be sent out By good fortune, colonel Harvey was sent to a house where an artist of great talents, and most agreeable manners., had been lodging for some weeks ; and when the colonel arose in the morning, he found him taking sketches from the door of the house where he lodged. The colonel was inuch devoted to the arts, and possessed considerable talent himself; he therefore immediately introduced himself to Mr. H.. v;ho was naturally much pleased with meet-
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR WHAT ? 17
ing with a gentleman who could appre- ciate his powers, and gladly accepted his invitation to breakfast with us. To this lucky circumstance we owed much of the pleasure we experienced during our jour*- ney ; the artist conducted us to every spot in this enchanting neighbourhood most worthy of remark ; and being himself on a tour to the Highlands, agreed to follow us to Edinburgh, and become one of our par- ty. My father, ever attached to genius in every fortx^ was pleased with every thing he observed in this young man, whose mind was strong, and imagination fertile ; he possessed great sensibility, and more general information, than could have been expected from a man devoted to a study which requires incessant thought, and time beyond the life of man. The young ladies, were pleased with the opportunity this af- forded them of encreasing their knowledge of drawing, an opportunity seldom afford- ed to those who reside constantly in the country, and I was equally desirous to profit by it; so that we constantly forms*!
IS SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ?
sketching parties, while young Harvey, Mr. Eltringham, and the baronet, amused themselves with fishing. The colonel some- times joined us, and sometimes assisted my - aunt and mother in their mineralogical re- searches; so that we were all employed, and appeared all so happy, that although when I set out I felt as if I were about to drag, at each remove, a lengthening chain, yet I found a species of pleasure arise from witnessing it in others, which, though far removed from happiness, was, neverthe- less, a very desirable substitute; and one very dear enjoyment was afforded me in perfection ; this was, the perfect restora-^ tion of my father's health and spirits, which, through this journey, bounded with more than their usual elasticity, proportioned to their late depression. Ke was amused with the national character of the people amongst whom, he sojourned; and his ac- tive mind, in retracing their history, their antiquities, and superstitions, everywhere found food for the mind and flowers for the fancy ; and by connecting names high
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ? I#
in the historic page, or dear to the lovers of song, he added a local interest to every scene which charmed us; we gave a sigh to the memory of Smollett, as we trod the banks of the Leven, and paid our tribute of regret to the dwelling of the " twa bon- nie lassies" of Allan Ramsay, as we pass- ed the spot
" Where they had bigg'd a cannie bower,. And cover'd it o'er wi* rashes."
With Burns in our hands, we felt a new\ charm from every wimpling rill that trick- led through the glen, from which he mighfe have caught an idea, and taught it to run in his wild, beauteous, and " immortal verse"
But my father had found a charm in this journey, beyond even that which is given to sublime conception, as it arises from the contemplation of nature in her loftiest walks, or the powers of imagination, as they expand in mental excellence ; this was the power of continually exercising, in one way or other, that benevolence*
20 SAYS SITE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ?
whose exertion appeared as necessary to the existence of his mind, as that of respi- ration to his body; and to the pining in- habitant of many a cheerless hut, to the hapless wanderer, the widowed mourner; and the unprotected orphan, his ready hand gave the means of " being warmed and filled ;" not with the empty ostenta- tion the apostle so feelingly condemns, nor with the idle profusion which throws away money to get rid of troublesome sen- sations, but with that prudence which cor- rects sensibility, and that sensibility which warms and invigorates prudence.
When my father had no immediate claimants for the lesser gifts of charity pressing on his memory, his generous heart, with a delicacy equal to its munifi- cence, was revolving the means of bene- fiting the person to whose genius and taste we all felt ourselves so highly indebt- ed, and yet whose wants of the goods of fortune were most probablv equally great with the riches with which nature had stor- ed him ; and these wants were likely to be
"SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ? 21
tnore cruelly fe\t, since it was evident that the refinements of education had contri- buted to render his feelings doubly acute; and that proud spirit of independence, ever the concomitant of conscious powers, kept him aloof from obligations — " These are the men/' my father would say, " who should be nourished by the state; for pri- vate bounty distresses whom it serves; but from the hand of a grateful nation, genius can accept support without a blush, and patronage without servility."
Yet this conclusion did not prevent my father from contriving to produce the same happy effects, when assistance could flow from his own hand, and his contrivances were seldom in vain.
We had made the tour of the Highlands, returned to Edinburgh, and again dropt the tear of regret over the ill-fated Mary, that wonderful woman, whom we either acquit or condemn, with feelings in which pity absorbs condemnation, or demands love, and had only heard from Charles twice ; in these letters we found he had
£2 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ?
been spending part of the summer at Chel- tenham, with lady Llanberry, and part at Tunbridge ; but we now received a letter to inform us, that he found colonel Dan- vers and his family were arrived in Eng- land; and he heard, that immediately on landing at Portsmouth, they had made the best of their way to London, as sir Thomas Atwood was exceedingly ill, and little bopes entertained of his recovery. Charles added, that he should, of course, attend to the movements of the family, and inform us of his proceedings.
My impatience to proceed southward may be conceived by those who, like me, languished under the pains of an absence, contracted under circumstances of such pe- culiar infelicity, and unenlivened by any correspondence which could soften the dis- tress. My mother-in-law proposed imme- diately writing to Mrs. Danvers, to inform her of the letter she had received: but this my father opposed, thinking, that had it been in the lady's power, she ought to have written again on her arrival at Lisbon,
SAYS SHE TO HEP NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ? £$
as she must be well aware of the anxiety we must all have felt — he would not, he said, condemn her for this omission ; but, under present circumstances, he wished to wait the event of a few days at least.
I must own I was greatly deficient in my father's stock of philosophy, and could not help wishing, for once, that my mother- in-law had possessed sufficient of the vixen in her composition to disobey him ; for I saw that, like me, she had ventured to think for herself, and felt as if a warm greeting to her native shore would have been not less acceptable to her friend, than "becoming to herself; but she, according to her not illaudable custom, " obsequious heard his pleaded reason," and the affair at present stood still ; but I felt not the less anxious to get home.
When arrived there, our first inquiry was for letters, and one, which had arrived that very day, was put into my father's hands from Charles — it was written evi- dently in great perturbation of mind, and certainly conveyed not less than it evinced^
Sir SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT?
-as it stated, that he had written to colonel Danvers, making an offer of his hand to Emma, and had met with a decisive, and even insolent refusal, which appeared to have provoked him beyond all bounds, es- pecially at Emma, whose conduct, he said, was inexplicable and unjustifiable to the last degree; but who, with the proud na- bob her father, should never be intruded on by him in any shape again.
" Nor by you, I trust," said my father, with an air of more haughtiness than I had ever seen him assume, and my spirit at that moment rose with his own ; but in a few minutes I was cold and sick at heart, and I felt that the supports of pride and ranger are very treacherous.
In about a week after this, we read that sir Thomas Atwood was dead, being suc- ceeded in his title and estates by his bro- ther, now colonel sir Edward Atwood, bart. whose daughters were coheiresses to his noble fortune.
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT? 25
CHVP. II.
She who thus love.*,
Goes out to sea upon a shatter'd vessel,
And puts her trust in miracles for safety. Otway.
As Miss Beaumarris most obligingly took upon herself the task of advising Mrs. Montgomery what dress to wear, what cards to play, and what entertainments to give, she took the trouble of advising her to go to Weymouth, and, when there, to cut such a dash, that it was generally ru- moured she had about three times as large a fortune as was the case; and as it was really found she paid for all she bought, a circumstance much more easily ascertained there than in the metropolis, this rumour was credited by those who were interested in the fact, and who had the best of rea- sons for making inquiries; and the fair widow was besieged, from morning till night, with billet-doux, sighs, stares, and vol. iv. c
26 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT?
shrugs of indifference, a new and much- admired way of saying — €*l mean to pique you till I catch you;" but which being in use only tc among folks of the very first world/' was not precisely the way to the heart of a woman who was too new in the world to understand it ; so that when colo- nel Eldricke arrived at Weymouth, and paid a different homage at the fair shrine, he completely distanced all his competi- tors, brought back the first reveries of the heart, and the last dreams of the imagina- tion ; and united all the dreams of the scarlet coat which charmed the girl, with those bewitching reveries of sentimental rhapsody which had misled the waman.
The attention which the colonel paid to Harriet, equally with Mrs. Montgomery, had induced the latter to believe that he was in love with her young friend, and only complimentary to herself for that friend's sake; for she was too truly mo- dest to suppose, without strong proof, that a fine,> dashing young man, not seven-and- twenty, could really prefer herself, though
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT? 27
a fine woman, to a lovely girl of nineteen ; the difference in their fortune did not strike her; for she admired the colonel, and concluded, of course, that he was the most generous of men ; besides, she had heard of his kindness to the Walling- fords, so that she had some excuse for her confidence ; and therefore when the colonel did indeed confess his flame, poor Ellen felt her heart beat with something -very like gratitude for his preference ; but with a voice of great trepidation, she ut- tered something like a renunciation of him, for the sake of her dear young friend.
The colonel <c had always understood, from the Wallingfords, that Miss Beaumar- ris was engaged to Mr. Beaumarris, which had occasioned him to treat her with mere freedom than he should have thought it proper to use; but his heart disdained dis- simulation ; he would fly, and remove every obstacle to the entire confidence of his adored Ellen."
<f Adored Ellen T could any thing be c2
28 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR., WHAT ?
sweeter ? beloved Ellen had been the extent of what the old gentleman had ever been able to say — what years of happiness had she not lost ! but life was yet before her, and she was determined to make the most of it, by loving with all c( her heart, her soul, and her strength;" for she had al- ready discovered, that splendour and admi- ration were not the kind of toys which na- ture had designed her to play with ; and the more dear, tormenting mysteries of cards, to which lady Llanberry had intro- duced her, at a considerable expence, were as hateful as the others were vapid; Ellen was born to love.
While these things were passing her mind, the colonel had joined a party to the library, where Miss Beaumarris was hap- py to be singled out by the dasher of the day, though for the express purpose of drawing her aside, and informing her of his engagement; adding, with a kind of yawn — " In these cases, one must do the best they can : matrimony is a pill all sen- sible men, and 'women too, take care shall
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT? 29
be well gilded. To you, my dear friend, I speak with frankness, assured there is a most delectable union in our sentiments, ' beyond the coarser tie of human laws,' which will enable you to read my soul — in plain English, my dear Harriet,_ I am poor, cursedly poor: was I blest with the fortune of your envied, thrice envied Beaumarris, I then durst dispute the richer prize with him, which my eyes are now condemned to close upon for ever."
Harriet was by turns piqued, soothed, and flattered with this speech ; she at- tempted to assure the colonel, that she had no engagement with Mr. Beaumarris, which he well knew to be true, but which he in- sisted upon was false ; and talked upon so long, that he at length took the liberty of a friend, to assure her, should that be the case, she had acted unwisely, in not secur- ing a man whose fortune was desirable, and who could hardly fail to advance in life. She told him all she had learned of Charles's passion for another, and he ridi- culed the idea; at the same time, he pro-
30 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT?
tested that nothing less than the cruel ne- cessity of the case could drive him even to venture at a step, which, " by a double bar, shut out his own hopes of happiness:" and he said this with so profound a sigh, that Harriet was bound to believe ; and the way in which it was re-echoed in her breast, induced the colonel to push his attack so far, as to induce her to bind him to everlasting gratitude, by promising to forward his suit with her friend; whilst, on his part, he bound himself to forward whatever could conduce to her happiness. In the first moments of Harriet s vexa- tion at the effrontery of this declaration, she had determined to warn her friend a- gainst colonel Eldricke; she now deter- mined, with more pertinacity, to espouse his cause ; she believed he loved her, she knew he could not marry, and yet she re- solved to attach him to herself — into such Strange inconsistencies does vanity ofren mislead those who have no fixed principles of action ; but this young lady had another •'motive of action— she loved the colonel,
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT? 31
and rather than not be loved again, she consented to hold a beart which could only offer a guilty passion ; and " who was to be the sufferer in this loss?" a worthy and amiable woman, from whom she was every day receiving marks of kind- ness; and who, even while her ingenuous heart confessed affection, had hesitated for her sake to accept the offer of the colo- nel's hand.
After the ladies had once met, the mat- ter went on perfectly smooth ; for though Mrs. Montgomery informed her brothers, yet of course she did not ask their con- sent, or deem their approbation neces- sary for her peace ; but there were, some little things which Ellen said must be done ; and as the gentleman could induce his cre- ditors to wait a short time longer, he con- sented to bridle his impatience.
The little things in question was a gift of five hundred pounds each to two chil- dren, who were born since the death of Mr. Montgomery, to a person who was very distantly related to him, but whom,
32 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR WHAT?
she was certain, he would have remembered in his will, had he been aware of the mar- riage of their mother, to whom he had left a small annuity, considering her as past a marrying age. Mrs. Montgomery had mentioned to her attorney an inten- tion of presenting these sums to the children in question, and as she had like- wise told him of her intended marriage, he had advised her to do it before that event took place, well knowing that if she did not, it would hardly be done after ; but not displaying the suspicion he felt, the widow agreed to the proposal, and settled the particulars; but when the good lawyer proceeded to advise her to have certain lands and tenements secured on herself, repeating the old proverb of (S safe bind, safe find," she became very indig- nant, and protested that all the value she could ever find in wealth was the pleasure of bestowing it on him she loved.
" It is said, madam, that the colonel, as a younger brother, is very slenderly pro- vided for."
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT? S3
« Then be it my consolation to make up the deficiencies of fortune, and raise him, in this respect, to an equality with the elder/'
tc But they say he is in debt, madam."
" Then I will pay his debts ; his gene- rous spirit shall no longer bend under the oppressive load of pecuniary obligation."
" Your fortune, is a very fine fortune, madam, but it may be found unequal to all the claims made upon it."
" Then I can cheerfully return to the cottage from whence I came, satisfied that Heaven, in it; temporary gift, has permit- ted mefthe highest gratification riches can bestow. Freely did I receive, and freely will I give, Hanway ; so let us say no more about it, for I have made up my mind on the Rftfrjftfcfc"
Hanway had no right to pass any com- ments, to be sure; he knew that to* re- turn to a cottage was sooner said than done ; but as it did not enter his mind that such a thing could take place literally, c3
34: SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT?
he only gave a short sigh, hoped for the best, and took his leave till the night be- fore the marriage, when he returned to bring a sum of money, which had been taken out of the .funds, and to receive his orders as to the disposal of the said thou- sand pounds.
The colonel and Harriet were sitting Vith the bride-elect when Hanway was announced.
■* Oh, he has brought me some money; may I admit him ?"
"By all means," said the lover, rejoiced 4o hear of the mission.
When Hanway had paid down the whole sum, he received back the two bills, and departed* saying — " He was not ac- customed to be an almoner, but should prove a faithful one in this case, he would assure her."
u What does the old man mean ?" said the colonel.
Ellen related the transaction with he* usual candour.
y And have you really given that old
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT? 35
scoundrel a thousand pounds ? a thousand pounds that you were not obliged to pay ?" said the colonel, in the raised tone and gesture of passion.
Mrs. Montgomery was astonished, al- most terrified ; she looked like a person who scarcely durst believe their own sen- ses ; yet as her countenance recovered its usual form, an air of severity and deci- sion appeared to come over it, seen by Harriet though not by the colonel, whose vexation had put him off his gward ; she instantly trod on his toe, and by a glance of the eye, directed him to the face of Mrs. Montgomery; a single look showed him that another word, and all would be ,over for ever. He started, burst into a well-dissembled fit of laughter, and clasp- ing Ellen in his arms, declared — " That was the way he should act the husband, whenever she bought diamonds, or play- ed at hazard."
i( I beg you wont do so again, even in jest," said she faintly, " for though I am not nervous, you really made me tremble. "
36 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ?
'f Well, my dear creature, don't look pale, or you will return the compliment, by making me tremble in very sober ear- nest. I shall wish the old man and his trash at the devil, if I see you look in this way, my Ellen."
Ellen was soothed, consoled, married, and undone.
It was not long after this that Charles learnt the arrival of the Danvers family had taken place. The marriage of the co- lonel, by taking him for a short time from his accustomed society, led Charles to re^ fleet more on Emma than he had done for some time ; he remembered too my fa- ther's advice ; and having discovered like- wise, that a life of pleasure defeats itself, and that he could not look back with one pleasant feeling, nor forward with one hope, while he continued in his present situation, he began to fancy that as all his happiness had fled with Emma, so it might return with her; and though he no longer felt that passion which would have im- pelled him to her feet> he yet found that
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, "WHAT? 37
she only could command the respect, and awaken the tenderness of his heart.
Conceiving that under the present si- tuation of the family, there would be no impropriety in presenting himself person- ally, during the illness of the baronet, he wrote to colonel Danvers in the most open and handsome manner, offering him- self and fortune to the disposal of his daughter Emma ; and lamenting the lon<* separation which had unavoidably taken place between two families, whose reci- procal regard had, he Hat tered himself, rendered them necessary for each others, happiness.
In this letter, the colonel (now sir Ed- ward Atwood) replied in a very laconic manner, declining the honour of Mr. Beaumarris's visits to his daughter; but adding, it was with great pain he was obliged to relinquish the acquaintance of any branch of sir Frederic Sedgewood's fa- mily ; and begged to assure him that Emma perfectly acquiesced in the painful necessity, which urged him to relinquish a
38 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT?
connexion, which at one period would have been an honour to her, and happi* ness to her family.
From this it appeared, that the' very people who had caused the only stain poor Charles's mime had ever known, took ad- vantage of it to cast him off; the effect was such as almost to drive him back to madness; but, alas ! the keen pangs of thought were no longer his refuge; he flew to wine, to women, to hazard, to a faithless friend, a deceitful mistress, to all which a good father must reject, and a vir- tuous woman ought to fly from : thus was the predicion of lady Frances verified, and Charles Beaumarris led to seek refuge in society he once would have loathed, and to inflict real wounds on his conscience, in consequence of false ones on his cha- racter.
When Harriet Beaumarris had seen the knot actually tied between her two dear friends, and found that Cha les did not, as she expected, visit the youii^ heiresses, she began to conceive that he really had
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT? 39
some serious intentions towards her; and on her return to London, she determined to lay close siege to his heart, for real passion towards one man had taught her how to feign it towards another ; and she was convinced, that pity and kindness were so inherent in the nature of her hand- some cousin, that it would be long before the world could so harden his heart, as to render him callous to their claims.
But Charles was now sighing more in- tently than ever in the chains of the countess of Ripondale ; this lady had laid siege to him the winter before ; but although Charles did not imagine her to be any thing more than a very amusing co- quette, he could not bring himself at that time to be a dangler in the suite of a mar- ried woman ; but alas ! he had passed a whole year of folly since then, and he now gloried in his chains, and paid for the honour of jingling them, by losing his' money as freely as her ladyship could wish. When a man loses much, he seldom gives
40 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT?
much ; but Charles did both ; he was pro- fuse from folly, but he was generous from nature and principle ; so that while he spent lavishly, he did not therefore deny meanlv, or promise what he never meant to perform, even in this mournful period of his history; traits of the beauteous original might be traced, streaming like meteors through the gloomy hemisphere, where they shone with bright but tempo- rary lustre.
In this state of mind was Charles when mv father arrived in London during the Christmas vacation ; he did not see his son on the night of his arrival, as he had expected ; and when he had breakfasted the next morning, he sallied out in pur- suit of him, and, with some Surprise, learnt •he was still in bed ; my father sent up his name, and took up the morning papers. In a few minutes he made his appearance, looking pale, but evidently vexed with himself; mv father felt that his Charles vas no longer the same, but he could not bear to infringe on the pleasures of a first
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT? 41
meeting, by any painful remark ; so, af- ter some general conversation, he again took up the newspapers, while Charles breakfasted, and with great surprise read the following paragraph : —
" Married, this morning, at Hanover- square Chapel, captain Campbell, eldest son of general sir John Campbell, to Em- ma, daughter and co heiress of colonel sir Edward Atwood, baronet."
My father laid down the newspaper so softly, and with an air of so much fear and alarm, that Charles immediately in- quired if there were any newspaper squibs in it about him, as nothing could be more likely, as he had lately pur- chased a new horse, which he knew had excited envy, and would therefore pro- bably occasion remark.
" This is not a squib, nor I apprehend a cracker, but I am afraid, my dear fe!' yoy will find it a home shot ; but I !. you will receive it like a man, for aM
He then tegd fcfee paragraph, r Tl . • r*nr s<$me r".or
42 says she to Her neighbour, what ?
cancy in Charles's eye, that alarmed my father exceedingly ; be knew not that eye was tamed inwards, and was saying — " I have deserved even this ;." but he saw that the expression was that of silent suffering, and be trembled at the remembrance it a- wakened : to force him into conversation, he inquired — " if he had ever seen any of the Danvers family since the rejection of his suit?"
" Never ; they have not been into public since the baronet's death ; they will now come out, and be buzzing every where, I suppose."
te If you like to run down to Bath, I will write to Theodore to meet you there; he is coming up to London, but will doubtless prefer avoiding a rencontre equally painful to both of you."
u An excellent thought," said Charles ; *' I will not lose an houi' ;" and accordingly in a few minutes he was on the road to Bath.
My father dined at lord LTanberry's, and observing that his sons were going to meet
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOR WHAT? 43
each other at Bath, her ladyship said she should like a run down there herself, and would propose the plan to Mrs. Eldricke ; it was talked over in the evening, and agreed on, to my father's satisfaction, as he could not forbear feeling some uneasiness respecting Charles, and knew that it must be yet a week or ten days before I could possibly join him there. Lady Sedgewood being much indisposed, had not accompa- nied him to town this winter, but had promised, if she found herself better, to fol- low with me; but this the baronet did not wish, for though her complaint was not dangerous, he was aware that travelling would expose her to a degree of suffering, which he wished to save her from.
The vexation I had endured from Charles's rejection, and the subsequent conduct my father appeared to expect from me, and which my own ideas of pro- per dignity equally exacted, had injured my spirits very much, and it was some time be- fore I could prevail on myself to visit Lon- don tfcis winter,, although my father,
44 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR WHAT?
agreeable to that generosity ever eminent in his character, had rendered me inde- pendent in my circumstances, and en- abled me either to offer myself as a candi- date for the hand of Adelaide, or to run the round of dissipation young men of fortune and connexions think themselves entitled to run at this period of their ex- istence.
When my father's letter arrived, in- viting me to meet Charles at Bath., and mentioning the cause, I felt as if I too might every moment expect a similar deathblow to my long-cherished hopes; and I now found* more than ever, these hopes, in spite of absence and obstacles, had so " grown with my growth, and strengthened with my strength/' that they were become necessary to my existence; that I had imbibed what Charles de- signated the Seclgewood constancy ; and that, like my unhappy grandfather, all the best years of my life were fated to bow under the corrosive influence of hope- less passion.
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT? 45
To lady Scdgewood I spoke freely of all that passed in my mind, and received from her so much consolatory encouragement, that I could not help pressing her to ac- company me to Bath ; she answered me jestingly — <c Though Bath is a place to which I am extremely partial, yet it is the last I wish to visit ; for you must know I have a great-aunt living there who played the part of duenna to' me so effectually in my youth, that I . believe the idea of meeting her would even now make me tremble ; my father, in releasing me from this bondage, which took place on nv mother's death, offended the old lady, an- she renounced us all, with such sincerity o hatred, that no circumstance shall ever in- duce me to trouble her again ; in fact, have not heard of her for many years, nc^ expect to do it, till her executors inform me that I am left heiress to a shilling, as the last memento of her wrath/'
4(3 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT?
CHAP. III.
There are few minds sufficiently flfm to be trusted in th# hands of chance. He that has escaped into port, ought to-make some improvements in the chart of life, by mark- ing the rocks on which he has been dashed, and the shal- lows in which he has been stranded.
Ramblir.
When I arrived within sight of Bath, my heart forgot every emotion but that of de- light, in the expectation of seeing my brother; we (who for the first twenty years of life had never been parted as many hours) had not seen each other for above a year, and in that year such a gra- dual change had taken place in our cor- respondence, that although my heart spurned the idea of Charles's degradation., yet I was forced to adopt that of believing* him much altered.
My father had appointed our meeting at the York Hotel, and thither I hastened ; it was about two o'clock ; I had come from
SA\'S SHE TO HER NEICHEOUR, WHAT? 47
Gloucester. On inquiring for Mr. Beau- marris, I was told that he was at breakfast with one or two friends. — ct Shew me his room/* said I impatiently.
" Would you be so good as to wait till I can see Mr. Jones, sir, for you to speak to him ? I know, that is, I believe Mr. Beaumarris has some very particular friends with him just at this moment; and I really don't know, sir, that he will be able to see you, sir."
" Shew me his room," said I, authori- tatively.
The man having took measure of me with his eye, proceeded, and opening the door of a handsome apartment (where several people were all talking at once, but amongst whom I did not discern the voice of my brother), he said — " Sir, there's a person here, a gentleman I mean, sir, that insists on coming in."
Charles was stretched on a sofa; he slowly raised himself, till gaining a glance of my person, he sprang up, exclaiming, with all his wonted affection — u My bro-
48 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ?
ther, my dear Theodore, I could not ex- pect you so early ;" then advancing to the breakfast-table he introduced me to " co- lonel Eldricke, lord viscount Clatter, and Mr. — Mr. — really, my lord, I have for- got your friend's name."
u That's queer enuflf; my name be pretty well known/' said a vulgar-looking man, dressed in the style of a hackney- coach- man, who was just helping himself to some cold tongue, and spoke with his mouth full. — " That be queer enuff; most folks knows Bob Shillet az knows any thing;" then turning to the peer, he added, with a nod towards me, " Thizn be not o the right zort, I take it, hey, my hid ? dan't ye zee the young on flinches? I ihout he'd na bottom frae th* first ; what zay ye, colonel, hey ?"
The 'colonel said — li He had never had the honour of seeing Mr. Sedgewood be- fore ;" and the colonel's features said — " he would rather not have had that ho- nour now :" for though tolerably schooled, they were more honest than his tongue,
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT > 4$
1- sat down, and was beginning to take gome refreshment, though I felt all the awkwardness of breaking into a party where I was not wished for; and still more, the pain of beholding Charles himself ashamed of being caught with a person, whose admission to such society indicated some species of degradation, when I caught the words — " Ask him, Bob, ask him," from lord Clatter, addressed to his protegee.
" I allis doez the best I can for ye all, gemmen, damn me if I doezn't ; and if you'll be down with the ready, I'll pro- vide ye with the nate thing, or my name ben't Bob Shillet ; zo as we were zaying before this here gemman came in, if we can scape old proser, we'll do't at Devizes ; if not, Malbro's the please ; for three hun- dred, and a purse of fifty, I'll engage to find two, up to fifteen rounds, or there- abouts."
I turned my eyes on the speaker, with the air of a man who has made a dis-
VOL, IV, d
50 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ?
covery, and probably with that of one who does not feel himself perfectly easy in his seat.
" You doan't spar, sir," said the fellow, with a nod of contempt. The peer chuck- led, as if he had gained what he wanted.
" You are mistaken/' said I firmly ; " I do spar, ^t least I can spar, if I was under a necessity of doing so, for I learnt that part of the science of self-defence, (as did my brother), along with the use of the small-sword, that we might be equally safe from the attacks of low blackguards and high ones/'
" I have heard your brother make fre- quent mention of your powers," said the colonel, ** so as greatly to excite my cu- riosity."
" Then, sir, I hopes no offence/' said the fellow, dropping the impertinent look he had assumed; " but you must "know az how I be ater getting a little thing up in that line for these here gemmen, an if zo be az how you'd like to join us, bein
SA7S SHB TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT }' 51
az it war an hammatewer, zoa much the better."
Recollecting that my friend H , the
artist, had dubbed me an amateur in Scot- land, when with him I had gazed on the last tints of the setting sun, as they sunk beneath the mountains of the Trossacks, and exclaimed, in the poetic phrenzy of the moment — ,
This is a scene of such true majesty, And yet so beauteous, and so meek withal, Methinks the sun doth pause, asJothe to leave 'Such hallow'd spot,,' and casts a parting gleam Of softer radiance, and more lucid fire,
I could not find association in these ideas, with those awakened by the propo- sal of my new acquaintance ; and know- ing the first to be pleasurable, I did not choose to relinquish them for the addi- tional honours of the other, being well convinced there was no principle of assi- milation ; I therefore coolly observed — > 4t That I could not have the pleasure of
ILLINOIS LIBRARY
1^2 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ?
attending the amusement, unless the waters of Bath, like those of Lethe, should induce me to forget some things which I wished to remember."
" What things be they, sir?" said the man, with an air of surprise and cu- riosity.
" Trifling recollections, that never can have oppressed yov, 3VL\ Shillet, and have ceased to affect your friends, so we will say nothing about them."
" Aye, sir," said the man, having, as he thought, caught my meaning ; " repeat noa grievances ; but, howsodever, if you likes to try your luck, here's a fine open- ing for you ; and if so be as you be this her gemman's brother, though I takes it, not bein o his name, you're a brother un- der the rose like, yet I takes it he's not the man to grudge ye a score o shiners to be^in the world again with/'
This curious consolatory harangue a- wakcned the risibility of all except Charles, who peevishly said — " Pshaw ! my brother, Mr. Sedgewood, means that he cannot for-
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ? S3
get he is a Sedgewood, which in "Yorksl ire is English for gentleman, that's all, Shil- let ; I was once a Sedgewood inrysefg hut have the misfortune to be a younger bro* ther, and a richer."
An air of cruel embarrassment mixed with the playful manner assumed by Charles as he said this, and touched my very heart. The peer and the boxer rose to depart, and I perceived a look of malice pass between them, which had me for its object, but which I had scarcely time to regard, as the colonel exclaimed-— u Apropos of forgetting; I fariey both you gentlemen wdl have need of all old Bladud's waters next week, if they pos- sess Lethean powers, for hither corne ther bridal party of the beauteous Emma, and of course her sister is in the train : by the way, I hear that the son of a very great man is her professed admirer — such is the news of the day."
" I will not move an inch farther, by Jove/' cried Charles, reddening.
54 SAYS SHE TO HSU NEIGHBOUR WHAT ?
" You are in the right/' said the co- lonel.
And so said I; but my heart beat so violently, that I believe my words were scarcely articulate ; but I could not help fancying that the pain I felt gave pleasure to the colonel. I was loth to believe this, of a man to whom my brother had attached himself, and who professed to be- at Bath, for the purpose of administering to his pleasures ; but the impression remained in despite of my reason: I however agreed to accompany Charles to his house to din- ner, being told that I should meet lady Llanberry and her daughter there ; and I then, with a heavy heart, left the friends together, being anxious to write to my father, and reassure him as to his fears of Charles, on whom I could not look with- out remembering the many dreadful days and sleepless nights I bad passed with him,r when we were last together;
I found Mrs. Eldricke very pleasant and agreeable in her manners, though
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ? &5> <
too youthful and fashionable in her dress to please the simplicity of my taste : a short time served to show me, that al- though she wore rouge on her face, the world had not yet taught her to lay it on her heart, where sorrow was already kind- led, and frequently broke out in- sighs she could ill suppress, and looks that forgot to- smile; every moment the stimulating glance of the colonel, which commanded her to be cheerful, was withdrawn ; my heart ached for this, innocent victim fo af- fection ; and I could not help lamenting that Charles could have attached himself to such a man ; but my cares for her were withdrawn, by remarking the attention* Charles was paying to Harriet Beaumarris, who returned his kindness with so much interest, that I was shocked to perceive a beautiful young woman draw upon herself the pointed regards of a large circle, by a devotion to a man who had not yet sought to engage her in any serious way, and who, whilst he attended- to her, did*
56 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ?
it rather with the air of a brother who pitied, than a friend who adored her.
We adjourned from Afarlberough-build- ings, where the colonel had engaged a house for a month, to the new rooms, it being the night of the cotillion ball. I was amused here, with the great variety of faces I saw, but did not engage in dancing, as I had travelled a long way the day be- fore, and felt somewhat fatigued. I was likewise hurt to see the fondness of Harriet for Charles displayed still more fully in public ; and could scarcely he!j> noticing it to her mother, who was so much enga- ged by her cards, that she attended to no- thing else. Finding all my party engaged in one way or other, I told Charles, who either felt or affected extraordinary spirits this evening, that I should go home ; and after making my adieus to Mrs. Eldricke and lady Llanberry, I set out unattended, as I found it was but a step from thence to York House, where I had fortunately been able to procure lodgings.
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ? 5T
In passing down the narrow alley which leads from the upper rooms to George- street, I perceived myself followed by two men, who passed me, and would not have attracted my attention, if a chair had not been coming from Wilson-street corner, at the same time; as it passed near the lamp, the light fell full upon an old lady with a dog in her lap; and being aided likewise by the light of her flambeau, car- ried by a young lad, produced an effect that struck the men as well as myself, for one of them bawled out — t( How much do you get for carrying that old cat out for a show ?"
" Only sixpence," said the chairmen.
<c She'll give you a shilling to-night though," cried one, "or I'll ride to hell on a broomstick."
At these words he sprang forwards, and first extinguishing the light, and knocking down the footboy, he smashed his arm through the glass, and ordered the lady,, with many frightful oaths, to. pa) tha chairmen handsomely. b a
58 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT?
The lady screamed in great terror, and?. I ran to her assistance, when the chair- men, who were lusty fellows, and might have got off, stopping to comment on their broken windows, the offenders, with equal violence, turned the chair topsy-turvy: at this moment a window was thrown open, and I appealed to the humanity of the per- son to send somebody to assist the lady, who was my first care, though I was deter- mined to punish the miscreants who had ill-treated her ; but my appeal was answer- ed by a loud laugh. The footboy, with more success, knocked at a shop door, where the inhabitants soon appeared* As, I had just extricated the poor old woman from her perilous situation, and as she was , little heavier than her own lap-dog, I took both her and it in my arms altogether; and whilst carrying her into the house in this situation, the scoundrel struck me a vio- lent blow, which, glancing past my neck,, where it was aimed, struck full on the cheek of my ,helpless burthen, who redou? bled her screams.
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ? 59
I instantly entered the house, laid her on a sofa, and flew back to the wretch- who had not moved as I expected, and as I was. about to seize him, I heard the other cry i — v Why, Dick, thee wan't flinch frae that Jack-a-dandy ?" and at the same time I was^ saluted with a blow, which assured me I was in the hands of some of those scienti- fic gentlemen belonging to viscount Clat- ter, and his friend Bob Shillet ; nor had I any doubt but that the whole affair was of that person's planning ; this discovery did me good. — it recalled my knowledge, and I gave my first opposer good reason to con* sider it sterling; but the other joining him, I should have found myself in a very awkward situation, if a, party of gentlemen, had not been quitting the rooms at this time, and seeing the unequal fray, had so far interposed, as to insist on fair play ; and as the first villain had now had as many blows as his right honourable employer or employers would pay him for, he gladly -withdrew ; and I was left to contend with, the second, of whose skill I had every rea* -
60 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ?
son to be convinced ; but I was now com- pletely master of myself: the gentlemen assembled round me had learned the merits of the case, and I was praised on every side for an exertion which it was hoped would rid the city of two pests, who had been, for several days, infesting the pub- lic passages, and insulting all they came near. Lights were now brought, and many ladies, going home in their chairs, were^ passing, and knew me, disfigured as L was ; their eager inquiries were directed to. the lady I had protected at so much hazard and expence. — u Who was she ?" "-Who could she possibly be?1' and their footmen were ordered to stop and make inquiries.
My opponent had, by many manoeuvres, sought to draw me further into the street, in order, as I imagined, to throw me into the main road* while the carriages were passing; this vexed me, at length, more than I intended; and watching the moment when none appeared in the streets, I turned &is own arms upon him.; and finding my- self nearly exhausted,,, collected all my
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ? 6"1
power, and by one desperate and dexterous blow, hurled him. into the street, where he fell apparently lifeless, and bleeding pro- fusely.
Being, like the Romans at Pharsalia, anx- ious to save my face from the honours of this warfare, 1 had exposed my person too much, and had received several severs blows, about my breast. Directing the people about to take care of the man, and offering money to a chairman to do it, I stept into the house where I had taken the lady, and whose worthy master had wisely robbed me of my watch and purse, in the first onset of the fray, for the sake of securing them, Himself, wife, and ser- vant, were most anxiously employed in every means of assistance, by stripping o# what clothes remained on me, in order to apply some kind of emollient to my wounds, when the lady 1 had. rescued, rising from the sofa, begged, them, for God's sake, to remove either her or the poor murdered gentleman somewhere,, as sh#
$2 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ?
should certainly die on the spot, if she saw any more of his naked body.
" Why, for sure madam, my lady, it is a sight, but not for any body to die- at— save and except for pity, as one may say,'* said the mistress of the house.
" Take me away, woman !" said the las- tly, majestically.
The woman complied by calling a chair, and directing her shopman to see the lady safe home; and she went, muttering a kind of thanks to me, which bespoke her mo- desty more outraged than her gratitude excited ; yet she gave a softened glance at parting.
Inquiries were every moment making at the door for my safety ; and a medical gentleman had appeared to inspect the state of my contusions; but I declined po- sitively to speak with him, till he had ex- amined the last man I had fought with, being convinced that he must be severely wounded. Whilst this was doing, and the good woman was rubbing my breast with
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR WHAT ? 63
an emollient of her own composing, while her maid applied a roller to my bleeding arm, a loud rap was heard, and my doc- tress exclaimed — <c Run, my dear, run — the lady is come home: oh Gemini ! Nancy, go and light her candles; ifshe should turn in here, we shall all be ruinated, that'scertain." I had been vexed at the old woman's want of humanity, but the idea of expo- sing myself to a person of a different descrip- tion, was quite as painful to me as it could be to the shopkeeper's wife ; and turning from her hastily to take my shirt, I heard the lady discharge the chairmen in the passage, saying — " A sad thing, Mr. Logan, as you §ay ;" and at the same moment, notwith- standing his " pray, madam, stop here/' and Nancy's standing bobbing with i( your can- dles is lit, ma'am/' and " indeed, ma'am, you can't go in- — its quite unproper, ma'am," the lady flounced in, and desired Mrs. Logan would inform her of any mil- liner who would make her a dress for the following Thursday, without fail, as she spoke, eyeing me with. an air. of the most:
64 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR; WHAT?
perfect nonchalance, and repeating her in- quiries to Mrs. Logan with an air of the most unembarrassed coolness.
The crimson mantle of Mrs. Grograna had, when I first heard the step of this un- known lady, enwrapt me in a vest as warm as the original satin ;. but her sangfroid restored mine ; T ventured to look up, and beheld one of the handsomest women I had ever seen ; she appeared about twen- ty-six, was elegantly dressed, and had the air of fashion in her appearance, which ne- ver fails to convey the idea of a person of vivacity and ability.
When her eyes met mine, she seemed somewhat confused, and turning hastily around, followed the maid, saying, as. she tripped off — " That boxing man is a pro/- digious handsome creature/'
''Boxing, man!" screamed Nancy; V boxing man, madam ! why he's no such thing; he's a barrownite, or a barrow- nite's son, and quite a fine gentleman* though he's been used like a Turk, and is the most noblest,, valiantest, fair-skinned
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ? 65
" I lost the sound' of Nancy's voice for some time; but when she returned, she brought me a message from Mrs. Bel- lington, requesting, that if there was any- thing in which she could contribute to my comfort, I would command her; and lament- ing that the peculiarity of my case prevent- ed her from offering personal assistance.
Nancy delivered her message verbatim ; and her mistress very sagaciously observed, that ladies could say one thing with theif eyes, and another with their tongues ; but added — "It does not become tradespeople to speak, though if seeing's believing, I am sure x\irs. Bellington cannot say as how she was afeard of looking at the gentleman, howsomdever."
The surgeon returning with an assurance that he had left his patient out of danger, though safely housed for a month to come, I proceeded with him to York House, ha- ving made due acknowledgments to my first practitioner, whom I found a very good one. On arriving at home, I was blo,aded, and went to bed immediately:,
66 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ?
finding my brother was not returned. I discharged my servant soon ; and having taken a narcotic draught, hoped that I should have been able to sleep; but although I was stupified for a few moments, the into- lerable pain I was in soon awakened me, and I found that somebody was talking, very near, and Charles's voice, in a low tone, struck on my ear. 1 leaned forward as well as I was able, and put aside the cur- tain, under the idea that he was conversing^ with my man respecting the events of the night ; but on seeing no one, I recollected that the room I was in joined to Charles's sitting-room, and that it was probable that I was divided from him only by a slight partition, such removals being frequently used in large houses; and this idea was quickly confirmed, by hearing him again speak, and say to the person he addressed — " But where can 1 attend you now ? for HeaVen's sake, consider what is to be done !"
To my extreme confusion and distress, 3 woman's voice., which, though low, it
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT I 67
know to be Harriet Beaumarris's, answered « — (i I can go safely, to colonel Eidricke's ; my mother thinks I am there now ; I told her I would sleep there.'*
Soon after I heard them leave the room, and descend the stairs together, I closed my eyes, and would have persuaded myself it was a dream, or the wanderings of my imagination, caused by my laudanum draught; but, alas! the impression remain- ed vivid, and contributed, with my bruises, to induce a considerable degree of fever £ so that on the arrival of the surgeon, he sent for a physician, who sent for an apothecary, and one ordered rest, the other administered medicines, and between both, I was con- fined very effectually to my apartment for some days.
When Charles visited me, he lamented* with the truest sympathy, not uablent with shame, the occasion of my sufferings- descanted on the folly and brutality df gentlemen encouraging a parcel of wretches, who were the very dregs of soci- ety, to tear one another to pieces for theijc
68 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ?
amusement; and by acquiring a species of skill in tkeir employment, to which they are encourage'd in the hope of gain, become enabled to insult every person they come near: he added, that all Bath had prepared laurels for my victory ; and that lord Clatter, afraid of the obloquy which attached to him, as a known supporter of these pests, had returned to London, in a still greater hurry than he left it.
" This man, of whom you speak so con- temptuously, was sitting with you as a friend yesterday morning/'
<( True; one cannot live in the world, and help associating with its knaves and fools/' said Charles, sorrowfully. " I met with the viscount at Newmarket, and had the iil luck to lose a trifle, which I could not immediately pay ; and that brought him after me here, in the hopes of making it larger/'
" My dear fellow, do not owe such a man a farthing — reach me my pocket-book."
Charles smiled — tf Who is the rich man now* Theodore ?"
SAYS SITE TO HER Nfilfc&BOtft tTtt • t ? ($Q
€t I am not rich, Charles, bill if I can re- lieve you "
u Thank you. I know your heirt, and would not srruple to use your purse ; but I was uncommonly lucky last night, after you left me, and I have repaid this beggar- ly lord this morning, and he is gone onv with Bob ShiUet, not ten minutes ago."
" Last night was an eventful night," said I, earnestly.
" Very eventful, " returned Charles, con* fuscdly.
CHAP. IV.
Of those that by precipitate conclusions involve them- selves in calamities without guilt, however they may re- proach themselves, very few can be certain that other mea- sures would have been more successful. Hambler,
On the third day of my confinement, just as my brother had wished me a good- night, being engaged to the dress-ball at
TO SAYS SHE TO HER NEICHBOUR, WHAT ?
the low rooms, his valet appeared to say, that lord Llanberry had that moment ar- rived in Bath, and requested to see him for ten minutes, on an affair of the utmost im- portance.
The confusion of Charles, at this junc- ture, would have convinced me, if nothing else had done it, that my unfortunate dis- covery had been no dream: he escaped from my anxious and pitying eye, by has- tening to lord Llanberry 's carriage, which waited for him.
I saw very clearly, that, by some means, Harriet's absence had been discovered on the night of my rencounter; and that her lady mother had, in a state of very na- tural alarm, sent for her lord, who was doubtless come to demand of Charles V amende honorable for his daughter ; and would, I had no doubt, have full creden- tials from my father, to induce him to comply with a requisition he had so much right to demand.
But though I called this justice, my
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ? 71
Iieart bled for Charles : the words he had littered indicated more care for the lady's reputation than she had herself evinced. I knew not how far that care might not have extended to her person, and I could not help wishing to save him from mar- rying a person he could not esteem, and whom, however lovely, he did not appear to love. I regretted much that I was at such a distance from my father; and felt every moment ready to run after Charles, and beg of him to make no rash promises: but when I reflected on the consequences which might arise to a re- spectable family, the many remarks to which a later separation might lay all par- ties open, and the evident unsettled and dissipated course of life Charles was pursu- ing, and which I trusted would be altered and amended by his marriage with a wo- man, whose entire devotedness to him might tend to sooth and console his sor- rows, and restore his virtues, I felt I had no right to offer any bar to an affair, which, on a nearer view, appeared more
72 SAYS SHE TO HER NETGHEOUR, WHAT?
favourable ; and I endeavoured to recon- cile myself to it.
Whilst these thoughts were revolving in my mind, Charles was meeting a father, who, informed by his daughter that she had, in a fit of folly, gone to Charles's lodgings, one night, of her own accord, and was well aware that she had been seen there, could not pretend to do more than throw himself on the mercy of a young man, whose mind, he well knew, was stung with vexation for the loss of her he loved — was softened by the insinuations of his daughter, and whose heart was not yet hardened by the course of dissipation he was pursuing. His lordship made use of very little argument in this case; he said simply — " Reputation is invaluable. Har- riet's innocence will be of no avail in the eyes of the world ,* and in her own, it will only encourage vexation, instead of re- pentance ; and continually harrass her mind with the idea, that she has not de- served the wretchedness she must assuredly feel."
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT? 75
As lord Llanberry uttered these words, he covered his face with his hands, and Charles saw, or thought he saw, the same pangs which had once agitated his father's breast, now rend that of the ambitious po- litician ; — he could not bear it; he walked towards the window to hide his agitation, and at the very moment saw two travelling 'carriages pass, in one of which he plainly perceived lady Atwood.
Enraged by the memory of all those -'evils he now laid to the account of Emma Dan vers, with more pertinacity than ever, he instantly turned to lord Llanberry, and in a firm voice, but with a frame agitated in every nerve, declared that he would, if it were possible, lead Harriet to the altar to-morrow.
Lord Llanberry most fervently prayed for a blessing on his head; lady Llanberry, who had been in tears, or said she had, all day, declared her happiness and gratitude ; and Harriet said a thousand tender things; and it is but justice to say, she was indeed
VOL. IV. e
74 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT?
thankful to Charles, for she was at this time truly sorry for the indiscretion she had been; guilty of; and as the humility of a proud person renders their condescension more en- dearing, so Harriet had never appeared to so much advantage as on the present evening; and the long harrassed heart of Charles, for a few hours, once more tasted that sweet repose which is the natural result of gene- rous conduct ; but in the course of it, he found such a disposition to relapse into musing, that he took more wine than he was ever known to do before ; and he re- turned home, at a late hour, in a state of complete intoxication.
In the course of three days, Charles was the husband of Harriet Beaumarris, and removed, for a few weeks, into a large house in Laura Place, where the bride saw company in very great style; and the bridegroom strove to persuade himself that he might yet be as happy as other men of fashion ; and that, at least, he should prove to the Atwoods, that their proud and un- generous rejection, as he deemed it, had
IS AYS S7IE TO HER N^rGHEOUR, WHAT ? 79
not the power of extending the anathema* since he had obtained a bride more nobly born, at least as handsome, and much more admired in the circles of fashion than Em- ma could be : this was the consolation of words, by which the mind seeks to mould the heart. It was Charles's misery to know, tli at his wife was not Emina Dan vers, as he had known her; but he was desirous of persuading h-imself, that from the time she had known Campbell, she had ceased to be his Emma ; and conscious of the change which had taken place in himself, he was willing to ascribe equal mutability of ex- cellence in her — a very camraon way of deceiving ourselves.
In about a week after the marriage, I found myself able to go into public; and being desirous of showing every attention to my new sister, (whom, at this time, I considered most fondly attached to Charles, and whom, I hoped, would prove the means of restoring him to peace, and that conscious respectability he no longer en- b9
76 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ?
joyed,) I proposed attending her to the next dress ball at the upper rooms, which was expected to be crowded with persons
of the first fashion ; and where Oh
what a thought was that ! we should, doubt- less, once more meet Adelaide and Emma, but, alas ! no longer ours.
I observed in Charles an attention to his wife's dress and appearance, almost amount- ing to fretfulness, on this evening, and readily entered into those feelings which induced him to wish for a triumph, -be- cause he could not get a better thing; but I read sufficient misery in that wish, to de- termine me never to give my hand, whilst my heart remained dubious as to its pre- ference. In my father's case, I had wit- nessed much happiness, where there was, on fa's side, perhaps, but little love; but then there was that to which, perhaps, all married love must come at last, a perfect friendship, exalted esteem, tender and re- ciprocal confidence, and similarity of taste, habit, and pursuit, together with equality of virtue and religion ; but I had my
SATS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT f 77
doubts how far these things could unite iiv the couple under my immediate considera- tion.
In the press and bustle of a crowded night at a Bath ball, it is not easy for even a tall man to distinguish the objects of his search; and my eyes wandered round, " seeking rest, and finding none/' till I found myself an object of even more at- traction than the two beauteous and rival brides : the principal injury I had received on the night of my engagement with the ruffians, had been in the tendon of my left arm, and which 1 had therefore worn in a sling since then, and this pointed me out in the rooms. As I was turning round to the door, intending to get my servant to divest me of this medium to notoriety, I heard the voice of that Mrs. Bellington who had seen me as I have mentioned, say — " Xhere he goes; but, Heavens! how pale he looks ! how different from the moment when I first beheld him, like the Dardan boy, fresh from the fight, and glow*- ing with the bloom of Mars I"
iS SAYS SHE TO ITER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ?
" Who is he ?'' said a voice that thrilled through every vein, and told me, ere I met her eye, it could be only Adelaide.
For a moment I stood root-bound to the spot, vexed and surprised to find myselF deprived, at one single look, of all that courage I had been vainly mustering so long : but against whom had I been mus- tering it ? the mild, the virtuous, the gen- tle Adelaide — she -who had equal claims on my honour and my love ; she whose breast was the abode of every benignant feeling, and who had a right to expect the renewal of those addresses her lips had only flat- teringly postponed till the return of her father.
These thoughts shot like lightning through my mind, and propelled my steps towards her: just as I had begun, in hur- ried accents, to pay the common compli- ments, a genteel young man claimed the promised honour of her hand, and I was thus called to recollect my own situation. I collected myself, and returned to my sis- ter, who was fanning herself violently, and
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT?- 7ft-
complaining of the heat: as the youngest* bride, she took precedence of Mrs. Camp- bell, and, of course, I led her to the top; and I observed my brother, for a moment, glance over both, as if he felt confident that Harriet would attract more admira- tion ; and his conclusion was just, for Em- ma had not been sufficiently inured to the gaze of the multitude, to enjoy the self- possession requisite for doing her graces justice ; she did not smile as she was wont ;. and the matron air she assumed could not sit easy on so young a bride.
Charles danced with lady Lucy Seymour,, a fine girl, with whom I had felt some de- sire to flirt, and all reasonable encourage- ment to it; but whenever I looked at Charles, and witnessed the real sorrow- struggling with the affected cheerfulness, of his countenance, I learned to restraia this desire, lest it should lead to conse- quences which I was convinced would have been fatal to my peace. But I am like- wise convinced, that if I had discerned, in €>ne look or action of Adelaide's, the least
3d SAYS SHE TO ffER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT?
disposition to coquetry, I should, at all hazards, have returned the same treatment, and, in spite of my reason and resolution, have been led into the very snare which, of all others, I dreaded — such is the weak- ness of youth.
The second dance called, was one in which each lady is, by turns, led down the dance by two gentlemen, a considerable way; when Emma took the hand of Charles and her own partner, for this purpose, she was evidently exceedingly affected, and I was almost afraid she would faint, whilst the trepidation I witnessed in Charles ab-- solutely shocked me; but my mind was recalled from noticing them, by a faint sigh from Harriet, who sunk lifeless against the person nearest her in the dance ; but I sprung forward in time to prevent her reaching the ground.
Though such accidents are by no means uncommon in these crowded rooms, yet noticing, as I had done, the emotions of two people, once so dear to each other, and now divided by the most awful of all
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ? 81-
barriers, I could not have the slightest doubt, but that the unhappy bride had made the same distressing, and, to her, heart-rending observation; and my heart was penetrated with the sincerest pity, and I felt, that if I could ever hope to win so tender a regard, she who felt it could not fail to be dear to me; and I must do Charles the justice to observe, that what- ever might have been his sensations during the minutes when he held the hand of his once-idolized Emma, his expressions of alarm and tenderness for Harriet did no less honour to his sense of quick propriety, than to the feelings of his heart. He evi- dently thought with me, that the accident was owing, at least, as much to mental in- quietude, as to the hear* to which it was attributed ; and determined not to expose either her to farther sufferings, or himself to distress, he insisted on accompanying her home, fcboogh she assured him, the moment she was able, that she would re- turn into the room. I encouraged him, by
S2 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ?
my looks, to persist in this resolution ; and had the satisfaction, at length, to place- Harriet in his arms, and see them drive home together — and my heart whispered a hope, that my brother might yet be blest, in the restoration of virtue and peace.
An officer, who had been near us in the dance, and had paid great attention to Mrs. Beaumarris when she fainted, having drawn off her gloves, held them in hi3 hand, but had not found an opportunity of presenting them till she was in the car- riage, when he offered them to me, along with a smelling-bottle his servant had pro- cured ; when they had driven off, I turned round to express anew my sense of his hu- mane courtesy, to which he replied, by say- ing— " Captain Campbell cannot be more gratefully employed, than in offering any service to a friend of Mr. Sedgewood's."
Brave3 generous, and excellent young man, under any other name> how would my heart have expanded to have met the offered friendship, which illumined thy apen countenance r but, alas ! my hears
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ? 83
shrunk from him who had robbed my bro- ther of his bride ; and in doing that, had apparently shut out all hopes of happiness for myself, since every feeling of honest pride revolted from the idea of enabling sir Edward Atwood to refuse two branches of the same family.
I am persuaded, that in the short and hurried acknowledgments I made to cap- tain Campbell, my countenance wore more of sorrow than of anger, from the look of painful sympathy with which he regarded me : we returned to the room, but I was ill able to sport on the light fantastic toe; and lady Lucy, with great justice, com- plained that I made her a duller partner than the new-made benedict had been ; for, alas! I had not learnt, like Charles, to disguise my feelings or stifle emotions, and nature spoke her sufferings in my features —to be near Adelaide, to pass her in the dance, to see her surrounded by many ad- mirers, and know her singled out by a man of rank, of pleasing person,, and who had the sanction of those parents who had
&4 SAYS SHE TO HBR NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ?
already suceeeded in weaning her sister's affections from a young man whom I had ever considered in the light of a being it was impossible to rival, presented such an assemblage of confused and distressing ideas, that it was impossible to counteract ^heir pressure ; and I was almost glad that I was enabled to complain of the pain in my arm, as a reason for the contraction of my features.
Lady Lucy, with most officious zeal, in- sisted upon doing something thar should contribute to my comfort; and whilst standing in the tea-room with her, I hap- pened to cast my eyes towards the door, on the entrance of a party, and encountered the eves of Adelaide, cast upon me with a glance of such tender compassion, I could almost have said, such melting fondness, that my whole bosom, for a moment, glow- ed with ecstatic delight, and scarcely could 1 refrain from bursting through every im- pediment, and throwing myself at her feet — " She pities me," cried I internally;; * dear angel, she is still the same tender,,.
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR WHAT ? 85
amiable being she was; still my own, my faithful Adelaide; and whatever may be the tyranny of her parental bondage, her heart yet lingers after those dear remem- bered scenes which linked our fates irre- vocably together."
Alas ! while my soul, beaming through my eyes, blest the beauteous vision, which had in a moment changed the colour of my fate, it vanished from my sight, and I was again left to the wretched turmoil of acting pleasure. To my great consolation, the ball was over, and I flew to my pillow,., to dream of Adelaide, and catch again the beam which had rekindled hope in my bo- som.
CHAP. V.
The result of my reflections became a de- termination to quit Bath immediately, to throw all the feelings of my heart before
&5 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ?
my father, and entreat him to aid me in obtaining a woman whom I felt to be so necessary for my happiness, and whom I flattered myself did not regard me with in- difference ; but who might be lost to me for ever, if I longer omitted to pay her those devoirs which, as an individual, she had a right to expect from me, however blamable the conduct of her family had been towards my brother.
Agreeably with this resolution, I joined my new sister at her breakfast-table, where I found Mrs. Eldricke had arrived before me, and was listening to a long detail from Mrs. Beaumarris, respecting her establish* ment in London, while Charles looked over the morning papers. Numbers of inquiries were made, during our meal, af- ter the health of the lady ; and after it was over, Mrs. Beaumarris went to her bou- doir, to answer a note or two from the most anxious of her friends; at the same time requesting Mrs. Eldricke would in- spect her dress for the next ball. Whea the ladies had left the room, I observed—
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ? 37
* That Mrs. Beaumarris's ideas of her Lon- don establishment were on a very extensive scale, I thought."
" Yes/' said Charles, with a motion between a yawn and a sigh, " she is in- clined to be cursedly extravagant ; but I have nothing else to give her, you know, Theodore."
My heart ached for them both, for I felt how poorly such complacency could reconcile the heart of a tender wife to the want of those proofs of love love only can supply ; and I grieved for the husband likewise, who was obliged to make this tacit compromise with his conscience, for the deficiencies of his affection : still I saw propriety of conduct equally necessary to both in such a case; and I ventured to point out to Charles, that the very cir- cumstance he hinted at should induce him to be more particularly anxious to secure every blessing within his reach to his wife, of which security of property was the greatest, and this I apprehended was easily in. his power, as she was so fondly attached
88 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ?
to him, that I was certain any intimation of his wishes would secure him every at- tention he wanted in this respect.
Charles shook his head, saying — f This was not the case with fashionable wives."
" Are you talking treason?" said Mrs, Eldricke, returning as he uttered the last words, with a smile that ill concealed the pang beneath ; <e remember it is high trea- son for the sons of Hymen to tell school tales."
" My dear madam, he has scarcely yet arrived at ' three weeks after marriage/ and cannot have had one dispute as to the diamond and club trump; so you may be assured he tells no tales, for the best of all reasons, having none to tell."
« A great deal may, nevertheless, be told in three weeks, three little weeks," said Mrs. Eldricke, with ill-suppressed ago- ny, for the tears actually glistened in her eyes; but she rallied her spirits, and said, she had been desired, by the colonel, to plant herself in that room ; for as he knew major and Mrs. Wallingford were coming
SAYS SHE T6 HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ? &9
to Bath, and would most probably call on Mrs. Beaumarris, he wished her to be pre- sent, that she might form an acquaintance with the lady, as he hoped that her influ- ence, in conjunction with the bride's, might induce lady Llanberry to receive her daughter Wallingford into favour.
I expressed my sincere wishes that this be- nevolent design might take effect, and gave the colonel great credit for his intentions. Whilst I was speaking, Mrs. Eldricke was sent for by Harriet, to give her opinion on a set of pearls she was trying on ; as she left the room, 1 inquired of Charles if ho had any acquaintance with the Walling- fords ?
" None/' he replied; adding carelessly, " but 'tis my comfort to know, that I add- ed to theirs, by promoting him : if Har- riet would have given the money she is, at this moment, throwing away on baubles she cannot want, to their little boy, she would have pleased me much better. But I have no right to ihe privilege of preach- ing ; my own follies have deprived me of
90 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ?
it. Come, will you go to the rooms r4 I wish to match you, at billiards, against Willmot, and your unlucky bruising-match has hitherto prevented me."
" I will attend you, but cannot promise to play.'*
As I spoke, my servant entered with a note, very curiously folded, and said the lady ordered her footman not to return without an answer.
%i Ha ! ha ! my sentimental brother/' cried Charles, with a forced laugh, "where are you caught tripping ?■
" If I were caught, Charles, would you laugh?"
u No, by my soul, Theodore t" cried he, rushing out of the room with an ex- pression of horror in his features.
My heart pursued him with a bitter sigh s— " This,''' said I, " is the interior declara- tion of a man of fashion. Alas ! that it should ever become that of my brother ! of him who " but I dared not con- template i so I opened my note, and read — >
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ?• 98 " SIR,
" As I find y-ou were at the ball last night, I feel impatient to pay you my personal acknowledgments ; but being prevented doing it, both by propriety, (you being a single man,) and likewise from remaining indisposition, I beg the favour of you to call upon me ; and that you will give a line to the bearer, saying when I mp.y expect that pleasure.
I am your truly obliged servant,
M. Montague* Circus, Tuesday morning.*'
"Montague ! Montague!" said J, "surely this is lady Sedgewood's relation ; but why she should clap her claws on me, I know not, unless it be for the pleasure of scratch- ing me, according to family usage. I will, however, call on her in the way to the rooms:" so leaving a message to my bro- ther, purporting that I would meet him there, and ordering my man to be pre- pared for a sudden journey, I walked out
92 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ?
With the note in my hand, and, in a few moments, found myself in Mrs. Montague's parlour, if such the menagerie I entered could be deemed ; for the moment I ob- truded, my ears were stunned with the out- rageous barkings of two Italian greyhounds, the chatterings of a monkey, the violent vociferations of an offended parrot, and, what was almost equally discordant in such an ill-sorted combination, the singing of two large cages of canaries. Absolutely stunned, and severely repenting my com- plaisance, I stepped back into the passage, and should certainly have made a speedy retreat, if the lady herself had not entered the same moment, and, in her lean and withered form, and a huge patch on her eye, exhibited the very person I had res- cued from the demolished chair. I re- membered, that the morning after that ad- venture, my man told me, the " old lady had sent to inquire after me, and that I had inquired how she was; to which he answered, rather better; and that/ after this, he had took upon himself to settle-
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ? 93
the ceremonial of messages; and not think- ing the cards of an ancient maiden worth saving, had committed them to the only- flames they were ever likely to raise;'' so that I had nearly left the place without see- ing a person of whom I had scarcely any recollection, except what was occasioned by the ridiculous terror she exhibited of seeing me undressed.
I was, in my own mind, thoroughly convinced, that the poor woman owed her share of the accident to me, as the villains had nearly confessed as much; and in re- ply to her professions of gratitude, I told her what I believed to be the truth; but she was determined to believe, " the vil- lains had assaulted her for the -worst of purposes," she said ; " and that I was a hero, sent by Heaven for her deliverance;'' and as she was very deaf, I did not dis- pute either the purpose or the mission any further, and only bowed to the compli- ment.
A tall, stately figure of a maid, fit com- panion for a vestal mistress, entered at the
94 'SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT?
moment I retrod the parlour-threshold, and with amazing celerity, threw dark cloths over the birds cages, biscuits to the mon- key, sugar to the parrot, and sweetbread to the dogs ; and silence being thus speedi* ly restored, I ventured for a moment to take a seat, though the favourites still eyed me with malice, as an intruder, and formed a phalanx round their mistress, which would have effectually secured her from all the attempts which I might have been tempted to make ; and I could scarcely re- frain from reassuring them, that
" Whatever my wishes might be for the flesh, I was not very partial to bones."
But to ihis very moment, I must do the whole tribe, not omitting the Guinea-pigs under my chair, nor the nest of white mice in the corner, the justice to say, that their enmity was well founded, since it is a fort, that I did see such looks of admira- tion, such smiles of delight, pass between the lady and her maid, as they glanced upon me, that in despite of all my modes-
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ? 9.J
ty, (and I hope, my dear madam, you will not dispute my claims to more than most handsome young fellows at two-and-twen- ty,) I was compelled to believe I had made a conquest ; and therefore it would have been in my power, during the first blush •of the affair, to have put every surrounding rival to flight, however endeared by long- friendship, or similarity of disposition, as it is well known that love is a terrible dis- order in an old subject.
Having fully assured myself, from the language of the eyes, which, in all love cases, are allowed to be the best interpre- ters of the heart, that, like the great Cse- sar, I had seen and conquered the icy heart of Mrs. Margaret Montague, I did not sop to consider, whether it was bv my polite- ness in offering assistance to her, or my valour in avenging her; whether I was in- debted to my silk stockings, my whiskers, or the unfortunate stripping, which added Humphrey Clinker's charms to the rest of my claims, but fairly considered how to
96 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ?
make the greatest advantage of my good Fortune, a case too common to all men.
To effect this purpose, I spoke of my mother-in-law, and her charming little daughter, whose society I declared para- mount to that of any other of the sweet little animals around us: but though the old lady acknowledged her relationship, and expressed some pleasure that Emily Montague had married so well, I found her all ice as to the charming little Emily : she observed, that children were well enough when they were not spoiled ; but that lady Scdgewood had herself been wretchedly indulged by her poor, weak father, and was a mere romping rattle when she knew her, with more tricks than the monkey, and more talk than the parrot; and there was little hope that her child should be bet- ter than herself — that her brother had of- fended her, by throwing away her birth- day gift on the turn of a dice; and since then she had determined to have nothing to do with any of the Montagues, a reso-
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT? 97
lution she was not likely to change, for her dislikes were as unchangeable as her affections.
Vexed to find my power in melting the flinty heart of this ancient maiden was much less than I supposed, I rose to de- part ; but she overwhelmed me with so many professions of regard, and told me, with a look so languishingly sweet, that she rejoiced her niece had changed a name she no longer loved, into one for which she had the truest regard, that my hopes "re- vived ; audi ]eh her, with an assurance that I would not visit Bath again without seeing her.
When I joined Charles at the rooms, he was engaged in play, so that it was some minutes before I could speak to him; and when I told him that I was going to set out for London, -it appeared to awake so manv distressing recollections in him, that I agreed to postpone my journey, at least till the morrow, clearly perceiving, that if I left him in his present frame of mind,
VOL. IV. F
98 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT?
he would plunge more fully into the de- structive amusement in which he was en- gaged; and that, to a certain degree, my presence restrained not only him, but se- veral around him ; and I thought the sacri- fice of my own desire cheaply purchased by so excellent an end — perhaps, too, a certain pleasure, inseparable from the idea of being near Adelaide, added to the ease with which I acquiesced in the decision.
I dined on this 4ay with lord Llanberry, who was going to leave Bath in the morn- ing, and had a party of gentlemen, most of whom were strangers to me. The con- versation frequently turned upon sir Ed- ward At wood and his family ; and I felt a degree of mortification, at hearing him spoken of in the very highest terms, as a man of urbanity, liberal, polite, and of unsullied honour. To which one speaker added, that the licentiousness of his late brother's conduct had, to be sure, made him very particular in the choice of all with whom he associated : his own early marriage with a most amiable woman,
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT? 99
whom he ever fondly loved, had likewise contributed to render him somewhat un- bending in his notions of morality; so that, as the world went, he might be con- sidered too fastidious; but this was the onlv fault he had, if it could be called one.
This, however painfully, accounted to me for the rejection of Charles ; and I was glad that I had remained in Bath, long enough to oblain an elucidation which I thought could not fail to prove satisfac- tory to my father, in one sense, though it would oblige him, on the other, to make inquiries into the conduct of Charles, and learn from thence what those errors had been, which led the prudent father of Em- ma to reject him. The thought of what he would have suffered, had he found the pu- gilistic procurer at his son's breakfast-table, had he known the circumstance which drove that son to marry Harriet Beaumar- ris, his intimate friendship with a man of notorious libertinism, and, above all, tie F 2
100 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT?
whisper which, in various channels, had reached my ear, of a supposed affair of gallantry with the countess of Ripondale, all crowded on my mind ; and with all the racking solicitude I felt, I found it impos- sible so to plead my own cause, as to tear open my father's heart, by exposing the errors of his son ; and I determined to wait a little time longer in Bath, to culti- vate, were it again offered, some acquaint- ance with captain Campbell, and, by oc- casionally shewing myself to Adelaide, keep alive the memory of our acquaintance in her heart; but, above all other things, I flattered myself that some chance would bring me into the presence of lady At- wood, who, I hoped, must still feel some regard for every branch of a family who had treated her with so much tenderness, and enlivened her solitude by every at- tention ingenious affection could devise; but her silence still lay heavy at my heart, and I was convinced had done quite as much towards irritating my father, as even the letter which had rejected Charles — a
Says .She to her neighbour, what? 101
rejection which, he observed, might have been couched differently, without offend- ing truth; as the marriage of Emma fol- lowed so soon after, there could be little doubt but she was engaged at the time; and., of course, there was as little neces- sity as humanity in glancing at any other motive for refusal.
Although I thus resolved to watch my soul's treasure with the eyes of Argus, yet my dread of seeing her in conversation with another, or of exposing my weakness to the gaze of the multitude, almost de- prived me of the power I enjoyed to feast my eyes to aching, on that form so dear, and so long refused to their ardent and supplicating glance; and such were my tremors, that the moment I saw her enter any public walk, I was obliged to leave it; and when I heard their party was at a ball, I declined goin^ ; and such was the effect this state of incertitude and restlessness had upon my health, that Charles now repent- ed that he had persuaded me to stay, and proposed we should all return to London,
102 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT?
a measure in which his lady readily con- curred, as she had exhausted the little world of Bath, and was impatient to ex- hibit herself in the metropolis, under all the advantages of bridal paraphernalia.
CHAP. VL
Deem'st thou I tremble for my life ?
Sir Childe, I am not so weak,
But thinking on an absent wife,
Will blanch a faithful cheek.
Lord Btrob.
The last evening we spent in Bath, I re- mained in my lodgings, intending to write- to lady Sedgewood, with a box of toys I had purchased for Emily, and having finished my little arrangement, was pre- paring for bed, when Wilson informed me that a gentleman had just alighted from a. post-chaise, who requested to speak with, me, saying he was a stranger, and, there-
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT? 103
fore, did not send his name, but his busi- ness was of importance.
I immediately returned to mv sitting- room, where a person in a travelling dres> was walking hastily backward and forward, with the air of one much agitated ; he stopt at my entrance, saying — " Sir, my name is Wallingford ; I am called instantly to join my regiment for the Peninsula ; I have not an hour to lose, for happening to be down here, I lost twenty hours in receiving my orders, and every one is now of the last importance."
lie stopped ; I was at a loss to compre- hend his meaning, but I believe my looks sufficiently explained my wishes, for grasp- ing my hand with fervency, he cried — " My wife, sir, is a young and beautiful woman, without friends; for / have no female relation, and her own have deserted her."
" Pardon me, major Wallingford ; the distress of the moment has made you for- get my sister and hers, Mrs. Beaumarris."
fC No, no," said he, mournfully shak-
J 04 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ?
ing his head, " Harriet is no protectress for Eliza; the house where Eldricke may enter, my wife must never see; in short, sir, I am come to cast this treasure of my soul on you ; stranger as I am to you per- sonally, I yet know you well— Can you— will you accept the awful deposit ?"
iC I can, and I will do any thing you de- sire me ; nay, more, I dare charge myself with the care of my lovely cousin : but you are not aware that some lady's eye must" —
Again he grasped my hand, and the tears coursed freely down his manly cheek ; shaking them off, he exclaimed— " A British soldier will find moments even for these intruders, when he leaves a wife and child surrounded by the evils I have reason to apprehend ; but he is not less a soldier for that, be assured — this is an hour of no common suffering. I am come to you a stranger, to claim the greatest act of kindness old and long-tried friendship could bestow; it is that you will yourself take Eliza into the country, and place her
SAtS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT? 105
somewhere under the eye of your pa- rents; but do not lose sight of her till she is so placed. I could not thus presume, if I had not the strongest reason for the requi- sition."
His agitation amounted to agony at these words.
" Then, sir, on the honour of a Sedge- wood, be assured that I will instantly con- vey your charge to the care of my aunt, Mrs. Barbara Sedgewood, in case the health of my mother-in-law should render htr un- able to receive her; and be assured, that be- tween our house and the other, your trea- sure shall be preserved, I trust, as free from reproach, as safe from pollution; bat alas ! the misfortunes of one very- dear to me is a fatal proof that the ' pu- rest may not escape calumny."
" Your promise is enough/' said the husband emphatically ; " and may God bless you for the relief you have admi- nistered !"
*' May he so deal with me as I shall deal f .J
10G SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR WHAT ?
with (hose pledges of your trust !" said I, devoutly.
(< But, major/' continued I, "you must excuse me, in turn, taking the liberty of an old friend ; I have made you an offer of my heart, my help> and as my uncle Toby says, ■ a brother officer should have the offer of a purse too ;' I hope you will pardon my taking the liberty of intreating you to use mine."
" Thank you ; I have no need of it, or I would not hesitate to intrude upon you; it is my consolation to owe no man a shil- ling, and to have left my Eliza sufficient for her immediate expences; but I have one bitter recollection on money matters — to Eldricke (whose motives even at the time I suspected), to Eldricke, against whom I have sought your protection for my wife, I owe that promotion which has enabled me to support Eliza like a gentle- woman ; that is now the only gall that mingles with my parting sorrows."
" Then be that removed,'' said I eagerly, " for it was my brother who furnished the
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR WHAT? 107
weans, though Eldricke might probably appear in it, fori fear he has too much to do in all his concerns."
" I fear so too/' said major Walling- ford ; " but you have removed a moun- tain from my breast. I must now fly to Eliza — I must bid her taste this drop of honey in our draught of gall."
In a quarter of an hour I followed the major to his lodgings. Never shall I forget the sorrow and the noble confidence blended in his face, when he placed his wife and son beneath my care ; but he was unable to speak, and rushing out of the house, he threw himself into a chaise and four, and was out of sight in a moment.
*" Consolation," says Sterne, "ever comes too soon or too late ;" and I felt it im- possible to bestow any that could tend to soolh the agony of such a moment as this; for little as I had seen of captain Walling- ford, I was convinced the woman who was attached to him at ail, must feel that attachment very strongly ; there was an air of manly tenderness, of affectionate sup-
108 SAYS SHE TO SBfi NEIGHBOUR, WHAT?
port In him,, that realized all we look for in the protector of feeble and dependent woman ; and to part with such a husband, on such a fatal errand, was indeed a trial of no common magnitude. Feeling as I did, I thought it was better to leave na- ture to her own course, unrestrained by my presence, and was silently departing, when Mrs. Wallingford commanded her- self sufficiently to inform me — <c That as she was utterly unable to go to bed, she wished to depart at a very early hour^in the morning, it being the express desire of her dear Wallingford, that she should not, if possible, remain behind him an hour."
I then recollected the extreme earnest- ness with which major Wallingford had requested me never to lose sight of his wife; and after giving due praise to her for the exertion, I told her that in two hours I would be with her again, with two post-chaises, but besought her to consider what was due to her own health, and that of her infant son ; and, in the mean time,
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ? 109
I begged she would endeavour to compose herself, and provide every comfort neces- sary to travelling in such an inclement sea- son, remembering that in preserving her- self and her child, she proved most effec- tually her love for him she lamented.
She promised obedience, but it was with a fresh flood of tears; and I withdrew to expedite my journey, and write to my brother and father, whom it was still my intention to see in town as soon as pos- sible. As I went out of the house, I per- ceived a man wrapped in a horseman's coat, whom I was persuaded had been lis- tening at the window ; I kept my eye upon him, and finding he dogged me, I turned down a different street, and then running quick, reached my lodgings un- seen by him : this circumstance, however, taught me caution ; and having wrote to Charles, &c. I sent Wilscn in the first chaise for Mrs. Walling ford, with a note, informing her I would take charge of her maid and his nurse for the first stage, and begging her to lose no time in taking
1 10 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT?
Wilson's protection, as he was well armed. He was at least as old as her father, and though a truly worthy man, was marked by nature with a most unfortunate set of features ; so that I conceived scandal her- self could not impute blame to my fair cousin, with such a cecisbeo ; and I con- gratulated myself on my caution, for when the chaise in which I called stopped at the door, the maid being quite ready, step- ped in unattended by any one, further than the. door, and said to the postboy, with somewhat of a discontented air — " Soh, I see i(s fare ye well, and thank ye, when peeple's paid; its all over with civility; every body com'd to the door wi mistress, but nobody comes wi I ; and even that curosity man as stood in the streets all the time peepin about bz gon now."
Having nothing else to do, the babe that slept quietly by me naiurally brought into my mind the hour when I set out with poor little Emily, to give a proof of ready obedience to the wishes of my Adelaide —
says she to her neighbour, what? 1 1 i
mine! alas, not mine! yet, why not mine ? she was not another's yet ; surely that pitying eye had told me she would not be another's. " Oh, how long will it be/' thought I, " ere I throw myself at my father's feet, and intreat him to re- move the barrier between us !" it was true, he had not positively forbade my address- ing Adelaide — he had not interdicted my correspondence with her father; and there was undoubtedly somethinglin the manners of captain Campbell, which communi- cated the idea of my personal interest in the family : but then, could I unite with those who rejected Charles, who had si- lently and coldly withdrawn from a family, who had never known a pang so severe as they had inflicted, nor a misfortune like that they had caused ? Could I add to the mortification my father had received in one son, the possibility of its being re- newed in another? the thing was impos- sible— but to resign Adelaide was a pang beyond even that.
Thus reasoning, it will be readily con-
119 SAYS SFIE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT?
ceived that my journey was a melancholy one on both skies ; but I hope the ladies will do me the justice to believe 1 did my utmost to render it tolerable to the un- happy wife, who only allowed herself to sleep one night upon the road.
I preceded her to the Park, where, to my great concern, I found lady Sedge- wood much worse than 1 had left her, being afflicted with a low nervous com- plaint, which had reduced her exceeding- ly ; and although I perceived she wanted the society of my father or myself, I was aware that the introduction of'a stranger would be distressing to her; 1 therefore flew to aunt Barbara's, and found her much as usual at this season of the year, an in- valid, but enjoying her usual unbroken spirits and temper, and able to give orders for the reception of her guests, when con- ducted to her ; and had the satisfaction to observe, in a short time, that Mrs. Wal- linglord found herself much happier than she had dared to expect ; and that the sor- row she had felt at parting from her hus-
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT? 1 13
band had been aided much from the idea of being banished into Yorkshire, to be im- mured with an old maid, or shut up with a country gentlewoman.
Instead of flying to London as I had proposed, I now found it my duty to wait my father's return at home, for as I did not understand lady Sedgewood's com- plaint, I could not see her suffer so much, without believing it was dangerous; I therefore wrote to the baronet, intreating his return ; and endeavoured to beguile the intervening time, by dividing it between my mother-in-law and the stranger.
The season of the year almost excluded my aunt Barbara's accustomed visitants, and she was always so much an invalid in winter, as to keep her room the greatest part of the day ; so that in common cha- rity I was led to spend many of those hours with my fair cousin, who having no other person to whom she could com- plain, very naturally watched for my com- ing with anxiety, and parted from me with regret. The first subjects of conversation
I 14 SAYS SHE TO OCR NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ?
were the probable length of time that must elapse ere she could receive a letter from Wallingford, his probable route, his dangers, and his success ; From these subjects we got to more general ones; my brother and her sister were discussed — co- lonel EJdfiqke and his lady. We then talked on books, music, the pleasures of the country in spring, which I pourtrayed with the fluency of an enthusiast. Alto- gether our chit-chat became agreeable, and even necessary to both ; for if any caller interrupted my usual visit, I certainly found myself disappointed and uncomfort- able, and remarked an air of great vexa- tion, or pale regret, shade the fine features of Mrs. Wallingford, when I made my ap- pearance after those delays, which neces- sarily curtailed my stay : in fact, though we were both sorrowful, we were not so wretched as we had been ; such is ever the effect of intercourse between minds suf- fering under congenial sorrows; but it might perhaps be better in many cases for people to keep their troubles, than
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT? 1 15
to part with them under certain circum- stances.
When major Wallingford, in the most awful and confiding manner, placed his wife beneath my care, I really Mt. at the moment so much more concern for liim than her, that it was rather from a regard for him than her that I undertook a trust, which appeared to be one of trouble and delicacy, as far as regarded me, and of in- finite importance tohim; but did not con- nect the most distant idea of danger, as far as regarded myself, wrapt, as I felt my- self, not only in the panoply of honour, but of love ; and had any little sylph whis- pered in my ear at that moment — " Though your heart cannot wander, nor your prin- ciples swerve, yet it is necessary to remcm- ter the senses will stray, when the tempta- tion is strong," my indignant spirit would have answered this little sylph in the lan- guage of Ilazael — ft Is thy servant a dog, that he should do this thing ?" and yet it came to pass that I looked, and looked, till I found out that Mrs. Wallingford was the
1 16 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR WHAT?
finest woman I had ever seen ; that her hand was of all others the softest and whitest I had ever touched ; and that the expression of her eyes was at some mo- ments irresistibly fascinating ; and, alto- gether, though her mind had less cultiva- tion and less native energy than some I had been acquainted with, yet her com- pany in the country, in the month of Feb- ruary, was amazing soothing to a love-sick mind.
" Let him that thinketh he standeth, take heed lest he fall/' was the wise sug- gestion of the most enlightened of all our teachers, save his divine master; and I would have young men, situated as I was, above all things avoid pluming themselves on the strength of being wiser and better than I was, lest they should err further than I did.
My father finding from lady Sedge- wood's own account, that he mig;n safely stay a short time longer in London, de- layed his return during the agitati >n of a material question in the House ; that done,.
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT? 1 17
he hastened down ; and had the satisfaction of finding lady Sedgewood slowly regain- ing strength, and expecting much from the advancing spring; and his son in bet- ter spirits, on the whole, than he had en- joyed for nearly two years.
As soon as possible, my father paid his respects to Mrs. Wallingford ; we found her reading a letter from the major, who felicitated himself much on finding she was under the honourable protection of Mrs. Sedgewood, where, he observed, even ca- lumny could not reach her. I saw my fa- ther smile ; and on her concluding the pa- ragraph, I begged to know what occasion- ed him to look so droll ? he replied, by putting part of an old newspaper in my hand, which he had preserved in his pocket-book, and in which he had marked the following article: —
" We are confidently informed, that the wife of a gallant officer, who joined the late embarkation, scarcely allowed the tear which bedewed her cheek at parting to be dry, ere she deserted her only child,
118 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT?
by eloping in a chaise-and-four with a hoary seducer, as unlovely in his person as depraved in his conduct : what adds to the unhappy notoriety of the case is this circumstance, that the lady is the daughter of a nobleman high in office, and married for love eighteen months ago the man she has now forsaken. O tempora, 0 mores !" I could not possibly help laughing at the cruel epithets given to poor Wilson, and now perfectly recollected the man whom I had seen listening, and perceived he was determined not to be quite robbed of his prey ,* but I could not help think- ing he was only the agent of another ; for though daily papers, by undertaking to cram the insatiate maw of the public, do necessarily engage to make, invent, and propagate many positive lies, and still more mutilated and improved truths, which are, in fact, the worst of all lies, yet I could not suppose they kept regular eaves-droppers in pay for the purpose ; besides, I knew it was the London method of " saying things to one's neighbours,"
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT? I 19
and I thought it was possible that revenge had suggested this method of distressing the parties alluded to ; for I no longer doubted but that major Wallingford had the best reasons for that suspicion which preyed upon his mind at parting, since I could conceive it but too possible, that a libertine might form designs upon that beauty which a moralist found somewhat too potent ; for though it was the orna- ment of a virtuous woman, in the common acceptation of the term, yet Mrs. Walling- ford *s virtue was not armed with the seve- rity of wisdom, or the firm purity which springs from religion, and the arduous si- tuation in which she was placed called for every assistance; so that it was indeed ne- cessary that a wife so bereaved should be supported on every side.
My father w7ould have intreated lord Llanberry to have received a daughter, whose choice, though against his wishes, could not be deemed a great degradation ; but in his late residence, he had discovered that his lordship had effected all he had
120 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT?
long been desiring in our family ; and was, therefore, little likely to attend to his entreaty, or submit to his remon- strance.
The ridiculous extravagance and bom- bastic parade of Mrs. Beaumarris, on ar- riving in London, had disgusted my father so much, that he could not forbear ex- pressing his feelings to lady Llanberry on the subject; and the reception she had given his paternal fears was such, as to as- sure him, that the follies of her daughter would be rather supported than repressed by her, a conduct which naturally disgusted him.
My father, in relating this circumstance, added, that he had forced himself to visit Charles's house in every leisure moment he could find, with a view of impressing on his mind the propriety of purchasing an estate, on which he might reside for a considerable period of the year — a plan he had suggested from the first period of his attaining his fortune, but that he could not yet say whether his suggestion would
SAA'S SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT? 121
be attended to: he expressed himself sur- prised at the remarks I had made in my letters from Bath, respecting the extreme attachment I had witnessed in Harriet for her husband; declaring that he had watch* ed her, not only with the anxiety a father must feel for the happiness of his son, but with the predisposition to believe her love, which I had inspired, but yet was not able to perceive any symptom of it. <c On the contrary," he said, f I saw two instances which manifested such decided deficiency of affection, not to say unkind- ness, that I cannot a!iow myself to believe that Charles has found any thing in his wife but a fine vcoman, which is a thing that will never bind a man of sentiment long. The first was, that when he had got so bad a cold as really to confine him to his room, and lay so much in his head and eyes, that he could neither read, nor any way amuse himself, Harriet not only mus- tered a large party, and went to the opera, hut brought home a mob of people to VOf . c\. g
129 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WFUT?
supper; thus destroying his hour of rest, after refusing him consolation. The other occasion was this: — I went there one even- ing, when they told me they should have a very small party, and found indeed only twenty people ; they wee all at cards., Harriet lost, and was extremely angry ; Charles, hurt with her petulance, yet dis- guised his vexation, and supplied her li- berally with money : she lost again ; and the winning party breaking up to go home, she stood with me and several others round Charles's table ; he was unfortunate, and paid a considerable sum to colonel El- dricke. On rising, he addressed her in playful condolence on their mutual ill- fortune, and she replied, in a tone of triumph, and a look, which said more than words, and proved that she rejoiced in his ill-luck. Ah, The, I know some- thing of women; different characters have different ways of evincing tenderness; but depend upon it, our poor Charles does not meet it in any way; either Harriet can- not love at all, or she has not found the
SAYS SHE TO HEK NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ? 12$
object yet ; and that boy, who, to his mo- ther's matchless beauty, adds all the finer susceptibilities of her nature, ' wastes his love upon the desartair.' God forbid that your heart should be thus cast desolate ; I think it would almost break my own to see it, Theodore."
These words were uttered in a tone so mournful, that although it seemed the very moment when I could have best pleaded my own cause with respect to Adelaide, I could not bear to mention a subject which could xlead to a mortifying one, and I therefore sought only to console him, and repeated what I had observed of Har- riet's fainting at the ball.
" Alas, The!" said my father, with a languid smile, ie your observation only goes to confirm my own fears. Harriet was overcome by the heat, and other causes. I thought the marriage came oh suddenly at last, but naturally imputed it to that of- Emma having taken place. God knows how it is, but I cannot help fearing there was1 another cause less honourable to G 2
124 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ?
the parties; and I have often thought of poor Charles's exposition of love some years ago, when he said it was 'like a fever followed by a consumption,' for that seems precisely the way in which his lady took the disorder; I fear he has not caught the infection from her, and I am certain she does not take the way to inoculate him, poor fellow."
My father walked away as he spoke, with an air of such melancholy expression in his face, that my heart was deeply pe- netrated with sorrow, both for him and the object of his solicitude ; and I deter- mined that I would not intrude my cares upon him till he had began to taste the sweets of domestic comfort again, and in the recovered looks of his lady, and the prattle of his youngest child, regained such a degree of comfort, as would en* able him to talk over my affairs with com- posure.
a But are you certain, sir, that you did not owe your patience to Mrs. Walling* ford r
says she to her neighbour, what ? 1*23
Upon my word, madam, I do not be- lieve, in the present instance, that t did, for the moment my father came home, he alone seemed to claim my first cares, to occupy my first and dearest attentions; besides, I had heaTd a letter read from the captain, in which he thanked me,- and I had seen those fascinating orbs, which- had so impertinently glanced through my veins, for no purpose but tcr dance • the devil among the pulses/ swimming in delight as they traced the well-remembered charac- ters of her wedded and beloved lord ; and you may depend upon it, that the sight of my father, who was virtue embodied in the noblest form that you or I ever be- held it in, (I don't say the most beauti- ful mind), and the sight of her eyes so worthily employed was quite equal to restoring my feelings to their proper cur- rent, for they never run far enough out of the righ ine to make me sensible of the enor, tiil after their restoration; nor would it rave bcei necessary to have mentioned this retrogade motion, if I had
126 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT?
i\ot been determined, from the moment ve sat down together, to show all the in- side of my heart, with the simplicity of a child, and the humility of a Christian, ta you. But now the ice was broke — the sun shone — the baronet was come back — his Jady was something better ; and all the Fairborough world was set moving, and '*■ what did she say to her neighbour ?"
" The baronet is prodigiously set up, poor man, to be sure, with this wedding of Charles's to lord Llanberry's daughter; but, dear heart, as far as I can find, the ho- nourable Miss Beaumarris has not any for-* tune at all ; and this sister of hers, who is come to Mrs. Barbara's, they say is as poor as Job ; she's monstrous handsome, to be sure, but beauty's only skin deep ; and if it was, what's the use to a married couple, I wonder?" says Mrs. Parley.
" Poor creature," said Mrs. Maxwell, " I'm sure my heart aches for her ; 'tis a sad thing for a woman to have nothing in her pocket, if she's ever so handsome, and it answers no end to her but getting hei*
SAYS SHE TO HFR NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ? ] U J
ill spoke of; she's much to be pitied."
" Much to be blamed, more like/ said Mrs. Dornton, drawing up her long throat ; 4f I've no kind of patience with married women showing off in such a style to young fellows, indeed; I'm sure if I were sir The, I would send my son to the Anti- podes, before I would let him live in the neighbourhood of such a syren ; I con- sider her another Circe; and from all I can hear, poor Mrs. Barbara's 'house is become an enchanting spell to Mr. Sedgewood, elegant, unfortunate creature that he is !'*
" Ridiculous!" said the younger lady Stickerton ; " bow can you bring yourself, Mrs. Dornton, to pity the men in such cases ? for my part, I've no pity at all for than naughty creatures!"
" I condemn the bad of both sexes; and, dear hearf, there are too many in the world, my iady, both men and women, that deserve no pity from your ladyship; but still there is a difference."
" A difference ! aye, to be sure, and
128 SATS SHE TO TIER NEIOHBOUK, WHAT ?
,that difference runs against the men; they are positively wicked ; while the women, poor creatures, from the weakness of their frames, and the mildness of their disposi- tions, are only negative sinners at most."
Mrs. Domton, with a sneer, and along toss, confessed herself unable to compre- hend her ladyship's distinction ; whilst lady Frances Stickerton applied to Miss Julietta Robertson, to know what the beautiful Mrs. Wallingford had done a- miss ? adding — " I have never seen this new Circe in muslin yet."
u Oh, my lady, your ladyship has had no loss, I assure you ; Mrs. Wallingford is by no means a beauty to my taste ; she has great dark rolling eyes, an aquiline nose, which I think hideous, 'tis so masculine; as to her colour, one says nothing of that, of course, because she undoubtedly brought it from London ; and most likely her lips are daubed with some similac beautifier, for they arc so perfectly searlef^ 3* to be quite unnatural, and their form i$
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT? 120
shocking : and as to her hair — Dear me, Mr. Elland, you look at me as if 1 said Wrong; I apprehend, as a married man and a clergyman, you don't make the lips and hair of a woman a matter of study ; if you do, of all things I should like to hear your opinion, for I think it must be quite unique."
" On the contrary, ma'am, it will be nearly the echo of the country, for it will say that Mrs. Wallingford is the hand- somest woman we have seen at Fairbo- rough the last twenty years, except the late lady Sedge wood."
<e Dearsir, you forgot Mrs. Danvers and her daughters. "
" Not so fast, young lady ; though a clergyman and a married man, you will find I have an eye and a memory for beauty, without making it a positive study ; now I maintain Mrs. Danvers was past the zenith of beauty, her daughters had not arrived at it, and the I.kIv in question is precisely in it. Then as to her lips, 1 an- swer—" c3
150 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ?
" Oh, sir, you need not enter into par- ticulars; you are evidently partial, and I can't pretend to argue with a person of your learning ; I never enter into abstruse disquisitions."
" But, my dear young lady, you enter into hasty condemnations, which are much worse things, and if I am evidently partial, you are by the same rule as evidently pre- judiced; it is therefore fair, that as lady Frances's judgment has been warped by your, assertion, it should be straightened by mine, if we are at equal liberty."
" Undoubtedly I must hear you," said lady Frances; " and am the more inclined to do it, because I never listened to you on the same subject before/*
4f Well then, my lady, I maintain, that Mrs. Wallingford's mouth is formed on the finest model, as it has been transmit- ted to us from the ancients, the upper lip being short, the under lip, pouting, pro- tunded, and divided in the middle like a a cherry; according to the idea of Sacha- rissa's lip, as given us by Waller, "as if*
SATS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT? J 31
bee had newly stung it ;" and then as to lier hair, my lady, I believe it cannot be better described than in one strong line of the late Christopher Smart's, who, though a clergyman and a married man, speaking of a lady's locks, says —
*Twas the hair of the ancients, 'twas classical hair;"
which conveys to my idea those flowing tresses and braided locks, which are now so happily combined in modern costume; as the ladies in that re&pcct copy the Greeks, as their artists have transmitted them, and of which Miss Julietta's own head affords a very beautiful specimen."
t( Dear Mr. Elfand, I had no idea you understood so much about heads, and beauty, and all that ; I declare you have as fine a taste in them things as in books, and who would have thought it ?"
" Any body, my dear young lady, that took the trouble of looking at my wife, and judging from what she is now, what she ivas when her health was good seven years ago/'
132 SAYS SHE TO HEH NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ?
This unfortunate disquisition checked the torrent that was going to overflow on the subject of Mrs, Wallingford and my- self, who might- have been convicted of sundry offences, such as walking arm-in- arm to church during the frost — of riding in the same carriage when the thaw came — of playing drafts and singing duets to- gether ; but at this very moment the two euJprits, little Emma, and the baronet, alighted at the gates, and the whole party became all eyes, as they viewed the elegant appearance and fashionable dress of the honourable Mrs. Wallingford; but those eyes became converted to all ears, when lady Frances exclaimed — " Ah ! now's my time to strike the traitor dumb ! look at that young wretch, as he comes down the avenue, caressing the very child he sought to murder ; now's the very time to bring out the whole story, especially as lady Sedgewood is not here ; for it would be too affecting for her to hear."
All the ears now in an instant became tongues, and in treaties, requests, and de-
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT? \?>3
precations, flew about the roam Irke wi hi- fi re, till at length the good lady suffered herself to be appeased, but not till we had actually entered the house, when the party resembled an ocean, tossed about in such agitation, that it was long before the billows could subside ; audit was not till the continued suavity of my father's dis- course had flowed for some time, like oil poured on the tempestuous waves, that peace was restored to the undulating bo~ soms of the amiable assembly.
CHAP. VII.
Whenever we pretend to the prerogative of foresight, wc *hall he mortitieU with new conviction of the shortness of our views. Rambler.
The next morning, as we were relating the occurrences of the visit to lady Sedge- wood, our letters were brought in; and to our astonishment, one appeared for her,
134 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT?
in the hand of lady Atwood, which she instantly tore open, and read as follows —
s< MY DEAR MADAM,
" When I consider that my last was little more than a string of apologies for not writing during my long absence, I am compelled to think that your silence proceeds from not admitting them. Wherv I recollect the high degree of affection voir ever evinced for Mr. Beau m arris, I airr induced to suppose that you cannot par- don the rejection sir Edward was compel- led, .from a regard to Emma's happiness, to give him. Whatever may be the mo- tive of your silence, and however it has afflicted me, I cannot again leave the king- dom without bidding you adieu, and re- peating those professions of sincere at- tachment which I can never cease to feci for you.
" Captain Campbell is ordered to join hb regiment in Guernsey, from whence he is likely to be sent, in a very short time, to
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR WHAT ? 135
the Peninsula; and as the health of our dear Adelaide is extremely delicate, we flatter ourselves that a warmer climate, du- ring the three following months, will be of use to her, and therefore take the ad- vantage of accompanying him to that island: indeed, every moment of time we pass with this excellent young man is pre- cious, when we consider the nature of the service to which he is destined, since it unites all the worst evils of a state which abounds with many.
"That Heaven may protect you, and all most dear to you, will be ever the ardent prayer of her who must ever deem herself your obliged, as affectionate friend,
E. A. Atwood. Southampton, March 1, 1808. "
To describe my emotions, as my mother read this, is impossible ; Adelaide ill — gone out of the kingdom, and yet again pre- sented to my view in the very way I had so long desired, was, altogether, more than
136 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ?
my brain could comprehend with ease, I suppose, for I clapped both my hands on my head the first moment, and ran to the window the second, to gzt more light on the subject.
Mv father took a better method, for he rang the bell, and desired Wilson, who happened to answer it, to examine sepa- rately every servant in the house, and find, if it were possible, whether any letters had been received during our absence in Scot- land, which were not properly forwarded.
To this end, a general assembly was con- Tcned in the hall, where J attended ; for though I should have been glad to have rode on the lightning to Southampton, and from thence breasted the billow to Guernsey, like Leander, yet 1 thirsted fc* more knowledge, and eagerly listened to Wilson's inquisition.
The groom, who brought the letters from Faisborough, swore roundly to giv- ing them all to the cook, who undertook to give them to Mrs. Robinson ; the cook declared she always either took them into
SATS SHB TO HER NEIGH BOUI?, WHAT ? 157
the housekeeper's room the moment she received them, or sent some of the maids with them ; the maids declared they laid them on the housekeeper's table, to be re- directed; and the housekeeper declared she did redirect all she had received, ex- cept for the last three mornings, when the baronet had ordered them to wait, being unable to give an exact address, and ex- pecting to reach home sooner than he did. — " Well," said a pert little wench, who was housemaid, u thanks be praised, I niv- ver tuch'd but one sins I cont'd, and that was the verry mornin his honnor came frae the Islands ; so I be's seafe."
" But did you give it him ¥' said I.
" Oh dear, no, sir ! 'tisn't for me to gif letters to his honnor: besides, we was. all bussy loike; so thinks I to myself, thinks I, I'll take care o this; for it was a famos gret on ; so I goes into the library, an I sticks it into a great book wi' a red cover."
" What book ? for Heavens sake tell we!"
" Oh, sir, I nivver reads margents, nor
138 SATS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT?
anv thing else, for matter o that, being as- how I nivver larn'd ; but I'll take my bibei oath I put it seafe, if there's a hunderd pound in't; so it's there yet, I does hope, if ihis'n be it."
Hastily following to the library, I was in a few moments in possession of the let- ter so long wished for — a letter which might have saved me hours of agony, and months of gloom ; which, by opening a correspondence sooner, might probably have entirely changed the- fate of my bro- ther; and all this misery had arisen from an incident so ridiculous and so provoking, and so perfectly in character with ignorance and simplicity, and so like what at one time or other befalls every body in their lives, and is among the cross incidents no- body thinks of guarding against sufficient- ly, unless they have been taught to smart by some very similar accident, 'that, alto- gether, it was enough to make a man mad ; yet the relief of finding the letter render- ed it impossible to be as angry as you felt you had a right to he : it was one of those
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR WHAT ? 139
circumstances which afford you relief for an hour, but, from combination, produce regret for an age.
In this letter Mrs. Danvers informed lady Sedgewood, that she was summoned to meet the colonel, in consequence of an accident which had befallen him at the* Cape of Good Hope, where he had the misfortune to break his leg, and might have lost his life, but for the courage of captain Campbell, who, proceeding with the vessel, had promised to see his family- safe to Lisbon. She said, that at the time she left England, she had but too much, reason to fear that the colonel would not long survive the accident ,* but that, through the unequalled attention, and friendly ex- ertions of the young friend, who had de- voted himself to the service of the colonel and his family, she had been enabled to endure the sufferings and fatigue to which she had been subjected, better than those who knew her could have expected; and had found the colonel at the Madeiras, but in so poor a state of health, that she had*
140 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR., WHAT ?
Been obliged to watch over him, with asd^ licitude that baffled every other care, in' consequence of which she had lost the only' opportunity which occurred during her stay in the island, of writing to those dear friends, whom she well knew would be anxious to know what had become of her.
She added, that captain Campbell had at- tached himself to her daughter Emma, with an ardour which was only too strongly se- conded by the colonel, who loved him as a son ; but Emma had hitherto resisted their entreat^ wkh no common firmness, though she confessed the highest esteem for the captain, and declared she had no engagement, which sometimes interrupted the -family harmony ; but which she could comprehend more easily than the colonel/ who thought the perfections of Heaven were united in his own favourite.
She concluded by saying, they were at present assembled round the sickbed of the colonel's brother, for whom he had ever felt a sincere regard, but whose conduct bad cost him many a bitter hour; and
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT? I'll
earnestly entreated lady Sedgewood to write to her immediately ; begging, by name, kind messages from herself, and daughters, to each individual of her fa- mily.
" Now," said lady Sedgewood playfully, as she finished this letter, " had you al- lowed vie, sir Fred, to take my own way, and follow the impulse of the moment, when I was going to write to lady Atwood, all this never could have happened — do you see this?"
" Perfectly so ; go en ; I feel all you can say."
" I have got to the end of my lecture."
" It was short, and not sharp, Emily : yet I think it contained the only symptom of reproach that ever passed your lips since the day of our marriage.."
" EepvQach, my love! do not call it by so harsh a name, or it will occasion dovcu- right reproach to myself."
" Fie! my Emily, you spoil me: look at The, and remember he is soin£ this very moment to run across the island to
142 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR/WHAT?
fetch a wife, and you ou^ht not to mislead him on a subject of so much importance, lest he should rebel, when he receives les- sons to establish the ' rights of wives."
" Never fear him ; he has suffered for Adelaide, and (/if I may say so, without making him too vain) she has suffered for him ; depend upon it, my dear, their whole lives wiU be the happier and better for this privation; we seldom, especially in youth, esteem, as we ought, those bles- sings which ' unsought are won/ or ob- tained by easy means. He who has sighed after a long-absent mistress, or one so jiearlv lost to him as to reduce hope to its lowest ebb, (without extinguishing it,) will be more likely to cherish his treasure when gained, than him who, however fond- ly attached in the outset of his passion, has never been crossed by intervening ob- stacles, and taught to feel the sorrows of parting, the pangs of jealousy, and that forlornness which hangs upon the bereaved bosom, and is the most corroding, though the least violent, of the many painful emo-
SAYS. SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT? 143
tions to which the * life of a lover' is subject.''
" My dear Emily, you are very learned on this subject, I find."
" Oh yes ; I have learnt to < live whole ages on a smile;' and know how to esti- mate the bliss which arises from contrast- ing present enjoyment with past solici- tude."
-f I shan't dispute the general truth of your doctrine : but I can and ivill main- tain, that there are cases when the superior worth of the object induces very high esti- mation, very tender regard, though there might not be all the difficulties of attain- ment you suppose necessary for enhancing the value of the prize."
" That is a point I will not gainsav : but let us think for Theodore; our court- ing scene does not forward his, you kridvt"
'* Suppose," said my father, turning to me, " as I see our horses are coming to the door, suppose we make the best of our way to Tadcaster, Theodore, and you there take the mail for London ; we shall just
144 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT?
have time to dine together before it passes through ; you will get better forwards that way than any other; for I suppose 'twould be In vain to talk of sleeping on the road."
tc It will be far the best. Wilson can follow you with linen, &c. and as I find myself tolerably well, I will surprise our good aunt and Mrs. Wallingford, by pop- ping on their dinner hour," said lady Sedgewood, who, by this method of pro- viding for her own comforts, knew she enabled her affectionate husband to feci himself more at ease during his absence. Whilst I spoke to Wilson, she wrote a short but affectionate note to lady Atwood, and made up a little package of trinkets, as friendly memorials to the young ladies, and then kindly hastened our departure.
My father had, from his earliest infancy, been used to ride much on horseback: I have most probably mentioned, that my grandfather made it a point to teach him every species of equestrian exercise he had himself learnt amongst the Tartars, du-
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ? 145
frin£ his long residence with them ; and that, in consequence, he was so singularly ■elegant, and so perfectly at ease in his use of this noble animal, that he retained all his earliest predilection in its favour, t Jiad purchased a horse in Bath, which I had not rode since his return, but which was now brought for me, and very naturally attracted his admiration ; and lady Sedge- wood, who never could remain uninte- rested in any thing that engaged him, Wrapping her shawl round her head, came to the door to look at him, just as my fa- ther had said — " I approve of your pur- chase exceedingly, and should like to ride him this morning :" oft seeing her figure, the animal started ; and I observed, it was easily frightened, and must be rode with a careful hand.
'" Dont ride it, my dear," said lady Sedgewood; " it is fitter for Theodore than you : you are heavier than you used to be, rem ember. "
** This fine fellow," said my father, pat- Vol, iv. h
Mo SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT 9
ting bis neck, " is more than equal to my weight ; and," added he, smiling rogue* ishly, with a mixture of pardonable vanity in his countenance, " though I am on the high road for becoming a grandfather, Emily, yet I am not likely to yield in the management of a horse to Theodore, or any other boy — my father, at seventy-five, used to lead the country in that respect, though othervvays an invalid. We are of the race of Nimrod, you know, altoge- ther."
As my father spoke, he vaulted into his seat with the grace of one who " could 'witch the world with noble horseman- ship;" but observed that lady Sedgewood, as she pronounced " good morning/' had done it tremulously, and immediately turn- ed into the 'house. I had already given her and Emily a parting kiss, received her kind wishes, and, like him, was mounted, and my countenance doubtless bespoke the im- patience of my heart ; but the baronet checked it for a single moment, by dis- mounting, and seizing his lady, tenderly
S:\VS SHE TO HEj& NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ? l4f
kissed her, and said he would call with me to bid aunt Barbara adieu, and send out fair cousin to conduct he* thither. She assented with a smile, that chased away the tear that was gathering in her eye^ and we rode away together, performing out intention of stopping for a few minutes at Mrs. Barbara Sed^ewood's, and engaging Mrs. Wallingford to pay particular atten* tion to lady Sedgewood, who was still very delicate, from her late nervous attack.
Oh, Thou ! who strengthenest the feeble hands, and bindest the bleeding hearts of ffcy frail and suffering creatures, who say* est to the floods of rising agony which visit the soul of man, as to the mighty ocean in a storm, " Hitherto shalt thou go, but no farther; and here shall thy waves be stay- ed/* Oh do Thou speak peace to the awa- kening tempest in my heart, and go with me on my way.
h 4
148 SAYS .SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT?
CHAP. VIII.
Could there have been a word, a look,
That softly said, " We part in peace," Had taught my bosom how to brook,
With fainter sighs, thy soul's release; But since in worlds more blest than this,
Thy virtues seek a fitter sphere, Impart some portion of thy bliss,
To wean me from my anguish here.
Lord Bykojt,
As we rode from my aunt's door, my fa- ther observed that we had lost time, and must make the best of our way, for the skies portended a storm ; and accordingly we went forward at a brisk trot for about three miles, when it began to grow ex- tremely dark, and a few hailstones fell; as we were now ascending a long hill, we rode slowly ; my father said there was distant thunder, he thought, which, though uncommon in March, generally speaking, was not unlikely to be the case at present,
SATS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT J> 1£<>
for the weather had lately been very sul- try, and reminded him of an ode addressed to this month three years ago, which, whens he read it at the time, pleased and affected hira much, and began thus —
" Tempestuous month, by nature wild,
Terrific, comfortless, forlorn, What mean these breezes, soft and mild,
That usher in thy morn?''*
H I remember it," said I; <( the writer
laments her husband, who fell by the Yu\~ gering hand of consumption in the month of March, and says the chill air of thifc month is
" More fat li to the weaken'd frame, Than India's beams of scorching flame."
As I spoke this, mv voic^ trembled, for I thought on the deHcate health of Ade- laide; but my father did not notice it, for he proceeded to say — " That of all other- evils, the lingering horrors of consump*
* See Poems by B. Hook,
150 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT?
tion were, indeed, the most deplorable; as the patient might be said to ' die daily ;' and those who surrounded his couch, c to die a thousand deaths in fearing one," thus encreasing and protracting that stroke, which bends alike those who are taken and those who are left; since it may be truly said, in all the near connexions of life,
" When such friends part, 'tis the survivor dies."
** I remember," he added, " a passage in another part of the same volume where I read the ode, some lines, which struck me as the true description of feelings awaken- ed by this disease, and which so strongly- reminded me of those times when I used to watch the sickbed of your excellent grandmother, Mrs. Dermot, that I have: never forgotten them —
" Day after day, and hour succeeding hour, The secret, silent fire, that feeds on life, Still urges, still delays, the dreadful stroke '^ While dearer still the patient sufferer winds New bonds <?f love around, thte bleeding breast,
SAYS SHE TO nER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ? l&ttt And nearer as the approaching blow descends, The spouse, tlu. parent cries, ' we cannot part.''
(t But true as this may be, my dear sir, it does not seen: to me quite so terrible asr sudden death,"
ce I thought so, Theodore, when I was writhing under the blow that crushed me; but laying aside that feeling, which is apt to make us all say, in the hour of chasten- ing, e Surely there is no sorrow like unto my sorrow, with which the Lord afrlicfcfrt me/ I am convinced that the attenuated sufferings of slow disease are infinitely more terrible to be borne, in most cases, than even the most sudden death ; for the wretchedness of anticipation adds to our torments, and weakens us by preparation ; at least such is my conception of the case, formed by observation rather than expe- rience, I grant ; but this relates only to survivors; to the pasty themselves, it has. ever appeared to me so great an advantage,, that I never could unite in that part of our liturgy which prays against ' sudden* dtfath;' and though very, little inclined to*
152 SAYS SKE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ?
innovation, I do wish that word was altered 3o ' unprepared/ as I think it far better."
<c But, my dear sir, to be called in a moment to the tribunal of Heaven, • no reckoning made, but sent to our account with all our imperfections on our heads/ is surely a matter of such awful import, that we ought rather to desire ' a little space to consider/ before we * go hence,, and are no more seen."
" But, alas!*' said my father, "how seldom do we rind, that in the space so. given we do consider, or, in fact, can con- sider, our important destination; the hour of bodily languor* even when not accom- panied by actual pain, is not the season for reflecting on the past, or anticipating the future ; and in that disease, whkh of all others leaves the most time for mental exercise, wTe find the most decided incli- nation for confiding in the hopes of a cure, • which appears, in fact, a species of physi- cal lenitive, administered with the disease itself, as if in merzy to the weakness which could not bear for so long a period the
SAYS SHE TO ITER' NETGHEOUR, WHAT ?" 153?
contemplation of its end. Different men, and equally good men, will be found to agree with us both; I merely speak my own perceptions of the case, humbly trust- ing, that if I should be called to expe- rience the tedium of a long sickness, ter- rible as I conceive such a state, that, rest- ing on the support of my unfailing friend, my strength would be equal to my wants; and, on the other hand, if, ' like favoured man, by touch etherial slain,' I am sud- denly claimed, the language of my heart may be, f Behold thy servant ; be it unto, me according to thy will."
Our conversations were wont to shi ft' from " grave to gav, from lively to se- vere ;" but it is probable that we both Mt more than usually led to this, from the dark clouds that rolled" over us, and the heavy atmosphere that oppressed both our- selves and our horses as we mounted the hill, and which portended' such a storm,, that we meant to gallop over the plain-; but on arriving at the top, we were sq> h 3,
$"54 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT?
struck with the magnificent assemblage or dark thunder clouds, and the faint beams of the sun struggling through the mighty- mass, and tinging with partial light the tender green, now thrown on the light herbage, that we stopped for a moment to behold it, and my father, after wishing*
our friend H , the artist, could have
enjoyed it with us, observed, that the road was now an awkward descent, aiid told me to take care of the mare, for she was no£ very sure-fooied. As he spoke, a peal o£ thunder broke from the clouds, and the servant who attended us said to the baro- net*—
" Your honour must take ca*re of tifoi new horse* for he goes mad if he sees a light."
*' Thank you, Thomas/'' said my father* tightening his rein ; " we ought all to cau- tion and help one another." Then turn- ing to me, he added briskly, <( Your er- rand, The, is one in which young men, ■generally speaking, need the most care> m& use the least ; but I have such a re-^
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT?' 155*
liance on you, and such a thorough re- gard for Adelaide, that if I were to travel'' with you the whole journey. I should only say, may God bless you both /"
At this moment, a vivid flash of lightnings cut the atmosphere directly over us, in- stantly followed by a tremendous peal of thunder ; my horse reared a little, but thalr on which my father rode plunged, reared, and foamed, in all the rage of terror. The road at this moment was close to an oldr stone quarry, and the animal backed so near to the brink as to frighten me exces- sively, notwithstanding my confidence irr my father's skill ; and what added to the • confusion of the moment, was perceiving; at this instant, the horse on which the ser- vant rode run away with him. At this^ time large hailstones falling on the stones, and in the eyes of the terrified animal, add- ed to his fears, and I saw that my father could not manage him : leaping from my horse, I caught his bridle with so firm a grasp, that for a moment I extricated him- from the immediate peril — with breathless*.
1 56 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ?
gasping anxiety, I was just endeavouring; to seize the moment to assist him to dis- mount, when another flash, more terrible than the first, broke upon us — the horse &ung back with such a jerk, as instantly to break my arm, which fell nerveless from his grasp, and in another moment himselE and rider were precipitated into the quar- ry.. One single blow — one horrid craslv and all was over. On a point of the pro- jected rock my father was struck, just above the temples-, at the moment of his. dreadful descent, and fell lifeless to the^ bottom^
My head swims— my hand trembles — big tears roll on the paper — spare me, in> mercy, spare m®, oh, Memory ! the ten- fold horrors of that moment.
The terrible clap of thunder which suc- ceeded that flash which was the last beam of light which illumined the eyes of my father, was dreadful ; and aided by the 3oud groans of the expiring horse, man- gled by the jutting stones, together with, the sight of the falla for a moment de-
SAYS SHE TO HEI* NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ? 1ST
prived me of reason ; but a single spark
©f hope surviving, enabled me to scramble
, down the declivity — to seize my rather —
to raise him — to lay his head on my bo-
som
The elements raged on — I heard them not ; the sharp hail in huge stones poured en my bare head — I felt it not; hope was extinct in my heart — Heaven and earth,, what a shock was mine ! — my father's head was crushed — the most terrible sight that . the human form can present to shuddering sense, was given to me in the person of my father — —
Such a father — such a man too .
I did not lose my senses quite : God wad merciful to me. I know not how k was exactly, but affection can dp that which; common sensation shrinks from in disgust; all I remember now is, that I kissed the lips of my father, and in that kiss regained the reason that had fled; and terrible as was the sense of sorrows it presented, I [eh it as the gift of Heaven. I'then endeavoured
158 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ?
to use my right arm, but found it im- possible, and the pain I thus gave myself doubtless contributed to restore my senses; 1 then took off my cravat, and with my left hand contrived so to bind up the head* of my father, as to save all other eyes the sight which had blasted my own ; feeling- as if it were a sacrilege to gaze on that disfigured face, which was so late the seat of every manly grace, the throne of in- tellect, and the mirror of benevolence.
A post-chaise came by much at the same- lime that my servant Wilson, who had fol- lowed me, arrived at the top of the hill ; he perceived my horse grazing, and took bold of him, which attracting the notice of the passengers, they stopped to inquire :■ the storm was now cleared away, and the sun shining, they humanely alighted, being both gentlemen, and looked round to see* the owner: first they found my hat, which- I had lost at the first moment of seizing the* horse, and then my father's, which had* probably been thrown cfF during his.strug-
SAYS* SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ?* 159*
^Tes with the horse: Wilson became ex- cessively alarmed ; he rent the air with his cries — I hear, but cannot answer him.
In a few moments he has flown round' the road, to that part of the quarry which- is open to it — he perceives the horse bloody and dead ; trembling he steps for- ward, and sees his master, pale, wet, and maimed, seated on the ground, and the lifeless body of sir Theodore, with its head' wrapped in bloody cloths* resting on his- lap.
Poor Wilson staggered, and had nearly- fallen at the sight ; but the strangers were near, and they wisely urged him to exer- tion, by pointing out the extreme distress evident in my countenance; they assisted* him in plackig us both in the chaise, and whilst thus employed, they were joined by* eur servant, whose horse having crossed the plain with him more than two utiles^ had at length thrown him, but with little injury, except from the dirt, which he had gone into a farm-house to divest himself «4 expecting every minute to* see us scoae-
1-GO SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ?
up ; but at length fearing he had mistaken ©ur route, he had returned to seek us.
This man had lived with my father nine- teen years: he came to him a boy, from a state of beggary, and he had ever consider^ ed him in a light approaching to idolatry. When he beheld the body of his master,, and comprehended in a moment all the dreadful event, he became for a time com- pletely frantic, so that the gentlemen were obliged to commit him to the care of the postboy, who held him with great diffi- culty, as he clung round the body, and swore he wouli never be parted from it- more ; when at length it had been placed Ml the chaise, they came to me, and pro- ducing a penknife, ripped open my coat, formed a kind of sling for my arm, and led- me towards the chaise.
There was no dry eye in this sad arrange* ment but mine, and Heaven, in mercy,, opened the sluices of sorrow even to me.
When poor Thomas, who was struggling with the postboy, and calling ten thou- sand imprecations alternately on his head,
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ? 161
and that of the ho-;e who had killed his master, and on which he would have wreaked all the vengeance of his rage, had it not been already past suffering, beheld me come forward, leaning on Wilson, with despair in my countenance, the violent passion which possessed him seemed to sink beneath the intenser woe he beheld me ensure ; and bursting from the grasp of the man, he flew towards me, as the only being who was his superior in the dreadful right of suffering; and who de- manded pity, even from liim; his torn soul felt the hand of the great leveller was: on us both; but that wruch had sunk me to sorrow, had ennobled me, from its se- verity, in the eyes of this sen of native- feeling : in his first motion he stretched out his arms, as if he had been about to. clasp me to his heart, in the next he threw himself on the ground — he embraced my knees- — he kissed my feet — he wept upon them — he bathed them with his tears,
Man was indeed not born to live atone; $nd so long as he exercises the, sympathies*
162 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT?1
of his nature, he shall partake the blessing be communicates. The sight of poor Tho- mas roused me from the appalling sense of horror, which I had hitherto endured, to the softer sense of sorrow : I stood still ; I suffered nature to reiieve herself, and would not aUow those around tc* disturb him ; the sight of his tears seemed to allay the parched and fever-feeding anguish that brooded on my brain ; and while I bent over him, and endeavoured to speak con- solation to him,, the kindly drops gathered in my own eyes, and fell profusely on the mourning suppliant.
When I became somewhat more calm, the sense of that care due to my poor step- mother, that long-adoring lover, that ten- der wife, who, but a few hours before, had shrunk with fond presentiment, had taken the last kiss from those lips she must behold no more, and perhaps at this very moment was counting the hours till his re- turn, struck on my heart with a kind of new and indescribable emotion ; for whilst it opened a source of the bitterest sorrow*
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ? IQ3
it forbade me the indulgence of a passion, which unfitted me for the arduous task she had a right to expect from me.
I concerted a plan with Wilson, and he instantly set out ; lady Sedge wood was a* my aunt Barbara's — she was informed that I was extremely injured by a fall from my horse, and that the baronet remained with me.
Agreeable to the general excellence of her character, she insisted on being taker* to me directly, a plan earnestly opposed by the ladies, who thought her health' un- equal to the task, and in the looks of Wil-* son read something farther than yet had met her ear or theirs.
Wilson informed her truly that my arm was now setting at a farm-house about a mile off, where an old tenant resided, who had it in his power to render me every assistance; and that the idea of accommo- dating her would distress the poor peoplo more than her presence could benefit me..
<c Did the harotiet forbid me to come i£
164 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR WHAT ?
said her ladyship, looking earnestly at Wilson.
The poor man burst into tears.
Fearful that my mission could not be executed as it ought, the moment my arm- was set, I followed in a post-chaise, and at this moment alighted at the door ; as I en- tered the parlour, Wilson was turning from, the deep and alarmed gaze of the tremb- ling wife, who, turning her eyes from him* fixed them on me — ft My son," said she, *fwhy would you eome home, after such aa> accident? — how could sir Frederic let you ? but where is he ?"
" Alas ! he was worse hurt than I was.'*
" Then why did you leave him ? let Hie fly to him this instant. Why did not Wilson tell me this ? I ought not to have- been deceived, for it has delayed me."
She was flying from the door, but I mo- tioned them to stop her; and commanding myself, said, that it was utterly impossible for her to see the baronet, as he was under, a surgical examination.
"SA\S SHE TO HER NEIGHEOUR, WHAT ? 165
xc Where is he hurt ? tell me all the truth, I conjure you V
" His skull is fractured : you say you cannot bear deceit ; but, alas ! how, my dear mother, can you bear a truth like this?"
te Better, tetter,' she would have said, > but the word died on her lips ; and she sunk in a deep swoon on the breast of Mrs. Wallingford, who was herself little able to support her.
Sensible of the dreadful anguish in store for her, I could not regret this partial in* sensibility, and almost grieved to use the means for restoration, though the length of time she continued in this suspended state became alarming. During this period the family were informed of the fact ; her maid was sent for, and the medical atten- dants of the family, who, by ordering her to bed, and remaining in the house, ena- bled us to break the truth to her by de- grees: her extreme sorrow must be left to the imagination of those who can conceive so vast an agony; she desired to be left
16§ SAYS SHE TO HEU KEIGirBOtJR, WHAT f
slone, and I insisted that she should be obeyed : — such a sufferer has but one friend.
For three or four days, though lady Sedgewood often desired to see me, yet "when I appeared, she was so overwhelmed with sorrow, in which I fully participated, that we were utterlv unable to exchange a word, and we parted from complete ina- bility to relieve each other: at length she said — " Pray, Theodore, tell me the truth: was your father sensible i"
I replied by shaking my head.
<e I feared as much : do you think he suffered much pain ?M
" I hope as little as possible."
" Was he many hours in that dreadful state?"
" My dear mother, I will now tell you all the truth, and I trust, terrible as it is, you will reap one source of consolation from it; — know, then, that he suffered but the pang of a moment."
She clasped her hands devoutly on her breast, and as she turned her streaming
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ? 167
^yes to heaven, she meekly bowed her head, saying — u For fhiSj oh God, I thank thee !"
On the evening of this day, at her own request, lady Sedgewood accompanied me to the Park, where the body of my father now lay. Wilson had prudently dispatch- ed poor Thomas, with the melancholy in- telligence, to Charles, thinking that the necessity of exerting himself would tend to restore him to tranquillity ; and that at least, it would keep him from adding to the sorrows of his lady, who was surround- ed by such a house of mourners, of which poor little Emily, if not the deepest, was the most affecting, that the wise and affec- tionate servant justly judged that every one who tended more particularly to irri- tate her grief should be kept far from her, Alas ! he ^e\t that nature could ill bear a stimulant to sorrow awakened by such a cause.
Mr. Eltringham and our dear aunt flew to us, the moment they heard, to mix their tears with ours; but, alas! the companiqa
'168 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT t
of my first sorrows appeared to be the only- one to which my heart could look for par- ticipation and relief, and I seldom left the coffin of my father, except to inquire if my brother was yet arrived.
CHAP. IX.
\Vhat is the worst of foes that wait on age ?
What stamps the wrinkle deeper on the brow ? To view each lov'd one hlotted from life's page,
And feel alone on earth, as I do now. Lord Byros.
On the evening of the sixth day, Thomas returned alone. I sent for him instantly to my room, and eagerly inquired if my brother were on the road to Fairborongh ? " When I got to London, sir— your ho* nour, I fand him gone down to Newmar- ket, and so, sir, I axed to see his lady, be- ing, as one may say, a family grief; and God knows it be a country grief here," said Thomas, again relapsing into sorrow,
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT? 169
tc You did right, Thomas; I hope they will come together."
" God forbid, sir, that ever any son of his honour's should darken these doors along with such a b — h as she ! I ax your honour's pardon, sir, sir Theodore, but I am sure, if you had heard what she had said, you'd never have forgiven it, any more than myself; for she says, says she — c A pretty piece of work truly ! I shall have to wear mourning these three months !' these were all the words as ever she uttered, and she said um to a fal-de-ral naked sort of a countess who was sitting with her ; and never one word of comfort to me, good or bad, your honour."
" She is an unfeeling wretch!" exclaim- ed I, traversing the room with great warmth.
" Thank God ! I knew your honour would think as I think, so I gave it her pretty handsome. — ' You mought be ashamed,' said I, ' to call yourself a lady, with no bowels of compassion in you to-
VOL. IV. i
170 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT?
wards your own husband, who never noed sin nor shame till he came to this cursed London, and married a woman wi never a heart in her bosom, and who has lost the best father that ever existed on theyearth." " Have you seen Mr. Beaumarris, Tho- mas V*
" Why, sir, seeing there was no good to be done there, and that all the sarvants abused me worse than a pickpocket, I was goin to set off to Newmarket directly, but her ladyship Beaumarris came to a a bit ; and she said as how if I would give her sir Theodore's note, she would send a confidant servant with it to Newmarket herself; and so if hechoosed to come over to Sedgewood Park, to be present when his late honour's will was read, why so be he would get there before Monday."
My heart, sick and dissatisfied, turned for comfort to the lifeless clay which ap- peared now to be the relics of my last friend: alas! there was no comfort there, and I could not bear to lay the new load of my grief which wounded me on the
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT? 171
weakened Frame and wounded spirits of the widow, and to every other human be- ing, it was too sacred to be revealed. The conduct of Mrs. Beaumarris afforded ano- ther proof of my father's penetration, and made me feel still more sensibly how irre- parable was the loss of such a counsellor and guide.
The last words, last accents, and last looks of a dear departed friend, are trea- sures to the memory ; and my faithful records of the last hours of my father will be forgiven, for the sake of the feeling which has preserved them ; for every good and tender heart has got similar registers on the tablet of affection ; such too will forgive me if I entreat their sympathy for the increased grief which fell over my sad heart, when I tell them that Monday, Tues- day, and even Wednesday appeared, and brought no brother to console me.
The world was now doubly a blank; and it was perhaps well for me that a heart so deeply wounded had not leisure to indulge i 2
172 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT?
in reflection on the bitterness and extent of its disappointments.
On Wednesday, concluding all hopes of receiving the melancholy support I had looked for were over, I obeyed the sug- gestions of my friends, and performed the last duties to my beloved, my reverenced parent.
One voice, one universal voice was now heard through the land. " She" spoke not now of little errors, of venial faults, false conjecture, and slanderous anecdotes — no! there was a cry in the land of unmixed sor- row ; the father, the friend, the benefactor, the patron, was no more ! cut off in the very zenith of his days, in the prime of his use- fulness, ere age had enfeebled his energies, or infirmity benumbed his benevolence — when life was endued with apparent stabi- lity, and its blessings realized in many points, and promised in more ; and his character established beyond the reach of enmity, or the breath of scandal.
I followed the corpse alone, for Charles was not with me ; but though chief, I was
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT? 173
not a solitary mourner — poor Eltringham, how did he mourn his friend, his brother I how did colonel Harvey and poor sir Sa- muel lament their long-valued neighbour ! but 'tis vain to mention names — who did not lament him ? amidst the immense con- course assembled round his bier, not one heart was found unmoved— not one eve that fell tearless on the awful spectacle.
When the last scene was closed — when the half-suffocated voice of my earliest tu- tor no longer sounded in my ear, and the loud sob and long-drawn sigh no longer were heard, I slowly raised my head from the last long gaze, which seemed to carry my very soul along with it, and saw that I was nearly alone, for even my dearest friends felt their presence might restrain me; and from the delicacy of just feel- ings, had left to me the sacred rights of pre-eminent distress : yet I was not alone ; a venerable form, bent by sorrow and by time, leaned over the awful chasm, while his white locks, falling o'er his face, enve- loped his features. On looking nearer, I
174 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR WHAT?
perceived it was our good old steward, and I felt such pity for the stroke his old age had thus sustained, as, for a moment, to yield to him the palm of superior suffer- ing ; I advanced to him, and taking his arm, drew him gently from the object of his contemplation ; he felt the motion, but even whilst he yielded to it, withdrew not his strained and tearless eyes from the grave ; but, as if excusing his weakness, he cried — " I nursed him when he was a boy — I gloried in him when he was a man ! for three and forty years he has been as the sun to my eyes, and I trusted that he would shine many a year after I was gone down, but I must see him no more ! Oh, sir, he was as great as a prince, and as week as an infant !"
How much was comprised in this closing eulogy ! surely it contains the essence of the best elegy that ever was written, for it had an echo in the heart, and mine gave fresh proofs of its justice.
The old man looked up, and saw whose axm was drawing his, to take the support
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT? 175
necessary to sustain his enfeebled steps ; as he gazed on me, a few scanty drops rolled down his furrowed cheek ; yet a mild and chastened sorow stealing o'er his features, displaced the look of bitter an- guish they had so lately assumed; he gent- ly disengaged his arm, and giving one more glance to the grave, with the action of a last adieu, he clasped his trembling- hands together, and turning towards me, while his eyes looked towards that heaven he addressed, he said, in a voice whose deep pathetic tears yet vibrate on my ear — " Son of the son of my beloved master, may that God who now beholds us bless thee with the virtues of thy father, and the length of days which crowned thy grand- sire/'
He continued some moments wrapt in the devout contemplation, thus awfully in- spired; and then, as if sensible that his faithful supplication was heard at the Throne of Grace, he took my offered arm, and we slowly and solemnly withdrew to- gether.
176 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT?
The benefit of example is always most felt when the heart is softened by the im- pressions of sorrow ; whilst we were all overcome with affliction, we yet were de- sirous of acting as he would have acted un- der similar impressions; and in conse- quence, we resolved, that although the fu- neral had been uncommonly delayed, our appearance in the house of God should partake the spirit of him we mourned, ra- ther than our feelings, or the fashion of the times; and we therefore all summon- ed fortitude to go to church, except the widow, whom I strenuously insisted upon still leaving to the dictates of her own feelings and most excellent judgment, but whose health was not in a situation to bear the shock which I was aware must accom- pany her first entrance into that sacred place.
" Unto whom should I go, but unto Thee, oh Lord ?" is the language of every bereaved heart; and the properly-instruct- ed and humble soul will seek for consola- tion both in public and private exercises
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT? 177
of devotion ; and it is to be feared that those whose plea of extreme sensibility prevents them from complying with the custom of their forefathers, in using the first, are not amongst those who adopt the last, whatever they may wish us to believe ; but great allowance ought doubtless .to be made for female sensibility, and she who " is a widow indeed," should be spared frorrV every sight and sentiment, which though consolatory to her affection at an after-pe- riod, tends to " wake the nerve where a^o- ny is born," in that early season of sorrow, when the heart, oppressed to breaking, is incapable of bearing any additional pang. It was a comfort to me that lady Sedge- wood was spared the solemn scene, which soothed my aching heart, while it awaken- ed all the channels of fond remembrance, and showed the extent of my loss. On every side I beheld sorrow — every breath was loaded with a sigh — every creature that could afford it, through the whole congregation, was in mourning ; all our i3
178 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT?
own tenantry wore the habit of sons and daughters, and the cottagers had been clothed thus by my orders ; the gentry, and even the manufacturers, partook the ge- neral feeling — all mourned., all wept toge- ther.
The scene was too much for lady Bor- rowdale; she sobbed aloud at one time in convulsive agony — at another she was nearly fainting. My good aunt Barbara, with great pity, assisted her ; and by the placid composure of her own countenance, shewed that she fully felt the force of Da- vid's reasoning — " I shall go to hirn, but he shall not come to me." The words struck me as I looked at the change visible in her pale and shrunken features; but I was still more sensible of it, when Mr. Elland chose these words for his text, as I perceived a gleam of pure satisfaction light up her be- nignant face, and give earnest that her days of sojourn were nearly ended-, and she was looking to the land where many a friend, gathered and lost through her long pi!-
SAYS SHE TO ITER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT? 179
grimage, should be restored to part no more.
The honest exultation of my heart was mingled with my sorrows, as leaving the consecrated spot, now endeared still more as the resting-place of both my parents, I again witnessed that honest tribute so fully and universally paid to the memory of my father; deep respect — that delicacy which ever accompanies genuine sympathy, not only kept every person at a distance from us, but as they all wished to cast an eye to wards the grave which contained his be- loved ashes, they remained in their seats till it was known that the family had left the church ; on understanding this, I cast one glance, one single glance around ; I saw the face of honest Dornton swoln with tears — poor Manby was sat in a corner of his pew dissolved in grief — young Mrs. Turnwell was weeping in the arms of her husband, whose father, leaning on Mr. Briggs, seemed recounting all the kindness of him they had lost, to one unable to re- ply ; I could see no more — little Emily
ISO SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR WHAT?
took hold of my hand — " Look, look/' said she, " how all the poor people in the aisles are crying for papa — surely I may cry when they do, now mamma does not see me ;" sobbing as she spoke.
I pressed the dear child's hand, and led her to the coach ; she threw herself on my knee, she hid her head on my bosom — at this moment, a general sound of sor- row, a chorus as of groans, broke on our ear — we drove slowly off — the sound was lost, but its impression shall never be erased, nor the muffled peal which succeed- ed it.
The coach stopped at the Park door, and the weeping child still clung round my neck ; lady Borrowdale, as she alighted, pointed out my situation to Wilson, who said, shaking his head — " Ah, my lady, she is so fond of sir Theodore, that I am sure she will not leave the baronet for any thing I can say."
Sir Theodore I had heard before, but to find .myself become the baronet — oh, it was a melancholy sound ! it was another string
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT? 181
toned to the funeral dirge, a new sound in the voice of lamentation.
I sought my own room ; I reflected on my own responsibility ; the high character my father had sustained taught me to tremble at the task before me, while it urged me to perfect his excellence, by proving that he had brought up his son in the paths of virtue. I remembered, that although there were several other men of equal rank in the neighbourhood, and two of superior, yet my father was always styled emphatically the baronet, by all who wanted help of every kind : the baronet protected the poor, advised the rich, con- soled the sorrowful, enlightened the mno~ rant, patronised the learned, and relieved the distressed ; — to all was the baronet en- deared by his kindness, or beloved for his beneficence, and revered for his example.
The baronet was my father.
Again my heart reverted to Charles.; again I felt alone in the world, under the sense of having a right in the most tender friendship that man could feel for man;
182 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT?
and the sense of nnkindness and injustice gave me a pang more severe than even death could bestow. When the king of Israel, as a punishment for his sin, had the choice of three afflictions given him, he desired to fall into the hands of God, and not into those of man ; in this choice he shewed how well he had read the human heart, for it is certain that although death is in itself the most terrible of all privations, since it precludes hope, so far as it concerns our earthly blessings, yet it is not necessarily productive of that species of soul-harrow- ing grief produced by the unworthiness or unkindness of those to whom we are ten- derly attached; since that sorrow, even in the best-regu!ated% minds, must inevitably be accompanied by resentment, and by the consciousness of being treated with in- gratitude— a sensation we cannot possibly feel when our arrows have been winged by the Almighty Hand, however terrible the wound they give, and which is in its nature the most galling and lacerating sen- sation that can rankle in the human bosom,
SAYS SHE TO TIER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT? 183
and has been justly termed by our great poet, " sharper than the serpent's tooth." With these observations on the reader's mind, I beg him to consider what were my feelings, when the incident occurred which I must defer till the next chapter, closing the present with observing that Mr. El- tringham and his lady were obliged to leave us, to receive lady William Graham, who, with her worthy partner, now came to visit and condole with my aunt ; and that lady Sedgewood still kept her dressing- room, where she seldom saw any one but myself, though her whole conduct proved that she was most conscientiously strug- gling to show that she was not only an af- flicted widow, but a sincere Christian, de- sirous of yielding even that being (to him who had resumed his gift) who was so close twisted with the fibres of her heart, that parting with him was a pang to which the loss of life, when compared with it, appeared a petty sacrifice.
184 SAYS SHE TO IISR NEIGHBOUR, WHAT?
CHAP. X.
On Wednesday morning, a week after my father's funeral, as I sat with lady Sedge- wood, who had herself inspected my arm, and applied the necessary bandage, a let- ter was brought to me with the London post-mark, and which I flattered myself was the long-expected letter from Charles; I tore it open impatiently — it was not his hand — I feared lest illness had prevented him from writing — I recollected his suffer- ings on a former occasion, and dreaded lest the news had been broken to him too suddenly. Lady Sedgewood perceived my agitation, and intreated me to read the letter; I did so, and found as follows: —
" SIR,
" I am instructed by my client, Charles Beaumarris, Esq. to request in- formation from you, or your agent, as to the will of the late sir Frederic Sedge-
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT? 1S5
wood, Bart, (if any), and particularly so far as may relate to any legacy, or other monies, become due to said client, by tes- tament or otherwise, through death of said
testator.
" I am, Sir,
" Your humble servant,
" James Jarvis.
No. 117, Chancery-lane,
March 30, 1S03."
The torrent of grief and indignation which overwhelmed my soul, for a mo- ment suspended my faculties, the letter fell from my nerveless hand, and I stood not less the image of despair than when bend- ing over the corpse of my father. Lady Sedgewood in great alarm took up the fatal paper ; a single glance at the ac- cursed scrawl awakened kindred feelings— " Cruel, degenerate Charles,'* she ex- claimed, dashing the paper from her hand, and bursting into a passion of tears.
Her voice, her agony, recalled my
J86 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ?
senses, and following the impulse thus awakened, I indulged in a torreni of in- vective, less against Charles than every creature with whom he was connected-, whom by turns I accused of his ruin, for ruin of the most terrible kind this degra- dation appeared to me ; and I was about to conclude this terrible apostrophe by an eternal renunciation of my unworthy brother, when lady Sedgewood, conquer- ing, by a strong effort, her own emotion, conjured me to stop to hear Jier ; but pas- sion is deaf, and I was wound up to a pitch of anger, which, till now, though by nature impetuous, I had never exhi- bited.
" In the name of your father, that dear name you reverence so much, hear me; I beseech you, hear me."
The spell which commanded me was obeyed.
(< Recollect yourself, my dear Theo- dore, and do not condemn Charles toa rashly; depend upon it, that however ter- ribly we were struck by this letter, and
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT? 187
however naturally we condemned if, yet it is possible that it may have been writ- ten by the orders of his wife, of this co- lonel, whom he calls his friend, or even lord Llanberry, who is a very likely man to have extorted from him a permission to employ his attorney thus; we ought not to admit the horrid inference it conveys, without being certain, beyond all possibi- lity of doubt, that he was so far capable of tearing from his heart all the bonds of nature, and even the claims of common decency ; how much had he not already suffered from Slander building her mon- strous fabrications on the basis of unfor- tunate fabrications of incident ; and there- fore it ill becomes us to add even a mite to his troubles, much less a mountain like this."
u It is all too true ; but why does he not write ? why did he not come to the funeral ? it is too plain that he received the fatal information — his silence pro- claims his guilt.**
" Alas ! sir Theodore, you have suffer-
J8S SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT?
ed enough from the delay and prevention of letters already, to know that personal intercourse is the only sure way of judg- ing ; go then to your brother, with this letter in your hand ; see him yourself, and if it be possible, do not reproach him ; relate the manner of your father's death ; if he has yet a heart, the story told, not less by your pale haggard counte- nance and fractured limb, than by a tongue attuned to the eloquence of grief, will make him feel, and may be the means of restoring you a brother ; if it fails, which Heaven forbid, you then can pay him the legacy he seeks, and leave him to a future hour of penitence. You never, never must renounce him ; is he not the son of your father? did not your mother bear him?"
Ever wise, excellent, and kind, the words of this valuable woman sunk deep upon my heart ; and though ill able, both from the state of my arm (which having been neglected in the first instance, had become difficult of cure), and the men-
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT? 1S9
tal sickness. I still sustained, to undertake the journey, I gave orders to Wilson to prepare for it in the morning ; and as Charles had forced the subject upon me, I sent for Robertson the steward, and Manby the attorney, desiring they would inform me where my father kept his will, as I remembered his having made a new one after the death of my little sis- ter; and likewise that he had mentioned the necessity of altering it when Emily was born, saying — " He must provide for her and her mother;" from which circum- stance I first learnt that lady Sedgewood had no jointure, having refused to hear him talk on the subject, at the time he made proposals to her.
Mr. Manby, in return to my inquiries, informed me, that he had at different pe- riods witnessed several testaments of my father's, which were all written by his own hand, and of course he could not speak as to their contents ; but he had very good reason for believing there was no will at present, as the baronet had told
190 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT?
him, that when Mr. Beaumarris took pos- session of his fortune, he had importuned him till he had promised solemnly to leave Jus share of paternal inheritance to his el- dest son ; in consequence, sir Frederic had, on his return home, burnt the will he had by him, and had repeatedly said thus (since then) to Mr. Manby, when speaking of his affairs : — " I believe I ought to make another will, Manby, but I cannot bring myself to leaving Charles out of it, and yet I have promised to do so ,* and I feel it my duty to do so, seeing he got all his mother's property ; so I keep putting the matter off, being easy on the subject, because my reliance on Theodore is per- fect."
Mr. Manby's account of this was con- firmed by the steward's ; and after a dili- gent search, no vestige of a will was found. I -in treated them both to observe the strict- est silence on the subject till my return ; but felt, that after such a decisive proof of the instability of life as that I had just witnessed, it would be inexcusable in me
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT? 191
to leave home without providing against contingencies; I therefore detained the attorney till he had made a hasty settle- ment of my worldly affairs, in which I did not allow the feelings of the morning to bias my sense of justice, or obscure the tenderness of my fraternal feelings.
I set out too early to bid lady Sedge- wood adieu ; and only resting a few hours on the road, I arrived in London about six o'clock on Saturday morning. As I was well aware none of the family in my brother's house would be stirring for some hours, I ordered the postillions to drive to the Albany ; in doing this we passed his residence ; and Thomas, whom I had brought with me instead of Wilson (whose superior abilities made him necessary to the poor old steward), observed — " That the door was open, and there were people in the house; he rather thought madam had been having one of her rqu*s/'
Again the sense of injury fired my breast; I ordered him to stop the carriage, and alighted, sending him forwards. As 1
192 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT?
entered the house, I took the letter of the attorney in my hand, as if it gave me a right to demand vengeance ; and I strode forward, with an air of authority and de- fiance, not deigning to reply to the ques- tions of the drowsy porter.
In the hall I found two men half asleep, who had not the appearance of gentle- mens' servants, and were the persons Tho- mas had noticed as standing at, the win- dows; I passed them, and went up stairs, where all was silent ; the superb appear- ance of the furniture surprised me ; I had not seen any thing equal to it in the most luxurious dwellings of the first nobility; and the evident carelessness with which it was treated provoked my indignation. — " It is," cried I, (t for such fooleries as these that money must be procured, though the ashes of my father be insulted, and the hearts of those who love him bleed at every pore/'
I descended the stairs hastily ; one of the men rose at my entrance, and I asked him if he lelon^ei to the faonlv, and
BAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ? 103
could tell me when Mr. Beaumarris would bestirring ?
" I ax your pardon ; I took you for he> seeing you be tall, and a good deal such sort of a person ; but as you be not he, I suppose he ben't corned back."
" Are you his servant ?"
" No, sir, I be no servant of his'n, I be werry sure ; we two as be here be keepers-, that's all."
(f Keepers 1 I don't understand it; keep- ers of what ?"
" I thought the gemman looked raw/5 said the other fellow, yawning; " why, sir, we be here to keep things together, as it were ; that is, to keep the goods from dancing off at any suit but ours."
" Suit, suit! you don't belong to a bailiff?"
" The devil we don't ! if you stays long in town, you may chance to know whether we does or not."
At this moment a bustle was heard at the door> which was thrown violently
VOL. IV, K
294 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT?
*>pen, and Jones rushed in, fixed his eyes upon me, and with a look of unutterable " anguish, exclaimed — " Oh, sir, why did "you not come an hour ago ? a single hour •would have saved him."
At this moment entered two men, bear- ing my brother between them on a kind of litter; he was covered with blood, and his countenance pale and ghastly — his eyes rolled wistfully round — they fixed on me - — he uttered a faint cry of horror, and raising his disabled hands, covered his face, and closed his eyes, as if totally un- equal to encountering mine.
<f Charles, my ever dear Charles ! my brother, look on me/' I cried, as I cast my- self on my knees beside him.
tf My father, my lost, my murdered fa- ther!" faintly murmured he, while the blood streaming from a wound in his shoulder, to my terrified imagination pre- sented death again in all its horrors.
The entrance of the surgeon recalled my scattered senses; I assisted in convey- in <* him to a chamber— his wound was ex-
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ? 19&
&mined — a ball was found lodged below 'ihe collar bone, and was safely extracted ; but the loss of blood was immense, and the patient fainted repeatedly: during the operation I sustained him in my arms, and re-assured him, by every suggestion that <:ould console his deeply-wounded heart, content to remain in profound ignorance of what had happened, rather than awak& any idea which might add to his affliction*,. Absolute quiet was recommended by the skilful surgeon who attended him, as 'paramount to every other medicine; and he particularly requested that Jones and myself might be the only persons admitted to nis room ; when the patient was laid in bed, he administered an opiate ; but Charles emphatically said — €( If my brother for- give me, I need no other lenitive.*'
Oh ! with what earnestness did I repeat tny forgiveness ! how often did I beseech Heaven to restore me the man I had so lately and so rashly dared almost' to exe- crate !
33T) SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ?
After many anxious hours were passed, I had at length the satisfaction of observ- ing slumber close his eyes; but as if fear- ful that I should quit him, he had held my •hand till he dropped asleep, and it was some time before I could disengage it, and be enabled to learn from Jones the dread* ful circumstances which had led to this af- flicting situation.
It appeared that when Mrs. Beaumarris took my note from poor Thomas, it was with an intention of sending it at such a time as it would best suit her to make the affair public; and not supposing that the affair of a country gentleman's death would immediately engage the attention of the fashionable world, she determined to fulfil the engagements which more im- mediately lay before her, and then to adopt the most becoming mourning, and circulate a report of some immense legacy, which had fallen to her husband by the dea'h of his father.
Pursuant to this plan, she drove Thomas from the house, who being grieved for
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ? 1 £T
his master's loss, and offended with her, fulfilled her wishes by not revealing- his er- rand to the servants; so that the countess of Rippondale was her only confidant in the business, and as she suggested the plan, she was supposed likely to keep the secret.
The countess was at this time stripping Harriet, and was interested in keeping her a few nights longer out of sables, being aware, that at the return of Beau- marris, he must necessarily interfere to save his lady from the snares which sur- rounded her, in the elegant coterie to which she had been introduced. Harriet knew that there was one whose will was much more a law to her than that of her hus- band, who would not forgive her the sums she had already lost, and she was the more anxious to play again, in the hopes of re- trieving them ; under these circumstances^, the note was placed in her own writing- desk ; she went out as if nothing had hap- pened, lost more money, spent the next morning in making excuses to duns, andL
}§& SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ?•
contrivances about her dress; spent the* evening again at hazard, with even worse?- luck than before ; and in the vexation which followed, now actually forgot the ' note.
Charles returned from Newmarket much, poorer than he went; for though he had not lost much himself, he had been fool- ishly led to join in a bond with colonel Eldricke, who had been completely pil- laged : they came to London- together, and went to the colonel's house, for he could go upon such an occasion even to the woman he had ruined ; but Beaumar- ris could not with ease meet the woman who was now doing all in her power to ruin him; conscious as he was that he had injured their mutual fortune, in an at-. tempt to save one, whom he had now but too much reason to believe an unprincipled and ruined gamester.
Mrs. KIdricke was at home, and alone; she was wretched, but uncomplaining^ the colonel spoke of his ill luck in general $erms, and she sighed; he told her he had
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT? 19?
sold his estate in Glamorganshire, and she wept, but reproach passed not her lip.
Charles was cut to the heart, and he essayed to comfort her; whilst the colonel took equal pains to amuse a favourite greyhound, which at last he left the room to feed.
When he was gone, Mrs. Eldricke spoke — " The loss of one's property is a sad thing, to be sure ; but the heart that loves may endure worse pangs than this; mine has borne many such, Mr. Beaumarris, and, doubtless, so has yours."
Charles did nor understand her allusion, but he recollected that she had made many such of late ; and he was about to beg she would be more explicit, when the colonel re-entered; and alter spending an hour in constrained spirits, he went home, and finding Harriet at the countess of Rippon- dale's, he retired to his chamber.
On seeing him the next morning, the memory of the note, and of my fathers death, flashed full upon her mind ; she; perceived that his spirits were affected,.
$00 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ?
and concluded that he had heard some- thing of her losses; and though naturally unfeeling, and habitually confident, she shrunk from the just anger which she was sensible of inviting ; and went to her new friend, the countess, to consult with hep on the possibility of doing so ; previous to her setting out, Charles gave her some particulars of his ill run at Newmarket, and mentioned that of his friend Eldricke's also.
Harriet left the room as he was speak- ing, with a countenance disfigured by ex- treme vexation ; Charles was grieved that he had spoken any thing which could pain her, though he had long since ceased to Lelieve himself so fondly beloved as he had flattered himself; yet he was led to impute much of her coldness and occa- sional petulance to her situation ; and he felt so much pity for the ailments of preg- nancy, that he fancied he could never do enough to relieve them ; and the con- sciousness of not loving her, induced him to pay her more attention, and bear her fret^
SAYS SEE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT? 201
ful humours and extravagancies with more temper, than many a husband does who loves his wife with the sincerest affection.
Under this feeling he followed her to her dressing-room ; she was sealing a note, he thought; but the moment he entered, she locked the desk, and hastened to her carriage.
Charles sauntered to Brookes's, from thence to the picture auction, took a ride in the Park, met with lord Somerton, and agreed to dine with him; when he went home to dress, and mentioned this engage- ment, his lady said she was glad of it> as she should dine with Mrs. Eldricke.
All the time Charles sat at dinner, he- saw the eyes of two gentlemen fixed upon him, with an expression he could not de- fine ; he had seen it before in the course of the day, but imputed, it to his adven- tures at Newmarket ; he determined to meet their inquiring glances by speaking of the affair. In the meantime, they had informed lord Somerton what they meant; k3
t®% SAYS SHE TO HSR NEIGHBOUR, WHAT?'
and he, fully persuaded that Charles was ignorant of a statement they had read in the York Herald that morning, drew him aside, and with great kindness and due sympathy, revealed my father's death, but not the manner of it.
(( It is impossible, utterly impossible!-9 cried Charles; yet he darted out of the bouse like lightning, and flying home, in- quired of the porter what letters or mes- sengers had been at his house during hii. absence ?'• the man said the letters were alt forwarded to him i that a man came from the Park one day, but he never told him jhis business, further than saying he had left a note with his lady.
g( A note!" cried Charles; and the note he had seen in the hands of Mrs. Beau- marris, and which she had shut up with such precipitation, instantly occurred tc* Mm; he flew to her dressing-room, seized her writing-case> whicb was a Tunbridge toy, and breaking it against the fire-place; several papers flew out, and, amongst the ige.s!>. ons sealed, but without a direction^
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT? 20S
and which appeared from its shape to be the one concealed from him ; he had no longer any doubt of the fatal truth ; he saw in the undirected note the agitation of my mind ; and unable to read it, he rung the bell, and when Jones appeared, he put it into his hand, repeating what he had heard, and begged him to read it in- stantly.
Jones opened it, and found these words:
" How could you be so madi
as to sell the Glamorganshire estate, when
you knew it was the only place where l[
could retire with safety, and make up the
accident that is to account for my ac~
r. • couchement in June ? You have deranged.
my plans entirely. I cannot send you the
bills I promised, having lost them to the
countess, and can get no more cut of
him. The old fellow at the Park is dead..
I am impatient to talk with you on many,
subjects. H. Bt"
288 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHEOUR, WHAT?
Jones examining the note, found it had been sealed by a wet wafer, and was scarcely injured ; he placed it amongst the other papers, which had fallen from the writing-box, and retired to watch the event, after spreading the sad news of sir Frederic's death through the hou e.
When Harriet's maid met her with the tidings, and described the broken box and scattered papers* she flew to the place, with every mark of guilty trepidation in lier countenance ; but having secured her own note, which she instantly burnt with- out examining it, her composure return- ed, and the sorrows of her heart-stricken busband awoke not a single sigh.
Jones now concerted a plan with his master, which, by employing his mind, saved him from the cruel reflections which every instant increased upon him. Ac- cording to this plan, they set out the next day as for Sedgewood Park, but returned to London in the night, concealed them- selves, and watched for the colonel,; they did not perceive him the first night, but
SAYS Sfft! TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ? 20T
the second enabled the dishonoured hus- band to expose the infamy of the vile pair to every part of his family.
Charles challenged the colonel, who dared to add murder to, the list of his. transgressions; and being a well practised shot, had little doubt of his own suc- cess, opposed to a young unskilful man, agitated by almost every species- of grief that could unnerve the arm and tear the heart of man. They both fired, and both, fell at the same moment. On examina- tion, it was found that Charles had receiv- ed a ball in the shoulder, and had lodged; ©ne in the hip of his antagonist, which, having carried part of his clothing along, with it, proved difficult to extract, and for many days the colonel was considered: in great danger; he escaped with life, but- must experience to the end of his days^ perpetual and painful lameness.
Mrs. Beaumarris, as soon as she was in- formed of the fate of the duel, fled to* the countess of Rippondale's; the countess* xe fused to admit her; she went to hex fa-
$08 SAYS SEE TO HEE NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ?
ther's mansion ; but it was likewise shut; so she came back again in real distress;, for as Grey says — " the unfeeling for his o,wn" sorrow has sense enough.
" She told her neighbour/' through pri- vate chit-chat, public conversation, and the daily prints, that Mr. Beaumarris was mortally wounded, in consequence of which all his creditors, of every descrip- tion, crowded round the house : fore- most in the rank were noblemen and other: gentlemen of the turf, for debts of ho- nour; and amongst these, the very first was. the person who held the bond given oa. the colonels account.
When I reflect on this business, my pa- tience fails ; such an insight into the worst side of human nature was presented to my. view, in the transactions I was now con-* demned to have with the world, that my, heart turned loathing from my own spe- cies, and I; blushed to find myself bearing the same form with the harpies that had, preyed upon my brother, and who now. Tbr.oughi forward such claims, that all which
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ? 20$
remained of his noble fortune shrunk be- neath them io a comparative trifle.
But of all the vampires which had fas- tened on the unhappy Charles, no blood- sucker was found equal to the rapacious wife, who had not only been in the habit of continually getting money from him* and extravagant presents, but had actually appropriated to her own use all those sums which he had given her to liquidate the tradesmens* bills for furnishing their ex- travagant house, it being completely out of Charles's system of errors to suffer a tradesman to wait; but the people em- ployed by Mrs. Beaumarris, knowing her character, had reckoned on not receiving their money for some time, and their bills bore a proportionate charge.
Being vested with full powers by the self-reproaching sufferer, I collected all his debts, and in the first place paid all his* tradespeople, a mode of conduct which surprised them so much, that in many in~. Stances, considerable deductions from their charges were voluntarily made; whic!\
$10 SAYS SHE TO KER NEICHEOUE, WHAT ?
proved that they would not be dishonest, if they were not driven to it by a neglect of justice in their employers. I then dis- charged the accursed bond, and every other vestige of debt; at the end of which time, finding my brother, though ex- tremely weak, capable of being removed^ I procured lodgings for him at Kensing- ton, and accompanied him thither.
The great loss of blood had left Beau- marrisso extremely languid, that a decline was exceedingly apprehended by his medi- cal attendants, and his spirits and strength* seemed fled together ; he seldom spoke one word more than was necessary, but his eyes never met mine without either in- dicating pleasure at my return,, or a deep* sense of shame for the embarrassing bu- siness in which I was engaged; but from, the moment he left his house, he appeared to feel as if a burthen was removed from him, that had retarded his recovery ; and this gave me new spirits in prosecuting the- arduous, task before me*
SAYS SUE TO HER NEIGHBOUR WHAT ? 21 1
CHAP. XL
A shameless woman is the worst of men. Yousg.,
I now informed lord Llanberry, who had hitherto, either from shame or political engagement, kept aloof, that, at my bro- ther's request, I .was about to dispose of his house and furniture in Berkeley-square, and requested that he wot*ld advise whi\ bis daughter how to dispose of herself.
Lord Llan berry appointed a meeting, from which my heart shrunk, fo? it bled for the dishonoured father: he, however, sustained it with a firmness which enabled me to lay before him not only those proofs of his daughter's criminality, on which a. law process was now founding for the es-». tablishment of a divorce, but those docu- ments which proved how far she had rob- bed her husband, for the purpose of sup- porting Eldricke, and paying her own; gam "trig debts, besides various douce.uni.
212 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ?
which it appeared lady Llanberry had con- descended to accept from her daughter.
Lord Llanberry replied to all this, by requesting to know what settlement Mr. Beaumarris intended to make on his wife?
" My brother received no fortune what- ever with the lady."
" True ; but his own fortune was large, and the law, he believed, that is, he fancied', the law would provide for even repudiated wives; it was a most distressing circum- stance; he was the father of five younger children than Harriet, of whom three were growing fine young women; he could not take her home to them: and the scanty provision he would be enabled to make her, especially when she became a mother, condemned him to throw himself on the generosity of Mr. Beaumarris, whom, as. he understood to be a dying man, would, he trusted, not carry his resentments be- yond the grave.*'
v* Whether my brother lives or dies," said I, shrinking from the contaminating
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT? 213
coldness of this bartering politician, tc I must tell you, my lord, that this conversa- tion for ever closes all intercourse and connexion between Charles and Harriet Beaumarris; on his behalf I now offer and guarantee the interest of five thousand pounds to your daughter for life; it is the only offer I shall make, except saying, that the child of which she is now preg- nant, (and doubtless was so six weeks be- fore her marriage, at which period my bro- ther was far distant from her,) shall, on its attaining the age of twenty-one years, re- ceive half that sum, its illegitimacy being previously proved/*
Lord Llanberry observed — *' It was very little for a gentlewoman to live upon."
" True, my lord ; but it is surely suffi- cient for an unchaste daughter, and an adulterous wife, since Mrs. Wallingford, who is the virtuous spouse of a worthy husband, has nothing more at present."
It may be supposed by my fair readers, that during this time the disgraced wife was wringing her hands in utter despair,
$14 SAYS SHE TO HER ^F.ICHBOUfc, WHAT?
since we generally find,, that ladies so situ- ated in novels die broken-hearted, or poi- son themselves, or fall into premature xhild-birth, when both themselves and in^ fants perish ; and all these cases are, in- deed, very natural terminations of those criminal, but sometimes pitiable beings* who have been misled by the susceptibility of their natures, and the seduction of wicked men : but Harriet was not of this description ; she was fond of the colonel, from the similarity of their characters, and the eclat which she thought his attentions gave her ; but he could not be said to se- duce her, since she did not sin with him till he had been many weeks the husband of her friend; she, by his advice, inveigled Charles into marriage, by the affectation of a passion for him, which, outstepping the boundaries of prudence, though not of chastity, subjected her to that loss of repu- tation, which she well knew was a misfor- tune most calculated to move his pity. The same arts she practised on Charles, were likewise exerted on Mrs. Eldricke,
SAYS SHE TO IIER NEIGHEOU3?, WHAT? 215
whom she Gajoled a considerable time ; but love like hers was more quick-sighted than indifference like Charles's; and whilst she agreed to pay Harriet the tenderest atten- tions of a friend, she did it more from the fear of her husband's violence, than blind- ness to the connexion. In fact, after Charles's marriage, Eldricke, who had only- sought Harriet's person as a species of sub- stitute for her sister, for whom alone he really " felt, not feigned, a flame/' would have drcpt the connexion, either sated with a prize too easily won, or feeling some compunctious visitings of conscience towards the man whose generous affection, and unsuspecting confidence, must awaken such sensations at times, in the very heart of a demon : but it so happened, that the eldest brother of Eldricke caught a severe •cold in the winter, which falling on his lungs, soon became confirmed consump- tion, under which he was still lingering ; and as this opened a direct prospect of a coronet for Eldricke's brow, Harriet, whose ambitious heart had ever aspired to one,
$] 6 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT?
determined to share it with him ; and bv supplying him with all the cash she could drain from her husband, she purchased the continuance of a connexion, which some- time, though not yet, she hoped to turn to her own account.
It may be said that Mrs. Eldricke was in the way. Yes; but the wicked judge of others by themselves; and Harriet con- cluded that a despised, insulted, neglected, and injured woman, who was attractive in her manners, and agreeable in her person, need not be long in the world without ob- taining that kind of revenge which would liberate the colonel. The deep grief, the retired manners, the submissive virtues of Mrs. Eldricke, when she found that the world she had so lately entered had given only fairy visions to her eyes, and a viper to her bosom, assured Mrs. Beaumarris that she was mistaken in this respect; but still lothe to resign the promised prospect, she adopted, with equal facility, the idea, that the wife would break her heart with sor- row, long before the time when it was
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT? 217
probable that a coronet should await her brow.
In this respect her judgment was as fallible as the other: wives ever continue very pertinaciously to live, when their deaths are wished for; and grief may tor- ture the heart for many a year without "breaking it; the constitution may droop, and the rose fade, and yet life may con- tinue, and even health revive, after a long, long series of suffering, where that suffer- ing is unmixed with the corroding pang of remorse, and the turmoil of violent and contending passions.
After this exhibition of my sister-in-law, it will not be thought surprising, that she continued not only to live, but to eat, drink, and sleep, notwithstanding all that happened ; it is true, she was humbled, mortified, and grieved exceedingly ; but pity for her situation kept all personal in- sult far from her, and continued to her the comforts of that luxury to which she was habituated; and as she was constantlv
VOL. IV. L
•gl'6 SAYS SHE TO' HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ?
determined to share it with him ; and by supplying him with all the cash she could drain from her husband, she purchased the continuance of a connexion, which some- time, though not yet, she hoped to turn to her own account.
It may be said that Mrs. Eldricke was in the way. Yes; but the wicked judge of others by themselves; and Harriet con- cluded that a despised, insulted, neglected, and injured woman, who was attractive in her manners, and agreeable in her person, need not be long in the world without ob- taining that kind of revenge which would liberate the colonel. The deep grief, the retired manners, the submissive virtues of Mrs. Eldricke, when she found that the world she had so lately entered had given only fairy visions to her eyes, and a viper to her bosom, assured Mrs. Beaumarris that she was mistaken in this respect; but still lothe to resign the promised prospect, she adopted, with equal facility, the idea, that the wife would break her heart with sor- row, long before the time when it was
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT? 217
probable that a coronet should await her brow.
In this respect her judgment was as fallible as the other: wives ever continue very pertinaciously to live, when their deaths are wished for; and grief may tor- ture the heart for many a year without breaking it; the constitution may droop, and the rose fade, and yet life may con- tinue, and even health revive, after a long, long series of suffering, where that suffer- ing is unmixed with the corroding pang of remorse, and the turmoil of violent and contending passions.
After this exhibition of mv sister- in -lav/.
• ■»
'it will not be thought surprising, that she continued not only to live, but to eat, drink, and sleep, notwithstanding all that happened ; it is true, she was humbled, mortified, and grieved exceedingly ; but pity for her situation kept all personal in- sult far from her, and continued to her the comforts of that luxury to which she was habituated ; and as she was constantly
VOL. IV. l
218 SAYS SHE TO HER NEICHBOUR, WHAT?
informed that the colonel was doing well, and his brother growing worse, and that Mrs. Eldricke was weeping by the sickbed of her husband both day and night, she contrived to make up a subject of hope, which enabled her to endure a disgrace so complete, a degradation so unequivocal, as rarely happens, even to the fallen.
I had written various short letters to my mother-in-law during this period, and had received several from my aunt Barbara, who, notwithstanding her weakness, had exerted herself to write to lady Atwood, who had answered her letter from Guern- sey, sincerely condoling with the family on this afflicting event ; saying in conclu- sion, that they were on the point of leav- ing the island, having parted with captain Campbell for Spain, and not finding it by any means the situation which could benefit their dear Adelaide; adding some remarks on the uncertainty of life, which appeared less to arise from the ideas suggested from the former part of the letter, than the con- templation of Adelaide's sickness ; as she ob-
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT? 219
served they should continue to travel with her during the succeeding summer; and she would write again on their landing in England, to inform her dear friends at the Park how to address letters to them.
This precious packet was forwarded to me, just as I was closing the long and dis- tressing business in which I was engaged, and it affected me with so many fears for Adelaide, that I would have set out imme- diately for the coast, if I had not perceived by the date of the letter, that there was no chance of meeting her there, and that my only certain measure would be wailing till I could hear further. Alas ! my heart had been so wrung with severer passions, that gentle Love appeared to have withdrawn his softer claims on my feelings; but he now returned, and with him the memory of my father ; the fatal morning rose again on my bewildered view, with all its train of horrors; and I scarcely could conceive how it was possible that', under such accu- mulated anguish, I had been enabled to
220 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT?
exert myself now many weeks, in the man- ner I had done, dividing my time between the cares of a nurse and the exertions of a steward, not considering, that such is the elastic nature of man's mind, and such the help which is accorded from above to those who seek it, that our energies rise in pro- portion to our necessities, and there is no bounding either the power of suffering or the progress of exertion.
At length I had satisfied every creditor, disposed of every superfluity, reduced the remaining property to a certain sum, and ascertained its regular income; and con- scious that my presence was greatly needed at home, and that although our movements must be slow, yet it was possible to con- vey my brother with safety, I therefore proposed to him, that he should accom- pany me to Sedgewood Park, as the native air he would enjoy there was more likely to benefit him than any thing I knew of.
" You need not trouble yourself, my dear Theodore, to find reasons," said he, with a languid smile, " for I am perfectly
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT? 22 I
willing to set out. I once hated Fairbo- rough, for I thought it had wronged me ; but I have found since then, that cruelty and wrong exist every where ; and I like- wise trust some good may be found every where; but men who have been brought up on our own soil, like you and me, will be more likely to find it in the country than in London, and henceforth I will seek it there."
I congratulated him warmly, on having overcome the antipathy he had formerly expressed for the inhabitants of Fairbo- rough, whom I assured him, with great truth — " Gave us all a lash by turns; but had long ago ceased to mention his name in any other language but that of re- spect."
" Ah !" said he, with a sigh, <c when I was innocent, they called me guilty; and slung with undeserved censure, I plunged into the world, and became the very thing I despised, (though not so base as they re- ported me); and now I merit reproof, I may escape it, for the world rarely bestows
£22 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT?
her stripes in the right place. But what- ever may have been my past sensations to- wards my native place, I now renounce all bitterness towards her — the people of Fairborough have atoned for their trans- gression towards me ; they have done that which J have not done — that which my full heart yearns to do. Oh, Theodore! the lowest peasant on our grounds, more blest than me, has wept over the grave of my father/'
Charles is restored, said my gladdened soul; and the tears of grateful rapture mingled with those of painful recollec- tion.
CHAP. XII.
$houM I lash you in general fiction,
Is't I apply, or seif-conviction ? Gat.,
It was now June, and the days being long and warm, I thought we might reach Hat- field that evening ; and giving the neccs.^
Says she to pier neighbour, what? 523
fiary orders to Jones and Thomas, I went into London, for the purpose of getting a draft exchanged at Hammerslcy's, and bidding a final adieu to Mr. Heavysides, who was the only person with whom I ha I held any friendly or intimate intercourse during this distressing period of my resi- dence in London.
My heart was lighter, with the thoughts of flying from this scene of bitter mortifi- cation and severe suffering, than it had felt for many weeks; and, for the first time, I allowed my ey s to look for the momentary amusement the streets of our wonderful metropolis can always present to a disengaged mind; in doing this, 1 was led to remark, that the British Gallery was open, and I was tempted in, less by a ge- neral desire of seeing the.pictures, than by a recollection that I might hear something of the artist whose society had enlivened my northern tour, and who had mentioned his intentionof exhibiting pictures in this place, from views of the mountain scenery which we had examined together.
224 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT?
On entering, I found myself insensibly and delightfully engaged, especially when
I found a pair of pictures by H , which
had been sketched under my own eye, and that of my lather's, who had pointed out their beauties; the moment this crossed my mind, I sought the keeper of the gal- lery, intending to purchase them. On in- quiring the price, I was literally shocked to be asked only seventy guineas for them both ; and I repeated the words with sur- prise, which the keeper mistaking, said—
" It is so little, sir, that it would be painful for me to ask the young artist who painted them to take less; but if you will leave your name and address, I will tell him to write you on the subject."
I laid down my card, and a hundred pound bill, saying I could not think of giving less for the pictures.
The gentleman finding himself agreeably mistaken, attended me round the room, to point out some other things to my at- tention, leaving my card on the table ; I soon after saw a stylish-looking womajti
5 AYS SHE TO HER NEIGHEOUR, WHAT? 225
take it up, and, after reading it, cast her eyes round the room with great solicitude. I fancied those eyes were familiar to me, but did not immediately recollect the owner; so turned to the picture recom- mended to my notice, going from thence to see a plaster figure of Antoninus.
" That is fine, very fine," said a gentle- man behind me to his companion ; " what a pity it is we see no such men in these degenerate days !"
tc I do not agree with you, my lord," replied a female voice ; " I ha\ e seen a per- son so like this, that I almosi am tempted to believe the statuary took him for his model."
The voice now put me in mind of Mrs. Belli ngton, as the lady who had seen my card, and believing she referred to my naked appearance at Bath, I felt lothe io turn my head, and meet the compliment; yet having seen her at the rooms with Ade- laide, I felt, too, an irresistible propensity L 3
52(5 says she to heu Neighbour, what?
to address her ; whilsr f stood awkwardly hesitating, the gentleman replied —
■' Since ladies have turned historic art- ists, there is no pretending to say what they may say or see; it has never been my good fortune to meet with Grecian figures yet, either in pantaloons or petti- coats; 'tis the province of your sex to elaim the privilege of painters, and strip them of both; but not being one of the initiated, I keep at all due distance from sacred mysteries, doubtless to my great loss."
" Lord Byreland's severity seldom is at a loss for a subject; his tongue, like his pen, has a point that can cut, and a fea- ther that can tickle ; now, in the name of beauty, my lord, give the higher pursuits of the sex the feather, and you will be the better able to spare the point to wound their follies ; surely painting must be clas- sed with our best pursuits ?"
" Undoubtedly ; for a fine taste, a bril- liant imagination, patient attention, and
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT? 227
delicate investigation, are among the first qualities of the female mind, and they are all required in this divine art."
" Sing Io pagans ! I triumph ; if women paint, they must have the requisite models ; living figures are allowed to be the best, and therefore from living figures we must draw."
" Fair lady, fair lady, be not so bold/ as the old song says; though I spoke of painting in general, as a charming study for your sex, I did not speak of the labours of the historic muse in particular; there is a line to be drawn in this, as in all other cases : when I see one of your sex tending the sickbed of her parent or friend, or even feeding him and shaking his pillows, I say she is properly and amiably employ- ed; but if I saw the same hands employed in amputating his limb, or reducing his fracture, I should shrink from the sight, whatever might be the skill and address of the fair practitioner."
" Oh horrible, my lord ! how came you by such a beastly idea ? You cer-
228 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT?
fainly did not find that in the regionsof Parnassus ?"
<x No; but I picked it up in the dwel ling of common sense, a place poets fre- quently visit, though they may not often reside there; and I will maintain that the beastliness of the thing, (a term I should certainly think too strong in either case,) is not comparable to that of seeing a young woman drawing the naked figure from a full-grown woman, under the direction of a man, whose province it h to point out and vary the attitudes and beauties of the model ; because, in one case, a work of benevolence and utility is actually per- formed, of acknowledged consequence ; in the other, manners are introduced, ' cus- toms reversed, and the finer feelings of the sex violated, on the very distant chance, the paradoxical possibility, of a woman making an historical painter."
" Paradoxical! my lord, you forget Angelica KaurTman."
" No ; I remember her — she had great taste, great talents too ; but all her men
says she to her neighboui?, wbat? 229
are women ; from which I infer, that she confined her studies to her own sex ; and I forgive the error of the painter, for the more amiable timidity of the woman. But one Angelica makes poor amends for a race of daubing misses, who, professing themselves to be Jicr disciples, lose the ta- lents they might really render efficient, if applied to miniature, fruit, flowers, or even landscape painting/'
" But surely, my lord, you will not contend so far on the** side of vulgar pre- judice, as to contemn the innocence of the pursuit. You cannot call a woman immo- dest, for examining one production of na- ture any more than another; an animal or vegetable production, a man or a tree, a girl or a rose, are alike objects of admiration to the enlightened and investigating mind, the vivid and awakened imagination. "
" True; but they are not objects of only equal interest to any being, till it is become entirely intellectual or habitually abstracted ; an artist may, and does, become the last ; but with all my respect for the
230 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHEOUR, WHAT?
fair, I fear that his female pupil will not be found to be the first ; but allowing her to be as much of an angel as may suit her own convenience, yet her conduct holds out an example that never can accord with my ideas of propriety ; and if you will al- low me to quote the Bible, I would say — * All things are lawful, but all things are not expedient :" the ladies who do these things are innocent, in the common ac- ceptation of the term, and doubtless very chaste (so shall they ever remain for me ;) but how far they are modest, is another affair."
" Fie, my lord ! I am sure I know seve- ral who are — but what do you mean by modesty ?"
iC 1 mean that intuitive delicacy, height- ened by education and* habit, which leads the truly feminine to shrink not only from guilt, but its faintest shadow, and to tremble at every species of sexual allusion, by a sense of impropriety more subtle than reason, more rapid than reflection, more animating than prudence, yet combining
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR WHAT? 232
-Che essence of them all; in short, it is to the mind what your veil is to your face, a thing many people conceive you could do without, because you have a handsome set of features under it, and which the pur- blind condemn, because they cannot see through it, but which every finer eve de- lights \x\\ as the medium which adds love- liness to beauty, and softness to brilliance. In fact, this bewitching charm has so me- liorating a power, that I can assure you, I have known many men who would prefer a woman who kept her veil, after she had lost her chastitv, to one who retained her innocence, but had read away, talked away, or painted away all pretensions to this spell-binding veil."
" But is that possible, lord Byreland ?"■ " Look at that pretty amateur, not se- venteen, I dare say, who is examining the sea-nymph, painted by another amateur; she has made that young officer blush, you perceive; now can you conceive that this fair girl wears such a veil as Adelaide At-
232 S4YS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT?
wood's purer mind would exhibit in a mo- ment like this ?"
I started, and turned round; the lady moved to me, and lord Byreland, to whom I had been introduced in the winter, im- mediately accosted me with great frank- ness, while Mrs. Bellington struggled for a blush with all her might, and succeeded as well as those do who " call spirits from the vasty deep;'* but after a few in effec- tual efforts, she apologized for the liberty- she took in inquiring after her dear friend, Mrs. Wallingford, whom she understood resided somewhere in my neighbourhood, and whose retirement she was extremely anxious to share ?
To this I answered — " That the lady was well, I believed; but very painful circum- stances had precluded me from the plea- sure of seeing her for more than two months."
" Our situation is similar," said Mrs. Bellington, endeavouring to squeeze a tear, which, like the preceding blush, re-
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT? 233
fused to be prest into her service ; " we are alike bereft of our bosom lords; but mine has been far longer parted from me than the major from her; and though our intimacy is but a slight one at present, yet I have felt an ardent desire to associate with a mind, whose congenial sorrows might tend to congenial intercourse. May I ask if you, sir Theodore, would enable me to participate the retirement of your friend?"
Had the question been less positive, I might have hesitated in my answer; but I had no difficulty in saying, that — " Mrs. Wallingford resided with an elderly lady, who was in so infirm a state of health, that I was afraid it was impossible for her to receive any stranger."
The blush of anger visited that cheek which shame had deserted; and as I did not really wish to part with her till I had made some further inquiries, I added, that it was very possible Mrs. Wallingford might alter her plans in the course, of the suuv*
234 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT?
mei% in which case Mrs. Bellington's society would add much to her comfort.
The lady softened — " I have heard lady Atwood," said she, te speak much of a ru- ral retirement, called the Castle House, which I wish much to occupy, if it were "possible*13
" Nothing is impossible to such a glance," cried his lordship, sportively: quoting,
*•' Alike ber silence and her pleadings move, Whose voice is music, Ifnd whose looks are love."
" The house you speak of, madam," said I, feeling the long-forgotten mantle of Mrs. Grogram wrap my face, " is most dreadfully out of repair; but I will — I will "
" Put it in order for me — ten thousand thanks/'
Never, whispered every feeling, never shall the abode of Adelaide be polluted by coquetry or ■
The lady interrupted me by words that
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ? 235
instantly annihilated every other feel- ing—
" I suppose you know, sir Theodore, that it is all over with poor Adelaide At- wood?"
" Over! madam — what can you mean?"
" Mean ! my good sir Theodore, I mean that the poor girl is in a confirmed consumption ; they brought her, a few days ago, from Guernsey to Southampton, and fancying that the sea agreed with her, the baronet has engaged a coasting vessel, and they are gone down to the Highlands and the Hebrides, and the Lord knows where; but I am quite certain 'tis all non- sense; for though lady Atwood insists upon it, that as she had neither cough nor fever, she may get better, yet it is. my misfor- tune to know she cannot."
Here the lady thought it necessary to sigh ; for I am persuaded my face assumed a very ghastly hue, and she was determin- ed to sympathize with all my feelings; in feet, f should have immediately escaped*
£3l5 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT?
had I not lingered in that forlorn kind of hope, which arises from doubt in the ve- racity of the informer : as my tongue clove to my mouth, and all reply or observation was impossible, I felt relieved when lord Byreland exclaimed—-
" My dew Mrs, iBellington, your fears mislead you. Ah ! lovely Adelaide,
Thou art not furtnM for living here, For thou art kindred with the ikj ;
Ytt, yet we hold thee ail so dear, We think thou wert not forrri'd to die."
" Had I the poetical talents of lord Byreland/' said the lady, sneeringly, " I would neither be indebted to the formal poets of the last day, nor the loose ones of the present, for a complimentary verse; but, perhaps, your lordship reserves your powers till the fatal hour comes, as come it 7X77/, when Miss At wood shall call for an elegy instead of a love-song."
" No I" replied he emphatically, {( I will never write Adelaide's> for sorrow like
says She to her neighbour, what? 237
mine would never measure rhimes in such a case; but since you dare me to make verses upon her —
I'll say — " Those orbs of melting blue*
The dewy fragrance of that lip, Were given for angel bands to view,
And seraph forms of light to sip."
1'U say—" That sweet and spotless soul,
Unmeet to wed and linger here, Escap'd from weeping earth's controul,
l\Iay mingle in a brighter sphere.
Yet not to cold and vulgar death,
E'en then tlie beauteous boon is given >
Some cherub shall exhale her breath, And wait it on his lyre to Heaven.'*
The lady praised this impromptu; but I felt it; and hastily wringing the poet's hand, while I bowed to her, I withdrew, deeply affected, and almost repenting that I had entered the pla^ e.
Our journey to Secl^ewood Fark was ne- cessarily tedious ; but we accomplished it safely, and found lady Scdgewood anxious- ly awaiting our arrival, and prepared with
%3S SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT?
every thing which could in any way con- tribute to ihe comfort to the invalid. Charles was severely affected on entering the paternal mansion; he felt himself as the prodigal son returning to his father's house ; but, alas ! there was no father to whose tenderness he could appeal : the voice of joy was no longer heard in the dwelling — the pale features and shrunken form of lady Sedgewood, in her widow's garb, and the want which the eye had of him, who was ever the life of his family, was sensibly felt in every moment; and while they awoke more lively sensations of sorrow in Beaumarris, and greatly tend- ed to retard his recovery, my spirits gra- dually sunk into the lethargy of grief — I had ceased to act for others, and I now be- gan to feel for myself; and in proportion as I became released from external troubles, I became the prey of internal anguish, which slowly preyed upon my health, and sapped the springs of life and the powers of happiness together.
SATS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT? 239
CHAP. XIII.
Hour follows hour, day follows day, and year
(If I may last so long) will follow year,
Like drops that through some cavern'd hermit's ceil
The cold spring filters,. glancing on his eye,
At measur'd intervals, but moving not
His fix'd unvarying notice. Miss Baillic.
" It is a verv odd thin£ " said she to her neighbour; " what can be the matter with sir Theodore ? it is now several months since ■he lost his father, and time, they say, sof- tens all sorrows; and it seems strange that a fine young man, not three-and-twenty, in possession of an ancient title, and a large unincumbered estate, and beloved by all around him, should pine away, as it were, and spend his time in wandering about in solitary places."
" He must have more on his mind than any body knows about," returned the neighbour, " if one may judge from ap- pearances; though we have always thought
240 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT?
him so good, there is something on his conscience of some kind, depend upon it. Alas ! there are no more sir Frederics, even in the Sedgewood family ; — no, his like we shall not look on again."
But surely there are, among my readers, who can account for the deep melancholy which stole over my mind at this period, without referring the matter to my con- science. My father, he who had inspired my hopes, supported my resolutions, and invigorated my virtues, was gone ; my bro- ther, that darling being, who had given life its highest zest, and ambition its dearest stimulant, was now a withered plant, faded ere it had met the meridian ray — blighted in the very morning of youth, and pre- senting an object for i( Scorn to point his slow unmoving ringer to/' at the period when natural expectation looked to see him advanced in situation, and dignified by the union of a person, education, talents, and fortune, every way calculated to awake rational hope, and gratify unbounded af- fection— all, all was fallen.
'SAYS "SHE TO ITER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ? 24 I
And where was Adelaide ? where was the promise of my early love ? those hopes awakened but to be crushed, renew* *ed in the dream of an hour,
" That I might more intensely know The bitterness of waking woe ?"
'Sometimes, as this subject pressed more immediately on my mind, I felt myself inclined to set out immediately in search •of her, but the horrible recollection of what had befallen me on the same occa- sion, completely overcame me ; and though I could not remain sitting in the place where I was, yet I had not courage to venture on a search, which might blast ine with a spectacle even more terrible than the last. I would then arise, and fly to the most obscure glens or the remotest woods in the neighbourhood, and traverse them with a rapidity in unison with the feverish restlessness and unprofitable toil which harrassed my heart. I became me- lancholy and superstitious ; my mind con-
VOL. IV. M
242 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ?
iinually dwelt on the last conversation I had ever held with my father, and instead of rejoicing in it, as I certainly ought, since it afforded me the consolation of knowing that he was taken from this world to a better, in the way agreeable to his own wishes on the subject, I conceived that every word he had uttered arose from a presentiment of what was about to befall me, and that he had, in speaking of sudden death, foretold his own ; and in descanting on the greater misery attending wasting disease, had forewarned me of the fate of Adelaide, and probably of Charles likewise. From continually revolving this subject in mv mind, I obtained a terrible familiari- ty with it ; and as the jealous man ever seeks for the food which he feels to be poison, so my mind, weakened by suffer- ing, sought food to feed its sorrows, and apologize for their indulgence ; and as the kind hand of her who once snatched me from despondency was now unable to rouse me, and had no longer the same mo- tive for her own exertion, I went on my
SAYS SHE TO Hfift NEIGHBOUR, WftAT ? 24$
own way — either sunk in the listlessness of apathy, or the grief of despair.
Charles, in the mean time, slowly reco- vered his strength, and the rose of health • faintly tinged his cheek; when lady Sedge- wood pointed this out to me as a comfort* my jaundiced mind instantly converted it into a source of sorrow; and I applied Mrs. Opie's lines to the case-^-
u For health I saw in Henry's bloom, Nor knew it mark'd him for the tomb ;"
and from this time every indication he gave of health, I attributed to sickness; and by a parity of reasoning, I concluded that Adelaide was undoubtedly affected precise- ly in the same way; and that if ever her wanderings ceased> and I was permitted once more to cast my eyes on her lovely form, it would be merely to witness the same terrible beauty which lighted up the sunken eye, and painted the cheeks of those lovely victims which had so often M 2
'21 A SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT?
awakened my compassion at the Hot-wells of Bristol.
Under these reflections, my days were consumed with regret, my nights a prey to anguish ; and I glided round my paternal domains, rather like the ghost of some for- mer possessor revisiting them, than the ac- tual incumbent, called upon to fulfil im- portant duties, and occupy the place of the baronet. I wandered about, reckless of all things, save some gloomy spot, where I might sit down, and ponder unmolested on all I felt, and all I feared ; rejoicing only that advancing autumn promised me an increase of that gloom most congenial to my feelings.
During this period, I one day received a letter from Mrs. Bellington, saying that she had expected to hear from me some time, informing her that the castle-house was ready for her reception, and request- ing an immediate answer.
I laid the letter on the table with a deep sigh, saying, I wished Charles would tell Wilson to answer it, by some proper ex-
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ? 245>
cuse, as I did not choose to let the castle- nouse.
Having settled this business, I went to the library as usual, when I did not ram- ble in the woods, but soon after sent for the key of the house, determining I would go thither; and surprised that I had never indulged myself by feeding that sensation, which, in its earliest stage, had shrunk from beholding the spot I now sought.
In the course of a few days, I became so fond of the castle-house, that I ordered a bed to be prepared for me there, and pro- fessed a determination of spending the au- tumn in a place where its b*eauties were peculiarly seen, and might be enjoyed. My friends did not oppose my wishes, un- der the idea that any change would amuse me, and none could make me worse. I therefore arranged a. few books and draw- ing materials, though little likely either to read or sketch; and ordering my dinner to> be sent at a given hour every day, prepa- red to depart to my hermitage the next
morning.
546 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT?
Letters of various kinds had been given: Jo Charles, who was, at this time, prosecu- ting his suit against colonel Eldricke, and who, having written himself to Mrs. Bel* lington, apologizing for my neglect, now observed she had written an answer, which, with a mournful air, he placed in my step- mother's hand.
Not caring fpr that or any oilier thing, f was leaving the room, when lady Sedge- wood's observation roused me.
" I do not believe it : the letters which lady Atwood has been enabled to send me> as they have gone in at different parts, have all spoken of the amendment of her daughter."
" Is Adelaide dead ?" said I, with a com- posure that astonished them.
" Mrs. Bel lington laments her as such ; but I am fully persuaded she is mistaken, and I will give you my reasans."
But hope was dead in my heart, and I would not hear any reasons which could reanimate her; waving my hand, I bade them adieu, casting a look, of piercing sot*-
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT? 2VT
row towards poor Charles, whom I con- ceived to be the next victim of the insa- tiate archer ; and I then flew to hide my- self in those shades which had, for many a century, contained the sorrows or en- hanced the joys of my fathers.
When the gloom of October settled on the shaking turrets, and involved them in a deeper shade — while the humid breeze sighed through the falling leaves, or shook, the mouldering battlements, I wandered round the ruins, and listened, with pensive delight, that rose to awe and led to an- guish; then busy memory opened all her stores of suffering; and whatever I had ho- noured or loved in human nature, passed before me, in sad array, clothed in forms more fair, and virtues more angelic, than humanity could ever boast, and awakening lamentation, that only subsided from the inability of enduring continued agony.
When the moon, pale and misty, shone through a murky atmosphere, or contend- ed with black clouds, imperfectly glancing: on the grey stone or the silvery ash, again?
f 4S SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ?
the spirits of the departed stood around me. I beheld the blue eyes of my sainted mother, caught in the long vista of memo~ iy straining for its object — the playful: arms of Arabella again twined round my neck, in the days of boyhood — whilst Ade- laide and my father, awful and beauteous, visions of a nearer day, held o'er my heart a. solemn influence, more dear, as more immediate.
One morning I arose late, having ram- bled in the woods, by this impulse, till my nocturnal luminary had faded into day- light ; and finding the morn so mild and beautiful, that>
" AlHrick'd and flounc'd, as she were wont With the Attic boy to hunt,"
I felt disgusted with her brilliance; ar^l though I threw open the door which led to the little lawn, I did not step beyond it. I looked round the room, as if for some- thing on which- my eye might rest for an individual object of mourning; it was full cf Adelaide— the becks, had been, arranged
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ? 249"'
By her hand, the vases made with her assist- ance ; her sketches were on the wall — these I took down, and laid them on the table before me, fixing my eyes upon them, and recalling every circumstance, every look which passed between us whilst these were drawing. I then said — " The hands that drew ye are now cold in death — that eye is now closed for ever;" and shutting my own,. I clapped my hands upon my forehead, and almost felt as if the long, 2vng sigh which followed would waft my own soul to* that world of spirits where only it could find repose.
"I know not how long I had continued thus — -I know only that all the powers of my soul were absorbed in the contempla- tion of another world, while it turned re- volting and sickening from all other things, and with trembling, but aspiring foot, trod on the confines of a new existence, anx- ious to lift the awful veil of variation, and steal a glance of the departed, when a voice of more than mortal sweetness cried, — « Theodore !"
m 3
£50 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT?0
I started, but again covered my face; the- Y.oice was Adelaide's. I was convinced no human being was near me, for Wilson, my only attendant, was gone : surely Heaven, m mercy to my sorrows, had permitted me* to hear this voice, as a warning that I too was called to the invisible world, where ail I loved was gone before me.
tf Theodore — dear Theodore !**
I sprung upon my feet; the vision of Adelaide was indeed before me, and exhi- bited a form of ethereal yet palpable beau- ty— the sun shone upon her — she was fair and blooming; pity suffused her eye with a tear, yet joy dimpled round her beaute- ous mouth, as it was wont in the days of our infant loves ; she held out her hand- — I seized it — I covered it with kisses — I bathed it with tears,
"Forgive m-e !" cried T, " Father af Mercies, forgive me that I have dared to despair — that I have presumed to doubt thy goodness — and to waste, by sinful despon- dency, the time and talents thy mercy stifl had spared me ! But Adelaide, dear, gene-
SAYS-SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT? 2M
rous Adelaide ! how came you here ? what pitying angel thus snatched me from de- struction ?"
* I brought her here/' exclaimed Charles, exultingly springing from the door, where he had stood unseen by me ; cf I sought and found her, as you might have done, for she was only at Scarbo- rough; but I rejoice that you did not, since it enabled me to peep on this for- bidden ground, with a good excuse in my hand."
I looked at Charles> and perceived that he looked better than he had dons for two* years; I rejoiced to see such an improve- ment in the last ten days.
" I am sorry," returned he, " that [can- not return the compliment, though h is possible you may be looking well, if one could see through your beard; and that no- ble crop of uncombed hair;, but, however,. Miss Atwood, if you are-satisfied with what you have seen, we will return — for I assure you, this wild man of the woods, though he laoks very tame at present, is subject &j
%52' SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT?
great irritation, if you thwart his solitary, moods/'
" Oh Adelaide, can you leave me?"
" We will walk home together, sir Theo- dore."
"'Then I wish you good morning/' said Beaumarris, bowing, " for I have really no ambition to be seen in such company/'
Did Adelaide, the pure, the virtuous Ade- laide, do wrong in suffering me to lead her to a seat for a single minute, which was lengthened into two of the most delicious hours ever granted to existence ? Surely not ; for they were hours not only sancti- fied by lova, but even sorrow;- — how much; had we both to weep over ! how much to relate ! and surely if there ever was a mo- ment when Adelaide was supereminently dear, it was when her tears flowed most freely for my father, and her lips were- most eloquent in his praise.
We spoke of Emma, who remained at Southampton, having formed an agreeable acquaintance there ; she spoke of captain, Campbell as. a, man whom it was impossible
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ? L2b3'
to know without esteeming ; but added — ct Yet you must be aware that with all his virtues, he would not have been Emma's choice, had your brother made her an ear- lier offer ; but unfortunately, during our stay in Madeira, we heard him mentioned as a man whose character was not without a stain, and, from that time, my father gave every sanction in his power to the ad- dresses of captain Campbell, whom Emma treated with the frankness of a sister, own- ing that she had a great regard for Mr.. Beaumarris, but that he had never made her an offer, which she imputed to his ex- treme youth, and not. his want of love, since she was certain he entertained very- tender sentiments for her. Campbell, on the other hand, conceived that, had he loved with sincerity, being independent, he would not haye failed to make her an offer; and under the idea that he was unworthy of her, persisted in a suit his delicacy would otherways have led him to, decline; and the fervency of his attachment, his un~ remitting attention^ and the opportunities
254 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT?
lie had of hourly rendering himself agree- able to Emma during our voyage, undoubt- edly tended to give her a tender predilec- tion in his favour; she told him eveiy feeling of her heart, as it arose, with all her native simplicity and frankness; and said that as soon as she found herself suf- ficiently weaned from her former prefe- rence, she wouftL not hesitate to bestow her hand on one who already possessed her unbounded esteem, and a considerable por- tion of her tenderness.
" On our arrival in London, the news of the day gave your brother to us as tire companion of a dissolute man, the pro- fessed admirer of a married woman, and the associate of those, who, having lost all pretensions to honest fame, were content to varnish their characters by a pretence to Fashion, and prostitute their talents in her service. My father shrunk from connect- ing such girls as we were with men of thrs description, and especially Emma, whose native gaiety, though perfectly innocent mow*, might subject her to great inconver
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ? 235
nience hereafter; and he frequently point- ed out to her, in strong terms, the misery brought on my uncle and his family by si- milar conduct ; and Emma declared, that she was so convinced of the justice of his observations, that were it proved that Beaumarris were indeed such a man, she would renounce him in the most decided manner.
'* Alas r she was too soon convinced. A lady of respectability, whom we have since found was an innocent tool in the hands of lady Llanberry and her daughter, confirm^ ed the impression my father had already imbibed; and your brother's character, thus ruined in our eyes, you cannot be surprised at his rejection, and the marriage of Emma followed of course.
"•When the conduct of Mrs. Bfeaumarris was laid open to the world, the particulars of her treachery towards your brother led the lady in question to recollect how far she had been accessary to his injury ; she had been instructed, to maintain his ea-
256* SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT?
gagement with Harriet, and even to lament it at the time she first spoke : she now saw through the whole, and wrote to mv fa- ther, lamenting her own credulity ; the letter only reached us about a fortnight ago, owing to the wandering life we have lately led. My father, who is as generous as he is fastidious, was extremely grieved; his heart was warmed towards the man he felt to be injured; he determined to in- dulge the wishes, of my mother, in visiting lady Sedgewood, en passant; and we landed at Scarborough, where we found your bro- ther, who had just arrived from Burlington, and whose urgent inrreaties led us hither without farther delay ; but it was late ere we arrived/'
" Late ! you did not sleep at the Park ?"
" Indeed we did, though the master of the house would not welcome us."
" Cruel Adelaide ! how could you de- lay my happiness?"
" You were not to be found any where."
" But this morning !"
SATS SHE TO HEK NEIGHBOUR, WHAT? 257
" You were in bed ; Charles and me saw you come down ; we had been walk- ing above an hour when I entered."
" Then you must have seen me take down the sketches — you beheld my tears flow over them. Ah, Adelaide ! you saw how fondly you were beloved ; did you not see all?"
She blushed, and would have turned from my ardent gaze; but my eyes pur- sued the question, and recovering, ske- said —
u If I had not seen all, you surely can- not suppose I would have accosted you as 1 did, Theodore ; though it is but justice to your brother's eloquence to. say, that never man bestowed so much upon a wo- man as he did to bring me hither, making converts previously of both my parents — ■ but, indeed* our whole journey has been of as much importance to- him as it can be even to you, I apprehend, for it seems ta have given him a new being ; and since dear lady Sedgewood has revealed his suf- ferings to us, as occasioned, by poor, Em^.
f 58 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT?
ma's mischance, we feel equally desirous of contributing to his comfort ; and I am persuaded my father would not now deny hrm his daughter, though he did in the zenith of his fortune. "
" Surely your father will be equally compassionate to we?"
" I shall go home, sir Theodore, di~ rectly ; I am sure you will not have time to dress for dinner — but I had forgot, per- haps you will dine here ?"
The saucy vixen ran out of the house, and I was forced to follow.
u I thought, Adelaide, you had been very ill; how is it that you can run, when I was taught to believe you could scarcely walk?"
*t Oh I am belter; not quite well though; but I have been gradually mend- ing since April, and am better since land- ing.
" And so am I since breakfast,** thought I ; and it was really surprising to see how wonderfully different every thing looked St the Park; even the widow appeared
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ? 2,5 fT
cheerful, though her smiles were mingled with tears; and the servants flew about with an alacrity that spoke the gladness of their hearts; whilst poor Charles was evi- dently contending with an emotion of bit* ter regret, which he was determined should not conquer present enjoyment; and in the sense of my renewed happiness, he was determined to find his own; he was my Charles again.
I found lady Atwood the same kind, ami- able, and elegant being I had ever known her; sir Edward retained the manners of the old school, enforced by a long resi- dence in the East; but his countenance was open, manly, and engaging, his heart evidently good, and the peculiar softness of his address to Charles, proved how much he felt drawn towards him; he frequently surveyed us both with looks of deep inte- rest, and would say to his lady — " Tis a?i very true, Adelaide ; I have only to re~. gret the time I have lost;1' from which I in/erred, that our dear neighbour, like-
£60 SAYS SHE TO HER NEICHBOUR, WHAT ?
ourselves, lamented that she had been un- able to brins: us together sooner.
There was, indeed, only one person in this happy company who couM be said to enjoy the present, without sighing for the past, and feeling solicitude for the future; this was little Emily, who ran from one to another, caressing and carest, but closing with me, whom she called her very heft brother, saying — <c That it was a good thing to come back at all, as Charles had done at last, but better to come back soon, as The* did — not," said the arch rogue, " that he would have come, if Adelaide had not fetched him, nor do I think he will stay if she goes; so do stay, Adelaide* will you ? for ever I mean*"
" Show me your baby-house/' said Adelaide, rising.
" But will you stay if I show it you ? If you will, I dare say Theodore will give you the whole Park for a baby-house, though I have but one little corner for miue."
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT? 26 1
1 spared the blushes of my angelic maid, ty addressing lady Sed^ewood ; and in do- ing this, perceived that the child's words, a " little corner for mine,** had caught her ear above the rest, and that she fan- cied I had remarked them, for she instant- ly placed her hand in mine, with a look of explicit confidence, saying—" I well know my dear Theodore will find us a cor- ner somewhere."
" Of what have I been thinking?" said my heart ; my overflowing eyes said more ; and lady Sedgewood, laying her fingers on her lip, took the arm of lady Atwood, and followed the light steps of her fairy daughter.
282 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT?
CHAP. XIV.
Round Love's deserted bower J,
Tremendous rocks arise, Cold mildews blight the flowers,
Tornadoes rend the skies. Montgomery.
1 do not wish to say any more against Time than other people, my obligations to him being as great as my neighbours, yet he did move with such amazing celerity, dur- ing the week that Adelaide and her worthy parents remained with us, that I cannot re- flect upon it even now without owing him a grudge.
Perhaps I should have lamented this pri- vation still more, if I had not secured a right to a regular correspondence with Adelaide herself, and a promise of being received at the colonel's town-house when- ever it suited my convenience; added to which, I had no time for lamentation, for before my heart had time to recover from the pulsation occasioned by the carriage
■SAYS SHE TO HSR NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ? 263
that tore away the best part of it, I was assailed with — (( Now your honour may be spoken with, I must beg you to inspect the leases that want signing, and give or- ders for what is to be done with John Bateman's farm, and widow Dalton's chil- dren ; and if your honour will repair the parish school, and subscribe to the dispen- sary alterations, and desire Mr. Saxton to drop his prosecution ; and give Mr. Co- gitate's son a character to the printer, and advise lady Lister concerning the com- mon rights."
(( Shut, shut the door, good Wilson, and I will do it all"
•' Your honour knows, I suppose, you are returned to Parliament, and they mean to make you high sheriff for the county next March. A great many things, must be seen about 'twixt now and then."
" Patience, Wilson, patience; it is a long time since I was a man of business, and you bring too much on me at once."
" His honour, sir Frederic, used to say, when a man has much to do,, he will do
£64 says sirs: to her neighbour, what?
much ; when little, he will do nothing? and he was always right, you used to say> when that case was your honours."
But I had made a convention with, my own heart, so before 1 complied with one of Wilson's requisitions, I stepped into my good mother's dressing-room, and shutting the door with the air of one who is going to speak on money matters, which, by the bye, is generally a constrained air, I said — u My dear madam, I am come to talk with you on a subject, which, though painful, is necessary, and which it was my duty to have mentioned before."
" Your leisure, my dear sir Theodore, was the best time." i
" By the will of our inestimable ba- ronet, I find you are entitled to— "
" Your 'protection, my good friend ; do not endeavour to deceive me, for I knout) sir Frederic left no will ; he told me if / could be easy, he should die without one, unless I had more children ; and my an- swer was, I could be easy."
*' Ah, my dear mother, you little
SXYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ? 265
thought of what would happen then, any- more than myself."
" True ; but I did think on whom I dared to rely, and I should have made the same answer, could I have foreseen. I know you well enough to be assured there can be only one strife between us ; but the sooner it is settled the better: you must recollect that I brought your father no fortune."
" God forbid that I should not recol- lect you brought him a dowry above all price, a faithful, tender, and virtuous heart; and that you made him not only much happier than he was before your marriage, but much happier than he ever expected to be in this world, or knew him- self capable of being. This gift in my hand is for fifteen hundred per annum; will it do?"
*' It will not do; I shall receive eight
hundred only ; less it would not become
n your father's widow to spend, and more
is unnecessary, especially as I am aware
VOL. IV. n
966 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ?
you will do something for Charles, and of course you will portion Emily."
We contended the point warmly, but agreed to meet on the subject; so one thousand per annum remained settled, and I promised Emily ten thousand pounds, knowing that would have been the por- tion of Arabella had she lived. I then inquired if she had ever heard my father say what he would have given Charles, in case he had not been so nobly provided for?
" Yes ; on the day of his birth he left him twenty thousand pounds, which will he destroyed when Mr. Beaumarris's ap- peared ; he afterwards left him ten, but this will was burnt by Charles's own hand."
" Then I will give him twenty, and that, with the thirty he has left from the re- mains of his own wasted fortune, will, I hope, make him a happier man, and a richer too, than he ever was before."
" But, my dear Theodore, can you do this safely ? remember, though your father
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ? 267
never was extravagant, he was always li- beral, and his establishment expensive."
u To which you may add, his expences were so well regulated, and his accounts so regular, that an hour's application to business sufficed to show his son exactly what was in his power, and that a little management would enable him to fulfil the wishes of his heart ; but he cannot take leave of the subject without saying, that this assurance will, he trusts, enable you Freely to command him, when any addi- tional comfort is wanting in your house- hold/'
Lady Sedgewood thanked me by a look, which told me all her heart felt to- wards the living and the dead. I returned to Wilson, and dispatched the various and multiplying claims upon me ; and as soon as I had adjusted these affairs, I prepared to revisit the metropolis, for every hour in which I had leisure hung heavily on my hands, except those only which were employed in writing to Adelaide, or the *2
2S8 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR WHAT?
more inestimable moments spent in read- ing her delightful letters, which breathed the language of the most pure and con- stant attachment, and hesitated not to shew me all that had ever passed in her heart respecting me, since our earliest ac- quaintance; and I will appeal to any true lover, whether these communications were not the most ejidearing, and the most va- luable of all earthly treasures.
But the letters of Adelaide were not only the communications of love, but of taste and information, and still more of subjects connected with compassion and benevolence; knowing that I felt interest- ed in the fate of poor Mrs Eldricke, she had the goodness to make the most particular inquiries, and from her letters I obtained the following facts : —
When colonel Eldricke was carried borne apparently in a dying state, his compassionate, though injured wife,attend- ed to him herself, with such unremitting care and skilful attention, that there was no doubt but he owed his life to her good
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT? 269
nursing, a circumstance which awoke as much gratitude in his heart as it was ca- pable of feeling, and more remorse for his past conduct towards her, and the ge- neral errors of his conduct, than could have been expected ; this was principally exemplified in a change of manners to* wards her, and the most marked disgust and thorough contempt for Mrs. Beau- marris, with wham he refused every spe- cies of association. His creditors, like Charles's, crowded around him ; the prin- cipal was the person who held the, bond ; and he finding that when all the colonel's property was equally shared amongst his creditors, there would be a considerable loss, sought redress from the bondsman, and obtained it as already mentioned ; the rest being vexed at the idea of his obtaining more than them, refused ta enter into any compromise; and various executions were served in the house, and the colonel re- peatedly arrested even in his bed; and after going through every possible indignity;, was at length sent to a spunging-house,.
270 SAYS SHB TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT?
from whence lord Perceval, his father, re- leased him, but would not see him, or take any further concern for him ; his el- dest son, still languishing on the bed of sickness, interfered with the father, to pre- vail on him to send him a small sum for his present expences; and with this the ungrateful husband absconded, leaving his remaining creditors to make the best of his remaining effects, and trusting that his absence would soften the heart of his fa- ther towards him ; leaving the unhappy Ellen stripped of every thing, and without a friend in the wide world, as he had never introduced her to his family, ta whom she had been represented as a low- born extravagant woman, whose fortune ought not to atone for the degradation their son had committed in marrying her.
The sense of the colonel's cruelty in deserting her would have completely over- powered this unhappy woman, if she had not soothed herself, by recollecting some little glimmerings of tenderness, and even pity, in his manners previous to leaving
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT? 271
her ; and the sense of being beloved was still so very, very precious to her affec- tionate heart, that it seemed to be the balm that now prevented it from breaking : collecting the clothes and few trinkets she had left, she raised a little money ; and after paying exorbitantly out of that for her wretched accommodations at the spunging-house, she took the stage-coach which conveyed to the town nearest to Gllynferrin, and once more re-entered the village where she was born, which had seen her for ten years the greatest lady in the place, and now beheld her return the veriest wretch that crept beneath its hum- blest cabin.
But Ellen had a friend even here, such a friend as she had never known in the re- gions of fashion ; the wife of the present pastor was that distant relation of Mr, Montgomery, for whose children his wi- dow had provided on the eve of her ill- fated marriage. One of these children was since dead, and as the mother was too
272 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT?
far advanced in life to expect more, both she and the pastor, her husband, thought it their duty to receive their benefactress, instead of the child they had }ost ; and thus Ellen literally returned to the cot- tage from whence she sprung, and return- ed still poorer than she left it.
Happily for her, her mildness, good hu- mour, and benevolence, had made friends in the day of prosperity ; and among the simple and compassionate people to whom she re turned, there was a sense of intrinsic delicacy which saved her from reflections ort her imprudence, or references to her fallen state; and though surrounded by in- conveniences now doubly felt, and dis- gusts now first conceived, she would have submitted to her fate, thankful for even this asylum, from the far more distressing scenes she had witnessed in London, if she had not discovered that she was pregnant, a circumstance that filled her heart with dismay, in her present forlorn and hopeless situation, though there had
SAY3 SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT? 27 S>
been many periods in her life when it" would have been the answer to her most ardent prayers.
The friend with whom she resided en- couraged and soothed her; but the un- happy Ellen, in despite of her anxious en- deavours to look forward with comfort, was sinking every day into the most hope- less despondency, when a very unlooked for occurrence changed once more the co- lour of her fate.
This occurrence brings me baGk to our own history, which was fatally connected with this unhappy woman. Just as I was preparing to set out for London, in the month of November, Charles came into my library, saying — " So, the jury, it seems, have ordered that wretch, Eldricke, to pay three thousand pounds for his con- nexion with Harriet, thinking it right to make some amends for the many threes I have lost by him ; however, poor as she has made me I will never touch this money; sol wish you to receive it for me^, n 3
574 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ?
for I understand lord Perceval pays it, in order, that by keeping him out of a jail, he may preserve his commission. Will you do this for me, and settle it as I wish ?" » " Undoubtedly, when I know your wishes."
ee I would have the money settled irre- vocably on Mrs. Eldricke, and funded for her use, the interest to be paid to her in quarterly payments, and the principal at her disposal after her death, but not ca- pable of being touched before."
This was the very first thing I transacted in London ; and I had the satisfaction, not only of thus relieving the distresses of an imprudent, but truly pitiable and amiable woman, but of proving to lord Perceval, the real motives of the law process Charles had adopted, was not to soil his fingers with the wages of his wife's prostitution, "but to ground a divorce from her ; and to assure him indirectly, that the woman his son had deserted, and he had left to starve, was worthy the protection of both.
Lord Perceval was neither cold-hearted
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT? 275
nor ungenerous; but he had suffered so much from the conduct of his youngest son, that time must pass ere he could bear to think on any thing connected with him ; his eldest son was amiable and du- teous, and his declining state rendered him doubly dear ; so that the unhappy father was now to be pitied, both for the son he lost and the son he retained; but I had the satisfaction of leaving him better dis- posed towards his daughter-in-law, than he had ever been before, though not so much as I wished.
" So/' says she to her neighbour, u sir Theodore Sedgewood is gone to London at last; he is now his own master, to all in- tents and purposes, and we shall see whe- ther he will act with any more propriety than poor Mr. Beauiriarris has done; for my part, I never saw such an excellent creature in my life as I take Beaumarris to be, and I wish the young baronet may do no worse; what if he has spent his for- tune and fought a duel? there's not much
276 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT h
in that, as times go : I wish the other ma jr. prove no worse; Pm sure sometimes he used to be as great a rattle as ever I knew in my life."
" Yes, yes, sir The- - can be every thing by turns, and nothing long ;' but if he gets married, he may settle and do> well ; they say that poor creature, Miss, Atwood, has beea pining to death after him; but he took no notice at all of her ; for it is whispered, that since Mrs. Wal- lingford resisted his overtures, he has made Jove to another officer's lady, whom he wanted to brings down to the Castle House; l>ut Mr. Beaumarris put a stop to. it; but it may be an idle tale altogether, only I know for certain that he did write to her,, and that it was on his brother's account,, and that the Castle House was named; so*, altogether it has a very suspicious look ; we know that young men do these things, and we have no right to think him better? than his neighbours. As to what poor lady Sedgewood says, there can be no relying;
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT > 27T
on that, you know, because she is depen- dent on him for every farthing she has, so she is forced to praise him, you know."
" Aye, very true, I always liked Charles the best from a child, and never could for a moment believe the silly lies that were told of him ; I only wish the eldest bro- ther may turn out as well; for with al his faults,, Charles has a most excellent heart; indeed, one need only look in his face to see what he is ; 'tis a letter of recommen- dation every where."
Thus fluctuating and capricious were our neighbours.
278 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ?
CHAP. XV.
Round Love's Elysian bowers,
The softest prospects rise ; There bloom the sweetest flowers,
There shine the purest skies.
Montgomery.
Notwithstanding the many amiable con- jectures of some of my neighbours, for I beg that I may be understood as always possessing the warm hearts of many of them, and those too the best worth hav- ing, it is a certain fact, that I kept the even tenor of my way just as well in London as in the country, committing only one act which avarice could call extravagance, and apathy deem unnecessary.
Surely, my dear madam, you are alrea- dy aware what that was ; you have felt how fondly the heart attaches itself to all that perpetuates the memory of its best sensi- bilities, and records the worth of their beloved object ; and surely, if ever man Jiad a right to indulge his feelings by this
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT? 279
species of solemn enjoyment, it was my- self.
Adelaide, the tender and affectionate, mingled her tears with mine as we watched the progress of my father's monument, which was executed by Chautrey, with his accustomed skill, and was ornamented with a bust, which was a striking likeness of sir Frederic, being executed partly from a picture of him by Lawrence, and partly from my own head, which, in point of form, precisely resembled his ; the in- scription was in plain English, for it was meant only for the eye of those whose hearts would echo its honest assertions, and whose faithful sorrows had already said far more than even my inscription (though the language of a son ), when pointing out the grave of sir Frederic to the inquisitive stranger, they had said — " Here liesf/ie ba- ronet."
Every conversation I had enjoyed with Adelaide, every circumstance which un- folded her character, only tended to con- firm the perfect esteem, the tender regard,
£80 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT>
I felt for her; but I believe I should not have ventured to press for our immediate mar- riage, ff I had not been urged to do it by my mother-in-law, who informed me she wish- ed me no longer to delay an union, which had the sanction of my father, and would doubtless make me blest; and I was con- vinced, that her sentiments would carry, such weight with Adelaide, that she would not charge me with impropriety when I had such an advocate ; I therefore ventur- ed to place lady Sedgewood's letter in her hand.
Whenever Adelaide's blushes rose too, tumultuously to her cheek, she was ac- customed to run away, and was playing me her old trick, when her father met her at the door, and perceiving a letter in her hand, a glow on her face* and a tear in her eye, yet not a vestige of either anger or sorrow in her ingenuous countenance, he, half guessed the cause; and leading her back, he requested to know what mighty, secret was in agitation, and whether he? aught be permitted to share it, sitting]
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ? 281
clown as he spoke, and taking the sweet trembler on his knee.
Adelaide tendered him the letter, which he looked over, but not without emotion, for who ever read any letter of my father's widow, without feeling the worth of the mourned, and the mourner? returning it to me, with a tremulous voice, but affection- ate look, he said — " My dear sir Ttieo^ dore, I am precisely of lady Sedgewood's opinion, and sincerely add my full sanction, and sincere wishes, for your union with Adelaide, which I think ought- to take place now, rather than in the spring, for obvi- ous reasons; and notwithstanding her in- clination to leave you," added he, smiling, " I think it is possible to make her con- sent; if not, otherwise, in the manner our jurors are taught to agree, by depriving, them of food, fire, and candle, till they have made up their minds, and give agree- able verdicts."
" I have no taste for dark closets," saitf Adelaide, half offering her hand; "butt wish— I mean, I must see my sister/**
282 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ?
I offered to set out for Mrs. Campbell immediately.
" Hold !" said the colonel; tc dearly as you love each other, Adelaide, and natural as it undoubtedly is that you should wish for her society at such a time as this, yet it is my particular request that you would forego; it and blest as you are with that of your invaluable mother, I trust you will not find it difficult to submit to my de- cision. I do not wish to enter into my reasons for this prohibition, because I could not do it without pain, and I wish no alloy to mingle in the feelings of this happy moment ; but as my pleasures are only half felt till they are communicated to my Adelaide, I will now seek her, in the hope, sir Theodore, that some twenty years hence, you may have equal pleasure in confidential intercourse with yours."
The matter went very smoothly on, my dear ladies, I assure you, and on the follow- ing Tuesday
" But the settlements, the jewels, the dress, sir Theodore !*'
SAYS SHE TO HEX NEIGHBOUR, WHAT? 285
Oh, the colonel, sir Edward, and me ar- ranged the first very soon indeed; the se- cond came off rather shabbily, for self-evi- dent reasons ; the cash was not forthcom- ing, for I had insisted on paying Charles his twenty thousand pounds, and I had placed little Emily's ten thousand in the stocks, and I had paid (no matter what) to the sculptor.
u But, my dear sir,1 they could all have waited."
True, madam, but /could not wait; in paying Charles, I enabled him to pur- chase a very desirable estate in Mr. El- tringham's immediate neighbourhood, and within thirty miles of the Park ; in fund- ing Emily's money, I set my own heart at ease, and doubtless added to her mother's comfort, since independence is ever a bles- sing ; and in paying the artist promptly, I did no more than common justice, which, if you recollect, I told you, four volumes ago, was the custom of the Sedgewoods time immemorial ; it was likewise the ha- bit of the Dan vers family; and during the
284 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT?
long period when the colonel, now sir Edward, was only captain Danvers, and had a large family, he paid every body most conscientiously, squaring his expences to his income, assisted by a wife who con- tracted her wishes as her wants encreased ; the late possessor of that large fortune which devolved to him with the name of Atwood, had, on the contrary, lived at an immense expence, and contracted many debts, which it was the first care of sir Ed- ward to pay ; so that, although Adelaide was sure of bringing a very fine fortune^ yet neither the colonel nor myself, though perfectly at ease in our circumstances, were precisely so situated as to throw away superfluous cash at the time of my
marriage.
* What a pity !"
Excuse me, madam; I think it was re- markably lucky ; for if I had had it, such was the pride and delight with which I gazed on my affianced bride, that I might have been tempted to draw the eyes of the world upon her by some mode of novel:
SWS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR^ WHAT ? 285
extravagance; but as I had it not, and it was altogether impossible that sir Frederic Sedgewood's son could spend that which he did not possess, by injuring that which he did, the consequence was, my escap- ing from a habit of expenditure it would have been difficult and painful to curtail, and which would have been repugnant to my ideas of domestic happiness and virtue.
" So, after all, your beautiful Adelaide cut no figure at all, I find ? you may con- ceive your reasons very good ones, sir Theodore, bur, depend upon it, every young lady who reads your book will be disappointed."
" When I (says Sterne) looked a little £rave, as my dear Jenny was cheapening a silk of twenty-five shillings a-yard, she apologized to the shopkeeper, and bought a tenpenny stuff instead." — Now, my good lady, you are precisely in the humour with poor Mrs. Sterne ; because you cannot, in the goodness and kindness of your heart, and in the fullness of your fashionable knowledge and splendid taste, decorate my
236 SAYS SHE TO ITER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ?
sweet Adelaide in the habiliments becom- ing a duchess, your fertile imagination is busily employed in degrading her dress to that of a dairy-maid, and of course you are ten times further from the truth than you were before — this is ever the way with the ladies !
" There is no occasion to be abusive, as well as mean, sir."
True, my pretty girl, nor, in your opi- nion, to be rational, as well as charming ; but let us make peace with each other, for I really cannot bear even a distant quarrel with a lady ; and by way of making my peace, I declare, that instead of merely tel- ling you, in the summary way men gene- rally do, " that my bride looked divinely," or, " that she was dressed in white, I be- lieved/' I will, albeit unused to such inves- tigations, inform you what she wore, that you may regulate your own bridal trap- pings accordingly, the mode being, in fact, little altered for the last three years; you must excuse blunders, you know.
A rich white satin gown was covered all
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT? 287
over with muslin, as fine as a cobweb, in- tersected with beautiful lace, which sur- rounded the skirts of the dress, and finish- ed with points of the same delicate mate- rial, which likewise rose round the bo- som, where they were met by the pend- ant points of a little lace tippet; so that between the two one could scarcely dis- cern
" Oh, ridiculous ! the lace tippet might be very well dispensed with/'
My dear girl, I could not have dis- pensed with a bit of it ; nay, there were moments when I wished the flowers of that lace would have thickened ; and when she put on the white satin one, trimmed with swansdown, over it, I felt as happy as the miser who has turned his key upon his treasure.
H Another proof of your niggardly dis- position, sir TheV'
True, my pretty accuser ; the man who is not a miser in love never deserved his riches ; and the woman who is prodigal of her beauties has none worth the hoarding
f 88 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ?
of a lover like me; but if we go on dis- puting in this way, we shall never get through the dress; so now for a rapid effort.
Her shoes were of white kid, so were her gloves — pshaw, she had the prettiest hands and feet I ever saw, ma'am.
ff But her head, sir Theodore ?''
Oh, that was truly a la Grecque, in ge- neral costume, but not with straight bands plastered down to the forehead, as some of you wear it ; no, there were curls and bands too, and a most beautiful and mag- nificent bouquet of pearl flowers in the front, and a pearl comb behind, the gifts of my dear Charles, and as such, ten times more valuable in my eyes, and those of the lovely v/earer.
Now, my dear lady, are you satisfied ? if not, you shall go with us to court, where Adelaide was presented, amidst the admir- ing gaze of those who understood such things, and who declared her dress was the union of simplicity and splendour; and this they called elegance ; and sure e- jnough, I thought she looked very hand-
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ? 289
some; she then wore my mother's dia- monds, with several additional ones, the gifts of her own ; and the best judge in the kingdom said she was beautiful — very beautiful, but not so dear as now, my Ade- laide.
In the beginning of May, that sweet month, so justly called the mother of love, I conducted my now blooming Adelaide to my native mansion ; we found Charles and lady Sedgewood waiting our arrival ; and with sincere joy I perceived that the former had now in a great measure re- gained that strength and hardihood which I had once too justly feared were fled for ever ; he spoke of the purchase of his estate with pleasure; and informed me thcit lady Sedgewood had promised to become his guest for some months at least, and he meant to prevail on her to be such during the life of our aunt Barbara, saying that house would most probably be her even- tual residence, as it had ever been the jointure house of the family ; but he
VOL. iv. o
290 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT?
trusted she would not inhabit it yet awhile, both for the sake of the good woman who lived there, and because he should feel lost without her.
As Charles said this, I perceived that the loves of his youth had returned to his heart, as a part of his country avocations, and mine ached for his disappointments; and when in the course of a few days he proposed setting out to his new mansion, J did not oppose him, for it was perceiv- ed, both by myself and my stepmother, that notwithstanding the sincere pleasure with which he participated in my happi- ness, yet in despite of his wishes, his spirits sunk in contemplating it, and that he sought to hide the emotions he could not conquer.
The dowager lady Sedgewood had, dur- ing the whole winter, so sedulously ap- plied herself to the perfect re-establish- ment of his health, the renewal of his taste for country pleasures and country avoca- tions, that she had renewed in him that spring of life which, had his lapse from
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ? 29 I
virtue, and its pure enjoyments, happened at a latter period of existence, could never have returned ; for though a man may re- pent and reform at any age, he can only be restored to the power of virtuous bliss at a very early one.
In thus devoting the whole powers of her benevolent nature and expansive mind to the son of her beloved lord, lady Sedge- wood not only proved the superiority of active love over passive feeling, but in the result of her exertions found the reward she so highly merited ; her own grief was robbed of its bitterness, the talents she possessed were recalled to action, and her maternal feelings, sweetly, beneficially ex- ercised, from a finer sense of duty towards him, and love for his deceased parent, continued their action towards her own child, whose dawning reason now called for their forming hand.
It may be easily conceived, that our re- turn set the whole country in motion, and that the frequent parties now given at the o2
292 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ?
Park, made the politics of sir Theodore, and the dress and accomplishments of his lady, the theme of every tongue. To every one was Adelaide so affectionately polite, so meekly dignified, that it was very difficult to find where her faults lay; but at length Mrs Dornton found out that she had no spirit — Mrs. Parley, that she was too fond of her husband — and the junior lad j Stickerton, that there was a fault in her shape, which was the worse, because it cncreased every time she saw it.
My dear aunt Barbara - revived at the sight which offended the other maiden, and asserted very roundly her hopes of giving a parting blessing to that expected being, who should crown the bliss of a couple so dear to her. My Adelaide was never more happy than in the time she gave to this aged relative, from whom she learned all the progress of my passion ; the good old aunt showed her many a time the fragments of my precious letters from Cambridge, and brought to her remem- brance all the proofs she had formerly
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ? 293
given of her duennaship, as she called it, never failing to inquire how many lovers, w high-titled and great," Adelaide had re- fused for ray sake ; and never failing to assure her that in so doing, she had acted with the profoundest wisdom.
Scarcely had we been settled a month, and poor Mrs. Wallingford begun to form that affection for lady Sedgewood which those have ever felt who ■ knew her, when the major returned to claim her. Their meeting, like their parting, was truly af- fecting, and was -rendered still more pa- thetic, when the child, whom the major had parted with a mere babe, threw its arms round his neck, and called him " Fader ;" it was a lovely boy ; and when I saw its little cheek moistened with the delicious tear that coursed down the sun- burnt face of the gallant soldier, my moist- ened eye first told my conscious Adelaide it was possible to add to my happiness.
It was not possible to retain the major long, for he was about to be presented to his sovereign, and to receive marks of
1?94 JSAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR WHAT >
national gratitude for proofs of distin- guished valour ; and he had received ad- vances from lord Llanberry, which he con- ceived it his duty to meet, likewise from some relatives of his own ; so that he was impatient to convey his lady and son ta the friends who would now receive with becoming kindness those they had once viewed at a chilling distance, a mode of conduct which having once proved he could despise and resent, was now no k>B- ger remembered by the generous major, who was, in fact, too happy to feel anger towards any human being, and who far over-rated the protection we had been so happy as to* afford those so dear to him. He listened to the melancholy detail of my brother's affairs, with the most lively interest, appearing to think that the ruin of Harriet had entirely arisen from the pru- dent reserve of her more beautiful sister, added to the protection his awakened sus- picion and more vigilant eye afforded her; and he therefore felt more than com- mon sympathy for Beaumarris, a sympathy
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ? 295
exceeding mine : since now the afFair was over, I really thought such a woman as Mrs. Beaumarris was happily parted with on any terms, though I was convinced that the wounds inflicted by her and her vile coadjutor on the heart of Charles, were as irreparable as those on his purse, and that although they might cease to bleed, could never cease to rankle in his bosom.
On the very morning when we had ex- changed final adieus with this interesting couple, and their blooming boy, with whom good aunt Barbara parted with extreme regret, a courier arrived from Bath, requesting me to attend the death- bed of Mrs. Margaret Montague, who find- ing her end approaching, and having made me her executor, was desirous, if possible, to commit all her worldly affairs into my hands.
Nothing could come more mal-apropos than the old lady's departure at such a time, and how she came to fix on me for an executor, any further than as it con- cerned my stepmother, I could not ima-
298 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ?
gine; for that lady's sake, however, I felt it my duty to comply with her injunc- tions, though extremely mortified at leav- ing home just now, as we were in hourly expectation of lord and lady William Gra- ham, my lively cousin being impatient to renew her acquaintance with my Adelaide; it was, however, my consolation that I should leave her with society she loved; so, after conducting her to Mrs. Barbara Sedgewood's, where I knew Caroline would pay her first respects, I parted from her, for the Jirst time, in a more lover-like manner than many people would think natural at the end of six months.
Fops and rakes, beings without hearts, or with bad ones, will never read my " round unvarnished tale," so I need not apologize to them for the declaration, that " I dragged at each remove a lengthening chain;" and that if I had conceived I should have felt so much at leaving my wife as I really did, I should, at all hazards, have sent Wilson as my substitute. Formerly I had found wri- ting to Adelaide a very sweet employment;
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ? 297
it was now far more ; it was necessary to me; I could not live without telling her, again and again, that it was death to tear myself from her, and that I could not know a happy hour, till I again folded her to a heart that only breathed for her.
I did not send these epistles from every stage, only at night and noon, I assure you.
Mrs. Margaret had paid the debt we all must pay, the day before my arrival, and might be trulv said to leave a mourning family ; for although the greatest number of her favourites had departed before her, yet a sufficient number remained to give decided proof of sorrow, if one might judge by the loud lamentations reverbera- ting through the house ; for as Mrs. Betty,, though so old a fellow-servant, and now fellow-su Merer, did not exactly know the way in which either herself or said claim- ants were provided for, she prudently re- solved to measure her attentions according: to the rule of her late mistress's legacies, and not accord honour, till she was assured o3
29S SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ?
that honour was due ; and accordingly she had forborn her accustomed visits to the family in the parlour.
The cook and the housemaid followed* her example, and the footboy did not pre- sume to interfere ; so that the late pampered favourites were, on my arrival, each in their own peculiar intonation, as Mr. Thelwall would call it, demanding their food; and a kind of Irish howl rang so dismally in my ears on first entering the house, that I had no doubt of the event which had taken place, and desired immediately to see Mrs. Betty, whose countenance exhibited such rueful emotion, accompanied with such an expression of delight on seeing me, that it was a practical illustration of that faculty, called laughing on one side, and crying on the other.
" These animals make a dreadful noise. " "Oh yes, sir, they be quite sensible of what has happened, I dares for to say; and I be quite sure, if poor dear madam have done as she always said she shuld, there be no occasion for they to take an at this rate
SAYS SHE TO' HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ? 999
neither, being she always promised to pur- vide for all the doamsticks of her family/'
" But have you fed them to-day, Mrs. Betty?"
" Me ! oh no, sir ! I has had something else to think of indeed, except poor Tab- by; I fed her, because I was in a manner sure she has twenty pounds a-year; but I doesn't know how it be with the rest."
" Well, but feed them at all events till after the funeral, and then I will inform you further."
Taking Mrs. Betty's directions to Mr. JefTery the attorney, I procured the will, in which, to my utter surprise, I found my- self named as the sole heir of this eccen- tric spinster, who declared me thus selected, out of gratitude for delivering her from a misfortune worse than death ; she named various small legacies, which, though devi- sed by her, she left at my option to pay or not, observing, that frora the present state of her family, it was probable, weak as she was, several of them would prove lapsed legacies; and Mr. JefTery 's clerk
300 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ?
observed, he knew that was the case in two instances, for the annuitant monkey died soon after the will was signed, and an old lap-dog was buried about a week ago.
On inquiry, I found the lady's proper- ty consisted of the house in which she lived, which was in the Circus, with a beau- tiful garden leading to the Terrace, and about seventeen thousand pounds in the funds; her original fortune having been ten thousand, which had, by her own care, accumulated so far, as her expences had been wholly confined to her animal fami- ly, for whom alone she had ever shewn that the milk of human kindness could flow through her heart.
Amongst her recommendatory legacies, were fifty pounds, per annum to Berty for life, and the canaries ; twenty pounds per annum for Tabby ; five for the dormice; ten for a Dutch mastiff; and a warm re- commendation of all the rest to my bounty and protection, recommending a cottage on the Bristol road as a suitable residence for Betty, if she took the animals to board,
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ? 301
as it would enable them to walk in the Crescent-fields as they used to do.
With all these requisitions I regularly complied, to the great satisfaction of Betty, who, understanding from Mr. Jeffery that the board of the animals would cease on their death, had her kindness to them in- sured by the best of all ties. Immediately after the funeral, she removed to her new habitation, which I permitted her to fur- nish from that part of the house usually in- habited by her mistress; the rest of the servants I discharged, finding they were all new ones, Betty not ch using any sisters near the throne, making them handsome presents; and I then returned on the wings of love to Adelaide and home.
I was greeted by a circle of all who were dear to me ; but I confess that for some minutes at least 1 saw only one ; she looked pale and languid — I fancied she had mourn- ed my absence ; again I gazed upon her, thought she looked like my mother; oh! what an arrow for a moment shot through my heart ! — " No!" said I, inwardly trem-
502 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT >
bling, u no! a thousand children could not repay me." Ah ! how many tender heart- aches that endear the object which awakens them, do husbands tee], who feel as I have done!
My good stepmother read my heart; she drew me aside, and comforted me with the assurance that Adelaide was not worse than she ought to be, and warned me against a sensibility that might be injurious to her; she then rallied me on the conquest of her ancient relative; and I, in return, insisted that the property ought to belong to her; she refused all share in it, save the house, which I insisted upon her accepting, and had in fact given orders for its being re- fitted, in a manner suitable for her recep- tion, being glad that I was thus enabled to offer a place, which might occasionally af- ford her the gratification of receiving us, in a city to which I knew Adelaide was very partial.
Mixed and uncertain are all sublunary joys, and ours received a severe shock soon after this time ; for at the battle of Talave-
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ? 303
ra fell the brave, the worthy Campbell, one of the many gallant souls which fled from that field of blood, and left their bereaved country to mourn a victory too dearly bought.
At the time this dreadful news arrived in England, sir Edward Atwood and his lady were, with their daughter Emma, on the south coast, awaiting letters from the Bri- tish army, and it was the lot of him to re- ceive it, who deplored it the most; and such was the effect it took upon the mind of the colonel, that he was many days be- fore his lady could in any way restore htm to composure, though the widowed Emma united her efforts: he best knew the vir- tues of him they had lost, for he had known him far the longest ; as he had been his most intimate associate, and his chief con- solation in India, during that period which had bereft him of the society of his wife, and from him he had experienced all the attachment of a son, and the tenderness of a daughter.
When, at the warm intreatiesof his weep-
304 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT?
ing wife, and her afflicted child, he at length roused himself from that stupor of grief, so many were doomed to participate from the horrors of Talavera, he said to them —
" I have yet a son — lead me to Theo- dore/'
And to Theodore and his Adelaide they all came, and met with that consolation af- fection and sympathy only can bestow.
CHAP. XVI.
The touch of kindred too, and love he feels,
The modest eye, whose beams on his alone
Ecstatic shine ! — the little, strong embrace
Of prattling children, twin'd around his neck,
And emulous to please him, call him forth,
The fond, parental soul. Thomson.
Lothe to leave you, my dear madam, un- der the painful impression awakened by my last, I begin one more chapter, to inform you, that during the time our good friends remained with us, my dear Adelaide pre-
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ? 305
sented me with a lovely boy, whom we baptized Frederic Edward, and who is, at this moment, prattling to his mother, as he runs beside her on the lawn ; and is, at .least in my eyes, (and I do think I am very impartial) the very loveliest boy that ever was born, though his little blue- eyed sister has lately made various attempts to rival him in my eyes, and if she could speak as plain, would, I believe, become a very successful pleader in her own favour,
I have sometimes felt surprised that people could be so very fond of children, and remember feeling so much surprise that Mr. Eltringham could find the amuse- ment he did in the society of his little boy ; but I am no longer troubled with any other wonder on the subject, but what arises from seeing the preference country gentlemen give to their dogs and horses, and town gentlemen to any other thing; for though I could not spend any long time in my nursery, yet I am convinced that some of the sweetest moments of my existence are frequently found there.
306 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ?
I will now take leave of you, ladies, with a brief survey of the present situation of our friends and neighbours ; the principal part of whom met at the Park to dine on the fourth of June (last week), and ap- peared as well able to dissect a character as a chicken ; and a faux pas stood no more chance for escape from their lips than a head of asparagus. As, however, it is well known that the present baronet dislikes scandal as much as the. last, and that his lady is so insipid in her taste, as to prefer the simplest conversation to the best-sea- soned, there was very little of that enli- vening chit-chat stirring amongst us, which I have designated as second-sight ; and though Mr. Dornton was " wastly pleased," yet I fear, from certain motions in his lady's thorax, that she was less happy ; my good friend lady Frances appeared delighted, which atoned for the spleen with which her sister surveyed our brats. Mr. and Mrs. Parley were both in high health and spirits, for they had quarrelled all the way to the Park, and for nearly half an hour after their
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ? 307
arrival — an exercise they doubtless found particularly delightful and exhilarating, as* they both ate their dinners with excellent appetite, and took the first opportunity of challenging each other to renewed com- bat— a decisive proof, I apprehend, that the next best thing to loving with all ones heart, is hating with all ones heart, since it certainly prevents people from falling into that state of stupor, which many falsely attribute to wedlock.
My brother has been married to Mrs. Campbell about a year, and is, like my- self, blest with a boy, and, I believe, as. happy a man as any in the county, except myself: and would be perfectly so, if his. new situation as a father did not lead him to reflect, with some compunction, on the manner in which he threw away so con- siderable a portion of his inheritance ; but he has attained such a general system of propriety in the management of his affairs, that I trust, in a few years, he will cease to regret even this, and those past, with the only alloy to his happiness; as he is
308 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR-, WHAT f*
now respected and beloved by all around him ; and in the perfect affection of his lovely consort, enjoys that felicity his mild and amiable nature peculiarly adapts him to appreciate ; and whose sweet and unaf- fected vivacity is well calculated to sooth the pangs of memory, and brighten the prospects of future life.
The dowager lady Sedgewood at present resides at Bath, for the advantage of Emily's education, who is a very lovely and pro- mising girl ; the happiest intercourse sub- sists between us, and we look forward to the pleasure of seeing her soon, as one of the dearest we can enjoy ; her house is at present occupied by sir Edward and lady Atwood, who are delighted with the situa- tion in which their lovely twins are now placed, and enjoy that calm felicity calcu- lated to bless declining life ; the colonel is, at this time, as much attached to Beau- marris, as he once was to the excellent but ill-fated Campbell ; and cannot fail to con- template his daughter's situation, with more satisfaction than he could feel in her first
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ? 309 .
connexion, from the consciousness that Charles was ever dearest to her heart ; though her estimation of the man he chose might save her from misery, yet it could not confer that happiness she now emi- nently possesses.
Our dear aunt Barbara resigned her spot- less soul ihto the hands of her Redeemer, without a single groan, last winter but one, bequeathing one-half of her fortune to me, and the other to various good purposes; a more excellent and amiable woman never existed ; her heart was that of the friend, the mother, the benefactress of all who knew her; and her character alone would redeem a whole race of old maids, from the opprobrium so unjustly thrown upon the sisterhood, as such; it is not producing a child that endues woman with the virtues, or entitles her to the reverence of a mo- ther; nor does existing in a single state render her necessarily unsocial, cold-heart- ed, or fantastical; though where her nature is prone to these, the facility of indulgence in such a situation, may probably increase
310 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT?
them. I must own, the sarcasms thrown on widows and old maids ever provoke my spleen, especially when given, as they ge- nerally are, by young ladies, who evidently think husbands are the very best things in the world, and yet most cruelly blame the unhappy being who never enjoyed this good, or the more unhappy one, that has lost it. How they reconcile such satire to their compassion, or to their delicacy, I must own myself at a loss to conceive.
Mrs. Beaumarris, the repudiated wife of my brother, when she found all hopes of regaining colonel Eldricke at an end, en- deavoured to attach a young nobleman, whose friends, alarmed for his future hap- piness, interfered with lord Llanberry, in such a way as to induce him to receive her into his family, but under restrictions so galling to her pride, as she could not have been induced to accept, had not the death of lord Perceval's eldest son, once more opened her eyes to the distant view of a coronet, which she knew could not other- wise be purchased, even from the wicked
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ? 31 1
colonel, than by a strict return to that path from which she had deviated with him ; and still flattering herself that poor Mrs. Eld rick e was pining away in obscurity, she resolved to lead that sober, retired life, fitted to her circumstances, in the hopes that lord Perceval, who was accounted an upright man, might be led to adjudge his son to make this reparation to the honour of a family equal to his own.
While Harriet thus played the penitent in appearance, though her heart continued the same callous thing it had ever been, the partner of her guilt was ordered abroad; and as his health was now considerably re- stored, and his finances as bad as ever, his father still continuing inexorable, he pre- pared himself, notwithstanding the painful decrepitude he experienced, and had taken his departure for Portsmouth, to embark there, when the following circumstance prevented his design.
Lord and lady Perceval, after the death of their eldest son, had passed from one watering-place to another, with the design
3 12 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ?
of flying, if it were possible, from the me- lancholy which every where pursued them ; ever keeping an eye upon the son who dishonoured them, in such a way as to save him from positive want, but deny him the indulgence of fortune he had abused ; they had never known to what an extent he was injured by the duel, and were therefore not averse to permitting him to make a campaign, which might enable him to re- gain his character in the world, by cover- ing his former errors with future laurels ; and by effectually breaking him from all his connexions, enable him to begin life on a new footing, if he were really inclined to profit by his past experience. Under these circumstances they set off to Swansea, (as being almost the only place they had not visited, of this description,) about a twelvemonth ago; for though it was too early to meet amusement from the com- pany there, yet it suited them the better, as they merely sought for change of scene, and were anxious to make some inquiries respecting Mrs.Eldricke, in passing through
'Says she to her neighbour, what ? 3 1 S
the county on their return, as they went there by water, for the sake of variety, that eternal claim of the heart opprest by the monotony of grief, the dejection of disap- pointment.
Lady Perceval had, from her bed-room window, which looked to the sea, remarked a lady in mourning, accompanied by a Welsh peasant girl, go down to the water to bathe her child ; the extreme tenderness of the mother, who herself inspected every minutia that could be beneficial to her dar- ling, interested one who had so lately been employed in tender offices, and she called his lordship to partake her sensation. In a remote situation of this kind, when in- animate nature has once been surveyed at- tentively, we eagerly return to objects of our own species, as food for the heart, or the imagination ; it was therefore natural that lord and lady Perceval should look again for the mother and her child : whilst they were doing this one morning, the mistress of their lodgings passed under the
VOL. iv. p
314 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHEOUR, WHAT?
window, and his lordship inquired of her, if she knew who the person was?
" I have heard her name, my lord, but I've forgot it; she is the widow of an offi- cer, I believe, and that is her only child ; it is a sweet little fellow, to be sure — no one can wonder at her making a bit of a fuss with him, poor Jamb."
" Has the child been ill ?" said her lady- ship.
" No, my lady, I fancy not ; but I think, I understood she told somebody his fa- ther's family was consumptive; so she Tvants to guard him against that complaint in his infancy ; but, dear heart, most likely he'll go into the army, and then a sword or a cannon-ball will save him from dying by inches, you know, my lady."
What an image for the mind of a mother, so situated, to contemplate ! lady Perceval, pale and ready to faint, retired from the window, and her lord half- resolved to re- call, if possible, their only son. When he perceived her ladyship's full heart was somewhat relieved by tears, he proposed
S.\YS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT? 315
taking a short walk, to which she assented, as the morning was particularly beautiful, and many vessels were taking the advantage of a rising breeze, and presented an en- livening spectacle, which promised amuse* ment.
The stranger and her little boy were now returning from their salutary excur- sion ; the lively child, blooming as a che- rub, had just been rewarded with a pottle of strawberries, for having submitted quietly to his immersion, and, as he passed the strangers, he showed his prize to them ex- ultingly ; he was turned of two years old, and a fine grown boy, with a beautiful face, in which the bright black eyes of Cambrian beauty shone conspicuous.
" Will you give me one of those straw- berries, my little man ?" said lord Perce- val.
" Is, I give oo tenty," said the good- natured child, presenting the basket.
" What is your name, my sweet fellow? can you tell me ?"
v 2
3Y6 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT?
" Eddard sometimes, and m udder's torn- fort sometimes/'
" Comfort, indeed!" said lady Perceval, looking towards the mother, who, pale and trembling, unable to advance, yet unwil- ling to recede, was, at this moment, obliged to lean on the red arm of her astonished attendant.
The tender concern expressed in the countenances of the strangers reassured her — she advanced, and taking the hand of the child, she said tremulously —
" Edward, my lord, is your name, and the name of the son you have lost — oh that you could permit this innocent to re- place him in your heart, for he too is HdwardEldricke!"
Lord Perceval raised the child to his lips —to his heart ; but as he turned to pre- sent the astonished babe to his lady, she dropt, oTerwhelmed and lifeless, on the sands; and poor Mrs. Eldricke was called on to suld%i3 ber own emotions, for the sake of one, whose feelings were yet more acutely exercised.
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ? 3 i^'
In performing this serviceable act of hu- manity, Ellen displayed all the genuine- benevolence of her heart, and made a rapid progress in the affections of her father-in- law, with whom she necessarily returned to his lodgings, which were so near, that lady Perceval, on her recovery, said she should be able to walk there, with the assistance of Mrs. Eldricke and her maid— his lord- ship preceded them ; and when they ar- rived at the house, having some steps to ascend, he took the child in his arms, and went into the house, desiring the assistance of the mistress of it in procuring a couch for his lady.
The good woman, instead of answering, stared full at the child.
" You must assist lady Perceval's woman in laying her on the sofa/' repeated my lord.
" Well, for sure I will do any thing ; but really that child is so exact like your lord- ship about his mouth and chin, with that little dimple like, that he seems quite a
318 SAYS SHE TO HEK NEIGHBOtTI?, WHAT ?
Jittle moral of you, as one may say, that I can't tend to noihin else."
His lordship looked more earnestly ; the child was very like his own father, but still more like his departed uncle, for sickness restores, in consumptive cases, the delicacy of infantine complexions,*' and to this simi- larity was principally owing the emotion which had overcome lady Perceval, in ad- dition to the train of thought which had previously affected her: she was now much better, and, with the utmost cordiality, welcomed the long-deserted Ellen, and kissed' and wept over the beauteous, but bewildered boy, who, unconscious of the change this eventful hour had produced in his destiny, only rejoiced in the permission of riding round the room on his grand- papa's gold-headed cane, who, in his every action, saw so much to admire and delight >n, that life, and pleasure, seemed reno- vated as he gazed ; while the tearful eyes of lady Perceval evinced a pleasure more calm iu its expression, but more poignant
SAYS SttE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ? 31&
in its enjoyment, a pleasure which was al- most too much for her debilitated frame to* endure.
When Edward was laid on her ladyship's sofa for his accustomed nap, (for he was already too precious to be parted with,) lord Perceval requested to know when Mrs. Eldricke had heard from his son the co- lonel ? the deserted wife drew from her bosom one single memorial of his remem- brance, written about a year before, in- forming her, that he was, at that moment, in pressing distress, and could not imme- diately apply to his father, as his brother then lay dead in the house ; and begged, that if it was in her power to assist him, she would not fail to remit it by the bearer, who was, as she knew, his confidential ser- vant. He concluded by saying, " if my boy still lives, give him a kiss for me; may God make him a better man than his father; and a greater comfort to you than I can ever be, George Eldrickr."
Over the concluding words Ellen had wept so much, as to render them scarcely'
?20 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ?
legible; and though now extremely af- fected, she commanded herself so far as to- repeat the words, with that pathetic em- phasis, which proved she deemed them the earnest of returning virtue ; and both the parents saw how much their wandering prodigal was still beloved.
'{ Did you, I mean> could you: send; George any thing ?-" said the anxious, mother.
" All I had in the world did not amount to fifty pounds; I. sent him* along with it, a diamond broach, which was the only tiling I had of value ;. my respect for the donor had kept it sacred till then; but If could not refuse it to a letter, which gave me the sweet hopes of returning virtue ia my husband."
" But he has not written since?'*
"No!" said Ellen, with a sigh, which comprised a volume of sad thoughts.
" Worthless as my son has proved him- self to you,'* said lord Perceval, after a long struggle, " I apprehend you could SLOt wish his present destination to be
SAYS SHE TO HER'NEIGflBOUR, WHAT ? 321 J
changed; it is the same to you, whether he remains on this island or goes abroad* being alike lost to your society/'
" Ah, no!" said Ellen, with vivacity " it is far from being the same, since I have ever nourished the hope that some happy chance would lead him to a father's eye; and I am convinced if you once beheld him suffering, as he still must, the incurable penalty of his vice, your heart, however justly incensed, would relent; you would perceive how unfit he was for the service in which he is engaged, and you would so> arrange his affairs, as to enable him to re- main in some situation, which, though be- low his rank as your heir, was yet not un- worthy of it ; and, thus situated, who knows but he might recall to his mind the wife, who soothed his bed of sickness, and fanned the expiring spark of struggling life, and whose tenderness might yet con- sole the pain it could not obliterate, and communicate a pleasure in the society of this engaging infant, which might awake p .3
322 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR* WHAT?
virtuous affections, and thence lead to vir-> tuous actions; oh! my lord, these have- been long the day-dreams which have con- soled my solitary hours, and the objects of my constant prayers, and you must per- ceive that I now lose them all."
" JVIost excellent woman, if it be yet m my power, you shall realize them all."
" May God grant it>!" said Ellen, falling* on her knees, and for a moment bending in the attitude of profound devotion ; then rising, as if unwilling to lose the sense of tenderness she had awakened, she seized the hands of both parents, saying, " Oh, let us fly to save poor George ! it is not yet toe* late."
Lady Perceval arose with renewed' strength; in an hour they had crossed the Channel; they travelled all night; they felt not fatigue, for their anxiety encreased in proportion as they had advanced; and* they trembled lest the breeze, which had facilitated their little voyage, should have filN ed the sails which bore him ( for whom theifr fcearts now yearned )> far from that native
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT? 3£5
shore he never might retrace; conscious likewise that if he had proceeded to em- barkation, a sense of honour would forbid his return, however they might urge it.
The colonel had found the bustle of preparation bring on the complaint in his hip so much worse, that there appeared no prospect of his embarking with his troops, and it was now so near the time, that there was a positive necessity for supplying his place by some efficient officer, and the ge- neral urged him to dispose of his commis- sion. Wearied with life, and yet afraid to- die, anxious to mix in the throng of battles, that he might escape from galling reflec--. fion, and yet sighing for that quiet, so ne- cessary to those who are actually suffering. under acute bodily pain, the unhappy man now felt even keener woes than any he had ever inflicted; he looked round for com- fort on every side, but it was denied to him; conscious of the severity of his sufferings, he felt that they ought, in the eyes of his parents, to atone for his guilt; and he ar- raigned, as cruelty, that conduct which, till
324 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT?
now, he believed only justice to his deme- rits; and under this impression, terrible as his situation was, he could not bring him- self to sue to them for mercy, and he re- solved to go on board at all events. Of all the numerous train who had once admired his talents, or attached themselves to his person, the friend he had robbed and dis- honoured, the wife he had injured and for- saken, alone presented themselves to his mind, as the beings- who would pity, and. eventually forgive him; and under the firm impression (naturally arising: from his. sufferings), that he should see neither of them again, his subdued spirit induced him to sit down and write an eternal farewell to each.
His Tetter to Charles acknowledged, in the fullest manner, the worthlessness of his own conduct towards him, and most warm- ly and gratefully thanked him for the sup- port which he had accorded to his wife; and beseeching him, after his death, to extend such a degree of protection to the son she had brought him, as might effectually *€-
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT T 325
commend him to the protection of his grandfather, on whose cruelty to himself he slightly touched ; and ended, by fer-^ vently wishing him to enjoy that happiness in future life which he had destroyed in the past.
This letter was written and dispatched, but that to his wife was begun, and begun again, without making any progress; the memory of all she had endured at his hands, in return for unbounded confidence and persevering love, rose, step by step, upon his. view, and paralysed his hand; her wasted fortune, her despised, though lovely person, her uncomplaining forbear- ance, her wearisome attendance, her cruel desertion, herself abandoned, and her child unowned, and, last of all, her generous present, which robbed her of the last ves- tige of her honoured lord (being Montgo- mery's wedding gift), unacknowledged even by a tender line, all rose to his mind, and made him sensible of being so much an object of her just abhorrence, that he
526 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT?
felt it impossible that she could forgive the enormous load of his offences against her.
Yet when he reflected on the tenderness of her nature^ and the peculiar intenseness of that love she had felt for him, and which, seizing her mind at a period of life when love has expended its first fires, appeared to concentrate all the glow of youth with the constancy of maturity, and combined the fondness of passion with the purity of affection, he felt assured that she would forgive him ; arid that she would so educate her son, as that whilst he avoided his father's errors, he would not despise his father's name ; and to this idea that father clung', as one that soothed the asperity of his re- morse, and meliorated the harsher sense of his despair; and again he grasped the pen^ and sought to move the heart which could never be steeled against him.
After writing a few sentences, which tore open every vein which conscience and feeling yet possessed, the colonel, unable to proceed, dashed his pen upon theground*
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT? 327
and started from his chair in agony; the violence of the motion awoke the pain in> his hip still more acutely, and the sense of what he must endure, from the tossing of the vessel, again appalled him; and he was standing, thus oppressed with both bodily and mental anguish of every kind, when the door opened, and his father entered.
Sorrow for the death of one son, and bitter mortification for the misconduct of another son, had stamped many wrinkles on the fine brow of lord Perceval, within* the last three years ; and the colonel, in this moment of remorseful anguish, felt their cause too surely, to retain the anger he had endeavoured to nourish-; his hearfr shook, his eye fell before his father.
But what were the emotions of that fa- ther, when he beheld the shrunken formr and haggard looks of that son, whose fine^ person, when last it met his eye, had shone- the " mirror of fashion, th' observ'd of all observers?'' had he not come the immedi- ate messenger of peace, and believed that- the powers of healing wers in his haods,
328 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ?
he would have sunk under the heart-appal- ling view of such aa alteration.
Full of this idea, he exclaimed, as if to deprecate reproach — <c I have settled every thing, George — honourably, I assure you — your creditors are ail satisfied — we must forget the past — you must return with your mother and me;" then gasping and overpowered, he sunk down oi> the near- est chair.
The colonel seized his father's hands; he led them to his lips, his heart — the tears of the penitent gushed out — he fell at the feet of his father, opprest and speechless.
Lord Perceval gave a faint cry; his lady, Ellen, and the child, rushed into the room; their mingled cries sounded strangely in the ears of the invalid, their forms flitted obscurely before his eyes, his head sunk on She lap of his father, and the p-aleness of death spread over his features.
"He faints ■! he faints !" cried lord Per- ceval; " throw open the window — call his servant."
The man came, and tearing oK his era-*
v?A\S SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ? 329
vat, and opening his waistcoat, reassured the distressed group, by saying, " his mas- ter would soon be better, as he had been so many times since their arrival in Ports- mouth. " Ellen drew dear to chafe hh temples; she fixed her eye upon his breast; she started back, wild with joy, crying —
" Yes, it is my broach ! my own broach that he wears ! Oh look, look at that broach ! at length he pities, he loves me !"
The broach poor Ellen had sent him, though robbed of in diamonds, had indeed occupied an honourable place, though an invisible one, in the colonel's dress ever since; arxl her idea that k was a proof of growing affection for her, was really a just one; for ever since, he had felt that his conduct, in never acknowledging her last, though least gift, must have totally alienat- ed her affections; he had contemplated her as one who was not only entitled to them by her virtues, but capable of excit- ing them by her personal and mental at- tractions; so that when he was sufficiently revived, she found her happy presentiment
839 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT *
in a great measure verified, by the warmth* with which he pressed her to his bosom * but when she presented her blooming boy, on whom his eyes had never shone before* and in the language of poor Leah, said — " Surely my husband will now love mer seeing I have brought him a son/' her hopes were more decidedly fulfilled, and in the expression of his delight, her joy arose to rapture.
When this reunited family returned to London, measures were taken for the final arrangement of the colonel's affairs; but so truly are lord and lady Perceval attach- ed to their daughter-in-law, and her che- rub boy, that the families have not yet parted, a circumstance extremely desirable to Mrs. Eldricke, as it preserves to her that respect and attention (which she so justly merits), as the relative of lord Perceval, which she might not meet with in a sepa^ rate establishment; her husband is much an invalid, and subject to all those evils which never fail to attend hours of languor, em^ bittered by remorse; but it is the consQ.h>
SAYS StfR TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT? 331
tion of his faithful wife, to perceive that every revolving day brings her nearer to his heart, and renders her more necessary to his comfort.
Thus has Mrs. Beatimarris the mortifica- tion of seeing the only true claimant eve- ry day draw nearer to the possession of that coronet, to which she ambitiously and ■wickedly aspired, and which despair of ob- taining, and consciousness of the true light in which Eldricke himself has long beheld her, seems to have affected her health and spirits exceedingly, as I am told that she is become intolerably fretful, capricious, and ill-humoured, the effect of which is very perceptible in her person, which appears lean and withered, as if pining beneath the hand of envy, or the scourge of remorse.
Mrs. Bellington is at this moment a lady of the first consequence in the circles of wit and fashion, having wisely concluded,, since her disappointment of the castle- house, that solitude was not so well calcu- lated for the display of her beauties, as the- joliter circles of London and Bath, between.
332 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ?>
which she divides her time. There was a time when this lady, for reasons best known to herself, honoured me with much partia- lity, but this partiality I had the misfortune to forfeit, from not admitting her as my neighbour; inconsequence of which, she took ample revenge by insinuating the death of Adelaide, at a time when my ac- tive imagination, and perturbed judgment, favoured the deception ; having, emptied her quiver, we now meet occasionally very, amicably, and I am always happy to do so, as she never fails to amuse me with a vari- ety of anecdotes, respecting all the inte- resting subjects of the day, whether blue stockings, pugilists, authors, four-in-hand clubbers, hazard-players, ministers, smash- ers, quack-doctors, or duellists ; from her I learn the merits of the last new pantomime, and those of our parliamentary debates, the glorious exertions of lord Wellington, and the energies displayed by Deshayes or D'Eg- vilie; the abilities shewn by the elephants and horses in Covent-Garden, and the ro- yal academicians at Somerset-House, a tri4.
SATS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT? 533
St Newgate, or a new poem, a fashionable intrigue, a new hoax, or a Hottentot Venus, at one time furnish her subjects; a bank- ruptcy, a fine picture, or a terrible murder, another; so that it is impossible to meet with the lady without being amused, and that being the general end very charming ladies have in view, I hope she will be satisfied with this acknowledgment of her talents.
To you, my dear, patient, amiable read- ers, who have travelled with me through four long volumes, begun in the dreary reign of winter, but finished under the cheering rays of June, I would beg leave to say, " that the powers of conversation admit of higher praise than the communi- cations I have just stated, but sink infinitely lower, when they degenerate into the ma- lignant remarks, the far-fetched conclu- sionsj the ungenerous suppositions, and the unwarrantable propagations, which form the common basis of what " she says to her neighbour."
In the simple history I have given yoa
ooi SAYS SHE TO HES NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ?
of myself and my family, you will not find one marvellous circumstance, or uncommon combination of incident, nothing to awaken astonishment by its novelty, or excite doubt by its singularity; our joys and our sor- rows have been the joys and sorrows of thousands around us; but if it is considered how large a portion of the latter arose from the habit of idle scandal in our neighbours (who are, I will maintain it, by no means worse than their, neighbours), it will per- haps furnish no useless lesson to con- sider how much of human misery might be prevented, from paying due attention to the regulation of our conversation in this re- spect, since I have every reason to conclude, that few families have enjoyed a greater portion of the good-will of their neigh- bours than the Sedge woods, notwithstand- ing all that has befallen us.
u The tongue is a little member, yet it set-teth the whole body on fire," says an in- spired author; and another declares, " I will take heed to my ways, that I offend not with my tongue;" and surely it is the
SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR, WHAT ? 335
•part of those who profess to take the word of God for their guide, to remember we are expressly told, that for " every idle word we are to give an account;" how much more then, for every malicious interpreta- tion ! every unkind comment on the ac- tions of our neighbours !
Farewell, my dear ladies! be assured, that although I may be often grave, yet I never mean to be morose ; and that I should not advise you, with so much earnestness, to purify your conversation from all error, if I did not know, from the delightful expe- rience of every hour, that your sex has the power of charming the fancy, expanding the intellect, and improving the hearts of all around them, without having recourse to the unworthy and puerile topics, which are the resource of tale-bearers of either sex, and who, in exercising their talents of second- si glit, too frequently spread a men- tal film over their mind's eye, which effec- tually retards the progress of real know- ledge, and those innocent and agreeable Hight€ of the imagination, which form the
336 SAYS SHE TO HER NEIGHBOUR WHAT?
s eetest varieties of existence ; we shall r ely find a poet, a painter, or a musician, still less a philosopher, among the tribe of babblers, or splenetic neighbours, who are subject to this unhappy propensity.
Farewell — remember me; do not for* .get my worthy grandfather ; but, above all, bear in your mind the baronet. I have sketched him faithfully, though with a weak, imperfect hand, from his cradle to hisgrave; and humbly hope, that notwithstanding the numerous errors and deficiencies which ap- pear throughout these pages, it will not be found that I have presumed to offer an un- worthy work to my neighbour.
THE EN&.
Printed by Lane, Darling, Sf Co. Leadenhall'-street, London.
UNIVER9ITY OF ILLINOI9-URBANA
■Will
3 0112 047690638