Full text of "The farmer of Inglewood Forest"

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THE LIBRARY

THE UNIVERSITY
OF CALIFORNIA

ALUMNUS
BOOK FUND

THE

FARMER

INGLEWOOD FOREST

BY ELIZABETH HELME.

LONDON:

PUBLISHED BY J. CLEMENTS, LITTLE PULTENEY STREET,

FOR THE PROPRIETORS OF

THE ROMANCIST AND NOVELIST'S LIBRARY.

1841.

ALUMNUS

HE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST.

CHAPTER I.

UNDER an aged oak, that grew on a pleasant but lonely part of Inglewood Forest, one fine
summer's evening, sat the venerable farmer Godwin, reading to his family, with a dignity
that might have graced a more distinguished rank ; but it was a subject that ever raised his
fceart to the Most High, and made him feel that, however humble the state of probation, a
life spent in innocence and integrity would one day entitle him to a place where virtue
alone claims pre-eminence. On his knee lay the Bible ; on his right hand sat his wife,
who, though grey hairs shaded her temples, the beam of youthful affection was not extin-
guished in her eye; on his left sat his sons, William and Edwin ; and at her mother's
feet was placed their sister Emma, trimming a straw hat with pink ribbons for the ensuing
fair.

The lecture concluded, they adjourned to their humble mansion, which, thongh apper-
taining to some rich and highly-cultivated land, was nothing more than a spacious, conve-
nient farmhouse; yet to those to whom cleanliness and comfort constitute luxury, this
dwelling possessed every attribute. The frugal meal was soon prepared, and seasoned with
innocent mirth, and the happy cheerfulness of hearts unconscious of guile might have out-
balanced in pleasure far more sumptuous entertainments ; for labour had given health, and
health appetite ; and for the corroding passions of envy, jealousy, pride, or malice, that so
frequently embitter the feasts of the great, their hearts were too humble to entertain
such overbearing intruders.

The suppers removed, and the farmer's pipe, with a pitcher of ale, being placed on the
table "I wonder," said William, with a half-sigh, "whether Fanny Bernard is ye* re-
turned home ?" " Suppose we step down the lane and inquire ?" replied Edwin ; " it is a
fine night, and Emma can go with us ; we shall be back before my father has smoked his
pipe." This motion was immediately adopted, as farmer Bernard's was only a quarter of a
mile down a green lane, that was separated from a forest by a high-road crossing its entrance.
It would hardly be possible to paint three more interesting figures than the brothers and
sister tripping by a clear moonlight over the green. William had just attained his twenty -
second year, his face and person forming a model from which a statuary might have envied
to copy an Apollo, yet with a cast of reflection over his animated features, which to a
common observer made them less striking than those of his brother Edwin, who was a year
younger, and whose person, though less elegantly formed, was yet more fascinating, from
the continual sprightliness that enlivened his features ; Emma, innocent as the dove, playful
as the lamb, and fair as Milton's Eve, holding of each a hand, and chatting a hundred little
minutlas, to themselves only interesting. On reaching Bernard's farm, they entered without
ceremony, the lifting of the latch alone announcing visiters. "Welcome, my lads," said
the old man ; " what, and my little girl too 1 are you there ? Hark ye, Agnes," addressing
his daughter, " replenish the pitcher, and look what hast got in the cupboard," " "We have
supped," replied William ; and looking anxiously round the room, " Fanny, I see, is not
yet returned." "^No ; Agnes and I have been wishing for her she will be back in a day
or two, I suppose ; but, pies on't 1 I wondered what brought you here to-night now the
murder's out ; however, sorrow's dry ; here's to you, my boys, and may Fanny and Agnes
make as good wives as their mother ; .Why, Aknes, I say there's no ale in the pitcher;

2 THE ROMANCIST AND NOVELIST'S LIBRARY.

prithee draw some, and court afterwards, I think Edwin and you can't have much to
whisper, for you had a plaguy long gossip to-day, when you carried the meat to the rea-
pers." " Lord, father, you are so odd!" answered Agnes, blushing; "indeed the basket
was very heavy, and Edwin carried it for me, for I was quite tired." " Yes, yes," replied
the old man, " I suppose so, for when I came up, you were sitting on the stile to rest.
Never blush, girl many a time thy mother has detained me, heaven rest her! and thou
art but a chip of the old block." Agnes broke off the discourse by hasteniag to draw the
ale ; during her absence" Indeed," said Emma, " as Fanny and Agnes are to be my sisters,
I think the sooner the better. Why, Fanny's almost nineteen, and Agnes is two months older
than me, and I was seventeen last Midsummer." " I care not how soon," replied Bernard ;
" but where shall we find a husband for thee, Emma ? Why, William," shaking him heart-
ily by the hand, " what art dull for, man ? I dare be sworn Fanny is as anxious to see
thee as thou be'st to see her so drink about." The old clock, which stood in the corner of
the kitchen, and on whose tall case were depicted the loves of Henry II., together with the
death of Fair Rosamond, at that moment striking ten, the visitors rose to depart, Agnes ac-
companying them to the gate. "Goodnight, "said William, shaking hands withher. "Good
night," repeated Emma, saluting her " and heaven bless thee 1" concluded Edwin, kissing
her ruby lips ! " I shall see you before breakfast, as I go a-field." Such was the behaviour
of these uncorrupted children of innocence, who acted as their pure minds dictated, being
strangers to the refinement with which art and g ood-breeding conceal the emotions of the
heart. They had just reached the end of the lane, when several voices struck them from
the high-road : fear they were strangers to it could only, they thought, be people returning
from the market town to a village about three miles farther ; or it might be as William's
heart prompted, Fanny under the care of a party of friends. With such ideas they advan-
ced ; but instead of countrymen riding cheerfully homewards, found two domestics and a post-
boy endeavouring to raise a chaise that had been overturned, and whose owners, a gentleman
and lady, sat by the roadside ; the first in great pain, from a broken arm he had received in
the fall ; and the latter heavily lamenting the accident. " Thank heaven it is not Fanny
said William, with a sigh. " But it is people in distress," replied Edwin, quickening his
pace; "what can we do for them?" "Assist them to the utmost of our abilities,
returned William, in atone yet more animated than his brother's, at the same time hastening
forward to execute his purpose.

On their reaching the chaise they found one of the wheels broken, so that to proceed was
impossible ; therefore, while William and Emma were aiding the strangers. Edwin ran
home to inform his father of the accident, and to entreat him, as there was no house of
cnterta'nment within four miles, to offer the stranger with the broken arm their spare bedt
till he could be moved farther with safety. The virtues that warmed the heart of farmer
Godwin would have dignified the bosom of a prince ; from his humble roof the wanderer
ever departed satisfied, wishing that his means were as extensive as the charity of his heart.
Edwin's request was therefore instantly granted, the good man himself accompanying his
son to make the offer, while his dame, as he frequently called, her, with the assistance of
her maid Margery, prepared the spare bed, in case the stranger should accept her husband's
offer, On Godwin's reaching the spot where the disaster happened, he immediately went
up to the sufferer, whose arm wa? now supported by the trembling Emma, William and the
rest being still employed about the chaise, at the entreaty of the owner, who anxiously
wished to proceed " My good sir," said Godwin, " in your situation the distance to the
village is too far ; therefore, if you will accept the offer of an apartment in a farmhouse,
where we will endeavour to render you all the service in our power, we will lead you there I
instantly, while one of my sons shall ride to the next market-town for a surgeon. The ladj
we can also accommodate ; and for your domestics, after some refreshment, those you have
no service for can proceed to get your carriage repaired, which in the mean time will b
perfectly safe here." The stranger immediately accepted the farmer's offer : for which ttoe
lady also expressed her thanks, and they proceeded towards Godwin's dwelling ; the lady, j

THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST.

who Lad not yet recovered her fright, leaning on Edwin's arm, and the gentleman assisted
by Godwin and his son William. Ou reaching the farm, their arrival was announced by
the furious barking of the great dog, whose noise was, however, soon silenced by the mu-
sical voice of Emma, and the more commanding voice of his master. The stranger being
immediately put to bed, and Edwin dispatched on horseback for the nearest surgeon, the
lady began to recover her fright, Mrs. Godwin having prevailed on her to take a glass of
currant wine, and conducted her to the parlour, which, though its furniture was as simple
as the minds of the owners, yet also, like them, possessed that real utility that strongly
contrasted the folly of gaudy grandeur, which, while it bewitches the eye, is deficient in
that general comfort which unadorned convenience ever bestows. Here was no fear of
soiling the costly colours of the Persian carpet, though the white scoured floor far more
plainly showed the mark of dirty footsteps ; no gilding to be injured by the touch, the chairs,
tables, and even glass-frame, being of walnut-tree , which vied with the mirror in brightness.
No pictures graced the walls ; but, in their stead, numberless odoriferous bouquets, in
white earthen jars, placed on shelves round the apartment ; and to complete the whole, the
glittering steel stove, with brass knobs, filled with large branches of the hawthorn and wild
briar in blossom. Wearied with travelling and the subsequent fright, Mrs. Delmer (for so
was the lady called) looked round with a complacency and satisfaction which splendid
drawing rooms had not always been able to inspire. " It is fairyland," thought she " and
the ideas of my fifteenth year are realized in the inhabitants of this mansion."

Mrs Delmer was a widow, about the age of twenty-eight, and possessed of a large inde-
pendency, by the death of a husband she hated. She was now hastening to the capital with
her brother, in order to enjoy those pleasures she had been debarred during the last ten
years ; the greatest part of which time she had been confined to the country by her spouse,
whose greatest pleasure had consisted in hunting and drinking. On her first entrance into
public life, her fine person had procured her the affluence she enjoyed ; and she had no
doubt it would secure her a husband, calculated to make her happy, and repay her for the
disgust she had entertained for his predecessor. Wealth had been her first incentive ; but
she found its inefficacy of giving happiness, and therefore determined to make love alone
the motive of a second union. Her brother Mr. Whitmore, was about twenty-six, and had
been some time married, but experienced little happiness in that state, having, like his
sister, consulted convenience more than affection, or even esteem, in the disposal of his
hand. His lady was young, handsome, lively, and too fashionably educated not to return
the coldness with which he treated her , and, as all the gay world admired her, thought the
affection of a husband a mite in the great scale, and easily dispensed with. Her fortune being
large her settlement was also liberal, and sufficiently enabled her to pursue her inclinations
without control; Mr. Whitmore was too well bred to interfere with her pleasures, while she
was polite enough to be blind to his. Ever engaged in different pursuits, they seldom met
above once or twice a-week at dinner, and then usually surrounded with company ; a
matrimonial tete-a-tete was by both declared the most wearisome thing in the universe. Mr.
Whitmore had been on a visit to his sister, who had passed the first six months of her
widowhood at her country-seat in Cumberland ; and was returning with her to his own villa
Bear London (where he had left his lady) when the accident happened, Whitmore was only
son to a banker, who, at his death, had left him what he thought a sufficiency to decline
business. In his person he was handsome and graceful ; in his disposition generous and
brave ; but born to affluence, and accustomed from his childhood to command his wishes
without control, his passions knew no curb, his inclinations no law but gratification ; highly
accomplished and insinuating in his address, he had been uncommonly successful in his amours,
addressing indiscriminately both married and single that chanced to please him, or where he
could flatter himself with success ; frequently declaring that both sexes were free agents
and those only fulfilled the end of their creation who made the most of life, and enjoyed it
to the utmost of their power, so they injured no man's purse or property women, in his

4 THE ROMANCIST AND NOVELISTS' LIBRARY.

opinion, not coming under that denomination, being a kind of fair game, and their persons
transferrable, as their affections, to him that pleased them most.

Such were the new inmates at Godwin's Farm, where every individual was busy in pre-
paring for their ease and convenience until the return of Edwin with a surgeon, who having
s-t Mr. Whitmore's arm, and assured them there was not the least danger, being only a
simple fracture, the females retired to take a short repose, William and Edwin to their
morning occupations, day being already broke, and the venerable Godwin to watch by the
side of Whitmore.

CHAPTER II.

WHITMORE, after a slight repose, which was disturbed by the pain he experienced from his
arm, entered into conversation with his host, expressing his thanks in the warmest terms ,
which subject, however, being only distressing to the farmer, who thought he had done
nothing more than what, in the same circumstances, almost every man would have done for
him, he changed the discourse, and began to inquire about the vicinity. " The parish
church.'' said Godwin, " is not more than two miles off, and almost close to it is a good
house and extensive grounds, belonging to the lady who inherits great part of the land
aixHuad. As yet she is a perfect stranger to us, having always lived with an uncle near the
capital who has left her heiress to his whole estate. The nearest market town is about four
miles from hence, so that I regard the chance that threw my sons in your way as fortunate*
for such a distance in your situation must have been dreadful. Whitmore was now again
attempting to repeat his thanks. " My good sir," interrupted the farmer, " you see so
trifling a service in too strong a light. In such a ir isfortune would not you have acted the
same by me ?'' " Indeed I would," answered Wbitmore, after a momentary pause, and
then remained silent. To confess the truth, though he had answered Godwin's question in.
the affirmative, yet there was a monitor within his own breast which, by knowing mankind
better, was not so easily satisfied; he therefore said no more, but remaining quiet, could
not avoid repeating to his own heart the question of the farmer " Would you not have
done the same by me?" "I should, perhaps," replied he mentally, "have left him in
charge with my footman, and ordered him. a surgeon; or if the accident had
happened in town, given him a guinea had he wanted it, and sent him to the hospital ;
but to make him a bed in my own bouse, nay, to wait by his side, while all my family were
employed iu his service, I should never have done it." This idea gave transitory awk-
wardness to the feelings of Whitmore ; but the pride of birth, and the complacency which

or wealth usually bestows on its possessors, soon, dispersed the cloud, when they
presented to his mind the difference of situation in life from that of Godwin's the oue a
simple farmer, and the other possessed of three thousand a year, a place in the senate, and
universally courted and admired. This considered, there was no comparison in the case
lor though he felt that the bones of a gentleman -were as brittle as those of a peasant, and
th.it he was as as vulnerable to pain, yet he could not divest himself of the idea, that superior
r.uk and fortune demanded particular cares, even from those persons whom he would have

.1 to attend in the same situation. Mr. Whitmore's valet now entered ; he had been.

ul in moving the baggage out of the chaise, which was refitted in such a manner as

to be removed to the iiexk town to be thoroughly repared. Godwin, thus relieved, adjourned

to his kitcben, where he found hia wife, Emma, and the maid assembled, all inquiring how

the stranger had rested

Mrs. Godwin then ordered Margery to pick out the best baked cakes, while herself made
the tea; and pouring out two breakfast-cups, sent one to Mrs. Delnaer, who was not yet
riteu, and took the other herself to Whitmore, i utr. ,,tin- him to make free, and command
whatever their house afforded, with that r'lnracU-.ristio goodm-ss f heart which peculiarly

,^'uUhed her, and that had made her doubly aiui.ihU- in ^ imth, and respectable in age
Whitmore, after a proper return to her civility, said May I not be permitted some time

THE FARMER OF IN(;LK\V()()D FOREST. 5

to-day, my dear madam, to ;m<.l ih;uik my youim; riem's tor tin- services of'last night?"
Mrs. Godwin assured him her sons would not (ail to wait on him oa llu-ir iviuni from their
morning avocation : then wishing him speedily better, she returned to brcaki'.ist , where the
party was soon augmented by \Nilliam and Edwin, who, after a hasty meal, i\;i:vd to pay
their compliments to \Vhitmore, while Emma repaired to Mrs. Delmer, whom she. a
to dress.

Mrs. Delmer, in her manner, possessed much of her brother's affability, and by her good
humour gained an almost immediate interest in the heart of Kmma, who declared, \vhe:i .she.
afterwards joined her brothers, that she had never before seen so beautiful and engaging a
woman. To this, however, both brothers dissented; the. eider dee. I tring she was not near
so handsome as Fanny Bernard ; and the younger, that \\ .! the, same, there

would be no comparison between them. " As to dress,'' returned U illiam, "Fanny is
always so exact and neat, that any alteration must be for the worse ; and 1 protest I should
think her fine hair disfigured by powder and grease then that hateful hat, with a great
cockade and feather, gives an air of harshness and boldness, which 1 c;uinot endure ; Fanny's
straw bonnet, with the blue ribbon, is a thousand times more becoming." ' No sue.h
thing, William," replied Emma, "for I tried it on and looked quite a diflcrent creature
the feathers made me so tall, and look so well, that I am su>e 1 never liked myself so much
before. Then her shoes why I thought her feet were as little again as mine, yet it was
only their make and the smart heels, for they are larger ; but the shoe-makers about he.ro
are so awkward, that they make one's feet quite clumsy ! I declare I shall now have no
patience with them." " Yet your mother," said William, gravely, " who was reckoned one
of the finest girls in the "whole country, was always satisfied with them."'' All that is very
true," interrupted Edwin, "yet you cannot persuade me but Mr. Whitmore's clothes are
more becoming than ours, even though I am perfectly satisfied with my situation in life, yet
was fortune, by any unforeseen event, to favour me, I should certainly think it no error to
adopt my dress to the fashion." " Certainly not," replied Emma ; " but William
is so grave, that I am sure had my grandfather (the rector) lived, and he might
have made him a parson ; nay, you know, my father says he is the very image of
him,"

" I accept your compliment," answered William, with a smile ; " for surely it is one to
be told I resemble a man who was a blessing to his neighbours, and an honour to his
profession ; and. in return, Emma, I wish thy temper may resemble thy mother's as much
as thy person." " Thank you, my dear William," giving him an affectionate kiss on the
cheek; "but, indeed, I fear I shall never be so handsome." "I rather fear you will
never be so unconscious of it," replied William ; " for, as to beauty, you have as great a
share as I think you can be safely trusted with." "Oh! how ill-natured 1" exclaimed,
Emma; ' I protest you grow worse and worse ; I will stay no longer I promised to walk
with Delmer, and must go this instant." With these words, away flew the sprightly girl to
perform the promise; while her brothers returned to their usual occupation in the field,
overlooking and occssionally assisting the labourers: calling, however, at Bernard's, where
William had the vexation to learn that Fanny had written to inform her father that she
should for some time prolong her stay, as her aunt, whom she was visiting, still continued
ill, and entreated her presence ; concluding with a modest but tender remembrance to
her 'lover. William then perused the letter with a sigh ; and informing the farmer
of the particulars of the last night's adventure, the brothers soon after took their
leave.

Emma had joined Mrs. Delmer, who, however, previous to her walk, called at her
brother's apartment, where she had passed the morning ; and, finding him perfectly cheer-
ful, and without fever, easily acquiesced in his desire of not sending for more assistance,
which she had at first strongly pressed. In this visit she was accompanied by Emma, who
Whitmore, in spite of his pain the night before, had thought the most lovely creature he

THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST.

ever beheld, and who now, divested of the pallid hue and tremor occasioned by his accident
appeared a thousand times more charming. "My dear brother," said Mrs. Deliner, " as
you seem tolerably easy, and I do but disturb you, my young friend and myself are going
to take a walk." "Indeed," replied Whitmore, " though I prefer your recreation before
my own, yet, in this case, I must truly confess I should be more easy, and less disturbed,
by your company, than left to my own thoughts. However I wish you a pleasant walk,
and regret that I cannot accompany you ; yet before you go, give me leave to thank Miss
Godwin for the trouble I gave her last night, in supporting my arm a trouble,'' continued
he with great softness, " that made even such a situation enviable." " Indeed, sir,'
answered Emma, " I trembled so much, that I could not hold it as steadily as William
desired me; and though you did not complain, I am sure I must hurt you." " Good
heaven ! hurt me ! Such support could alone enable me to bear the pain with becoming
patience ; but I detain you ; yet, might I entreat a favour, it should be for half an hour of
your company on your return. Charity, my dear sister, you know, is strongly recommended
to us ; and can you show yours more effectually than on such a miserable invalid ?"
Well, we will endeavour to exert it," replied Mrs. Delmer; "but for the present,
adieu."

Emma then conducted Mrs. Delmer, at her own desire, to their harvest-field, the first ob-
jects that presented themselves were William and Edwin, divested of their coats, in shirts
white as snow, foremost amongst the reapers. William respectfully moving his hat, continued
his labour ; but Edwin, a deep blush covering his face, to be thus caught, hastily put on
liis coat, and joined Mrs. Delmer and Emma. " What a delightful scene !" said the lady,
before he reached them. " I know not how it happens, my dear girl, but in one day you
have almost delighted me with rural life, which I ever before held in abhorrence ; but the
reason is obvious your family are so totally different from all I ever saw who reside
constantly in the country, that the contrast became doubly striking." "If there is any
difference," replied Emma, " we derive it from my father, who has had a very good
education, being son to the rector of the parish, who, however, as my father declined
pursuing his fortune in the church, had it only in his power to settle him on this farm,
purchasing the house, and about 14 acres of the adjoining land. The remainder we hold
on a long lease for a long term, and at an easy rent."

Edwin at that moment joined them, and was received by Mrs. Delmer with a smile.
After some cheerful conversation, she walked up to the reapers, and gave them
guinea to drink. Then turning to Edwin, she said " We should intrude too
much on your time to ask your company home ; but we shall see you in the evening
in my brothers apartment, who has made us promise to pass an hour with him.
Edwin bowed ; and Mrs. Delmer and Emma bidding him farewell, they returned
home.

In this manner passed the first day, and several succeeding ones, until Whitmore's arm
began to unite, and he was able to sit up. The pillow which supported the fracture would
indeed be frequently uneasy, and seldom could be rendered otherwise, but by Emma, who,
he affirmed, ever placed it smoother than any one else, thanking her, with a glance from
his expressive dark eyes, in a language which, though new, was intelligible to her unexpe-
rienced heart. Twice, as she placed his arm, he had ventured to kiss her hand ; but the
confusion this had occasioned, and the tremor with which she afterwards approached, him,
determined him to desist, rather than give an alarm that might prove detrimental to his
passion.

CHAPTER III.

\ ii ITMORB gained strength daily ; and at length, with his arm in a sling, came down stairs,
though the surgeon affirmed he must not yet venture the shaking of a carriage. On the

THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST. 7

second day after he had left his chamber, finding himself at home with Godwin, after some
conversation, in whu-h lu> expressed his wannest thanks for the favours he had received, he
took his hand, and with the ease of good breeding that particularly distinguished him.
entreated his acceptance of a bank-note of a hundred pounds, as a small retribution towards
the obligations he had received.

"My good sir," said the farmer, returning the note, " you are heartily welcome to the
asylum your unhappy situation rendered necessary. To me it has been no inconvenience,
but rather a gratification, as it has enabled me to fulfil one of the greatest duties commanded
us <D O unto others as you would they should do unto you.' Your own servant lias taken
the fatigue on himself, shall you then pay for your mere shelter and a little food in such a
calamity ? Heaven fordid ! If any debt, not to me is it due, but to those in similar
circumstance, and to whom, I doubt not, your own heart will lead you to pay it." Whit-
more was abashed ; he felt all the dignity and force of virtue : he remembered Emma, and her
heart smote him ; but recovering his confusion, and reflecting for a few moments, he replied
-" My dear sir, at least give me some way to show my gratitude. You have two sons, well-
informed, sensible young men : permit me to take on myself to charge one of them. From
my situation in life, I flatter myself that I can introduce him to the world with success
having it in my power to place a person immediately as clerk in one of the public offices ;
which situation, till we can procure a better, will at least afford a genteel competency."
Godwin returned his thanks for this offer, answering, that in a matter in which themselves
were so materially concerned, he would certainly inform them of Mr. Whitmore's generosity.
" But for my own part,*' continued he, " were I to consult only my wishes, I should rather
they would settle in the spot where they first saw the light. Great towns, 1 have heard and
read, are full of daager ; and though I depend much on the virtuous education I have given
my sons, yet I should tremble to expose them to temptations which youth and constitution
could ill withstand."

The entrance of Mrs. Godwin with her sons here broke off the discourse, which, however,
was soon renewed by the farmer's informing them of what had passed. The anxious
mother, trembling with dread at the bare idea of being separated from her children, was,
at the same moment, elated with their probable success, and their future elevation in life ;
she therefore remained silent, tears glistening in her eyes, which, fixed on the loved com-
panion of her youth, appeared to wish to read his sentiments on the occasion ; but he
simply repeated Mr. Whitmore's offer, without expressing, even in the most distant manner,
his own thoughts on the occasion. He had hardly concluded, when William, addressing
Mr. Whitmore, replied " I know no terms, sir, in the plain untutored language I have
been accustomed to, that appear strong enough to express my thanks for yoAr generosity;
but for myself, must beg leave to decline it. My father's increasing years demand the
assistance of a son, both as a comfort to his age, and to take from his hand the weight of
business, trivial to youth, but fatiguing in advanced life. I am also affianced to a young
woman, who, like myself, would, I am sure, prefer this cottage, labour, content, and peace,
to all the bustle that grandeur or wealth could bestow ; and, lastly, unfit, from indisposition,
for public life, I can but again express my thanks for your kindness, of which I shall ever
retain the most grateful remembrance." Here William ceased. His father smiled with
satisfaction, which sentiment was as instantly conveyed to the features of his mother whose
heart, however hung doubtful on the answer of her younger son. Edwin was silent,
and appeared lost in thought : the struggle was hard, and, for some moments,
forbade utterence. Greatness and wealth for the first time appeared within
his grasp ; but then to leave Agnej^, though even for a short time, was
distraction yet, perhaps, soon to return, and place her in a position in sosiety she
was fitted to adorn, was enchanting, and, after a moments pause, mastered the first
consideration.

" I will be guided by my father, sir," at length hesitated Edwin : " he is the best judge
of what is fitting for my welfare ; and whatever is his determination I shall submit to

8 THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST.

without repugnance." " My dear boy," replied Godwin, " by the agreement with Bernard,,
yourself and your brother will equally share what we possess, except the trinle I have
saved being transferred at your mother's death to Emma. You must therefore, in the
present case, judge for yourself, and answer accordingly." Edwin again, after a pause,
replied, that as he knew his father would not feel his loss, from the attention of William,
with his permission he would think of it till the morrow, and then give a definitive answer.
Whitmore approved of this resolution, as did also Godwin ; and being soon after joined by
Mrs. Delmer and Emma, the conversation ceased ; William and his brother quitting them to
go to farmer Bernard's.

In their way thither, William remained silent until Edwin resumed the discourse
respecting Mr. Whitmore's offer, which he spoke of with all the warmth and energy
natural to youth "I am young," said he, "and perhaps maybe successful enough to
acquire sufficient wealth to fix my Agnes in a state equal to my wishes to assist my
parents and Emma and place my beloved brother above labour. What happiness. " I
can know no greater," returned William, calmly, though with great affection, " than the
prospect before me appears to promise. I am young, and able to labour ; Fanny Bernard
will be my companion, and share with me the pleasing employ of sootJaing the declining
years of our parents. With such a wife, and such relations, what can I wish for more ?
The farm has ever been sufficient to gratify all our wants and wishes ; what then should
we seek for, my dear brother ? Under the specious covering of wealth and grandeur,
frequently lurks care ; and though I would not advise, yet I must confess I had hoped, that
as our youth had passed together, our age might do the same. Virtue, justice, all the
claims that distinguish manhood, unite you to Agnes, whom, if you forsake, fascinated
by the delirium of grandeur, you are unworthy to live." "Forsake Agnes!" replied
Edwin, recoiling with horror at the idea ; " abandon Agnes ! No, William, do not think
so ill of me ; with her I would rather encounter all the calamities that fortune could inflict,
than accept a throne without her." This discourse brought them to Bernard's door,
where they were met by Agnes. " What is the matter, Edwin ?" said she, fixing
her eyes on him with inquiring tenderness; "you look unhappy! nay, and William
too ! Tell me, are all well at home ?" William replied in the amrmatime ; then asking
for her father, hastily passed into the house, leaving her alone with Edwin. " Agnes,"
said Edwin, hesitating, " will you walk with me into the orchard ? 1 have much to consult
you upon."

Agnes gave him her hand with silence, which he felt tremble within his own. "Why
this alarm, my love?" said he, putting his arm round her waist. "What do you fear?"
" Alas ! I know not what," replied she ; " but your features first gave me a shock that I
cannot account for, and which was increased by William's looks and behaviour. Well do
I know his temper, Edwin : he is never moved by trifles something very material must
have happened to change him thus." " Nothing material, my love, only Mr. Whitmore
has been offering my father to take charge of either my brother or myself, and to settle

us in some situation that may lead to make our fortune. William first replied, and ''

"Declined itl" scarcely articulated Agnes. "Yes, my dear girl ; nor have I accepted
it. I wished to consult you, and shall abide by your determination. If you approve, and
think it may be the means of our future welfare, by placing me above sharing our parent's
property with William, I shall accept it with pleasure ; If otherwise, relinquish it : fop
yon well know, my Agnes," continued he, kissing off a tear that had fallen from her cheek,
" that nc.y greatest happiness consists in giving you pleasure. In a few months, perhaps,
I might be settled to my satisfaction, and able to return to Inglewood, and fetch my
betrothed -wife. Would to heaven you had already borne that name 1 for as it is, I
fear both our parents will object to our union until they find how I am placed. Oh, Agnes,
they say we are too young to marry I How false that notion, when we are old. enough to

ht hare continued for a much longer time uninterrupted, for the heart of

der, she gave
"I

c :.:

fi
U

;' :

C Hfl

yet, Agnes,''
;>uld glory to
:st incentive !
lirough life in
obbfd Agnes,

no desire for
assess : but go
.ere men scoff
th unblushing
i 1 Go, there,
;red with silks
icrous Agnes !
, even though
n, may I be
ursed by my
' interrupted

d by thee !
11 decline Mr.
Not for my
ur inclination
elf for having
tli your father
.iced they are
ics passed the
tenderness, in
aver her eyes,
aken place in
have informed
o disapprove,
cnent " It is,
d hastening to
hen a moment
ime. William
Dn the neck of
ing the name
;ontinuing her
. as any of the

William; and

c *"* Jy my truth, I

lould have had
re : he used to

be as likely a fellow as you would see on a summer's day," continued ne, pointing to him ;
" why, pies on the fellow, what a change has taken place ! a quarter of an hour ago Ms face
was as long as my leg, and his eyes as dead as a tale mackerel's ; now, I protest, they look
quite blight, and his cheeks plump! Why thou must be a plaguy good doctor, Fanny, to
make such a speedy cure!" " She is the only one I ever intend to employ, if she will
undertake the task," replied William : " but your cousin must be fatigued, and needs
refreshment.'" " Good troth, you may as well be my cousin at once, for that will be the next

without repi
yourself am
saved being
present cast
replied, that
with his pen
Whitmore aj
Mrs. Delmej
go to farmer

In their
respecting I
natural to y
acquire sum
patents and
can know nc
prospect befc
will be my cc
years of our
The farm ha;
we seek for,
frequently lui
as our youth
claims that d
by the deliri
Edwin, recoil
so ill of me ;
than accept
where they i
her eyes on
too ! Tell me

for her father v >

said Edwin, h
you upon."

Agnes gav
this alarm, m
" Alas ! I kn.
cannot nccoun
I know his te
have happenei
has been offer
us in some siti
"Declined it
it. I wished 1
think it may b
property with

you well know, My - B r , umrormea ire, Kissing off a tear that had fallen from her cheek,
44 that my greatest happiness consists in giving you pleasure* In a few months, perhaps,
I might be settled to my satisfaction, and able to return to Inglewood, and fetch my
betrothed wife. Would to heaven you had already bo mo. that name 1 for as it
fear both our parents -mil object to our union until they find how I am placed. Oh, Agnes,
they say we are too young to marry 1 How false that notion, when we are old. enough to
lovel"

Kdwtn might hare continued for a much longer time uninterrupted, for the heart of

THE FARMER OF ING U:\VOOD FOREST. 9

Agnes was too full for utterance; and, with her face reclined on his shoulder, she gave
vent to the anguish that overwhelmed her " I will not go then," continued luiwin. "I
cannot see you thus. 1 will, with thanks, decline Mr. Whitmore's oli< r : \
added he, pressing her to his bosom, " to have placed thee in a state I should glory to
view thee in, what would I not endure! Heaven v.ilm <s, that was my strongest ince:
but it is past I renounce it ; it gives thee pain, Agnes, and I will nranaia through life in
the humble, situation to which I was born." "Not on my account, Edwin," sobbed Agnes,
endeavouring to master her tears : " go where your wishes lead you I have no desire for
grandeur; Inglewood, with your company, contained all I ever wished to possess: but go
go to that hateful city, whose vices I have trembled to hear repeated ; where men scoff
at the ruin of innocent maids, and vile women walk the streets at noonday with unblushing
cheeks ; where power overcomes right ; and where affection is bought and sold 1 Go, there,
Edwin, and forsake all the rustics of Ingleweod : but remember, that those covered with silks
and embroidery do not always contain hearts so true as mine." " Cruel, ungenerous Agnes !
what are their hearts to me ? Am I not thine ? and I will ever falsify that vow, even though
we should be separated ? No ; I repeat it should I become that villain, ma y I be
abandoned .of God and m an ! may the wealth I seek become my bane ! cursed by m y

parents, tieopifted by my brother; and by thee, Agues " "Forgiven!" interrupted

she, laying her hand on his lips.

" No, Agnes, Iwowld have said hated, but cannot bear the thought ! Hated by thee !
impossible! that curse alone would drive me to despair! To-morrow I will decline Mr.
Whitmore's offer ; smile, then, my love, and let it be forgotten." " Not for my
persuasion shall you relinquish it." said Agnes; "for as I am sure your inclination
prompts you- to accept his proposal, might you not hereafter reflect on yourself for having
let an advantage pass that you could never regain ? Consult, therefore, with your father
and mother, nnd be sure I will -acq-uience in whatever they determine, convinced they are
the best judges how you sliould act." With such discourse Edwin and Agnes passed the
first tefe-a-tt'tc they ever found painly ; 'however, his repeated vows and tenderness, in
some measure, contributed to soothe her; and, pulling her bonnet lower over her eyes,
"they returned to the farm, where a scene of a very different nature had taken place in
their absence. They were hardly out of sight, and William had just time to have informed
Bernard of Mr. Whitmore's offer, which the honest farmer did not seem to disapprove,
when the trampling of horses was heard in the lane. William listened a moment " It is,
perhaps Fanny!" excluimed he, regardless of what Bernard was saying, and hastening to
'the gate with the utmost eagerness, his eyes sparkling with expectation, when a moment
presented her to his sight, with a young cousin, who had escorted her home. William
rushed to meet them ; while Fanny, seeing his approach, threw the bridle on. the neck of
the old mare, and was caught in his arms in an instant, each only articulating the name
of the other ; the young farmer hallooing his greetings, the old mare continuing her
sober pace till she reached the well known stable-door, apparently as pleased as any of the
party.

Bernard by this time was at the gate, where lie received his daughter from William ; and
giving her a kiss, shook his relation heartily by the hand, exclaiming " By my truth, I
am glad ye be come ! for, i'faith, I believe, if you staid a week longer, we should have had
a burying. Take care how you fall in love, cousin, for look at William there : he used to
be as likely a fellow as you would see on a summer's day," continued he, pointing to him ;
li why, pies on the fellow, what a change has taken place ! a quarter of an hour ago his face
was as long as my leg, and his eyes as dead as a tale mackerel's ; now, I protest, they look
quite blight, and his cheeks plump ! Why thou must be a plaguy good doctor, Fanny, to
make such a speedy cure !" " She is the only one I ever intend to employ, if she will
undertake the task," replied William : " but your cousin must be fatigued, and needs
refreshment." " Good troth, you may as well be my cousin at once, for that will be the next

THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST.

thing I suppose. However, come in, my lads ; you shall have the best the cupboard and
cellar afford. ? With these words he led the way into the house, were they were soon
joined by Edwin and Agnes. " Pies on't !" cried the old man, <l here comes another pair
of turtles. Heaven help the poor fellow that has likely daughters ! sigh here, kiss there ;
and then my poor apple-trees, what with true lovers' knots, F. B. and A. B. if the girls
don't get married soon they won't be worth a farthing."

William smiled at the farmer's humour; his cousin applauded it with a hearty laugh;
but Edwin, distracted between the contending passions of love and ambition, hardly
knew what passed ; while Fanny, ever gentle and observant, caught the gloom that hung on
her beloved sister's features, by whom she was seated, her eyes tenderly fixed on her face,
and anxiously inquiring after her health.

CHAPTER IV.

WHILE William and Edwin were engaged at Bernard's, Mrs. Delmer, her brother, and
Emma, had taken their evening walk, during which he had informed them of the wish he
entertained of Edwin's accompanying them to town. Mrs. Delmer expressed the highest
satisfaction at this intelligence, saying, that she had no doubt but that, with the natural
gracefulness of Edwin, his fine person, and a proper introduction, he would soon make his
fortune. Emma also testified her pleasure ; though, at the same time, her face was a
perfect index of an April day, alternately exhibiting tears and dimpled smiles. "Why
these tears, lovely Emma ?" said Whitmore : " your brother's preferment and happiness
shall be my peculiar care : think you not," added he, in a lower voice, " but he must be
dear to me?" " I am sufficiently convinced of your goodness," replied Emma; "but we
have never yet been separated for a day a circumstance which must plead an excuse for
the weakness I now show. Then Agnes, too, whom he sincerely loves, will be quite
overcome by his absence ; for though both my father and farmer Bernard object to their
marriage for a twelvemonth, on account of their youth, yet they have promised the
to consent at that time." Emma was too intent on the subject, and Whitmore
was too intent on Emma, to pay much attention to the countenance of Mrs.
Delmer, which, on this intelligence, was overspread with a deep crimson ; and interrupting
Emma " It is to be hoped." said she, " that the different situation in which he will be
placed, will inspire him with ideas more advantageous to his fortune.' "As to that,
madam," replied Emma, " Fanny and Agnes are perfectly worthy the affection of my
brothers ; for, exclusive of sharing all their father possesses at his death, they are reckoned
among the best, as well as handsomest girls in the country." " Perhaps so," returned Mrs.
Delmer, petulantly ; " at a country fair, a small stock of beauty will go a great way."
" You will not say so when you see them, but at once allow my brothers' affections well
placed," replied Emma. "Indeed I don't know how it could be otherwise ; they are our
nearest neighbours ; and their mother dying when they were very young, they have been a s
much brought up at our house as their own."

Whitmore here interrupted the discourse by saying " Should your brother, Miss Emma,
accept my offer, which I confess I greatly wish, would not the dread you appear to feel at
the idea of parting with him be greatly lessened by returning my sister's visit for a short
time in London, where we would endeavour to show you the kindness we received at
Inglewcod was not lavished on insensibles ?" Emma for a moment made no reply ; for
though such a project had never entered her thoughts, it was too congenial to her inclinations
to suffer her to entirely decline it ; and to acquiesce without the consent of her parents was
impossible.

" You do not speak, Miss Godwin," said Whitmore. " My dear sister, will you not

THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST. 11

assist me in persuading your young friend to favour us so greatly ?" Mrs. Delmer, who
though she liked Emma very well for a country companion, had no intention of carrying the
acquaintance farther, yet in a manner thus pressed to make an offer, replied " As soon as I
have fixed on a house, I shall be happy to be favoured with Miss Godwin's company, if her
friends will consent."

Mr. Whitmore, who clearly saw that his sister was far more warm in the interest of a
handsome young man than a beautiful woman, replied " True, my dear madam, we both
speak provisionally of what we wish; for Edwin, influenced by his passion, may perhaps
decline my offer ; and my own heart is too sensible how much such a sacrifice must cost him.
to press it strenuously though for his future welfare," " Ridiculous I" cried Mrs. Delmer >
'* and to suffer an elegant young man to throw away his life in obscurity, at most the master
of a farm 1" A blush, partly of anger, but more of shame, dyed the cheeks of Emma ; and,
for the first time in her life, she felt it derogatory to be the daughter of a farmer. " Though
I think he might be very happy in that state," said Emma, " yet I cannot but wish he may
he sensible of the favour you design him ; for though I shall be sincerely grieved at his
departure, yet, when I consider it is for his future benefit, that idea will console me, as I
hope it will Agnes." " And to my sister's request you say nothing," replied Whitmore.
" Yes, sir, I am truly sensible of your condescension ; and if my parents would permit*
should be very happy to accept it for a short time." Mrs. Delmer replied in a manner that
fully satisfied the unsuspecting Emma. Whitmore, by a glance, only expressed his thanks ;
but that glance, more expressive than words, declared utterable things, and sunk at once into
the heart against which it was directed.

On their return to the farm, they found Mr. and Mrs. Godwin waiting supper; during
which Mr. Whitmore's servant entered with a letter which he had brought from the market-
town. A momentary suffusion crossed his cheek as he received it, and he was on the point
of putting it in his pocket, had not Mrs. Delmer said " From Mrs. Whitmore, I presume,
brother?" " I know not," replied he, after a moment's hesitation, "but will peruse it,
after supper. My last letters say all our friends in town are well." Mr. Godwin, who had
no idea that any one could be so careless about those he denominated his friends, entreated
that politeness might not deprive him of the satisfaction of reading his letter. Mr.
Whitmore bowed his thanks, but again declined it ; when Mrs. Delmer, as if actuated by a
spirit of contradiction, seconded Mr. Godwin, by saying "Do my dear brother, oblige me ;
I long to hear what company you have at Twickenham."

Mr. Whitmore, who now found that opposition would only make the affair worse, and at
the same time as effectually disclose what he had wished to conceal, made a virtue of
necessity; and breaking the seal, glanced his eyes carelessly over the contents, then reached
it to his sister ; at that moment heartily wishing her, in his own mind, in the bosom of her
departed spouse. While she was reading Whitmore fixed his eyes on Emma, and saw, with
secret satisfaction, an air of anxiety overspread her countenance; but finding she observed
him, immediately withdrew them. "There, take back your letter," said Mrs. Delmer;
" Mrs. Whitmore, I find, is as gay and volatile as ever. This, I think, is the second yon
have been favoured with since your accident." " Had she now," replied Whitmore,
peevishly, " saved herself the trouble of reminding me of my misfortunes, I had been infinitely
more obliged to her." With these words he arose, and left the room in evident discomposure ,
though, at the same time, so apparently overwhelmed with melancholy, that the honest
farmer and his wife were deeply concerned for him. Emma, during this discourse, had
endeavoured to appear, nay, to persuade herself, that she was not interested in it ; but her
heart beat, her hands trembled, and an involuntary sigh escaped her. " Bless me !" cried
Mrs. Godwin, with much surprise, "I never entertained the most distant idea that Mr.
Whitmore was married. I presume his lady was not acquainted with his misfortune till he
was almost able to return home." " Oh, yes," replied Mrs. Delmer ; " one of the servants
who attended us went off the day following ; but she is too gay to be easily alarmed. Indeed
I never saw my brother so affected at her indifference before."

H2 THE FARMER OF IXGLEWOOD FOREST.

"My good dame," replied the farmer, "thinks every one should posses a heart as
susceptible as her own. Had I broken my arm, I should have experienced more anxiety
for her tenderness than from the pain, and been in continual apprehension of seeing her sink
under the fatigue of attending me." William and Edwin at that moment entered, and
apparently seemed to have changed characters ; the first being all gaity, the latter depressed
and lost in thought. " I think I might venture a good wager," said Mr. Godwin, " that
Fanny Bernard is returned : is it not so, William ?" " Yes, sir, she will call to see you in
the morning ; she would have come to night, but I prevented her, as she must be fatigued."
" She will be welcome as thyself, my son, and Agnes too ; we shall see her more frequently
as Fanny is returned to share the domestic cares."

Mrs. Delmer changed the discourse, by addressing Edwin respecting his going to town.
* I hope," said she, " you will not give my brother the vexation of refusing his offer, as I
am convinced he will exert his utmost interest for your promotion : nay, to his shall be
added mine ; and as the late Mr. Delmer had powerful friends, I can entertain no doubt of
your success." Edwin bowed his thanks ; after which Mrs. Delmer wished them a good
Bight, and retired with Emma.

The farmer thus left alone with his wife and sons, Edwin's affairs were the sole topic,
" I can neither persuade you to accept nor decline it, my child," said the good man ; "you
alone must judge what you think conducive to your happiness. Equal possessor with your
brother, both of my affection and property, there is no need to seek a greater fortune, if
you can be content in the state in which heaven has ever been pleased to keep me, without
a desire to change it ; but if your wishes lead you to endeavour to gain wealth, make the
attempt, and if you fail, my son, return ; under this humble roof you shall find welcome,
and a parent's arms open to receive you : but, my Edwin, if you determine in favour of the
turmoils of the great world, beware of the intoxication of pride and pleasure, which inevitably
destroy the seeds of virtue ; beware of being too suddenly elated, or too soon depressed ;
the first shows a weak head , the second a pusillanimous heart , seek reputation and honour
openly and boldly ; but flatter no man's vices or foibles to gain them. Let truth be the
invariable guide of all your actions. Give no promise without deliberation; but when once
given, hold it sacred ; and finally, remember God, and in the hour of need he will not forget
you."" Oh, my father !" cried Edwin, sinking on his knee ; " but Agnes, my beloved,

Agnes " " Is your betrothed wife a tie sacred, my son, in the sight of that Power

who records all our vows and actions. I have wished to delay your marriage on account of
your youth ; but if you determine for a country life, I am willing to retract my opinion,
and press Bernard to join your hands at the same time that Fanny and William are united -.
but if you resolve on a journey to London, such a step would be the height of imprudence,
as the care of a young, handsome, and inexperienced female, in a great city, must naturally
take up more time in your first pursuits than you could prudently spare ; in that case, it
is my opinion, that you leave her with her father until you are properly settled ; for if you
love her, you cannot wish her to partake of those difficulties you may necessarily meet on
your introduction."

The offer of an immediate union with \gnes, for some moments appeared to preponderate
the scale in the mind of Edwin, and determine him in favour of a country life ; yet, when
reflection presented the resigning almost certain wealth to live for ever in obscurity, nay, to
condemn Agnes to such a state when he might raise her to affluence, he paused, and
determined to struggle with his passion, and rather relinquish for a few months the rapture
of calHng her his, than do both himself and her so material an injury." My dear father,"
Mid he, after some hesitation, " I think, that is, if you approve, I will at least try my
success ; chance appears to have thrown this opportunity in my way, which it might be
folly to neglect. Bless mo, then, my respected parents ; I feel I shall be successful, and
soon, very soon, trmst to return and claim Agnes."' 4 Mayst thou be blessed, my son I
me conjure thee not to be too sanguine ; hope fivfpvntly Ic-nls us to flatter oursrlvrs
with fallacious expectations, which redouble the pongs oi disappointment. Nothing is certain

THE FARMER OF INOLEWOOD FOREST. 13

in this transitory state. Even I, who have been blessed above the common lot of mortals,
far from the bustle of the world, nappy in a partner to share my joys and cares, and children,
whose duty can only be equalled by tlu-ir affection, yet even I have met with sorrow ; think
then, on the turtoilent sea of public life, how much greater must be the trials. I mean not
to depress, but jhe night is far spent let us retire ; and heaven resolve thee for the
best !"

Mrs. Godwin had not spoken during \-his discourse, though at the conclusion would also
haw blessed him; but pressing him in her arms, sin; followed her husband to his chamber*
"William remained silent wtu'le they were preparing to go to rest. The conduct of Edwin
had astonished him, for he had not the most distant idea but that every scheme would have
been relinquished for an immediate union with Agnes : what then was his disappointment
when he heard him resign it ! He could scarcely credit the evidence of his senses, nor could
he even yet arrange his thoughts : but bidding his brother good night, in apparent
uneasiness, he ejaculated " Unhappy Agnes ! Ah, Edwin! thou hast either less love or
more philosophy than me !"

CHAPTER V.

THE next morning farmer Bernard, on William and Edwin's calling there, renewed the
discourse of the preceding evening. His heart was equally honest as that of Godwin ; but
his understanding being inferior, he was more fascinated by the offers made to Edwin, whom
he warmly pressed to accept them, priding himself in the idea that he should hereafter look
tip to a son-in-law who would not only constitute the happiness of his beloved daughter,
but also be the wealthiest man in either family. Under this persuasion he rallied his
daughters on their dislike to his departure ; for Fanny more openly expressed her
disapprobation than Agnes, who declared, though tears falsified her words, that she was
perfectly content to acquiesce in whatever Edwin might think would conduce to his advantage.
Edwin, though wounded by Agnes's tears, was notwithstanding so strongly borne away by
the infatuation of acquiring wealth, that it mastered every other consideration ; and rein-
forced in this opinion by Bernard, after tenderly repeating his vows to Agnes, it was deter-
mined he should declare his acceptance of Whitmore's proffer in the afternoon. This
business settled, Fanny, who had not yet seen the elder Godwin, proposed a walk tbither to
Agnes, who readily agreed to accompany her.

If Agnes had passed a disagreeable night, that of Emma had not been more pleasant ;
she could not forget, even for a moment that \Vhitmore was married. '* Yet what is it to
me ?" said she. " I shall never see him more, without my parents give me leave to visit
Mrs. Delmer ; and indeed I have scarcely any wish they should : yet, to be sure, Mr.
Whitmore's being married is no reason to prevent me. Poor man ! he appears very
unhappy ; he seems deserving of being beloved. So sensible, good-tempered, and handsome,
his wife must be a strange character not to endeavour to conciliate his affections ; nay, her
neglect of him, when she knew his arm was broken, shows she must have an unfeeling
heart ; for, had he been my husband," concluded Emma, " I would even have walked twice
the distance that separated them, sooner than any others should have taken those cares that
properly belonged to me."

In the morning, Whitmore was the fu-t in the parlour, where he was soon joined by Mr.
and Mrs. Godwin. " My friends," said he, "I know not how to apologize for my behaviour
of last night ; yet, if yon knew my unhappiness, I think I should be excused, though in truth
y misfortunes have no right, even for a moment, to cast a gloom on our happiness ; yet,
when I contemplate the bliss possible to be enjoyed in the marriage state, and compare it
with my own misery, I cannot forbear accusing Fortune of un kindness." " My dear sir,"

THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST*

interrupted Godwin, " I entreat you not to mention it : and am extremely sorry you do not
enjoy that happiness you appear so well to merit."

Whitmore replied only by a sigh : he thought the pique he could not avoid showing the
night before, required some apology, and therefore had determined to persuade the good
farmer that his matrimonial discontents totally originated in his lady a circumstance which
he thought would excuse his conduct to the family, and perhaps inspire the gentle breast of
Emma, to whom he judged it would de repeated, with pity a sentiment he had no doubt,
Some time or other, to improve into feeling more congenial to his wishes. The entrance of Mrs.
Delmer and Emma prevented more conversation on Mr. Whitmore's family discontents ;
but he saw with secret exultation that the lively features of Emma were overspread with an
uncommon cast of seriousness : a circumstance that; not a little nattered him with succes s
in the plan meditated, in recompense for the hospitality he had received. Indeed, in this
case, he conceived that no injury could accrue ; for could he gain Emma's heart, the
obligation would be mutual ; she should share his fortune, and, from the prejudices of a
country life and narrow education, be raised at once to be the envy of the woman, and the
desire of the men. Had her brothers been affluent, they might have been expected to
resent such an insult ; but Whitmore feared no man his sword was ever to defend the vice s
of its owner; and in this case the anger of two simple youths, the curses of an aged father,
or the anguish of his innocent partner, never intruded on his imagination. Slave to his
passions, they bore him like a rapid torrent against all impediment, redoubling by obstruction
and difficulty ; so that when once resolved on any purpose, the vivacity of his temper, and
the errors of his education, represented the pursuit he was engaged in as dependent on his
honour to be accomplished.

Breakfast was hardly over before William and Edwin entered, accompanied by Fanny and
Agnes, unconscious of beauty though fair

" As op'ning flow'rs untamed yet with wind."

Fanny, with a frankness that peculiarly distinguished her, regardless of the strangers,
flew to salute Mrs. Godwin, then threw her arms around the venerable father of her lover
" Bless the, my child !" exclaimed the good man, kissing her with the affection of a parent ;
' may heaven hereafter reward thy duty and innocence with children faultless in mind and
form as thyself!" "Amen," involuntarily articulated William, viewing his father and
intended wife with a rapture that gave redoubled animation to his fine dark eyes. A
momentary blush suffused the face of Fanny ; but silently thanking Mr. Godwin with a kiss,
she hastened to testify her affection to Emma, while Agnes, equally lovely, but more timid,
replaced her in the arms of the respectable pair. "What a scene!" said Whitmore, in a
low voice to his sister, who had withdrawn towards the window ; " what enchanting women !'*
" Passable," replied Mrs. Delmer, carelessly viewing Agnes with scrutinizing attention, in
vain endeavouring to discover defects in a face and form that envy itself must have
pronounced faultless. The family congratulations over, Whitmore advanced with his natural
ease and good breeding, and joined in the conversation. Emma, an hour before, he had
thought a finished model of innocent beauty; but now, though he could not allow her
eclipsed, he saw her at least equalled ; and had there been the smallest room for hope of
gaining an interest in the bosom of the fair sisters, his heart would have cherished passion ;
but, as it was, each fortified by an affection that precluded his nattering himself with success,
he contemplated only Emma as equally lovely and doubly desirable, as her heart was not
prepossessed, or if otherwise, only partial to himself.

Mrs. Delmer, who, in spite of pride or wealth, found a strong inclination to love Edwin,
was not quite so secure. In Agnes she beheld a beloved and much to be dreaded rival ;
and though she could boast affluence, accomplishments, and a person generally allowed
handsome, she was by no means certain whether the weak prejudices of Edwin might not
lead him to prefer the humble village maid, unadorned but by nature, and rich only in
worth and innocence. She, indeed, nattered herself that the partiality she felt for the

THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST.

handsome rustic, was merely the effect of being immured in the country, where no pleasing
objects had been presented : yet a number of circumstances might hare proved to a curious
observer, that Edwin, however unintentionally, had a firmer hold of her affections ; she- li;id
been satisfied, nay, apparently happy while at Inglewood, though deprived of all those
fashionable amusements and gratifications that she had considered during the life of
her husband so essential to her felicity, and which she had been in haste to partake as
soon as etiquette would permit. The idea once started of Edwin's going with them to
town, she warmly espoused it and anxiously wished to see him placed in a manner she
considered more respectable, without examining her own heart for the real motive.
AYhitinori- was not blind to this partiality, though it was far from being suspected by
any one else ; now and then it gave him awkward sensations, but which were quickly
vanquished by his favourite tenets that all were free agents, and passions were given
to be gratified ; and so his sister preserved the respect of the world and her rank in
society, for he had not the most distant idea of her sinking it in an ill-suited marriage, he
cared little about a transitory amour, though, had any one reflected on his sister's chastity,
he would have defended it with his life ; yet not from any affection of her person or virtue,
but merely because custom demonded such conduct in a man of honour. In short, affluence,
and the concomitant evils of having it in his power to gratify all his foibies and vices,
had perverted a soul naturally noble and brave, to render him merely a modern man of
fashion.

After a stay of two hours, Fanny and Agnes took leave of the family, and returned,
accompanied by their lovers. Mr. Godwin withdrew to his fields, his wife to superintend
her dairy, Mr. Whitmore to his apartment, and, soon after, Mrs. Delmer to hers,
complaining of a slight indisposition ; though, in reality, her only sickness was the beauty
of Agnes, and the fear of supplanting so dangerous a rival. Emma, thus left alone, for
some time indulged a thousand melancholy thoughts she had formerly been a stranger to,
and all which had only existence since the introduction of Whitmore at the Forest. At
length, weary with unprofitable thinking, and in no humour to resume the little domestic
cares that used to amuse hex, she carelessly took up a book that Mrs. Delmer had
accidently left on the table. It was an elegantly written fiction, in which the hero,
unable to combat his passion for a married woman, had terminated his existence. Emma's
heart was not formed of unfeeling materials, and the catastrophe cost her many tears.
The heroine was represented virtuous, yet she apparently loved the suicide circumstances
that Emma had thought incompatible, for how, had ever before whispered her innocent
heart, can a Rood woman love any man but her husband ? The hapless lover, too, was
mentioned with pity and tenderness sentiments hi which the humanity of Emma coincided - 9
but no one deplored what she had ever been taught to believe, that suicide was everlasting
perdition ; nor was she displeased at the omission of this circumstance the tenderness of
her disposition leading her to sympathize with the sufferer, and pity those errors her
education had taught her to abhor. Thus did the dangerous elegance of the pathetic tale at
once undermine " all that the priest and nurse had taught," and which her father had never
contradicted ; leaving those ideas implanted on the mind which he thought might tend to
the general good ; or otherwise, trusting to time and reason to develope in the breasts of
his children sentiments which he found inexplicable, consonant with the philanthropy whic h
actuated all his thoughts and actions ; for his heart, like uncle Toby's, would not have
damned the devil himself to all eternity, much less the errors of fallible mortality. Weak-
ness and folly he considered with pity, and, when in his power, he endeavoured to reclaim
but vice and cruelty he saw with an abhorrence that made its perpetrators ever shunned by
him.

Whitmore, who had loitered from his apartment to the garden, passed the window, and
perceiving Emma alone, pushed by the woodbines that almost obscured it, and entered into
conversation with her. ' Good heaven!" cried he, with insinuating tenderness, " you have

16 THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST.

been weeping my'lovely friend ! Pardon my intrusion ; but surely, after the kindness I have
experienced, I may be allowed to feel an interest in the sorrows of one whom numberless
circumstances have contributed to render dear to me." ' Indeed," replied Emma, " I
believe few people have less real cause for them than myself, blest as I am with kind and
affectionate relatives ; but to confess the truth, this book of Mrs. Delmer's has affected me
greatly, though I suppose it is not true ; nay, I hope not, for toe idea is dreadful ; and
though our curate says there is no pardon for suicide, I trust he is mistaken." " Can you
doubt it ?" replied Whitmore. " God is too merciful to punish errors which fatal necessity
obliges us to commit : priests' indeed, of all ages, have promulgated doctrines to keep weak
minds in awe; but can you, gentle Emma, for a moment suppose that sentiments, which
are the result of reflection and reason, culpable ? surely not. The unhappy suicide there
represented loved, it is true, a married woman, but one whom a number of untoward
circumstances had made such, without her heart being consulted, and in which situation she
might, perhaps, have remained passably content during life, had not that inpreceptible
attraction, which unites some hearts, convinced her of her mistake, and her lover of his
misery, for nothing to hope," added he, with a sigh, " an insuperable bar being placed
between him and the object of his dearest wishes, who can condemn him for throwing off
a load which he found insupportable ? Believe me, there are situations which demand more
fortitude to sustain than falls to the share of weak mortality. You, my fair friend, who
are made to be only seen and for ever idolized, can form no idea of the torments of
despairing affection." The entrance of the old servant to lay the cloth, here broke off the
discourse, and Whitmore withdrew from the window, to join the hospitable party at
dinner.

The cloth was no sooner removed than Whitmore, who could not possibly frame any
excuse for a longer stay, mentioned his intention of quitting Inglewood in two days,
expressing his wishes that Edwin would accompany him. The young man accepted his
offer with modest thanks, saying "As he had his father's permission, he would attend him,
and endeavourto deserve his kindness." Mrs. Delmer's eyes at this reply sparkled with plea-
sure ; while Whitmore expressed his satisfaction in the warmest terms, declaring " That how-
ever successful he might be in attempts to serve Edwin, yet the obligation must ever remain
on his side.

CHAPTER VI.

NOTHING material passed intervening Whitmore's departure, the whole family being much
dispirited ; even Edwin, though at times elate with a flattering prospect before him, could
not, unmoved, think on a separation from parents so beloved, and the woman whose
happiness had heretofore been his first and dearest consideration. The evening previous to
his departure, in presence of William and Fanny, he renewed his vows to Agnes, who could
only answer with her tears, concealing her face in the bosom of her sister ; while he
articulated an adieu scarcely audible, then forced himself away, goaded on by ambition,
though at the same moment he was more than half inclined to relinquish all for love. In
the morning, after repeated farewells, the travellers took their way towards the metropolis*
leaving the anxious farmer and his wife, with Emma, watching the carriage while it
remained in sight ; the aged pair in silent prayers for the safety of their son, and Emma,
though her eyes overflowed with tears, exulting in the future prospect, that Edwin would
return, possessed of that wealth her heart had lately thought so essential to human happiness.
William had risen at the earliest dawn of day, and taken an affectionate, though melancholy
>f his brother, whom he entreated not to be displeased that he did not stay to see
him depart, as he thought his presence at Bernard's might, in some measure, alienate the
sorrow, with w!.ich th.: gentle sisters appeared overwhelmed.

THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST. 17

Edwin having acquiesced in the propriety of thia measure. William immediately repaired
688 to Bernard's, where he found them already risen, their swollen eyes sufficiently bearing

testimony of their havm restless night. William exerted all his endeavours to

soothe the mind of Agnes, rej-reseiitiug the absence of Edwin as trivial, and which would
ly alleviated by the weekly rcci ipt of letters. Hcalso urged his flattering prospects ;
and, finally, what appeared to have still more weight, that he had no doubt but that in a
months Edwin would return, and claim her promised hand. True friendship seldom
fails of its effect, especially when assisted by such welcome arguments. By degrees, Agnes
became' more reconciled to the separation ; and though she still continued to sigh, her
grief was neither so agoui/ing to herself, nor so painful to others. On her quitting the
room "Generous William !" said Fanny, " will you ever thus kindly share my sorrows ?
for in alleviating those of Agnes, how have you calmed mine 1 but why do I ask, when I
Jcnow you will ? All I fear is, that my utmost efforts will never be sufficient to show my
gratitude,'' While the tears still flowed for Edwin's departure, Mr. Wuitmore, with his
sister and prat-egs , by easy stages arrived at his elegant villa, where he was received by
Mrs. Whitmore, not with the inquiring tenderness of a wife, but with the refined politeness
of an accomplished but common acquaintance. Wbituaore having coldly saluted her, first
presented his sister, then Edwin ; the former she received with a. genteel compliment, but
the latter only excited a stare of astonishment ; for though Edwin might have been classed
among the most finished of Nature's works, he still wanted numberless appendages to make
him a fine gentleman . such as a fashionable tailor and hair-dresser, an unblushing confi-
dence, together with a long train of et ceteras. These fashionable introductories being
wanting, Mr. Whitmore was obliged to find a substitute. ''To this young man's father,"
said he, " I am under the greatest obligations, and have, therefore, taken the care of his
fortune on myself; his maui-awe honie will evaporate daily; I have no doubt, in a single year,
to see him so metamorphosed, that his nearest friends will not know him."

Mrs. Whitmore coldly bid him we Icome, and retired with her gister to dress, where she
more particularly inquired concerning liim. ''What a rustic!" exclaimed she; "surely,
when Mr. Whitmore had paid for the trouble he had given, it was unnecessary to encumber
himself with this lad, for what can he possibly do with him ? it is plain he don't intend him
for a domestic by his introduction; and, with his curled locks and rosy cheeks, he is fit for
nothing else." " I cannot agree with you," rep'ied Mrs. Delmer; "I think his person,
when rendered a little more fashionable, might grace any situation ; besides my brother had
no other way of showing his gratitude to the family, as they refused all pecuniary recompense;
for, though farmers, their situation is perfectly easy : for the young man, he has really had
a good education, and, I think, has the finest hair, eyes, and teeth, I ever saw." ' My
dear sister." returned Mrs. Whitmore, laughing, '' your long residence in the country with
your late spouse may have given you a taste for the uncultivated beauties of nature ; but for
me, who have been bred and wedded in the highest degree of fashion, I must confess I
prefer the exotic sweets of the orange -flower to the uncultivated fragrance of the woodbine :
besides, he is a mere nobody, a peasant, a farmer's son ; and, did all the graces that ever
poets feigned centre in this Corydon, what would it avail, when he knows not how to use
them ? Why, he can neither walk, dance, nor talk like a man of the world ; however, I
confess he has an able moster, and, in a short time we shall be able to judge of his genius."
Mrs. Delmer, glad to change the subject began a number of inquiries, which her sister was
necessarily obliged to answer, and that soon drove the rustic Edwin from her thoughts.
The behaviour of Mrs. Whitmore to Edwin in future was polite, but distant, as if fearful
that, should she be more "condescending, he might forget Ihe distance fortune had placed
between them; that of Mr. Whitmore and Mrs. Delmer, on the contrary was friendly an, I
warm: but as no mention was for some time made of the situation designed for him, it
jave him uneasiness, as he was too clearsighted not to view the behaviour of Mrs. Wh ; .
in its proper light. In his- letters to Lis father and Agnes he expressed himself p: r.
satisfied ; but in one to his brother William he was more explicit.

THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST.

"Mr DEAR BROTHER,
" ALTHOUGH I have to my father and Agnes declared myself content, yet to you I will not I
disguise that I almost repent leaving Inglewood. The manners of the people here are so
totally different to ours, that they both disgust and distress me. I am frequently laughed
at for blushing ; and candour which I have been taught to prize so highly, is banished from
among them ; while religion is treated as a jest, and scarcely ever mentioned but with a |
ridicule. All this, my dear brother, is very disagreeable to me ; yet the hopes of that
advantage which influenced me to leave those so dear, must enable me to bear it. How
often, William, do I wish my temper was more similar to yours ! the arrows then that might
DC thrown at my country education and manners might fall harmless, for you would disregard
and despise them ; while, on the contrary, I am humiliated by ridicule, and almost ashamed
of being a farmer's son I blush to relate this, even to you, though in your bosom I know
my weakness is safe. We are yet at Mr. Whitmore's country-house, where we have much
company. His lady is also here ; she is very handsome and accomplished; but her insuf-
ferable pride to me makes her totally disagreeable. He is equally kind as when at the
Forest, and, I have no doubt, will strictly keep bis word in respect to me; therefore hide
my discontents from my affectionate parents and my beloved Agnes, a separation from whom
hangs heavy on my heart.

" Adieu, and believe me ever yours,

"E. GODWIN,"

The happiness of liis worthy parents, and that of the gentle Agnes, was too near the heart
of William for him to show the foregoing letter, not even Fanny being trusted with the
contents, while, in his own bosom, he execrated the hour that Edwin left the Forest : nor
did he fail to write speedily, and entreat his return ; or if he determined to stay, conjured
him to preserve his morals unimpaired, to beware of ill examples, nor suffer himself to be
too soon elated, nor yet weakly depressed. " A noble mind, Edwin," said he, in the
conclusion of his letter, ' ' is not degraded by the scorn of the unworthy. Art thou not an
honest man ? a name superior to the vain distinctions of wealth. Believe me, I would not
exchange it for any unmeaning sound that fortune could bestow, even though pride should
add the choice of all the monsters that heraldry ever created. Edwin, we are the sons of a
virtuous and honest farmer, a man respected by his neighbours, and beloved by the poor ;
for the labour of DO execrating slave enriches him, but wholesome industry and independence,
hand in hand, accompany him through life. Sacred then in the trust reposed in us : let it
be our glory to preserve his name unsullied, and transmit it untarnished to our descend ants.
Return then, Edwin; the farmer's son, though scorned in polite circles, is here beloved,
and his absence hourly lamented : no degrading concessions will be expected ; on your
return all will be joy and harmony the only contention who shall caress you most."
Before Edwin received this letter he was, however, more reconciled to his situation, the
kindness of Mrs Delmer and her brother in some measure compensating for the hauteur of
Mrs. Whitmore ; he therefore wrote an immediate reply to William, affectionately thanking
him, but declining to return, as Mr. Whitmore was soon to remove to London, where he
hoped to be placed in the promised independence.

CHAPTER VII.

THE information Edwin had given his brother was verified in a few days after , for Mr.
Whitmore, already weary of the country, and his lady no less so, determined to hasten to
town. Indeed, he had never borne the country with any degree of patience until he saw
Inglewood, and there the charms of Emma alone had rendered it pleasing; indeed the
innocent Emma had at once given and received an impression not easily effaced. Whitmore
could not avoid contrasting her in idea with the modish belles he daily beheld : her soft

THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST. 19

blue eyes sparkling through their dark lashes ; her luxuriant ringlets, wantonly agitated
by every wind, waving over her lovely forehead, and fulling in untaught elegance to the
small of her fine turned waist ; the glowing blush of her cheeks, the sweet dimple and
enchanting smile which played round her lovely mouth, all returned with redoubled ardour
on his warm imagination, and increased his desire to again gaze on them, and, if possible,
obtain them. Edwin's promotion he thought the most probable means ; for he then should
be regarded as the distinguished friend of the family ; and gratitude will give additional
softness to the susceptible heart of Emma, ia whose bosom he strongly suspected he had
already an advocate. To combat her prejudices he knew would be difficult ; but these
difficulties, if he succeeded, would enhance his victory. With such an incentive, the active
mind of Whitmore could enjoy but little rest, until he commenced his plan of operations ;
the removal to town was therefore the first step, and immediately put in execution.

In the mean time, the family at Inglewood were also forming their future plan of
happiness the good farmers had consented to the union of William and Fanny, as soon
as the bans could be published. All therefore was preparation and impatience until the
event took place ; for never before did William experience three such tedious weeks. Fanny
had declined going to church the two first Sundays ; but on the third, her father insisted on
her accompanying him, as the new lady of the manor had arrived in the country two days
before, and was expected at church. It was in vain she attempted to excuse herself the
old man was peremptory. " What a pies, girl, art thou ashamed of?" said he. " If thou
art ashamed of William, turn him off it is not too late. All the tenants will be at church
in the morning, in compliment to the new lady, and why shouldest thou wish to be parti-
cular ? I shall have no right to command thee after Monday ; so prithee give me this proof
of thy obedience." " My dear father," replied Fanny, "you shall be obeyed; but why
will you say that you have no right to command me hereafter ? Have I ever shown by my
actions that I thought your commands painful ?" " No ; thou wert always good and con-
siderate ; but thou knowest, Fanny, that my lease is nearly expired, and I should be sorry
to appear wanting in respect." Fanny, thus pressed, determined to obey her father; and
accordingly, on Sunday, accompanied by Agnes, Emma, William, and their respectable
parents, attended the church, where they were scarcely seated, when (their new lady of the
manor) Mrs. Palmer entered. All eyes were turned on their new comer, until the curate,
in an audible voice, demanded, for the last time " Whether there was any lawful impe-
diment against the union of William Godwin and Fanny Bernard ?" This at once changed the
object of curiosity, all eyes fixing on the intended bride and bridegroom ; nor did Mrs.
Palmerneed any one to point out the parties the downcast looks andblushing cheeks of Fanny,
the eyes of William, "with love illumined high," fixed with rapturous, yet chastened
expression on his future wife, claimed at once the happy pair.

Never before had honest Bernard imposed so painful a task on his daughter as that of
attending him to church in so critical a situation ; and was sincerely rejoiced when she
reached Mr. Godwin's where, with her father and sister, she had promised to pass the
afternoon. In short, seated by her beloved William, and surrounding by approving friends,
she had almost forgotten the disagreeable sensations of the morning, when Bernard, who
was nearest the window, suddenly exclaimed " Why as I live, here comes our new lady !
what can possibly bring her ?" Before any conjecture could be made on the reason of this
visit, the lady had approached so near the gate, that the politeness required Mr. Godwin
should advance to meet her. "You are welcome, madam," said the good man. "Will
you add to your condescension by accepting a seat after your walk ?" The lady having
acquiesced, followed him into the parlour, where the whole party instantly arose to
receive her.

" I pray you be seated," said she, taking her place. " You will give me pain if you
treat me with so much ceremony ; for though not personally acquainted, Mr. Godwin is
well known to me by the means of Mr. Burton, my late uncle's steward." Godwin bowed,

THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST.

then introduced his family not forgetting Bernard and his daughter. All were received in
a manner that marked true greatness, undisguised by Affectation ; for she loved to confer
happiness, and pride had never yet prevented her from gratifying so praiseworthy an.
inclination. " My good friends," said she with a smile, " though in this first visit I come
an unvited guest, I trust hereafter I may not prove an unwelcome one. As your daughter's
marriage is the first after my arrival in the country, I entreat it may be celebrated at the
Hall." " I scarcely know how to express my gratitude for your condescension, madam,"
replied the farmer ; " but my future daughter is anxious to have her marriage as private as
possible ; and as it is to take place to-morrow, we should be but giving your family a world
of unnecessary trouble." " It will be none," replied Mrs. Palmer. "My table needs but
little preparation ; therefore my good girl," continued she, taking the hand of the trembling
Fanny, " shall it not be as I say ? My own family, and any guests you choose, shall con-
stitute the whole company." Fanny stole a look at her father ; for though she would
willingly have been excused, she well knew his temper, and remembered his anxiety for a
renewal of his lease. " My father and Mr Godwin shall decide for me, madam," replied
Fanny, modestly curtsying.

" Nay," hastily interrupted Bernard "if my opinion is asked, I think it will be the
height of ingratitude to refuse madam's offer ; and as to the wedding being private, had I
my own way, I should have invited half the country. I think a good action cannot have
too many witnesses ; but Fanny is so sheepish and bashful, that she cannot bear one to
mention it to any body, though she loves William as her own life, and is never happy but
when he is tied to her apron-string." " Well, madam," interrupted Godwin, ** as our good
girl has referred herself to us, and I see it will gratify her father, with your leave we will
avail ourselves of the honour you intend to confer on us ; and our young folks will hereafter,
I hope, show they do not disgrace your kindness." Mrs. Palmer expressed the utmost
satisfaction at this determination, And after some general discourse, bid them farewell,
having first desired them to breakfast at the Hall previous to their going to church, where
she meant to accompany them. Mrs. Palmer was scarcely out of sight before Bernard gave
way to the transport that almost overpowered him. " There, girl,'' said he, " this comes of
my advice. I have no fear of my lease now, and that will be so much the better for thee.
Well, well, thou be'st a lucky girl, Fanny ; and so will my Agnes too, never fear. The
next thing will be, I suppose, our having news that Edwin is quite a gentleman, and coming
down to fetch her." William sighed involuntarily, while Agnes silently dropped a tear.
Ambition she had none, and would willingly have relinquished all the flattering prospects
of future grandeur, to have been seated by Edwin's side in similar circumstances with her
sister Fanny.

All the parties were loud in the praise of Mrs. Palmer : her person of affability furnished
discourse for the whole afternoon, except when the subject gave way to the pity excited by
her uneasiness ; for she had lately buried an uncle, whose fortune she inherited, and to
whose memory she was said to be most tenderly attached. At an early hour they separated ;
William attending Bernard and his daughters home ; where he lingered some time before
he could bid them farewell, though only for the night. At length, tenderly saluting his
destined wife, he wispered in her ear " Thank God, my beloved Fanny, this is the fast
night we have to separate !" Then, without venturing another look, he ran from the house,
and hastened home. \\ illiain arose with the sun the next morning; excessive happiness
had kept him hours- with impatience, and beheld with rapture the stars give place to the
dawn of day. He was soon equipped :i plain superfine drab suit constituting his whole
bridal finery. His father was not yet risen. ' He has surely overslept himself," said
William. The clock struck. " Pish !" continued he, " that clock has stood during the
night; yet, if it has not, I should be sorry to disturb my father." With such ideas he
descended the staircase, though far less cautiously than usual ; nay, when he had reached
the bottom, he was sored by a cough, which being heard by the farmer, he called aloud

THE FARMER OF INGLE WOOD FOREST.

pom his bed " What are you stirring already, my son ? it is much too early to go to
(Bernard's." William was of a different opinion ; and after having answered his father, that
be should take a walk, hastened thither, predetermined, however, not to disturb his Fanny.
This determination was however unnecessary, for in a short time she appeared at the window,
land pivse.nt.ly after, with Agnes, joined him at the gate. -

After conversing for two hours, the party was augmented by the arrival of some relations ;
land soon after came the venerable Godwin, his wife, and daughter, accompanied by the
Iguests who were invited to witness the ceremony. Mutual congratulations having taken
(place, the company repaired to Mrs. Palmer's where they found every thing prepared for
[their reception the lady presiding at the breakfast-table in a manner that delighted her
guests. At length the moment arrived that called them to church. Mrs. Palmer, with
JMrs. Godwin and Bernard, in honest exultation, led the van ; next followed Fanny, escor-
|ted by her future father-in-law and husband, whose

" Speaking eye

Express'd the sacred triumph of his soul,
With conscious virtnc, gratitude, and love,
Above the vulgar joy divinely rais'd."

Then came the bridemaids, Agnes and Emma ; and lastly, in pairs, the different relatives
of both families. On entering the church the service immediately began; and Bernard
presenting his daughter to William, a few minutes fixed her irrevocably his. " Fanny,''

(said he, saluting her when the ceremony concluded, ' thou art mine for ever, ever, mine;

land the study of my life shall be to deserve thee." " And mine," whispered Fanny, "to
repay your affection, William." He then advanced with her towards their fathers.-
Even here, oh ! my parents," exclaimed he, " bless us at the alter ! so shall your bless-
ing be registered with our mutual vows, and doubly sanctify our union !" Bernard, moved
even to tears, could only sob his blessing as he saluted his children ; but Godwin, firm and
collected, advancing, said " May the benediction of your Father who is in heaven be
added to that of a weak old man ! B-lessed may you be ! May every morn bring to ye joy
like this ! May ye live in honour and happiness, and die surrounded by your children's
children, whom I cannot wish worthier than being just representatives of their parents.
Mrs. Palmer now congratulated the new married pair, as did also the rest of the party ;
they then returned to the Hall, where an excellent but plain dinner was provided; after
which the day was passed in innocent mirth and festivity, and the evening concluded with
a ball ; after which all parties retired to their respective homes Mrs. Palmer, at their
departure, presenting Fanny with a ring, in token of her future friendship.

CHAPTER VIII.

MRS. PALMER was about thirty-six, her fortune large, and entirely at her own command,
being bequeathed her by her lately -de ceased uncle, whose death had spread a gloom over
her natural cheerfulness ; but nothing could obscure the philanthropy of her disposition : she
had felt misfortune, therefore knew how to compassionate it in others, while to diffuse hap-
piness was her highest gratification "Ah!" exclaimed she when her guests departed,
" how have these honest folks beguiled me from myself ! What a respectable character is
Godwin ! How forcibly does he bring my uncle to my memory ! It is not in the bustle of
public life my mind can regain its wonted composure it is in the calm exercise of domes-
tic duties, in the society of a chosen few, in acts of beneficence, which my fortune demands,
and my heart applauds." As such was the disposition of Mrs. Palmer, it may easily be
supposed that her partiality for the Godwins increased daily ; for joined to uncorrupted
honesty, they possessed a degree of understanding that made them agreeable and conversa-
ble companions. Her superior rank had at first caused some little restraint, but her con-

22 THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST.

stant affability soon Vanished all reserve ; and though they continued to look up to her
with respect, it was soon softened by affection and esteem, that her presence ever increased
their cheerfulness, and redoubled their enjoyments. William had, immediately on his
marriage, written to acquaint his brother, who had returned his congratulations. Edwin
was now in London ; but the situation Mr. Whitemore mentioned had been disposed of
previous to his application ; he therefore was as yet unsettled a circumstance that Mr.
Whitmore treated so lightly, saying the loss would be soon supplied, that it greatly con-
tributed to alleviate the vexation Edwin would have otherwise experienced. Mrs. Delmer,
on her arrival in London, had immediately taken a house ; and Mrs. Whitmore' s perpetual
engagements left Edwin under the entire guidance of her husband, who introduced him
every where as his protege. This condescension did not fail of its effect. Edwin looked up
to Mr. Whitmore as a masterpiece of perfection, for his fine person and vivacity made him
universally admired ; and as for the spots of libertinism that shaded his character, they sat
so easy, and appeared so little regarded by the gay part of the world, that Edwin began to
think such errors not so very heinous as he had once imagined a doctrine which Whitmore
never failed to inculcate as often as occasion presented. This sophistry was proportionably
dangerous as it was pleasant ; the curb of education and religion had hitherto kept the
passions of Edwin (which were naturally strong) in subjection ; but he was now become a
pupil to a declared votary of pleasure, who disdained to be withheld by the contracted
bounds of reason. Thus Edwin's morals insensibly gave away ; for though his heart still
revered virtue, yet ae began to regard the practice as more difficult than he had ever before
experienced.

One evening, after having dined with Whitmore at a tavern, among a mixed company,
where the glass was freely circulated, and Edwin, ashamed by the ridicule of his friend,
had forgotten his usual temperance, as they adjourned homeward, Whitmore suddenly
seeming to recollect himself, said, with a half-smile " A-propos, I had forgot an indispen-
sable engagement which I made for to-night you must accompany me." They then en-
tered a hired vehicle, and soon reached an elegant house, where Whitmore appeared per-
fectly acquainted, introducing Edwin to an elderly lady and three young ones as his friend ;
at the same time desiring him to cultivate the acquaintance of his cousins. Edwin bowed,
and blushing, replied, " he was to much honored by the condescension of Mr. Wbitmore to
neglect showing his respects to any of his relatives." The ladies smiled archly at Whit-
more, and seemed to demand an explanation, when taken the youngest by the hand (a beau-
tiful girl of eighteen), he presented her to Edwin, saying, " Here; Sophy, take charge of this
young man ; he is as bashful as you were twelvemonths since, and blushes as frequently.
Cannot you give him some advice how to get rid of such troublesome appendages ?'' 4
do not know," answered she in a lively accent, at the same time fixing her eyes on his
face, and taking his hand ; " let me first consider his features : why, yes, I believe he will
do in time. What say you, sir, will you be my scholar ?'* Edwin was confused, he knew
not what to reply, he trembled, his cheeks were dyed with crimson : even unacquainted as
he was with the world, he could make no doubt, from the manner of the ladies, that they
were of the number his education taught him to abhor ; yet fearful of displeasing bis friend
Whitmore, and ashamed of avowing his sentiments, he remained silent ; his hand locked in
that of the youthful Circe, who appeared in no haste to resign it. During the evening,
mirth, even to licentiousness, prevailed over the whole party, except Edwin. He, pressed
by the caresses of his select companion, and withheld by the recollection of Agnes, knew
not how to act, and alternately underwent paroxysms of both fever and ague. At length an
elegant supper was served up ; the wine went briskly round, the most lascivious songs were
rang, Whitmore and the ladies repeatedly pressing Edwin to drink, until his natural timi-
dity began to give away ; Whitmore then pretending first to recollect the hour, exclaimed
11 It is pass two we shall but disturb my family ; can we intrude on you ladies, for this
night." The elder answered in the affirmative, desiring two of her daughters (as she styled

THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST. 23

them) to show the gentlemen to their respective apartments. Edwin hesitated ; but his
head giddy with wine, and his heart intoxicated with a vicious inclination, his wanton com-
panion soon gained the ascendancy, and led him to his chamber where Inglewood, Agnes
and Virtue were soon forgotten !

CHAPTER IX.

As opium can for awhile deaden the augnish of the body, so may vice for a short time stifle
the pangs of conscience ; but, as in the first instance, when the effect ceases, the pain
returns, so in the latter, reason no sooner regains her empire than the delusion vanishes,
and we view our deeds simply as they are. Thus it was with Edwin with the morning
came disgust and calm reflection in the bitterness of his regret he cursed Whitmore,
detested his companion, and despised himself, resolving to hasten back to Inglewood, and
endeavour to repair the error he had unwarily been drawn into, by the future prudence of
his conduct. On his meeting with Whitmore he was serious and reserved, being fully
determined to inform him, on the first opportunity, of his intentions. Whitmore, on the
contrary, was even more than commonly cheerful, exerting his utmost vivacity to entertain
him, but in vain ; and he had undoubtedly declared his resolution, had they not been joined
immediately on their quitting the house by a friend of Whitmore's, who accompanied them
home. Edwin, on his arrival, immediately retired to his apartment, where he, for some
time, had given way to the vexation that overpowered him, when he was interrupted by the
entrance of a servant, with a packet that had been left during his abscence " It is from my
brother," said he, as the man quitted the room, without regarding the address, "and
contains others from my father, from Agnes and to whom ? to a drunkard, a debauchee, a
perjured, execrable villain, whose contaminated soul ought for ever to be deprived of such
blessings ! Oh, Agnes 1 accursed be the hour I left thee ! and doubly accursed that in
which I was proof against thy tears ! I dare not open the letters they will contain nothing
but expressions of kindness, and sooner at this moment could I face death." As he spoke,
he pushed the packet from him, but his eye involuntarily glancing over the direction, he
perceived it was neither William's nor his father's hand. As he had no other correspondents
a thousand fears at once agitated him ; and curiosity mastering every other sensation, he
hastily broke it open, and to his infinite suiprise, instead of letters, found a comission for
on cnsigncy filled up in his own name, and a bank note for a hundred pounds , but no line
to infer from whence it came. Amazement kept him for some moments silent ; he could
scarcely believe his eyes ; and every other idea being banished by the present occurrence, he
started up, and hastened to Mr. Whitmore, whom he had no doubt had chosen this method
to surprise him. Whitmore was alone, and, if the astonishment of Edward had been great,
his, if possible, was yet superior. The army he had never thought of ; nor had the most
distant idea of such a measure ever taken place in the mind of Edwin, though to Mr. Whit-
more he was convinced he owed it ; for unknown to any one in London, to whom else could
he suppose himself indebted? Mr. Whitmore at first strongly denied it ; but a few moments'
recollection made him change his manner into simple congratulations on the event, neither
absolutely denying, nor yet positively acknowledging it; then, after some slight discourse,
taking his hat, left the house. Edwin remained alone some time, bewildered in a multiplicity
of different ideas, the errors of the pieceding night only lightly intruding on his mind ; the
return to Inglewood was also forgotten, or at least delayed, until he should go to claim Agnes
as his bride, which he had now no doubt of being soon able to perform ; for imagination had
already raised him from an ensign to a colonel at least.

In the meantime, Whitmore hastened to his sister, on whom his suspicions immediately
glanced ; nor did he hesitate to disclose them. Mrs. Delmer, at first firmly denied any
knowledge of the business ; but Whitmore's eyes and interrogatories were too penetrating

24 THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST.

for him to be long deceived. At length, said he. " You well know my sentiments in
general ; yet 1 hold the good opinion of the world of some moment, particularly when
relative to women, and more particularly when they are young and handsome ; consider how
this business, should it ever be known, would be canvassed by the old and envious. I have,
indeed, myself for some time suspected you had a partiality for Edwin, but hope your pride
will prevent an improper step." " I need not tell you, Whitmore," said she, laughing at
his unusual gravity, "that 1 am twenty-seven, a widow, possessed of an affluent fortune,
and independant spirit ; having well considered all those matters, I am predetermined to act
according to my own inclination. As for the commission, if you will father that brat for
me, I shall be obliged to yori, as I would not wish to encounter Mrs. Whitmore's raiiery on
the occasion; therefore, my friend, lam willing to resign to you all the merit of doing a
generous action without the expense. In the arrny, the meanness of Edwin's origin will be
the most effectually concealed, us I have no doubt he may speedily.gain rank; now, as to my
having entertained a partiality for the yonug man, admitting the supposition, who has a
right to restrain me ? have I not fortune enough for both ?" Whitmore not being able to
combat the force of such irresistible arguments, thought it the best policy to take the com-
mission on himself, leaving her in other respects to act without controul, as he well knew
that contradiction would rather strengthen than extinguish her predilection; besides, were
she as partial to Edwin as he suspected, lie was yet unacquainted with her weakness, and
strongly attached to Agnes.

Whitmore, on his return home, though he.still denied sending the commission, gave Edwin
every reason, from his vague answers, to suppose, at least, that it came with his privacy.
Edwin would fain have returned the note; but this Whitmore strenuously refused, saying
" that he would want that sum at least to equip him for his new employ,'' for which pur-
pose a capital army tailor was immediately sent for, to decorate his outside with the usual
insignia of valour. While these exterior maiks of a soldier were in preparation, Whitmore
did not fail procuring other necessary appendages, viz. a fencing master, and a skilful
teacher of military tactics.

The occurrences of this busy, and, to Edwin, pleasing day were no sooner over, than he
sat down to write to the family at Inglewood, acquainting them that " Mr. Whitmore had
procured him a commission ; and likewise had, with unparalleled delicacy and generosity,
presented him with a sufficient sum to equip him in a manner that should not disgrace it.**
He likewise wrote to Agnes. As usual he lamented the separation from her, and vowed to
see her as soon as possible ; but, alas ! in the exultation of the moment, even love appeared
to hold but a second place in his heart ambition, like an impetuous torrent, bearing all
before it.

CHAPTER X.

EDWIN'S letter reached tbe family at Inglewood as they were seated in high glee in Godwin's
parlour. Bernard had some days before ventured to the Hall, and mentioned his wish of
renewing his lease ; in which Mrs. Palmer had immediately acquiesced, granting him a long
term at his usual rent a circumstance that exceeded Bernard's most sanguine expectations,
who, amidst a profusion of thanks, concluded with saying" I have one more favour to beg
madam, which is, that the lease may be drawn in my son-in-law's name; but he shall know
nothing about it until it is signed ; for he is such an obstinate fellow, I should never get
him to consent." Mrs. Palmer, pleased with the blunt integrity of the farmer, dismissed
him, saying, "she left the whole business to himself, and would sign it whenever he was
prepared." Three days after, all being in readiness, Bernard called on his son-in-law,
desiring he would accompany him to witness the completion of the lease a summons he
immediately obeyed. Mrs. Palmer, having ordered her steward to be summoned, the parch-
were produced, and William directed where te set down his name, in the supposition

THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST.

of witnessing the deed. The other parties having likewise affixed their names, and th
whole concluded, Bernard could no longer conceal his exaltation ; but, bowing to
Mrs. Palmer, said"! thank you, madam : William, I trust, will show himself a worthy
tenant to so kind a lady." " I do not doub* it," replied she, " and had I changd you for
other, I should have felt dissatisfied ; but, as it is, I am rather inclined to congratulate
you, as the business will now fall on one more able to support it."

William, after a moment's recollection, comprehended the whole affair ; but well knowing
that all remonstrance would be vain, he simply returned his thanks to both parties, con-
cluding by saying to Bernard" Though you have in this business acted in a manner con-
trary ta my wishes, I shall still regard the farm as yours during your life; and, should I
survive you, as held in trust for my sister Agnes ; a dependance on my father I by no means
wish to shake off, nor does my Fanny find it painful ; why then, my dear sir, would you
wish us to change ?" '-You are too proud, William," replied the old man, with emotion;
you do not like to be obliged to me, though I love you as well as your own father." *' And
do I not revere you equally?" answered William. "He gave me life, and with the most
tender care watched over my childhood ; but yon, in giving me Fanny, bestowed a treasure
far superior to the whole world without her. " The farmer's reply was a hearty shake by
the hand, saying " A good lad, a brave fellow, I can never do enough for thee." Then,
making his obesience to Mrs. Palmer, again repeated his thanks, and with his son-in-law
returned to Godwin.

As they walked, the old man's heart seemed full. At length, " William," said he,
"Agnes and I lead but a dull life since thou hast taken Fanny from us; the foolish girl
s nothing but sigh, and her eyes are ever red witbcrying after Edwin, though she knows,
and I am for ever telling her, it is all for his good ; now, if thou and Fanny were with us,
we should be as happy as the day is long." William replied, " It was a case in which he
should be entirely guided by the joint agreement of himself and Mr. Godwin ; that he truly
confessed he should be much grieved to leave his father, and equally so to refuse the parent
of his wife what would give him such apparent satisfaction." This conversation brought
them home; where neither Bernard nor William appeared in haste to disclose the manoeu-
vre at the Hall, until Bernard, after dinner, ventured to inform them what he had done,
and which, to his great vexation he found all disapproved, except Agnes. Godwin, indeed,
consented that William should reside with Bernard; but the gloom which overspread his
venerable features, .on the idea of his son forsaking his paternal roof, plainly showed how
reluctantly the permission was given. Emma had sat for some time a silent observer, when
starting up with great liveliness, she cried " Though no one has asked my opinion, I shall
give it notwithstanding; I hate this division of families : we all love one another, why then
cannot we all live together ? Our house is far larger than Mr. Bernard's, and here is plenty
of room for us all." Bernard made no reply, but fixing his eyes on Mr. Godwin, appeared
to wait his opinion with anxiety. " Indeed Emma," replied Godwin, " I know but few-
things that would give me greater satisfaction than the constant company of my friend
Bernard, if '* "If what? interrupted the farmer. "Why, if you and your good dame
like on't, it's a bargain ; for I lead but a moping life yonder. With you I shall be as happy
as a prince. We can smoke a pipe, and drink a jug of ale, and envy no one under the surr.
Old age will steal on me unperceived, and I shall die surrounded by those I love best."
Among a party so determined to act in unison, an agreement was soon made, and Emma
wa embraced and cai essed as the author of the present happiness; for though it was apparent
to all how much satisfaction the proposal had given, yet, had not her vivacity started it, in,
all probability it had never taken place

" Nay, nay, Fanny," exclaimed Emma, "don't kiss me; you only do it to conceal your
tears. Here, William, pray comfort her. I have other business to mind," throwing her
arms round Bernard's neck, and saluting him the with affection of a daughter " You are a
good-natured man, and I love you dearly," Here the sc'Jnd of the postman's horn at the gate,
broke off their mutual greetings ; and William hastening out, soon returned with a letter

26 THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST.

addressed to his father. All equally eager to hear from Edwin, Godwin began to read the
contents aloud, but had no sooner communicated th intelligence of Edwin gaining a com-
mission, than Agnes fell from her seat, deprived of sense or motion. Every other idea was
now lost in her situation, until at length slowly reviving, she was led, to Emma's chamber,
and laid on her bed; wheie, after some time, she entreated to be left alone, which being
complied with, and the party again assembled, Godwin concluded the letter, and each gave
their respective opinions. Bernard was in raptures ; Edwin was already a gentleman ; for
his part, he had no patience with Agnes, who could suffer herself to be depressed by what
ought to give her the highest pleasure.

" Yet when you consider, my dear father," interrupted Fanny, " that Edwin, by this step
and in all probability Agnes, will be for ever estranged and distant from us, yourself will
not see it in so flattering a point of view. Should we not have been happier, think you,
altogether in our original destination ?" " True, true, girl, I can't say but it would have
been very comfortable ; but then only think, when he comes to fetch Agnes, how the whole
country will stare how I shall enjoy it ! besides every man has not the same luck ; and
many men, many minds; Edwin was born fora gentleman, and William for a farmer." " So
truly do I feel what you advance," answered William, " and so thoroughly sensible am I of
the blessings I enjoy, that were it in my power to choose my situation, I would rejet a
change. Nature, in giving me a constitution able, and a heart willing to labour, has done
her part; and, never in my person, shall the active farmer degenerate into the useless gen-
tleman. Edwin has chosen a more distinguished part in the business of life a defender of
his country, and a minister of its vengeance. Oh I may equity guide him, and success and
honour attend him I For me, no aspiring thoughts find place in my bosom ; let kings defend
their possessions and treasure sufficient to me is the defence of mine to shield those I love
from care, to cultivate my lands, to guard my flocks, and to shelter them from the wintry
blast. Thus let me live and die ; too humble to excite envy, and too happy to envy one.
Cau riches give more ? or rather can they give so much ? my heart says no ; I am peculiarly
blest, and can look down with pity on kings, and the painful, uncertain splendour that
urrounds them." '

" Ah! would to heaven," exclaimed Mrs. Godwin, weeping, "that my beloved boy had
never left us, to fall perhaps in a foreign laud ! no careful mother to soothe his dying hours,
no tender father to see him laid in the earth 1 Miserable woman that I am, why did I con-
sent to his departure ?" '

" Be comforted dear friend of my youth," said the venerable Godwin, taking his wife by
the hand ; " never can my heart know peace while thou art sad; neither can it be completely
overwhelmed while thou art spared to bless me. Look," continued he, affectionately
viewing his family, " consider the blessings that surround thee, and canst thou repine 9
Like thyself, I could have wished Edwin's destination otherwise ; but as it is, heaven speed
him in the just cause j and God's will be done !" " My dear mother," said Emma, drying
her tears, "our Edwin will I hope be safe from danger, and an honour to us. I think I
already see him to elegant and handsome in his fine scarlet clothes, his hair powdered, and
his sword by his side ! Oh! I am sure I shall love him a thousand times better than ever."
11 1 pray ye Fanny," aaid William, smiling, and wishing to enliven the disaourse, " if thef
old tailor should call when I am absent, bespeak me a scarlet coat ; and when you go into
the cheese-chamber, bring down the rusty cutlass, it shall no longer be employed against
the rats, but hung to my side; for I am determined that Emma shall love me a thousand
times more than erer, since her affection is so easily obtained." " You may say what you
please," replied Emma, " but he will look delightfully. Oh ! how pleased I shall be when
he comes back ! the very first Sunday he shall go with Agnes and me to church I Lord !
not one of the girls, I'll be bound, will know the text." " I fear," answered Godwin, " that
you judge of others by yourself, Emma; but, for the present, drop the subject, and go to
Agnes, whose unassuming heart, like my own, I fancy, would prefer a russet frock to a
scarlet coat and cockade." Emma obeyed: and, during her absence, it wts agreed that, as

THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST. 27

id t^ '

co lihe subject apparently gave so much uneasiness to Agnes, it should be touched upon as little
, w is possible, and that the whole party should appear to view the change in Edwin's affairs in
JA ji promising light.

The next day Godwin took the opportunity of being alone, to write to his son ; never

before had he found the task so painful. He wished not to lessen the pleasure Edwin ap-

red to experience from his success, yet could not congratulate him upon what overwhelmed
is heart with sorrow. "Merciful Creator!" exclaimed he, laying down his pen, "what
ords can I use ? my son a soldier ! a man licensed to shed blood- the blood of those who
ever wronged him I nay, perhaps, to lose his own in quarrels in which his heart has no
'",!. jshare! a heart so tender, kind, and dutiful, to become at once so hardened as to triumph in
Jthe destruction of his fellow creatures. Congratulate him ! ah ! no it is impossible : I
' Iwill simply tell him that I am glad he is satisfied, but that for myself I should have preferred
any other situation. Fascinated as he appears, I will not openly show my digust, but by
lenient methods endeavour to awaken his real disposition, which for some time has appeared
clouded by ambition, or he had never left his family and betrothed bride to follow a vain
and empty shadow."

Godwin's letter was, as he expressed, mild, yet energetic. He did not command his son's
return, but introduced subjects which he thought might encourage it; as the happiness of
William the kindness of Mrs. Palmer uneasiness of-Agnes the new arrangement between
the families and, finally, if he did not find a very particular attachment to the new pro.
fession he was engaged in, Bernard's farm was entirely at his command, as William only held
it in trust for Agnes, and would rejoice to relinquish it. The letter concluded, he showed
it to no one, that incase he was disappointed, they might not judge of his vexation, nor yet
too harshly of Edwin; he then joined Bernard, who was seated with his jug of ale before
him. Filling a bumper, he drank to Edwin's health, concluding with a wish that " he might
live to be a general." '* Heaven forbid !" involuntarily ejaculated Godwin; for how much

carnage must he wade through before he could arrive at that height 1

CHAPTER XI.

EDWIN'S letter had reached the family at Inglewood as they were in the midst of innocent
joy and friendship. Godwin's answer was also received by Edwin in a moment of exulta-
tion, for he had entered upon and assumed the dress of his new profession gaudy distin-
guished scarlet. Strange, that the ministers of a business so replete with horror as that of
war, should wear so triumphant and gay a habit, while those of religion are clothed in.
mournful black, which appears to denote their profession gloomy, mysterious, and sad!
Hateful prevarication 1 True religion is simple, clear, and open as truth, and needs n
nabit of assumed gravity to implant it on the human heart.

".Since God is ever present, ever felt,
In the void waste, as in the city full ;
And where He vital spreads there must be joy."

Whitmore had introduced Edwin in his new decoration to his lady, saying ' There,
madam, what do you think of my pupil ? I don't believe there is a handsomer fellow in*-
the regiment." To confess the truth, Edwin's natural good person showed to advantage in
his military accoutrements, and which may be easily surmised by the answer of the lady,
who viewing him from head to foot, with more than unusual kindness, coincided in her
husband's opinion ; as did also Mrs. Delmer, who soon after joined the party. Thus treated
with uncommon kindness by Mrs. Whitmore, and encouraged by general approbation,
Edwin felt a self-satisfaction that he had never before experienced ; and afterwards, when
alone, as he passed the large glass in the drawing-room, could not avoid stealing a glance
at his own figure, which appeared both new and delightful to him. At this moment hie

THE FARMER OF IXGLEWOOD FOREST.

father's etteT was presented to him ; its centents at once gave both pleasure and pain:
rejoiced at their happiness and success, but grieved at the uneasiness of Agnes, te
and gratitude for a moment obliterating ambition. " I will leave all," said he, " to
my affection I will relinquish my aspiring hopes, and once more sink into a plain a
humble farmer/' As he spoke he raised his eyes from the letter to the mirror, and vani
again resumed her sway. " Fool that I was to leave the country ! unless I had courage
pursue my fortune, it is but to taste of the cup of prosperity^ and then to dash it froi
lips I With what pleasure could I resume my labour, when I recollected how dear it
me, to drudge through the day in a course clumsy habit, and at night to return to a
cottage, compared to the elegant mansions I am now accustomed to I Agnes cannot requi
such a sacrifice, it would involve herself in the consequences of my folly. No; rather
me redouble my efforts for advancement, which, once obtained, I will fly to claim her,
her partaker of my happiness, and force her to confess I took the most effectual means
show my affection."

With such a resolution, it may easily be conjectured what answer he returned to his
father: it was affectionate and grateful, but at the same time expressed, in the warmest
terms, his satisfaction at his change of fortune, his sanguine hopes of perferment ; and
finaHy, entreating him to console his beloved Agnes, and to assure her of his unalterable
fidelity. For the farm, he denied all present or future claim to it ; adding, "he hoped to
gam both honour and fortune, without intruding on the little property so justly his brc.
therms." Such was the purport of Edwin's answer; after which he joined the family at
dinner, Whitmore was that evening particularly engaged immediately after, and conse-
quently the young ensign was left with his lady and Mrs. Delmer. The behaviour of the for.
mer was striking, the utmost distance and7/a^tewr were now changed into polite and attentive
kindness; and being that evening engaged to accompany Mrs. Delmer to the play, after the
removal of coffee, she said " What say you, sister, shall we take this young soldier
with us."

Mrs. Delmer acquiesced with pleasure ; and Edwin, at once astonished and delighted at
such uncommon condescension, which he cotrldr only account for, by attributing it to the
favourable alteration his person had undergone, bowed his thanks, and accompanied them
with the highest pleasure.

Mrs. Whitmore was too much the ton for her party to pass unnoticed; her new cicisbeo
attracted universal attention; nor was his vanity a little gratified by some whispers he
heard addressed to the ladies respectiug his fine person. The question of " Who is he?"
was by no means so flattering, and gave him great embarrassment, until he heard Mrs.
Whitmore reply " A young gentleman, whose friends residing constantly in the country,
have entrusted his introduction into life to Mr. Whitmore."

After the play, they adjourned to Mrs. Delmer's, where they supped ; and soon after
Mrs. Whitmore and Edwin returned home. Whitmore was yet absent ; and his lady, ap-
parently in no haste to retire, proposed a game at piquet. Edwin was overwhelmed with
shame : he simply knew it was a game at cards ; but was totally unacquainted with that
as any other, save a little at whist, and that he had sometimes humoured farmer Bernard,
by suffering him to beat him at cribbage or all-fours. Mortifying as it was, he was forced
to confess his ignorance ; at which Mrs. Whitmore laughing heartly, said " Well, I must
teach you then ; but hew, in the name of wonder, did you contrive to stupify your evenings
in the country? Oh ! now I remember, Mr. Whitmore told me you had a true lore, so I
suppose you spent them with her, vowing eternal constancy, setting old age and ugliness at
driunce, then trudging home at ine o'clock, you drank a glass of ale, asked your mother's
blesiing; and bid adieu till fire next morning ! Nay, never blush, Edwin, I am sure I hav
guessed right ; bat times are changed ; what might do very well for Edwin Godwin, farmer,
would be highly improper for a young officer, whose fortune depends on his person and his
word; but enough, take your cards, we will play for nothing to night; next time I shall
nt let you off so easily." Fdwiu was too much confused to reply; but the silence was

THE FARMER OF IXCJLEWOOD FOREST. 29

, short, for Mrs. Whitmore wus too lively to suffer her companion to bo thoughtful ; a
time flew pleasantly till the clock struck two,. when Edwin apologized for bre; i
on her rest, and soon after retired, Mrs. Whitmore savin-, ;is lie left her ^o*
hitherto not considered me as your friend ; dream to-nLdit that I am truly such, and per-
haps you may find your dreams realized." Edwin retired too well satisfied to full immedi-

had

afforded him such exquisite pleasure. At an early hour Whitmore entered Edwin's apart-
ment, and hastily awakened him. He had been up all night, and his dress in consequence
disordered; but the animation of his features was redouble'!. "Edwin," said he, " I
:ould not retire without informing you of my success ; I have all night been engaged at
hazard, and have brought off two thousand pounds, notes and cash, and shall to-morrow
receive four hundred pounds more, which makes the whole of my winnings two thousand
four hundred. You shall accompany me when I go again, and try your fortune." Edwin
uongratulated his patron on his success, who soon after retired to rest, leaving Edwin pos-
lessed of an idea that, could he but be lucky enough to learn this charming science, his
brtune was indubitably made. Whitmore was true to his promise ; he introduced Edwin
lie following evening, insisting that for all that night they should he partners of their auc-

3ess. Edwin would have declined it, but Whitmore was peremptory, for avarice was not
imong his vices; and fortune again favouring him, he, the next morning, presented Edwin
irith two hundred guineas, the moiety of what he had won the evening before. Edwin now
jonsidered gambling a never-failing resource, and became indefatigable in learning ita arts
md mysteries, now playing on his own funds with various success, but for the general part
juccessful. Whenever he was engaged from Whitmore, he was a constant attendant on his
ady, or Mrs. Deliner, flattered by their attention, and through their introduction univer-
sally well received. Mrs. Delmer he had ever regarded with gratitude and esteem, as her
jehaviour had been uniformly kind; but his sentiments for Mrs. Whitmore were of a
lifferent nature he owed her no gratitude, nor could he in his heart esteem her ; yet such
iras the beauty of her person, and the fascination of her manners, that he frequently could
lot avoid envying Whitmore the possession of so charming a woman : nay, initiated as he
low became daily into life, he perhaps would not have scrupled to tell her so, had she
ippertained to any other man ; but his heart was not yet sufficiently vitiated to attempt to
lebauch his friend's wife, though the lady by no means appeared inclined to cruelty ; and
Sdwin was frequently obliged to fly a temptation so hard to be resisted. Whitmore, in the
nean time, was perpetually Revising methods to get Emma into his power; for though the
,rdour of his passion was somewhat abated by the length of time he had been absent from
ler, yet her charms were not obliterated from his memory. He endeavoured to persuade
Mrs. Delmer, and also Mrs. Whitmore, to invite her for a short space to town ; but both
adiee had received the proposal so coldly, that, of necessity, he had been obliged to rc-
inquish it.

Ten months had passed since Edwin left Inglewood, and in that short space he had so
ar improved, that little was wanting to constitute him a complete " man of the.world." A
ew glasses of wine no longer discomposed his head, he could swear, and retire occasionally
vith a kind fair one, without feeling such acute remorse as he had at first experienced,
liough, to confess the truth, these errors, even yet, gave him some compunction, and were
is constantly forsworn as committed, but the barrier of probity and truth once broken the
iolation of an oath was a trifle, and therefore in this case frequently forfeited. He still
naintained an uninterrupted correspondence with the family at Inglewood, and determined
o visit them in a short time, preparing presents, which he thought might be acceptable ;
ftat for Agnes was a miniature of himself in his uniform. One evening, having repaired to
he gaming-house as usual, fortune was peculiarly unkind, he lost, doubled his bets, lost
igain, ledoubled them, but in vain every effort, he was stripped of all his ready money, and
Jefore he left off, found himself considerably in debt. Whitmore had also been very un-
taccessful, therefore he could not think of applying to him, and the stranger requested

30 THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST.

either the payment or an acknowledgment for the debt, which Edwin waa necessitated to
give, though he knew not how to discharge it.

Distressed what to do with himself, for it was not yet his hour to retire, and well know
ing Whitmore and his lady were both abroad, he called at Mrs. Delmer's, whom he found a
home and alone. She received him with her usual kindness; but gently upbraided him fo
so seldom visiting her, expressing her fears that he was net more properly engaged. Edwin
defended himself with great gallantry for so young a beginner, promising that hereafter she
should have no reason to complain, except it was of his too frequently troubling her
"You will do well," replied the lady, " it is time to know your friends, I have been inde
fatigable for your promotion, while you have haidly bestowed a thought on me, nay, I cai
with certainty assure you, that you will be raised on the first vacancy that happens in you
regiment, which I have great reason to believe will not be long." " Generous Mr. Whit
more 1" exclaimed Edwin, " how shall I ever repay such unbounded obligations? But, m
dear madam, when did he inform yo-i of this? for he never mentioned it to me. " It woul<
be very strange if he should," replied the lady, " as he is totally unacquainted with it him
self. In short, Edwin, not to keep you in suspense, your entrance into the army was m
device, as I thought it the most speedy means of raising you to notice. My fiist design w
never to let you know to whom you were obliged ; but when I hear that you are constant I
engaged at the gaming-table, or else with other loose company, I think it but friendly to
warn you of your danger, and to tell you I do not approve your conduct." Edwin was
much astonished to reply for some moments, but threw himself at Mrs. Delmer's feet
where, as soon as he could articulate his thanks, he was profuse in his promises to act in a
menner as should hereafter deserve her favour. As we easily believe what we wish, Mrs.
Delmer's was not inexorable. Edwin vowed his everlasting gratitude; Mrs. Delmer, in
return, promising her friendship and protection. In fine, the conversation became almost
critical before they parted for the night, Edwin promising to breakfast with her the next
morning. On a review of what had passed, he v/as not now such a novice but to discover
that he might at once step into an independent fortune, without further trouble- the only
encumbrance a wife, and that, too, a handsome, amiable woman ; but then to Agnes, though
absence and dissipation bad weakened his affection for her, yet his promise, as well as hii
inclination, bound him. What would his father say William every one ? they would
reprobate and despise him, while Agnes herself might perhaps die with grief. On the
other side, what did gratitude demand? He now saw Mrs. Delmer as his best friend
through her he could discharge all his obligations, and realize his most flattering pros-
pects. Such was the conflict in Edwin's bosom when he went to rest, still honest enough
to feel the pang of acting wrong, yet too weak to relinquish grandeur, though at the expense
cf probity, justice, and perhaps happiness.

CHAPTER XII.

EDWIN waited on Mrs. Delmer at an early hour, and found her already prepared to receive
him. After breakfast, the discourse of the preceding evening was renewed. As before, il
became unavoidably interesting ; and Edwin, urged by ambition before he was aware, had
prostituted vows of love at Mrs. Delmer's feet. The lady's partiality was to obvious tfl
suffer her to reject them. In short, her affection made her regardless of what was due to
herself, as ambition had made him of every sacred and moral tie ; and a mutual promise ws
exchanged to be married the first opportunity, the lady stipulating that the marriage should
be kept secret until his promotion took place. This resolution was too agreeable for Edwin
to contend it ; be renewed his vows ; and by agreement it was at length resolved, that he
should, even that very day, apply for a license, and that their hands should be joined 01
the morrow. Whitmore was by no means apprized of this manoeuvre, as he might endea-

THE FARMER OP INGLEWOOD FOREST. 31

rour to prevent it ; which, though not in his power, might give trouble. A momentary
;hought struck Edwin that this concealment bore the appearance of ingratitude ; but his
jonscience had become daily more accommodating ; and when he reflected that he should
oon have it in his power to repay all pecuniary obligations, he presently stifled the idea.

'* The family at Inglewood gave him more pain. " I will see them once more," said he,
before my marriage is announced ; after which I will hasten abroad, until they are re-

:onciled to the step I have taken, and Agnes is perhaps married. D n is in that

bought, why did it interfere ? I would sooner see her dead than in the arms of another.
Svery thing being prepared, on the appointed morning Mrs. Delmer ordered her carriage to
lie Green Park, where she dismissed it with the servants, ordering them to return in a
ouple oChours. Here she, as appointed, met Edwin, who led her to a hackney coach, in
hich they soon reached the church, where she plighted him her true faith, for which he
jturned her a counterfeit, the real not being in his power to give. The ceremony over,
ley separated; and she returned to her coach, where she found Edwin already waiting for
er. The morning was passed in forming plans for the future. Mrs. Delmer was half in-
lined, in defiance of her first resolution, to declare her marriage immediately, that she
light no more be separated from a man she tenderly loved ; but Edwin was by no means
jreeable to this altei-ation, for, though it would have gratified his pride* to have proclaimed
s alliance without delay to the world in general, yet he wished to protract the discovery
r some time from inglewood ; therefore, calling hypocrisy to his aid, he declared that,
lough to be perpetually with her was the first of his wishes, yet, for her honour, which
as dearer than his own happiness, he determined to relinquish it, until his promotion took
ace, which would render her condescension the less conspicuous ; that in the mean time
e should see her daily, and pass every hour with her he could steal from her brother.
But will not your constant visits," replied she, " give more disagreeable room for conjec-
ire than even a public avowal ? There is, indeed, one way : if your father would permit
ur sister Emma to pass some time with me, the visit then might be attributed to her.
uppose you write, and request it, informing your father of our marriage, and our reason
r concealing it some short time ?"

' My father," replied he, " is so great an enemy to all concealment, that he would never
nsent to keep our secret, but immediately accuse me of deceit to Mr. Whitmore, and dis-
>se it to him. As to Emma," continued he, " if you condescend to receive her, the best
.y will be for me to fetch her, as I am certain he will not otherwise suffer her to come."
lis plan was by no means agreeable to Mrs. Delmer ; she knew she had a beloved rival at
iglewood ; and though Edwin had given her a proof that Agnes had lost her power over
heart, yet she feared, though he was irrevocably her own, to throw him in the way of so
ngerous an object , she therefore dissented from this proposal ; but Edwin, who ardently
shed to see his friends once more while he could appear before them with the semblance
probity, pressed the business so strenuously, and declared himself so totally devoted
her, at length he obtained her hard-wrung permission provided he remained at the
rest no longer than two days. Whitmore was at that moment announced. " Where the
il, Edwin," said he, " did you hide yourself all day yesterday ? I sought you half over the
n." Edwin, who was now become an adept in falsehood, replied, that he had been en-
ed the day before with the army- agent, and likewise that morning ; and calling on his
urn on Mrs. Delmer, she had detained him by a kind proposal of sending for Emma to
a few months with her. Few subjects could have given W hitmore so much satisfac-

y in. He applauded his sister, and was on the point of offering to accompany Edwin ; but
dence soon pointed out the folly of such a step, as it would only tend to awaken suspicion ;
therefore simply congratulated him on the approaching meeting with his friends, adding,
a significant glance at his sister, " A-propos, you may, I think, as well wed Agnes, and
her to town with you ; there is no doubt but you will soon gain promotion ; I have
patience to see you at liberty while I am fettered." " Surely," replied Edwin, colour-

32 THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST.

ing deeply, " it would be highly imprudent for me to marry. I I have no such intention,
" Well said, prudence," returned Whitmore, laughing ; " and to confess the truth, thong
the girl is devilishly handsome, she has such an air of melancholy, that it is enough to giv
One the ague."

A sigh involuntarily escaped Edwin. " Agnes," said he, " used to be reckoned a ver
cheerful girl." " Perhaps so," replied Whitmore ; but when I saw her, you know she was
on the point of being separated from her lover. Fanny now is more to my taste, thoug
perhaps not so critically beautiful ; but your sister Emma is certainly much handsome
than either." " Impossible that you should think so !" interrupted Edwin ; " Agnes, pas
all dispute, is " Not so handsome as Emma," exclaimed Mrs. Delmer, hastily ; there is n
comparison between them." Edwin quickly saw his mistake : and gulping a provoking sig
that had nearly escaped him, he said " We seldom can judge so perfectly of our relative*
as those who have not been so accustomed to their features." Whitmore now proposed
depart ; and Edwin, as he left the apartment, followed him ; but pretending to have left hi
glove, he returned, whispered a soft adieu to his bride, and promised to see her again
soon as he got rid of Whitmore. During the day Edwin was thoughtful and absent
Whitmore observed it, and inquired the cause. He complained of the headache, making
a pretence for retiring early ; leaving Whitmore engaged at play, while himself kept hi
appointment with Mrs. Delmer. At this meeting the subject of his intended journey t
Inglewood was renewed, and fixed to take place in two days. Mrs. Delmer gently whis
pered her fears that his attachment to Agnes was not totally effaced. He vowed to th
contrary on her lips : in short he strove to deceive ; and she loved him too well hot t
believe an asseveration so congenial to her wishes. He left her early, that no surmises
might take place ; but before his departure she presented him with a pocket-book, desiring
him to peruse it at his leisure. On his return he retired immediately to his apartment, to ex
amine the contents, and on the first leaf found the following words : "By the will of the lat
Mr. Delmer, I cannot alienate any part of my jointure, which at my death returns to his
family. The ready money I possess is near sixteen thousand pounds in the funds, and ma
at pleasure be transferred. Enclosed are bills for one thousand, with which, my Edwin
discharge any obligation you may have contracted, All I ask in return is an undividec
heart, and an affection as sincere as my own." Edwin was transported : for some moment
he thought himself perfectly happy, until " busy meddling memory " presented the disclosure
of his marriage at Inglewood. This idea put all his happiness to flight ; and replacing the
notes, with a sigh he retired to bed. He was so totally engaged the next day with Whit-
more, that he found it difficult to see his bride until evening, when he framed an excuse,
that as he meant to set off early, he would sleep at an inn, that he might not disturb th<
family. He accordingly bid Mr. Whitmore adieu about nine o'clock, bearing with him
thousand remembrances to his parents, and receiving a strict charge to return in the course
of the ensuing week. From Whitmore he hastened to Mrs. Delmer, who. received him
with unfeigned satisfaction. With her he passed the remainder of the evening ; then re-
tired not to rest, as he told her, but to a chaise which he had in waiting, and in which he
immediately set out on his journey.

CHAPTER XIII.

EDWIN was too impatient to reach the Forest to spare either money or horses, and accor
ingly arrived on the third evening after he left London. At his friends were unacquainted
with his journey, he promised himself great pleasure in taking them by surprise ; therefore
leaving the chaise at some distance, walked up to the house, Edwin's courage and spirits as
he approached appeared to forsake him : bis legs could scarcely support Lis weight. '

THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST. 33

feel," cried he, with anguish, " that I am a villain 1 a mean, perjured villain ! and shall but
contaminate by my presence this scat of innocence and virtue ; yet they kuu\v it not, they
think me honest as themselves ; let me than, once more, enjoy the pleasure of their artless
caresses." He had reached the kitchen window, and over the shutter saw the family sitting
round the table, supper having just been removed, and replaced by a jug of ale. Agnes sat

opposite where he stood. He contemplated her with keen self-reproach her pale and
altered features. He heard Bernard drink his health, and saw the expressive blue eyes of
bis daughter raised in silence, as if entreating the same of heaven. He could bear no more,
ic forgot all but the present scene before him ; and rushing into the house stood before
them, For a moment all gazed in silent wonder ; but the next all was rapture and confu-
sion ; the mugs and glasses were overset, the chairs thrown down, and surrounded on all
sides, tears, congratulations, and embraces bespoke his welcome. Agnes, fixed inherihair,
Appeared unabled cither to speak or weep . Tearing himself from the circling embraces of
William and Fanny, he flew to her, and pressing her to his bosom, forgot every other object
in the creation. -" Speak, my beloved Agnes," exclaimed lie, "speak, and bless me with
thy voice : I am but half welcome till I hear it from thee !" "Ay, do, my girl," cried
Bernard, " bid the good lad welcome ; I'll wager he's come to claim thee for his own.''
This simple speech affected the guilty Edwin like a stroke of lightning, and at once awoke
tiirn from his transport ; his strength forsook him, and unable to support the almost faint-
ing Agnes, he was obliged to reseat her in her chair, for some moments remaining to much
confused to reply. The general joy was however so great, that his disorder passed unnoticed,
Agnes also began to recover her surprise, and at length tranquility resumed her place in the
mansion. Behold him now seated at his paternal board, between his venerable mother aud
Agnes, holding a hand of each, and alternately pressing them to his lips, Emma leaning
over his chair, with one arm encircling his neck, while Godwin, Bernard, William, aud
Fanny, sat round contemplating the change a few months had made in his person.

" Zooks I" exclaimed Bernard, " how the boy is altered ! I scarcely knew him when he
came in ! If I did not wonder what fine gentleman we had got ; I thought to be sure he
came from the Hall ; but egad find me a likelier, come from where he will ! What say you ,
Fanny ? To be sure he is rather pale, but that don't signify." " I think," replied Fanny,
' that Edwin looks very well, though not better than I have seen him. If ever in my eyes
he looked particularly so, it was on Whitsuntide twelvemonth, on the day our parents gave
their consent he should address Agnes, and promised in a year or two to unite them.
Never shall I forget his appearance when he came to tell her ! we were seated under the
great Walnut tree ; he leaped the gate, flew to her, the utmost animation enlivening his
features, hair in disorder, curling round his face ; he caught her in his arms, breathless
with haste, while his eyes told his success before his speech returned." " Pshaw," cried the
old man, " thou wert always a fool, Fanny. As to his curls, when did you ever see a gentle-
man wear natural curls, except here and there a parson ? Why,hi s head 's powdered now
and pinched ; and as to his eyes, for aught I see, they are just the same as ever ; eyes may
do very well for girls to understand, but plain English for me. But, Agnes, what sayest
thou? dost not like him better than before." "No, sir," answered Agnes, timidly;
" Edwin, as a farmer, or a prince, will be equally dear to me ; dress can make no difference,
I love him for himself, not for his Clothes." " Did ever man see such foolish jades ? "Why,
the wenches have no more pride than my grandmother's cat ; but prithee, Emma, what
think you ?" " Think ?" repeated she, " why I think what I told you before, that I love
him a thousand times better than ever, though he has not got li^s red coat on. I declare it
was veiy ill-natured not to come in it." Edwin now produced the picture he had brought
for Agnes, who received it with a pleasure that found vent in tears ; all admired it even
Godwin applauded the gallantry of his son. " Why, to be sure," said Bernard, " it is very
pretty, and very like ; but I'll lay you five shillings to fivepence, that Fanny will show you
one, ten times more natural, of William, in the course of a month or two." Fanny's blushes

34 THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST.

immediately discovered the secret to Edwin. " I thought, brother," said Godwin, with a
smile, " you had promised me never to mention that subject." " Why, no more I ever will
among strangers, nor among friends neither, if it vexes her. God bless it ! boy or girl,
how I long to see it ! Egad, I shall think I am grown a young man again as I dandle it in
my arms."

Godwin, put a stop to the discourse, began to question his sou respecting his expectan-
cies. Edsrin painted them hi a most advantageous light, representing his promotion as cer-
tain in a short time. Mrs. Delmer he spoke of with the highest respect, saying that her
interest had been employed equally with her brother's ; and that his present journey was
principally at her instigation, to entreat that Emma might be permitted to pass a short time
with her in London ; that himself would see her daily ; and accompany her into the coun-
try on her return, which he meant to do as soon as his promotion took place. " Ah ! that's
right, my lad," replied Bernard, " kill two birds with one stone ; bring down Emma, and
take back Agnes. Is it not so, Edwin ?" " Agnes is dearer to me than life 1" exclaimed
Edwin ; " and I can never know happiness without her ; but say, my dear sir, do you
grant Mr. Delmer's request in respect to Emma ?" " I cannot spare her, indeed I cannot,"
cried Mrs. Godwin ; " to part with any more of my children would kill me." Emma could
not restrain her tears ; she had long since given up all hopes of Mrs. Delmer's promised
invitation, and indeed she had almost forgotten it ; but now, to find she remembered her,
and that it only depended on her parents' consent, she knew not how to bear the disappoint-
ment, particularly when she contemplated the improvement that (in her eyes) had taken
place in Edwin, and had no doubt but her own might be equally successful. William
looked at her reproachfully, and apparently was on the point of expressing his thoughts on
the occasion, had not a beseeching look from Fanny at once checked his design, and softened
his features into a smile. " Emma," said her father, " do you grieve because your mother
loves you too well to part with you ? Is that a requital for her tenderness?" "No, sir,"
replied she, weeping ; " I love my mother and yourself beyond the whole world ; but my
affection for Edwin for a moment overcame every other consideration, and I wished to ac-
company him." This conciliating speech reconciled all parties ; and they continued con-
versing far beyond the usual hour. Edwin was already too deeply plunged in guilt to extri-
cate himself ; he therefore determined to enjoy the present hour at all events, though it was
not to be done without additional hypocrisy and falsehood; he had therefore recourse to
both ; and his father, who observed he had given no direct answer, in regard to Agnes, again
pressed the subject, he replied, with assume boldness " On my promotion I will return and
make her all my own."

5 In the morning, William, who was obliged to go out on business, asked Edwin to accom-
pany him. If possible, he would have excused himself for he dreaded both the penetration
and affection of his brother ; he could not however deny, and determined to be doubly on
his guard. " Edwin," said William, " I cannot express the pain I have felt on your
account ; my father, too, I am sure, has been equally unhappy ; though I carefully con-
cealed whatever I thought would increase it. Your entrance into the army was I am con-
vinced, totally repugnant both to his feelings and principles. I had once hopes, my brother,
that you would have been sickened of grandeur and folly, and returned to the bosom of your
family, for you appeared dissatisfied; whence then this alteration? are your new friends changed,
or are you so ?" " Whatever change may have taken place," replied Edwin, " at least my
affection for my family has undergone no variation. When I first went, unaccustomed to
the world, I perhaps judged too harshly ; at present I view tilings through a different me-
dium: to live with the world, it is, in some measure, necessary to give into its manners."
" It may be necessary," returned William ; " but, believe me, I would prefer the meanest
situation, with liberty of word and action, to affluent slavery, however dignified. I once
thought your opinions the same; but say, Edwin in adopting there manners, it is not also
frequently necessary to adopt their vices, or at least countenance them ?" " We certainly

THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST. 35

re not obliged to adopt them. People, William, accustomed to the great world, have un-
doubtedly a fewer prejudices than those secluded from it, yet may possess both probity and
honour." " From a long continuation of giving into manners, we insensibly imbibe them ;
and if those manners are not pure, may I not tremble for my brother's morals ? Sacred
to me are even the prejudices that tend to the general good. You, perhaps, Edwin are divested
of your former prejudices ; but are you the happier or more virtuous ?" Edwin could not
repress a sigh. "As we are alone," continued William, "I frankly speak my fears and
wishes, though, except to yourself, they shall ever be buried in my own bosom. Nothing
is wanting to complete my felicity but your company ; yet not for myself alone, but for
your sake, do I wish you could relinquish these hateful hopes of wealth that have lately
possessed you. Oh! Edwin, you know not the bliss of possessing a tender, gentle com.
panion, in whose bosom you can repose all your joys and sorrows, or you would not
hesitate to give up all, take Agnes to your arms, and fix your future home at Inglewood,
where surrounded by your family in your youth, and in your age by your children, you
would live respected and die beloved, after experiencing as much happiness as falls to the lot
of moijtals. Do not, my dear brother, decline it may hereafter be impossible." " It is
impossible 4" exclaimed Edwin, involuntarily. " Impossible!" repeated William, starting;
" impossible, Edwin !" " Yes, impossible!" replied Edwin, recovering himself. ''Would
you have me return Mr. Whitinore's favours with ingratitude ; and when I have almost
succeeded to the height of my wishes, relinquish them ? No, William, it is indeed impos-
sible, Had I, perhaps, never left the country, it had been as well; but as it is, I am de-
termined to pursue my fortune." William signed, and withdrew his suit, walking some short
way in silence, until they were joined by Mr. Godwin, when Edwin's task was renewed by
the parental admonitions of his father. Thus, more and more in need of hypocrisy, he
plunged deeper into falsehood ; and though his heart stung him as he proceeded, his face
was become so accommodating as not to have disgraced an adept.

While the male part of the family was absent, Emma was endeavouring to influence
Agnes to second her views, in persuading her mother to permit her to accompany
Edwin to town ; nor was the proposal at all ungrateful to Agnes ; she loved Emma, and
would have done any thing to give her pleasure. In this case she had also another incen-
tive ; her beloved Edwin would have an affectionate sister near him, and herself a friend,
ever mindful of their mutual interests. Agnes proposed consulting Fanny, who was the
darling of her mother- in-law ; but Emma declined it. "No," said she; "William, I
know, is against it, and she has no will but his. I saw him frown last night ; he was never
like other young people, and therefore can be no judge of their feelings." "Nay, now
you speak too petulantly," replied Agnes ; "William, I am convinced, possesses a most
susceptible heart ; and though I love all our family equally, yet I look up to him with an
esteem and reverence I know not how to express, and which I feel for no one else, except your
father." Mrs. Godwin at that moment entered ; and, after some little conversation, Agnes,
to oblige her friend, said " Indeed, my dear madam, I could have wished that our Emma
had obtained your permission to have accompanied Edwin to town. He must, I am sure,
pass many heavy hours, which Emma's company would help to beguile him of. He will,
doubtless, come when Fanny gives us a little one, and she could then have returned with
him ; in the mean time, I would have been doubly assiduous that you might not miss her.
Besides, Edwin looked as if it would greatly oblige him ; perhaps he fears Mrs. Delmer
may think us ungrateful." " My good girl," replied Mrs. Godwin, " Emma well knows it
pains me to refuse any thing that gives her satisfaction. Edwin's absence has caused me
constant uneasiness ; yet, as she is so earnest, I know not ; I will consider I will consult
her father." "Thanks, thanks, my dear mother." cried Emma, in a transport ; " I only
ask until Edwin returns," "Your thanks are too warm on this subject to be pleasing,
Emma," replied Mrs. Godwin, gravely ; " I flatter myself, neither Fanny or Agnes would
express so much joy on the thoughts of leaving me." With these words Mrs. Godwin

j$ THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST.

quitted the apartment, before either her daughter or Agnes could reply. "How cruel!"
cried Emma ; " I protest I don't think I'll go now, though even she should give me leave."
" I cannot advise you," replied Agnes ; " it distresses me to see her uneasy ; and were she
my mother, I would not go to London on such conditions, though my heart was disengaged,
and I was sure to be made a queen when I arrived there." " Oh, heaven, what an idea I"
exclaimed Emma, the seriousness vanishing from her features in an instant. " Consider in
such a case how soon you could make her amends power, grandeur, wealth." " They
'vould not all compensate," said Agnes, " for my breach of duty, nor yet call back the
tears she had shed for my absence." Fanny here joined them, and the conversation ceased.
At dinner, Edwin informed them how extremely he was limited in point of time ; promis-
ing, however, to return at the period Agnes had before mentioned, and again renewing his
entreaty concerning Emma. In the afternoon he found himself alone with Agnes ; and,
though it was what he ardently wished, yet, when obtained, conscious duplicity for some
moments rendered him unable to articulate a syllable. At length, regardless of all but the
present, he renewed his vows of everlasting truth, forgetting as he sealed them on her lips,
that he had prostituted them at the altar. The guileless lamb is but ill prepared to with-
stand the subtilty of the serpent. Agnes's words were the pure dictates of uncorrupted
innocence ; she vowed her affection, and promised to follow the unworthy object, in wealth
or poverty, throughout the woild. His expected promotion, and the advice of Mr, Whit-
more, were the excuses fabricated to delay his marriage. He affected to deplore them ;
nay, at that moment, he perhaps did deplore the fatal bar his pride and avarice had ever-
lastingly placed between him and Agnes, as he contemplated her beauty and innocence, and
reflected that he might with honour have possessed them, respected by his friends, and
applauded by bis own heart.

In the meanwhile, Mrs. Godwin had consulted with her husband respecting Emma. He
by no means approved of her going to London ; but the subject had been so warmly pressed
by Edwin, and so earnestly desired by Emma, that at length he gave his consent, on con-
dition she should return at the appointed time. The next morning Edwin and Emma pre-
pared to depart ; the good farmer first drawing his son aside, and strongly recommending
him to be careful of bis sister : he then drew out his pocket-book, and presenting him with
some notes, said " My dear boy, your obligations to Mr. Whitmore are great, as he has
assiduously endeavoured to serve you according to your own ideas of happiness ; your
pecuniary obligation must however be painful ; he advanced you a hundred pounds with
these repay it ; the money I can well spare, I have reserved it for this purpose, therefore no
words, receive it as freely as I give it." Edwin would fain have declined this present, but
could by no means without declaring the truth ; he therefore was necessitated to put it in
his pocket, though with no very pleasurable sensations, every fresh instance of affection he
received from his deluded family adding a pang to his bosom. "Accursed wealth!"
exclaimed he, as his father left him, ' ' that first induced me to forsake the paths of rectitude ;
and doubly accursed pride, that tempted me to sacrifice both probity and happiness ! Ah,
Agnes ! thou wilt be sufficiently revenged ; misery must be my portion if I lose thee, yet
how shall I obtain thee, without plunging still further in deceit and villany 1" William at
that moment entered. Among a thousand kind wishes, he recommended him to watch
carefully over his sister Emma. "I fear for her," said he, " because her heart is disengaged,
and IKT natural thoughtlessness may lead her to fix it on some unworthy object." All was
now prepared, and the travellers departed, bearing with them the ardent wishes of their
friends for their speedy return.

CHAPTER XIV.
EMMA soon dried the tears she shed at parting from her parents, and would hare entered

> THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST. 37

nto conversation with her brother ; but he, lost in thought, was not sufficiently collected to
amuse or yet be amused. Be bad planted the seeds of discontent and remorse in his own
aosom and they every moment gained fresh strength; the sight of Agnes had revived his half-
extinguished passion, and made him determined to possess her, though at the loss of that
wealth for which he bad sacrificed all those ties which rendered life desirable. His mar-
riage, he well knew, could not be long concealed ; it was therefore necessary that on what-
ever he determined he should be speedy, as that once declared, he, in all probability, must
take an eternal farewell of his native home. Fearful that Emma might divulge any thing
relative to his promise of returning to Inglewood to espouse Agnes, he entreated her to be
silent on the subject, as it must, at least, be kept secret some time ; both Mr. Whitrnore
and his sister having dissuaded him from such a step, though he had foreborne to mention
it, fearful of giving Agnes uneasiness. On the third day they reached Barnet, where, to
their great surprise, they found Mr. Whitmore and his sister waiting for them. How flat-
tering this compliment to the unexperienced heart of Emma ! Whitmore could not conceal
his pleasure, it was expressed in every word and action, and sparkled in his eyes. Mrs.
Delmer's satisfaction was scarcely inferior, though obliged to dissemble her tenderness :
she however endeavour to make herself amends, by representing to herself the pleasure
Edwin would doubtless experience at this proof of her affection and attention ; but she in
vain sought to find it expressed either in his eyes or words ; the first were averted from her ;
the latter cold, distant, and merely complimentary, love had stifled gratitude in his bosom,
and he now regarded her as one who had deprived him for ever of his dearest hopes. The
party reached town in Mr. Whitmore's carriage, and were set down at Mrs. Delmer's,
where an excellent supper was provided. Emma had never before seen any thing so com-
pletely elegant; for though since Mrs. Palmer had fixed her residence among them, Emma,
with her parents, had frequently dined there, yet her table, though plentiful, was remarka-
bly simple, and though served with peculiar neatness, was totally devoid of show and parade :
the repository of her silver was not the side board, but the pockets of the poor ; the former,
therefore, was but thinly furnished, while the latter were frequently replenished sufficiently
to procure all the necessaries of life. Emma, naturally volatile, was charmed with all
around her; no cloud, save one, obscured her satisfaction. Whitmore was married; that
indeed cost her a sigh, and she dreaded, she knew not why, the sight of his wife. Edwin also
became more cheerful ; he contemplated all around as his own, when he should please to
acknowledge his right, and ambition once more began to resume her seat in his bosom.
In short, before evening closed, all parties appeared perfectly satisfied. Mrs. Delmer's
view in sending for Emma to town, was to ensure herself, without scandal, the company of
her beloved Edwin ; but, although gratified in that point, it by no means answered her
expectation, as Whitmore ever accompanied him ; at home he was of the party, and abroad
their constant escort, ever ready by the side of Emma to render those nameless attentions
which insensibly steal on the female heart.

Emma, though she had at the forest been always accustomed to be perfectly neat and
well dressed, yet had never possessed any of those useless appendages that distinguished
well-dressed women in great towns, but with all of which Mrs. Delmer soon supplied her ;
for as she now, in some measure, considered her as a sister, she would have been gratified to
see her elegibly married, and was therefore anxious to make her appearance as respectable as
possible. Emma had always been partial to Mrs. Delmer, but this kindness reboubled that
sensation, and in a letter which she wrote to Agnes, and sent inclosed in one of Edwin's,
she said, after expressing the highest satisfaction at her situation " Indeed, my dear girl,
it is impossible to describe to you the kindness of Mrs. Delmer ; I am equally well-dressed
as herself, and accompany her to every public place, where I cannot frequently avoid hear-
ing compliments on my person, enough to make me vain. Last night I heard a gentleman at
the opera say to his companion, that my complexion was too glowing for a blonde and too
fair for a brunette, but a happy mixture of both. You may be sure I did not rightly com-

38 THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST.

prebend this, until Mrs. Delmer, who likewise overheard it, explained it to me. I am con-
yinced myself I look much better ; for dress, Agnes, makes a great alteration : my feet in
silk shoes are not like the same ; they appear almost too small to bear me ; and my arms
seem quite a different shape, from the addition of a beautiful pair of bracelets, which Mr.
Whitmore presented me. Edwin is equally favoured as myself; and I can assure you,
when in his regimentals, I think I scarcely ever saw so handsome a man ! I have been
introduced to Mrs. Whitmore ; but indeed, Agnes, I can't love her ; she is very handsome ;
but so hatefully proud, that I am uncomfortable whenever we meet ; for she stares at me
with such contemptuous expression on her countenance, that I am ready to sink. Oh,
Agnes, how I pity Mr. Whitmore ! how happy might his wife be were she so inclined ! for
he is really one of the most amiable men I ever saw; but he is so unhappy at home,
that he is almost perpetually with his sister. Not a word of this, my dear Agnes, to any
one, not even to your sister Fanny : you know my parents and William would say I should
be ruined with pride and hateful vanity, and perhaps send for me immediately home, and
that, before the promised time, would break the heart of your

"EMMA GODWIN."

Emma had, on her arrival, as she informed Agnes, been introduced to Mrs. Whitmore;
but that lady had treated her with the most forbidding distance ; nay, even Edwin appeared
lately to have lost the ground he had formerly gained in her good graces ; to confess the
truth, the lady had felt herself piqued at the particular attention he had lately paid to Mrs.
Delmer, and had been at some pains to learn how frequent his visits were ; and that he
often staid to a very late hour ; not, however of a temper for such trifles to give uneasiness,
she immediately transferred the transient spark of inclination she had felt for Edwin to a
captain in the guards, called Darleville.

Notwithstanding the charges Edwin had received, both from his father and William, to
be careful of Emma, he was too much employed in his own pursuits, and divising means to
get Agnes in his power, to pay her any particular attention : to the gallantry of Whitmore
he was too much accustomed to think any thing particular ; and as long as his sister was
under the protection of Mrs. Delmer, he had not the most distant idea of danger. One
evening Whitmore joined them in apparent disorder ; his wife, regardless as he was of her,
had forced him to notice her conduct, as it became public enough to be censured in a para-
graph in the newspaper. Mrs, Delmer endeavoured to palliate it; while Emma in her
heart reprobated her conduct, and dropped a tear on the vexation Whitmore experienced
from being so unhappily married. At that instant Mrs. Delmer 's lawyer was announced :
he came on business relative to a suit she had lately gained, and to pay into her hands a
sionsiderable sum. " For heaven's sake !" cried Whitmore, "do not bring him here; I
cannot at present bear the loquacity of the_law ; besides, it is the old rascal that drew my
fernal marriage-articles Prithee, my dear sister, see him below." Mrs. Delmer readily
acquiesced, and leaving her brother with Emma, attended her lawyer. Both remained
for some time silent : at length Whttmore said " you pity me, enchanting Emma ; you
feel for your unhappy friend ; ah ! why did we not meet when I might with honour have
offered you my hand and fortune ? nay, turn not from me, I cannot bear your displeasure, tied
as I am to one whom my soul justly abhors, and doomed to love where I can never hope a
return 1 yet you wept for me, Emma," continued he, sinking at her feet; "you do not
hate me you will I know pardon even the frenzy of this moment." " For hearen's sake,
sir, rise nay, Mr. Whitmore, I entreat consider, should Mrs. Delraer, or my brother,

surprise you in this posture " What if they should ?" replied he warmly ; " they will

not hear me disavow my love ; no, they shall hear me proclaim it glory in it. Mrs.
Whitmore's conduct will entitled me to a divorce ; then say, Emma you will not refuse me,
when in my power to lay my fortune at your feet ?" " I cannot bear this 1" replied Emma,
weeping ; " I will return immediately to Inglewood." " Go, then," said he, " leave me to
despair ; yet Emma, you may hereafter repent not having spoken comfort to a man who

THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST, 39

idolizes you !" " Alas I" replied Emma, " what comfort can I speak ? If my good wishes
could make you happy, you would have no reason to complain." " Charming angel 1"
exclaimed he, rising and kissing her hand. " I will no more alarm you, but conceal my
sufferings in my own breast ; time and fortune may perhaps relieve them." " For heaven's
sake then drop the discourse ; your emotion distresses me!" " Your desires shall ever be
my commands," replied he, resuming his usual serenity. " Pardon my behaviour this night,
and I will offend no more." Whitmore was true to his word, or at least for that time ;
he was fearful of alarming Emma, should he press the subject farther, and, fully satisfied
with having broken the ice, determined to leave the rest to time and continued assiduities.
When Mrs. Delmer returned, both parties were tolerably composed, and Edwin joining
them soon after, they all adjourned to the play.

Twe months had thus passed with Emma in a continued succession of amusements, when
Edwin received a letter from William, informing him that his beloved Fanny had made
him the happy father of a lovely boy, concluding with pressing his return with Emma to be
present at the christening. Neither Whitmore nor Mrs, Delmer appeared to approve this
invitation : the former, looking at Emma with supplicating tenderness, said " Do, Edwin,
devise some means to excuse your return ; surely a few months might be allowed your sis-
ter : I was in no haste to quit Inglewood." " Indeed," replied Mrs. Delmer, " 1 think the
request very ill-timed ; Edwin cannot get leave of absence for more than a few days, and
surely it is not worth while taking such a journey for that period." " I have obtained a
fortnight," returned Edwin, with a pleasure he could not entirely suppress. " I expected
this event, and was prepared for it ; for my father would hold it unpardonable were I not to
attend." Mrs. Delmer appeared so highly dissatisfied at this information, that Edwin,
after having accompanied Whitmore home, again returned. Mrs. Delmer was still up, but
Emma had retired to her apartment. He now exerted all his influence to persuade her of
the necessity of his paying this one visit to Inglewood, and which he firmly declared should
be the last, unless accompanied by herself ; that though he knew his father would be highly
displeased, he would venture to leave Emma, hoping that, in a short time, he should gain
promotion, and all restraint be naturally removed. This discourse was mingled with so
many caresses and protestations, that at length Mrs. Delmer consented though against her
real inclination. She had not a wish that he should think jealously prompted her refusal,
though inwardly determined to declare her marriage in a short time, whether he gained pre-
ferment or otherwise.

The permission granted, he left her, and returned home, determined to set out on his
journey the first moment he decently could. He ardently wished to be at the forest, and
as this was in all probability his last opportunity to strike some bold stroke that might give
him possession of Agnes " I know, said he, as he reflected on the subject, "her heart is
mine, and in some happy, unguarded moment, could I but gain possession of her person, I
might afterwards be able to divest her of her prejudices, and persuade her to share my for-
tune. My pay, if I gain perferment, will amply supply us; and for Mrs. Pelmer's wealth,
let her keep it accursed be the hour in which I was infatuated enough to barter happiness
for gold !" The next morning Emma was consulted respecting her continuing in. town,
and very readily gave into a concerted falsehood, that Edwin should excuse her absence
under a pretence of Mrs. Delmer's ill health ; and that bhe particularly entreated her com-
pany some time longer. Whitmore came in during this discourse ; he expressed the
utmost pleasure that Emma was not yet to leave them ; he had the whole night been resolv-
ing on some means to prevent it, and was delighted to find the business settled to his
hand. Edwin's departure was fixed to take place in three days, the intervening time being
dedicated to pleasure and dissipation. Emma's conduct was weak, without being intention-
ally wicked. She rather suffered than approved the behaviour of Whitmors ; she pitied
him on account of his wife ; and that sentiment, strengthened by the affection she un-
doubtedly felt for him, induced her not to repulse him, as she ought properly to have done.

4Q THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST.

Mrs. Delmer could not at times avoid observing the attention which "Whitmore paid to
Emma; but totally employed by her own passion for Edwin, and, naturally unsuspicious,
the klea of seduction never entered her imagination ; attributing his behaviour, therefore,
merely to his usual gallantry, she thought it not necessary to be noticed ; for as Emma was
perfectly apprized of his situation, she could not think her in danger ; and, to mention the
subject to Edwin, would be only awakening suspicions that had perhaps no real foundation,
and the cause of which would naturally cease as soon as Emma was removed. Edwin, at
the appointed time, set off for Inglewood ; and on his arrival there, was received with the
utmost pleasure by the whole family ; William presenting him his infant son, with as much
exultation as if he had been heir to a diadem. The absence of Emma at first greatly dis-
please 1 her parents ; but Edwin's excuses of Mrs. Delmer's ill health were so adroitly fa-
bricated, chat they could not fail being admitted. The venerable Mrs. Godwin at length
observing that, though it would have increased her satisfaction for Emma to have been
present on so joyful an occasion, yet she should have been so sorry for her to have quitted
Mrs. Delmer under such circumstances.

Thus situated were the innocent family at Inglewood, seated round the social board, re-
counting old tales of past pleasures, and looking forward in happy expectancy of new ones.
Edwin was alone an exception : he looked back with disgust, and forward with horror ; but
he bad gone too far to recede, ^and therefore boldly determined not to be half a villain. " I
think," said Godwin, looking round him, " that I want nothing but the presence of Emma
to call myself perfectly happy we shall miss her cheerful humour at our christening.
Mrs. Palmer being absent too is another misfortune ; however, many are the blessings we
enjoy, to repine at what we have not, is to be unworthy those we possess." The discourse
then turned on Mrs. Palmer, who had for some time past been at Bristol on business rela-
tive to her late uncle ; all joined in her praise, wishing they had been favoured with her
presence, as she was, by her own desire, to be godmother to the young stranger. Three
days after, began the preparations for the ceremony ; the relations and friends were invited,
and, as some lived too far distant to return the same evening, Bernard's house was aired,
and the beds prepared for reception. Geese, fowls, turkeys, and pigs, were slaughtered,
;d plum-puddings prepared, the ale and made-wines tapped- and, in short, all that
could contribute to the festivity of the day, which was fixed for the Sunday following, the
month of Fanny's lying-in being then complete, and herself thought able to accompany them
to church.

CHAPTER XV.

WHILE all parties at Inglewood were busy in preparing for the christening, Whitmore's
mind was equally, though less innocently employed ; he had now an opportunity, such as,
in nil probability, he might never again obtain to address Emma ; her brother was absent,
and Mrs. Delmer, for some reason which he did not give himself the trouble to endeavour
to develope, was frequently engaged for several hours. At another time, it might have ex-
cited his curiosity, as she had, to his knowledge, sold out a considerable sum, which she had
in the funds, the very day after Edwin's departure; but his mind was too much occupied
about Emma for any other subject to engage him. Mrs. Whitmore's conduct, too, became
more glaringly abandoned, and he was endeavouring to procure a legal separation ; for as to
a divorce, whatever he said to Emma, he had no wish for it, could he avoid it with honor,
as her fortune was very large, and would greatly straiten his finances to repay ; besides, it
certainly was m the lady's power to recriminate, in which case all his attempts would prove
fruitless. In the meantime, he profited by the opportunities his sister's absence gave him
with Emma ; he was for ever offending, and as frequently begging pardon ; yet constantly
ending with vowing to be only hers, that the conduct of his wife had broken every tie be-

THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST. 41

tween them, that the law would soon pronounce it void, and he should be the happiest of
men. The unthinking Emma had suffered this talc to be so frrquiMitly n-jirated, that it
insensibly became less offensive to her ear ; and. as >he n-ally loved Whitmorc, could not
avoid wishing the event he appeared to desire so ardently, might speedily take place. One
afternoon, after Whitmore had passed the whole morning wU.h Emma, Mrs. Delmer came
horn/ in particular high spirits, and, after dinner, sat down and wrote a letter, which was
icbtssed, to Emma's great amazement, to her brother Edwin at Inglewcod. Emma was
at that moment alone with Mrs Delmer, who, perceiving marks of curiosity on her fea-
tures, said " I have been writing to yonr brother, Mmina, on a subject that at present I
cannot disclose, but which, I am convinced, will give you pleasure. I shall send my letter
by this night's post, and, on his answer, which, by the way, I expect he will bring himself,
shall be able to treat you with a surprise."

Without farther explanation she rang for a servant delivered the letter to be put in the
post and ordered tea. Whitmore had left them soon after Mrs. Delmer's return, with a
promise to join them early in the evening , it was now, however far beyond his usual time,
but Mrs. Delmer was too much aecustomsd to stick disappointments for them to give her
any great surprise. Emma, on the contrary, felt uneasy though she endeavoured to con-
ceal jt. Whitmore had that morning, when alone with her, promised to pass the whole
evening there, and in such promises he had ever before been Strictly punctual. It was near
eleven before he joined them, and then apparently discomposed. He pressed Emma's
hand between his, and turning suddenly to Mrs. Delmer, said" Is it true, madam, that
you are married to Edwin ?" For an instant the lady was too confused to reply. At
length she answered " Suppose it is so, sir, who has a right to control me ?" " Not I,
by my soul," replied he, " nor would I if I could ; but surely I might have been trusted ;
it had better have been disclosed by you, than by my wife's gallant, Darleville, in a public
coffee -house." "Merciful God I my brother Edwin married!" exclaimed Emma. "I
have neither acted by Edwin or yon, madam," said Whitmore, " in a manner to make
secrecy needful. Yon are the undoubted mistress of yourself and fortune ; but Edwin,
methinks, should have consulted his friends." " Agnes will die with grief," sobbed Emma ;
" he has treated her cruelly." " At least, Emma, ' interrupted Mrs. Delmer, " I expected
your approbation. Do you think your brother could have married better ? I first procured
him the commission, and have by purchase now got him promoted ; that has been the
business which lately has so totally employed me, and that will be completed to morrow.
We agreed to keep our marriage secret till that event took place, and I have this night writ-
ten to inform him that all restraint is removed." " You cannot but be sensible," replied
Emma, "that I rejoice in my brother's good fortune ; and must indeed myself be unworthy
your kindness, did I not feel both affection and gratitude for you ; yet, when I reflect on
the confusion this will occasion at Inglewood, I protest it frightens me ; I fear they will
think I was in the secret." " Suppose you were," answered Mrs. Delmer. " Your father
will surely be satisfied with the prudence of his son's choice?" "My father, you well
know, madam, is extremely partial to Bernard's daughters, and though he will undoubtedly
be sensible of the honor you kave done us will resent the insult offered to Agnes." " Far-
mers are plentiful enough in your country," replied Mrs. Delmer, "she will soon supply
her loss. For the present, however, let the business rest ; I am perfectly satisfied with what
I have done, and trust Edwin is the same." Vexed as Whitmore really felt, he was too
politic to quarrel with his sister at a moment he regarded so critical in his success with
Emma; he therefore only replied " You say well, let it rest: I again repeat, I do not
blame you, except for your want of confidence in me, however, let even that pass, I will lay
the fault to love, and excuse it, for, perhaps, in that same case I might have been equally
blameable.

Mrs, Delmer was astonished at her brother's moderation, while Emma was charmed with
his goodness in thus calmly bearing so unequal a marriage in respect to fortune ; and

42 THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST.

though in her heart she could not avoid lamenting the falsehood of Edwin to Agnes, yet
her pride was gratified to find herself so greatly allied. Edwin's behaviour, wheu last at
Inglewood, confounded her; that he was married at that time she could hardly believe ;
yet she had been almost constantly with Mrs. Delmer since she returned to town with him,
and had no reason to imagine their union had taken place since that period. In short, the
more she thought on the subject, the more she was bewildered ; and soon after Whitmore
retired, withdrew to her apartment. Mrs. Delmer was engaged early the next morning to
conclude the business she had before mentioned ; therefore, after taking a hasty breakfast
with Emma, during which little discourse passed, she left her. Edwin's marriage now en-
tirely employed Emma's thoughts. His reason for desiring her not to mention to Mrs.
Delmer what had been proposed at the Forest, was now accounted for ; her heart revolted
at his duplicity, while she pitied and wept for Agnes. " Yet, after all," said she mentally,
" the temptation was indeed hard to resist grandeur, wealth, and pleasure. Heigho I I
myself once thought Inglewood the finest place in the world, at present how different ! I
know it to be only a mean, inconsiderable spot, with a few scattered houses, for the most
part covered with thatch, and am almost ashamed to say I was born there ! I am sure I
shall never be able to endure it now ; therefore how can I so much wonder at Edwin ?
Poor fellow, he is at once to be condemned and pitied ! "

These deliberations were broken upon by the sudden entrance of Whitmore, whose
whole appearance announced that some extraordinary event had taken place. He threw
himself in a chair, and after some moments silence, his eyes fixed on the astonished Emma,
he said, taking her hand " I have sometimes flattered myself that you regarded me with
kindness, Emma ; now is the time to prove it. I have this morning fought with Darleville,
who, not content with the injury done with that infamous woman who bears my name, but
whom I despise too much to seek revenge, he last night dared to speak disrespectfully of
my sister and yourself ; but his life will pay the insult I have left him past hope. The
friend who accompanied me already think me on my way to Calais, where he wishes me to
stay till I learn the event , but I cannot go ; I will sooner await the worst than leave you."
" Great God !" exclaimed Emma, trembling, " let me conjure you to fly this instant ; every
moment encreases your danger. Would to heaven yon had never known us ! My brother's
imprudence has, I fear, involved you in this trouble." " My proofs are, no fear, strong
enough to procure a divorce ; pardon, then, Emma, a proposal which nothing but the
necessity of the moment should force me to make. Would you," continued he, throwing
himself at her feet, " nobly show yourself above vulgar prejudices, and condescend to accom-
pany me, I will go when and where you please, and the first moment in my power make you
mine for ever ; but I cannot, will not, quit you, though death itself should be the conse-
quence. I ask no return to my affection but what modesty may grant, until I have a legal
right. Oh ! then, my beloved girl, for once step over those narrow bounds of cold pru-
dence, and show your friendship ; your brother already is the husband of my sister, ind
you are the chosen of my heart. Speak, then, my love ! shall I owe my life to your kind-
ness, or will you suffer me to be taken at your feet?" " Oh 1 Mr. Whitmore, what do you
ask ?" replied Emma, weeping : " consider my parents my brother." " Your brother
Edwin, however, cannot blame you ; it is in his quarrel, unkindly as he has treated me, that
I have incurred this misfortune ; and for your parents, when I present myself as their son,
all animosities will cease : resolve, then, my Emma, and let me owe a debt to love, which
cold duty never yet formed an idea of." At this moment a loud knock at the door alarmed
Emma. " Oh 1 hasten, hasten !" she cried ; " perhaps you may be sought for even here !
fly, or my apprehensions for you will kill me." The cause of Emma's alarm was Whit-
more's valet. He came to press his master's departure; he said he had a chaise hi waiting,
and had just heard that Darleville could not survive the day. " Begone," replied Whit-
more, " I care not; I am not ready ; I am prepared to meet the worst." The man ap-
peared surprised, and would have ventured to expostulate ; but Whitmore interrupted him,

THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST. 43

again commanded his absence, in a voice that demanded obedience. \Vhitmore still per-
sisted in pressing the alarmed and half-wavering Emma to accompany him. For sometime
she only answered with her tears ; at length she said, " Let us consult Mrs. Delmer ; I will
be guided by her." Whitmore, who dreaded nothing more than the return of Mrs. Del-
mer, however replied, taking out his watch " Well, be it so ; but what time do you ex-
pect her?" " Ohl no no!" exclaimed Emma, " it is impossible ; she will not return
till near dinner-time, and your safety demands that you depart this instant." " My safety,
or even my life, is to me of no value. Independent of you, Emma, therefere, I will wait
the return of my sister ; yet has she not show, by the choice of your brother, that she
thinks a small share of the world's opinion is worth sacrificing to obtain happiness ?"

Ah I" sighed Emma, but she is married!" " Well, my love, and shall we not also be
married as soon as possible ? Even with all the bigotry that country education has im-
planted in your mind, you must allow, that a woman who has acted so shamefully as Mrs.
Whitmore, is no longer in the eyes of Heaven, or the world, my wife. My marriage with
her was merely a joining of hands ; ours, Emma, will be a union of hearts. To ease your
delicate scruples, am I not content to wait for all the formalities of law and the jargon of
priestcraft ? though neither, Emma, can make me more securely yours, let me only, my
love, have to boast hereafter, that you nobly showed your affection in the hour of my dan-
ger, and accompanied in his exile a man who would glory to place you on a throne."
Emma, weak and irresolute, knew not how to consent, yet feared to deny ; she loved
Whitmore too well for his safety not to be dear to her : duty for awhile, indeed, struggled
with passion ; but Emma's mind was too feeble to bear the conflict. Whitmore saw his
advantage, and pressing his suit with redoubled ardour, prevailed in an unhappy moment,
on the infatuated Emma to demolish the fair structure of virtue her parents had so many
years been endeavouring to rear in her heart, by weakly yielding to accompany him. De-
lighted with his success, he hurried her instantly to the chaise which he had in waiting,
ordering the postboy to use the utmost speed.

Had Whitmore given Emma time to reflect, it is probable she might have escaped the
destruction that awaited hei ; but her sensibility awakened for the safety , of the man she
loved no friend near to advise, or snatch her from the impending ruin, she forgot all but
his danger, regardless of the dagger she was striking into the bosom of her parents, or the
never-dying anguish she was implanting in her own ! They had hardly reached the end of
the first stage, when, even though supported by the encircling arm of Whitmore, his vows
still sounding in her ears, that silent, but never-failing monitor, Conscience, awoke, and at
once presented the reverse of the fascinating picture that for awhile had intoxicated her
senses. "Oh! my dear parents," exclaimed she, in an agony of grief, "must I then
never see you more ! the lost, the abandoned Emma has forsaken all, and for whom ?
Great God ! a married man ! Oh ! Mr. Whitmore, if you really love me, let me return :
it will be the strongest proof of my affection, and never shall it be forgotten." " Well,
then," replied he, reproach fully, "let us return, for I cannot see you thus; I will resign
myself, and wait the event of Darleville's wounds : at least, you shall not accuse me, Emma,
of want of affection." " Ah, no !" returned Emma, weeping, " let me return alone. Have
I not shown how dear I hold your safety ?" " And after such a proof, think you it is pos-
sible to tear myself from you ? No, Emma, any thing else I may be able to accomplish :
but by all my hopes of happiness, we will not part ! If you insist, I will accompany you
home, let life or death be the consequence." Emma again became irresolute ; again, for
awhile, love overcame reason. In the meantime the chaise proceeded swiftly, and momen-
tarily made her return less possible Whitmore alarming her feelings, and soothing her by
turns, until at length they reached Dover ; where, the wind proving fair, a packet was
imBiediately procured, and all return entirely cut off .for the lost Emma. To divert her
thoughts from dwelling on subjects he wished her to forget, Whitmore related the cause of
his quarrel with Darleville : he had in the public coffee-room declared, that if Mrs. Delmer

44 THE FARMER OF IXGLEWOOD FOREST.

was not married to Ensign Godwin, they had a perfect good understanding ; as he was fre-
quently with her at very unseasonable hours (information he had received from Mrs. Whit-
more) ; as was also Mr. Whitmore tete-a-tete with Emma. Whitmore on his entrance had
been jested with on the business, and congratulated on his good fortune with the fair rustic ;
but not being naturally of a temper to hear the character of any one he professed to esteem
treated lightly, he immediately took fire, and insisted on the author of the scandal being
declared ; which proved to be Darleville, he determined to quarrel ; and walking up to him
with assumed coldness, he said " I hear, sir, you have taken the liberty to speak very
freely this evening of my sister and Miss Godwin ; I must therefore advise you in future to
be more cautious, or your want of prudence may put your valour to the hazard a circum-
stance that will perhaps prove inconvenient, as the reality of courage, as well as the reputa-
tion of gallantry, is necessary fora soldier." This affront, given in a coffee-room, was too
gross to let pass unnoticed ; an appointment was therefore instantly made ; after which
Whitmore supped at Mrs. Delmer's, when he questioned her on her marriage, though he
avoided particulars.

The next morning he met his opponent, whom, on the first fire, he shot in the side, and
left with his friend, who had acted as second, while himself hastened to Emma, determined,
as he had such a favourable pretence, to make a bold essay to get her into his power, and
in which he unhappily succeeded. Such was the real state of the quarrel, and its subse-
quent consequences ; but which were alternately heightened or softened on Whitmore's
relation to Emma, as might best suit his purpose. So great had been Emma's confusion,
that she had not even thought of clothes ; but Whitmore, on their arrival at Calais, soon
removed that inconvenience ; and they continued their route to Paris, where he supplied
her with a profusion and elegance that marked the power he supposed show to have over the
female heart. Emma unfortunately was not insensible to it. In contemplating the splen-
dour that surrounded her, sorrow gradually decreased, and her gratitude to the donor aug-
mented, until at length, in an hour of unguarded folly, she bartered her honour for the
gaudy and useless trappings, of pride and vice. Mrs. Delmer, on her return home on the
day of the duel, wondered at Emma's absence, or for what purpose she could have accom-
panied her brother ; yet had no idea until late in the evening of the real truth. She feared
Edwin would blame her, and knew not what measure to pursue, but determined to give him
immediate intelligence, and accordingly wrote that night, expressing her vexation at what
had happened, and entreating his immediate return

CHAPTER XVI.

WHILE the unthinking Emma was flying from her friends, and sacrificing her honour to
gratify the licentious wishes of her betrayer, all was joy and festivity at Inglewood. The
young stranger was baptized by the name of Reuben, after his grandfather, and the subse-
quent entertainment having lasted until late on the second day, the guests had taking leave
and returned home. Had it not been for the tormenting pangs of conscience, Edwin would
have felt himself perfectly happy ; for though he could some times forget every thing but
love and Agnes, yet reflection was sure to return with redoubled violence, He was a con-
stant witness to the happiness of William and Fanny, and, like a fiend iufernel, their inno-
cent pleasures increased his torments, for in them be contemplated what himself might have
possessed. The venerable Godwin sometimes suspected that his son was not happy, but
attributed it to his being necessitated to quit Agnes, and therefore wished there union to
take place as soon as possible ; it indeed gave him some surprise that Edwin himself did
not press it more warmly ; but waiting for the expected promotion was the reason given,
and readily believed by Godwin ; for his heart was too guileless of him to suppose his son a

THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST. 45

;t I lam. After the departure of the guests, as the family were sitting in cheerful conversation,
;vj' le post-boy's horn gave notice he brought letters, and a moment after, Margery entered and
^ ' Ilivered one to Kdwin, whose eye had, however, no sooner glanced over the direction (which
.* lis Mrs Delmer's) than the blood for a moment forsook his cheeks, but as instantaneously
C| I ain returned, and suffused them with crimson. Without knowing what he was about, he was
^ Istinctively going to put it in his pocket, had not his eyes met those of his brother William, in
^ [nose fare IK- saw, in legible traits, the strongest marks of surprise.

I This discovery at once called him to recollection ; he endeavoured to conceal his confusion,
^ lid opened the letter; but had scarely read two lines, when it again visibly increased ; for it
;t las Mrs Delmer's first letter, iu which she began by informing him that all restraint was now
^ Amoved, and that their marriage might be declared, as she had obtained the promotion for him.
ta ' I The joy Kdwin experienced at this news in some measure overbalanced his confusion. " I

00 In preferred," exclaimed he, in rapture, "and have a prospect of yet farther advancement." He
^ lieu continued reading the remainder of his letter, which he had no sooner concluded, than he
^ lut it in his por.ket, and simply relating what he thought necessary of the contents to his friends.

I "And from whence comes it, Edwin?" said William, looking on him fixedly.
"d I " Comes why why, from Mr Whitmore, to be sure," replied Edwin, hesitating, and his
d) lowncast eye avoiding the scrutinizing gaze of his brother; "you know I long expected this
'd Ivent, yet it came so suddenly that it quite overcame me."

: - I William, unwilling to make a reply that might awaken suspicion against his brother, and
' 1/hieh, perhaps, in truth might be "Toundless, remained silent ; while Edwin received the con-
' I ratulations of the family, but particularly of Bernard, who now thought his hopes of Edwin's
B Jiecoming a General half verified.

1 I When Edwin had recovered his first surprise, he informed them he should be obliged to
> leave them almost immediately, as the business required his immediate presence.

I " Pies on that luck !" interrupted Bernard, " I thought you would have staid to take Agnes
|ith you ; and though I should be sorry to lose her, yet, as you seem never happy apart, I am
villing to consent when you please ; on condition, however, that you let me have my girl with
Ine two or three months every summer."

" Alas !" said Edwin, with a hypocritical sigh, " I would to heaven I could now stay, or that
|[ had known my advancement was so near; but it is in vain to wish, for I must inevitably
llepart, cither to-morrow night, or the morning following ; yet there is one way, though I fear
|:o propose it, if my beloved Agnes and our parents would consent."

" Consent ! why to be sure we will," answered Bernard.

" It is," replied Edwin, hesitating, " if I might be permitted to take Agnes to town with
me, we might there be married without delay. I have made Mr Whitmore a sort of promise
that he should be present at the ceremony ; and as Emma is already there, she would have a
Jfemalo friend to accompany her."

It may be easily surmised that Edwin had no design to conduct Agnes to his sister ; he
simply wished to get her from her parents, as he had then no doubt but he should be able to
deceive one so innocent of guile, and in a short time bring her to his wishes.

" Mv brother Godwin shall determine the business," returned Bernard. " Then I by no
Imeans approve it," said Godwin. " Had Emma been here to accompany her, the objection,
Inaight have been less ; but even then the step would have been imprudent what say you,

William ?" " I am astonished that Edwin could ask it," replied William ; " he surely did not
Ljousider the impropriety of Agnes's leaving the country with him unmarried. I think Fanny
lis, and ever was, as dear to me as her sister can be to Edwin ; yet passion should never trans-
I port me so far as to suffer her to take a step that might subject her even to a temporary
I humiliation. Edwin surely con again get leave of absence ; and, if Mr Whitmore wishes to be
I present at the ceremony, he has nothing to detain him." " I did not request your permission,
I nor yet your advice, William," said Edwin, with an emotion of anger which he could not con-
I eal. " The permission is alone in her father's power to grant," replied William. " As to my
I opinion, my father asked it ; and it coinciding with his own, I freely gave it nay, had it not,

in this case I should not have scrupled to differ from him. Agnes has no brother but myself,

46 THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST.

and I hold her fame too dear to suffer it to be sullied, however unmeritedly." " It is enough,'
cried Edwin ; "if frustrating my happiness gives you pleasure, you have accomplished youl
end." " Nay, nay," interrupted Bernard, " do not speak so harshly. William is a good lad
whatever he says is for the best. I do not know how it is, but he always brings me over to his
opinion, and it is generally right." *' I am sorry, in this instance, that he has such power with
you," replied Edwin, sulkily. " And why so. my brother ?" said William ; " on calm reflection
your own reason will applaud me ; and now, to prove how dear I hold your happiness, '.
have a medium to propose. If you should find it inconvenient to return, prepare all for Agnes'i
reception, and Mr Bernard and myself will accompany her to town. I think he would take
such a journey to oblige you; and I can assure you I would, though I should leave my hearf
at Inglcwood with this witch and little sorcerer," patting his young son on the cheek as he laj
at his mother's breast. " There, there, now !" exclaimed Bernard, exultingly ; " I told you he
would bring you round ; his is the best plan after all, though I do not much like your long
journeys; however, for once I do not care. Come, then, do not look so glum, all is settled
you know, if the mountain cannot come to us, why we must go to the mountain, as the folks
say." " I hope to spare you that trouble," replied Edwin, after a short pause, during which
he endeavoured to collect himself; " I trust I shall be able to return. I certainly did not wish
to be again separated from Agnes; but I must submit."

Mr and Mrs Godwin now declared themselves of William's opinion, as did also Fanny, who
added " Though, like my father, I do not approve of long journeys, yet, in such a case as this
I shall willingly spare you."

The conversation now took a livelier turn with all but Edwin ; his scheme frustrated o
getting Agnes in his power, he knew not what measures to pursue ; the intelligence of his
promotion had been unexpected, and when the conditions annexed were reflected upon
unwelcome ; to declare his marriage was to lose Agnes for ever. His uneasiness was too visible
to be overlooked ; all tried to enliven him, and particularly Agnes, who, by a thousand little
artless caresses, endeavoured to make him forget his vexation ; but in vain ; the soothing o
Agnes, like oil on a flame, served but to increase the distraction that overwhelmed him. At
length the family retired to their apartments for the night, and undisturbed by guilt or sorrow
the greater part soon fell asleep.

Edwin, however, felt he could not rest ; the attempt he knew would be fruitless, and for
some time he sat in all the gloom of despair. "Is it not possible to see Agnes again this
night 1" exclaimed he ; " at least I shall take her unprepared ; it is my last resource, and if
succeed, William and Virtue, I laugh at ye I can hereafter make my own conditions ; i
otherwise, at all events, it can but hasten my departure a few hours from the Forest, of which
I must take an everlasting farewell."

This resolution once formed, he determined to endeavour to accomplish it ; and leaving his
own room, advanced to that of Agnes with the cautious soft step of a night-robber. At the
door he paused a momentary pang of remorse seized him. " Monster !" said he, mentally
" what'villany art thou about to perpetrate ? Art thou not already sufficiently guilty ? Thou
wilt next be capable of murdering the innocent as they sleep, that neither their power nor
persuasion should defeat thy purpose."

As he spoke, his feet involuntarily turned from the door. " And can I," resumed he, " give
her up for ever? Have I it not in my power to make her amends for this one deviation from
rectitude? My fortune my life all all are hers; then let me not weakly abandon an
opportunity which can never be recalled."

With these ideas he determined to proceed in his purpose, and gently opening the door o
her apartment, fearful of alarming her, lest she should awake the family, he said in a soft voice
" Be not surprised, nor displeased, my beloved Agnes ; I have a few words to say to you
which I wish to repeat without witness ; for William, I see, is willing to protract my happiness
as long as possible."

CHAPTER XVII.

f-3 had retired with a mind too much disturbed by the visiblo uneasiness of Edwin to fall

asleep, and immediately started at his entrance ; for she heard him not until he opened the

THE FARMER OF 1NGLEWOOD FOREST.

lamber door and addressed her, so cautiously had he stepped along the little passage that
parated her room from the other apartments. For a moment she felt displeased at his intru-
on, but her heart was too guileless to suspect his purpose, and affection and pity mastering
/ery other sentiment, she replied to his address" Retire, I entreat you, Edwin. Were you
3t so visibly uneasy I could not forbear to chide you ; we will speak more fully to-morrow,
bu are displeased at William without cause ; he is at once a kind brother, and a prudent and
sintercsted friend. Banish, then, these thoughts that disturb you ; all, I doubt not, will be
r the best."

Edwin, who was charmed to meet wit'i so gentle a rebuke, replied, " And can you, Agnes
easily adopt his unfeeling maxims? But why do I ask, when I see you do ? Absence has
eakened your affections for me, and it costs you no pang to doom me to misery !" " Cruel,
vjust surmise !" replied Agnes, ready to burst into tears ; " had your affections been as great
i mine, you had never, Edwin, sought a change. No preferment, no greatness, should have
impted me to quit you ; but I am wrong to speak in a manner you may construe upbraidingly.
our miud, my Edwin, is disturbed. Retire, I again conjure you, to your rest ; this is no place,
i tl:e morning you shall be convinced that you are offended without cause." " And will you
3t, Agnes," replied he, " allow me a single half hour's conversation alone this last evening I
we to remain with you ? Will you suffer me to depart, overpowered as I am with anguish ?"
Good heaven ! what would you request ? You know, Edwin, your uneasiness distresses me
ore than myown; but go down, if you desire it, I will rise and join you in a few minutes."
No," replied he, " we shall but awaken the family, which will prevent me from disclosing
hat I wish to say to you alone. Can you not, my love, suffer me for a few minutes to con-
jrse with you here? You were not wont to distrust your Edwin ; have I, Agnes, deserved
ispicion ?" ' No, heaven forbid !" replied the unsuspecting victim. " Withdraw, while I dress,
e can converse for a short time at the window."

Edwin, though he scarcely knew how to command himself, immediately obeyed by retiring
to the passage, where he remained some minutes, then joined her at the window of her own
to|3artment. Persuaded it was his last resource, he redoubled his former vows, until he thought
lsr heart sufficiently softened to his purpose, then entreated her, though with some cautious
reliminaries, to prove her affection by accompanying him to town.

" Why will you ask me what you know is impossible ?" replied she. " Do not our parents
link it wrong? and you, as well as me, Edwin, used to be satisfied with their decision : but
ou are grown strangely impetuous. A little time cannot surely make much difference, and
len it will be my duty, as well as inclination, to accompany you wherever you go." " Ah
gnes," replied he, " if you loved me, you would not thus calmly speak of a separation, though
en for a short time. My first leaving the Forest was, I can truly swear, to procure you
Iditional happiness as well as myself. Our hearts, my beloved girl, have long been united
u can neither doubt my honour nor my love. Consent, then, to go with me to town, and let
never more be separated." " How can you press what you know is impracticable ? Has
cll | not been expressly denied?" " But but," hesitated he, "could we not, my beloved, find
cans to go without their permission ! It surely, Agnes, would be a very venial trespass.' We
uld be married immediately, and you cannot doubt but we shall be forgiven."
" And do you think I would be guilty of so cruel and despicable an act?" replied she, in-
antly, endeavouring to withdraw her hand. " No, Edwin, my love for you, I confess, is
iterwoven with my life, but neither love nor life itself shall make me so ungrateful and un-
orthy of the best of friends and parents, for yours, Edwin, are already mine ; and shall I

O f joud their venerable features with sorrow, and wound their worthy hearts? No you are

t yourself, or you could not have proposed it."

Though Edwin found his scheme completely frustrated by this reply, yet he determined
t to relinquish his purpose, and summoning all his arts, by soothing and protestations, he at
ngth removed the uneasiness his proposal had given, and his pardon was sealed on her lips.
" And now, Edwin" said she, " retire ; forget all vexation, and believe me entire yours."
' Yet a moment," replied he ; " in what haste you are to banish me j are you not my wife
all but the name ? Suffer me then, my love, to place this ring upon your finger," drawing

43 THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST.

one from his own, which had been presented him by Mrs Delmer, and putting it on hers" ai
swear, Agnes, you will never give yourself to another."

' Alas ! " said Agnes, " 1 know not what strange idea has possessed you ! Have I not fr
quently given you that assurance, and can an oath be more binding? Surely not. I nev
repeated one in my life, and have frequently wished you not, for they ever leave an unea
sensation on my hart."

" You refuse me then, Agnes," replied he, striking his forehead with his hand ; ''and I shj
accursed thought ! lose you for ever."

" Good heaven, how you terrify me !" said Agnes, trembling at his agitation; "how
you doubt me 1 But dictate what I am to say, and I will repeat it, if that will restore you
calmness."

Edwin now proposed the oath, and the gentle Agnes, sinking on her knees, exelaime
4t Heaven forgive me for an act against which my heart recoils ! but here I call God to wi
ness, never to have another love, and if you are not my husband, to die unmarried !" ' Enoug
nough 1" cried Edwin exultingly ; " my heart is now satisfied you are my wife, and froi
this hour I claim you as my own."

Her gentle spirits were overpowered with the scene that had taken place, her head sut
on Edwin's bosom, and she could scarcely preserve herself from fainting. In that fatal rn
ment the guardian angel of virtue and innocence for a short time left the unhappy and tc
susceptible Agnes, and the villain Edwin succeeded in his infernal purpose. Daughters
chastity, condemn not but pity ! May example warn you that secrecy and temptation a
ever to be avoided.

The triumphant miscreant bad now no doubt but that all his desires would be compli
with ; he therefore again pressed her to accompany him unknown to her parents, but in vai

'* No !" cried she, weeping bitterly. " It is true you have rendered me unworthy of o
friends and yourself, yet will I not add ingratitude to vice. Begone, Edwin, nor tempt n
further : am 1 not already sunk enough in your opinion ? hateful folly despicable woaknes
Would to heaven I had died yesterday innocent and happy !"

Edwin exerted all his art and influence to calm her, spirits ; and disappointed in his viei
of persuading her to accompany him clandestinely, changed his plan, sparing no vows to coi
vince her of his fixed intention to return iu the course of a month and espouse her, bei
determined, if possible, to kec-p his marriage for that time private, and in the interim fix
some scheme to get her into his power.

His repeated promises in some measure calmed her agitation; but she still pressed his al
sence, with an earnestness that all his arts could not overcome ; and he was at length necesj
tated, though sorely against his will, to return to his chamber, as the only means to keep h
sorrow within bounds, for be dreaded lest it should be heard by the family.

The remainder of the night was passed by the unhappy Agnes in self-reproaches and teai
her heart weakly endeavouring to exculpate her betrayer. For the first time the dawn
morning was displeasing to her ; she shuddered to appear before her friends, and dread
every eye, lest her conscious face should disclose the weakness she had been guilty of.

In the morning her disorder and confusion were visible to the whole family ; but all att
buted it to the same motive, the approaching departure of Edwin, and endeavoured to co
*ole and cheer her, but in vain; she felt herself unworthy of their caresses, and shrunk fr<
them. Nor was Edwin more calm, though actuated by very different motives ; triumphal
villany, it is true, sat enthroned within his heart ; but yet he was uncertain whether he mig
not for ever lose Agnes, of whom he was now more passionately enamoured than ever.

Fdwin, though he ardently wished to assume his new honours, could hardly determine
tear himself away, and therefore determined to protract his stay until the following mornii
in order to exert his utmost endeavours in reassuring Agnes, whom, as he found he could
no means persuade her to leave the Forest clandestinely, determined to return himself
speedily as possible, seduce her to some distance, then carry her off in spite of opposili(
trusting to her affection to plead his excuse.

In the evening arrived Mrs Delmer's second letter, containing the intelligence of Emm
elopement with Whitmore. This was delivered to Edwin when he chanced to be alone wi

THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST. 49

illiam. Astonished at receiving another so speedily, he hastily broke it open, but had no

meed over the contents, than art, and its attendant dissimulation, for a moment for-

ak him. " Damnation seize the villain !" exclaimed he, aloud, regardless of William, and al-

st insensible he was present; I will pursue him to the verge of hell ; am I thus to be

mediately punished?" "Good heaven, Edwin ?" replied William, starting, what do you

Vh.it has happened? Speak, brother ; why are your features thus disturbed with

ngled ra^o and anguish? Arc we not both the fruit of one kindly shrub ? Why will you

en unkindly have a separate interest ? for surely witholding your thoughts must bo thus

1. My whole heart is yours ; read it, it is open as my speech to a beloved brother."

iiliam !" replied Edwin, shrinking within himself, " what, do you ask ? I I I have

,. or it' I had what could it answer to rack your bosom?" " If you are so insensible

isolations of friendship," returned William, " to pri/e them so lightly, I will endeavour,

oui;h reluctantly, to withdraw my claim ; my heart has hitherto forced me to be an intruder

your interest; I will, however, hereafter strive not to hold it so inseparable with my own,

til, at least, you are cured of this delirium of folly and grandeur; then, my brother, will I

rget your unkindness, and again open my arms and heart to receive you. Only one thing,

Iwin, would 1 wish to ask ; if you have a subject for unhappiness, is London a place for

mma? Can she be prudently left there alone?" "D her!" involuntarily replied

iwin.

William made no answer ; he was unequal to any : he cast an eye of anguish on his bro-
er, and dropped on a chair in silence.

At that instant entered Godwin, with his wife and Fanny, when both brothers endeavoured
conceal their uneasiness, though from different motives ; Edwin to hide his own villany,
d William to prevent their hearts being agonized with he knew not what, and what he
shed, but dreaded to hear.

Edwin was a far better dissembler tban his orothcr, and first overcame his confusion,

nplv informing his friends that he had received another letter pressing his immediate return ;

that he hoped to see them again in the space of a month at farthest ; that he would now

ie one of their horses to the next market town, from whence he could immediately procure

conveyance.

His venerable parents would have questioned him respecting his repeated and peremptory
11 ; but Edwin appeared so inclosed in reserve and caution, that the good man, with a si^h,
thdrew his suit, and observing his son's impatience to be gone, told him to take any of the
>rse3 he approved ; and fearing his uneasiness might proceed from want of money, pressed
m with a supply, which, however, Edwin declined, even to obstinacy. He then left the
k rty, and hastened to take leave of Agnes, who was locked in her chamber, for the first time,
Thaps, in her life ; but she wished now to conceal herself from herself; but her conscience,
mbly poignant from sensibility and wounded virtue, had fixed a barbed arrow in her bo-
rn, which she could never withdraw, nor whose anguish she could palliate.

Edwin calling, she however replied " I will attend to you directly below ;" and opening
e door with a sigh, passed him and descended the stairs, he in vain attempting to detain her.

By this time he had entirely recovered his confusion ; and renewing his promises, he
ceived their affectionate farewell, departing in two hours after the receipt of his last letter.

CHAPTER XVIII.
p\vix was no sooner departed, than William, drawing his father aside, with caution informed
n of Edwin's discomposure at receiving the letter. " Believe me, my dear sir," said he,
[ should not have mentioned it, had I not thought it for his happiness. Edwin's good nature,
id, if I may call it so, constitutional cheerfulness, may, I doubt not, have drawn him into
me difficulty, from which he cannot extricate himself. I almost fear to speak my wishes,
t why should I hesitate ? You have frequently honoured me by calling me your represen-
tive ; would you condescend to make me such now, I would go to London, and examine
to the immediate situation of Edwin ; if he has any pecuniary difficulties, remove them ; and,
lally. brinjr down Emma, whom I well know you wish returned."

Godwin for a moment regarded his son, unable to reply, tears falling down his cheeks. At
ngth, embracing him, he said, " My son, my son, surely thou art the favourite gift of God ;

50 THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST.

thou anticipates! my words, but not my wishes. I am not blind to the cloud that hangs ove
Edwin, but for thy offer should have suffered in silence, unable to develope it ; let us, ther
form some excuse for thy absence to thy mother, Fanny, and her gentle sister ; as for Bel
nard, I will tell him our intention ; and, I doubt not, he will applaud our honest deceit."

Bernard entering in the height of the conversation, was informed of the whole, unde
promise, however, of not revealing it to either of his daughters, which he firmly promised j
the meantime good-naturedly endeavouring to laugh them out of their fears, observing, " h
was sure Edwin was both a good and a prudent lad ; and for any difference in his behaviour
they should consider his change of situation, and that gentlemen had frequently more
ruffle their thoughts than farmers, though they might choose to keep it to themselves."

William, with his father's approbation, determined to depart on the following morning, an
join his father in London ; and accordingly, at supper, Bernard, by agreement, asked him
he could contrive to set off on the next day to York, as he had a relation there who was sick
and that he was unable to ride so far on horseback himself?

William immediately expressed his willingness, and the affair was soon concluded, unsus
pected by cither Mrs Godwin or Agnes ; but the keen and attentive eye of tenderness wa
not so easily deceived; Fanny read the unusual gloom in her William's features, thoug
determined to conceal her suspicions.

On their retiring to rest, William could not avoid observing Fanny was unhappy. Sh
was silent, and appeared to press the young Reuben with redoubled affection to her boson
while a tear would now and then escape her eye, and fall on his dimpled cheek. " What
the matter, my love, my wife ?" said William ; "you are unhappy, and I have a right to claifi
a share." "Forgive me," replied she, weeping, "but you are not, I think, going to York.
" Suppose I am not, where can I go that the remembrance of your tenderness and virtue wi
not cheer me ? Dry your tears, love, and you shall hear my destination, for I know you wii
not disclose it to my mother or Agnes, whom I fear to alarm." He then informed her of h
determination of hastening to London, as he was rather uneasy at the behaviour of Edwii
and yet more concerned at the protracted stay of Emma.

Fanny entirely coincided in the prudence of his journey, while she grieved at its necessit
yet hoped all his fears were groundless ; then promised to conceal her own uneasiness for th
sake of his mother and Agnes ; and, finally, entreated him, in such a great and hateful cit
(as she had heard it represented) to be careful of his own safety, and by no means to hurr
back on her account, until his heart was fully satisfied in respect to his brother, " as," conclude
she, " an inconsiderate haste might leave you still unhappy, and uninformed in respect of him
In the meantime, I will doubly caress Reuben, trace your features in the lineaments of h
little visage, talk to him of your absence, of your return, while the unfeeling little varlet," cor
eluded she, fondly kissing her babe, "will smile at both."

William caught her in his arms, alternately embracing her and the infant, then he retire
with her to rest, happy as the first created pair, before guilt had banished peace from thei
bosoms.

William rose at the dawn of the day, and having taken an early breakfast with his famil
departed on horseback for the metropolis, which he reached five days after his brother, wh
rode post the whole journey.

Edwin, on his arrival in town, had immediately pone to Mrs Delmer's, who confirmed tl
vexatious tidings she had before sent him. At first his rage knew no bounds ; he execrat*
Whitmore, Emma, and himself, nor did he spare Mrs Delmer in his passion ; then rushin
from the house, hastened to Whitmore's, where, however, he could hear nothing more than
already knew respecting their departure, but was presented by one of the domestics with
letter which had arrived three days before, and which bore a foreign post-mark. On openii
it, he found it came from Whitmore, and contained these words :

" DEAK EDWIN, You have stolen my sister; and, as 1 hate to be undone, I have stol
yours but it is a mere exchange ; yet I wish to act generously, and must confess that I ha
the best of the bargain ; you are welcome to my wife to make up the deficiency. In the meai
time, 1 wish you all the happiness attendant on the marriage state. You pleased yourself,
have I; and I trust you have too much sense and knowledge of the world to be angry at t
step I have taken, particularly when I assure you, that your sister is dearer to me than li

THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST. 51

that her happiness shall be my particular care. I presume you have heard of my affair
j Darleville. I was too much of a philosopher to notice his amour with my wife ; but to
ak disrespectfully of my sister and my beloved Emma, was too much even for philosophy
bear. Adieu ! I shall make the tour of France and Italy before I return, but if settled in

place for a time, you shall hear from me.

Calais. " WHITMORE."

Edwin's rage was redoubled by this epistle, with which, open in his hand, he flew to IMrs
itmore's apartment, expecting, that although the lady was faulty, she would, in this case,
is outrageous as himself; but he was disappointed she only laughed at his emotion,
culing him for being so vehemently exasperated at an occurrence which was so common in
, and that, if he had had the least penetration, must have foreseen. " But what, in the
me of wonder, does he say?" added she. "Does he congratulate you on your marriage?
r my part, I knew of it a week after it took place, though I did not mention it to him, and
ve you credit for an apt scholar, a pupil worthy your preceptor. But tell me, does the
;er contain any secret ; or may I see it ?" " Take it," replied Edwin, sullenly, ' the letter
'east is worthy the writer."

Mrs Whitmore received it, but had not proceeded far when she began laughing immode-
elv. " By my life," said she, <: Whitmore is a delightful fellow, notwithstanding he treats

so cavalierly ; were he not rny husband, I should certainly be in love with him. Take my
vice, Edwin, and do not, when you meet, quarrel about trifles. Believe me, you have,
atever he may say to the contrary, the best of the bargain, have not only the woman but

fortune, he the woman only. Which, I pray then, in the eye of common sense, has the

antage, even though I should not be thrown in to make up the deficiency ?" " But
pose," replied Edwin, half rallied from his vexation, " I should refuse anything short of the

compensation ?" " Why, in that case," returned she smiling, " I should say you were an
aricious wretch, and as bad as your patron."

This discourse was for some time pursued with the same degree of spirit, until the subject
;ame so far realized, that Edwin at length departed, impressed with the idea that he was
;y revenged on Whitmore.

On Edwin's return, he found the domestics at Mrs Delmer's (who hereafter must be called
dwin) prepared to receive him as their master, the lady having declared her marriage,
ough his promotion and this distinction would at any other time have gratified his pride,
d overbalanced every other idea, yet he now accepted their attentions with coldness. His

art was torn with contending passions, which even vvished-for wealth could not alleviate

3 departure of Emma, which almost drove him to despair, and the distempered frenzy of
sire (which he called love) for Agnes. To pursue Emma without any certain route he knew
mid be in vain ; besides, his marriage in the meantime might reach Inglewood, and Agnes be

for ever, This idea soon banished all thoughts of following Emma, whose absence he,
wever, determined to keep secret as long as possible, at least until he got Agnes in his

er.

Thus resolved, he endeavoured to conceal his discontent under the specious guise of
easiness for his sister, his unsuspecting wife viewing him with too partial an eye to suspect

dissimulation.

Five days after, as before mentioned, arrived William, who repaired immediately to the
use he thought Mrs Delmer's, intending first to visit his sister, supposing Edwin still resided
Whitmore's. Though a stranger in London, as his direction was clear, he had not much
Bculty to find it; and, tying his horse to the rails, knocked at the door, and inquired for

lady. William's good person and natural affability was with every one a powerful letter of

immendation; and the domestics immediately showed him into an apartment, and
jhuested his name. " William Godwin," replied he, <; tell her, from Inglewood, and that
:0iel jequest to pay her my respects."

lia lWhen the servants announced this unexpected visitor, Mrs Godwin was alone ; she was
eaD t azed, as she was certain Edwin knew not of his journey. He had told her that he had
' : <Tclosed his marriage to his father and William only, who were to declare it on his departure,
; %e had no wish to distress Agnes, who, he said, he feared was yet rather attached to him.

52 THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST

As for the elopement of Emma, that he informed her he could not resolve to mention, until j
least he heard more of the business.

The parties were thus in mutual ignorance when they met, Mrs Godwin shuddering that
fell to her lot to disclose the flight of his sister, particularly as it was with Whitmore.

Mrs Godwin met him at the door, and holding out her hand, badtf him welcome, and ej
pressing her sorrow that Edwin was gone out. This declaration struck William aa nothin
uncommon, as Edwin, he surmised, might just have paid her a visit. Having returned h
compliments, his eyes wandered round the room in search of Emma. " And my^sister, madam
said he, " has long intruded on your kindness ; I am charged with the thanks of my parent
and mean to take her home with me. At some future period, perhaps, you will condescen
to honour us with a visit, as you pass to your scat." Mrs Godwin bowed ; she felt awkwar
that William did not congratulate her on her marriage, and knew not how to reply to him n
specting Emma. " You are silent, madam," said William, with an emotion he could n<
entirely suppress, observing she mado no answer. " May I not see my sister?" Thus urge
she could not avoid a reply. " For pity's sake, Mr Godwin," said she, " do not press the sul
ject until Edwin's return ; I expect him momentarily. You may believe mo, whatever happer
to disturb your family is distressing to me." "If anything has happened to my sister, fc
Heaven's sake disclose it instantly ; my soul cannot bear suspense on a subject so near us ai
I truly confess I suspected something on Edwin's receiving the last letter, and could not rei
satisfied until I hastened to town. Speak, madam, my distress is not immaterial ; is Emm
sick dead? I can hear of either as becomes a man what I dread far more, disgraced herse
and family ?" Mrs Godwin still hesitated, until again pressed with an earnestness that almoi
shocked her, she replied, " Indeed, rny dear Mr Godwin, this unhappy business you ma
believe has greatly distressed me, particularly as the aggressor is my brother." " Enoug
madam," interrupted William, impatiently; "I have heard enough to plunge my unhupj
parents into an untimely grave." " My husband," resumed Mrs Godwin, " would instant
have pursued them, but his absence, and the uncertainty of their route, made such a ste
fruitless; they can be traced no farther than Abbeville." "Abandoned, deluded girl
exclaimed William, his voice choked with contending passions ; " is this the return you mak
for eighteen years' watchful tenderness parents who never regarded you but with a smile
Ungrateful wretch ! I will, however, if possible, find you ; and if a spark of virtue remai
in your bosom, endeavour to revive it. Pardon me, madam, I scarcely know what to say :
think that you kindly mentioned that your husband would have pursued them excuse me,
did not know you were married ; but why is Edwin supine in this cruel business ?"

William's answer increased Mrs Godwin's perplexity ; he expressed his ignorance of h
marriage, and spoke of her husband and Edwin as separate persons. ' You you are, I fea
Mr Godwin," replied she, " under some mistake." " For Heaveu'g sake, then, madam, COT
descend to set me right; if you can lessen my tortures, I will bless you; at least," conclude
he, " I am sure you cannot increase them." " 1 would it were in my power to remove them
replied she. " What I have to say will not, however, augment them. I surely misundersto*
Edwin when he informed me that he had divulged his marriage to his father and yourself.
" His marriage !" said William ; "his marriage !" repeated he again, after a moment*'? pause
" whose marriage ? not surely my brother Edwin's ?" " Yes, sir, Edwin is my husband :
have been married these three months." " Your husband! then you are married to a villain
exclaimed he, throwing himself into a chair from whence he had just risen. Great Got
how blind is man ! I thought my miseries incapable of increase, and they are now fallen fou
fold on me. Parents Agnes Fannyallall will sink beneath this cruel stroke !" Mire!
sir," interrupted Mrs Godwin haughtily, " Edwin's marriage with me cannot have inereas<
your unhappiness ?" c ' You, perhaps, did not know of his engagements to Agnes ; yet
thought you had. Excuse me, madam, I cannot stay ; my mind is too much torn with anguis
Favour me with all you know respecting my unhappy sister; 1 would, if possible, seek he
but fear my labour would be vain. We will, if you please, banish all other subjects."

Mrs Godwin then briefly related all she knew respecting the elopement of Emma wit
Whitmore ; saying the advantage was taken unsuspected by her, and in her absence; an
finally, that to pursue them would be useless, as their route was unknown.

THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST. S3

When she concluded, William rose, and was about to take his leave, saying he should set
T<again immediately for the Forest, being uncertain what step to pursue until he had con-
ilted with his father, as he dared not trust to writing, knowing the stroke would fall so hea\y
S to need all his precaution and care in divulging it.

You will not, sure," said AJrs (Godwin, "depart until Edwin's return? Let me entreat
our stay lie cannot be long, ;md would, I am convinced, Name me for suffering you to leave
S so hastily." " No, madam, he would rather thank you, had you even pressed my absence ;
Ut I must be gone," continued he, advancing towards the door, "and wish you more happi-
ess than I have now to expect." With these words, in spite of her entreaties, he left her, and
ounted his horse, first requesting the servant to direct him to Mr Whitrnore's. " I will call
lere," said he, mentally, as he rode forward ; " perhaps the villain belied his wife ; from his
Dnduct, it is more than probable he did. Edwin, too, confirmed his assertions ; but what are
le words of such men ? I will go, and doubt not to find their character of her false ! 1'er-
aps she was too virtuous to countenance their villany, and possibly from thence arose their
islike of her."

Impressed with this idea, he rode to her house, determined to procure from the lady more
jrtain information, not doubting but he should find her overwhelmed with sorrow ; and
rmly persuaded that all he had before heard to her disadvantage would prove false. On his
rival, fearing she should refuse to see him, from his consanguinity to Emma, he simply de-
red the servant to inform her, a person on particular business desired to speak to her.

The man led the way into an apartment, and desired him to be seated ; then proceeded to
inounce him in the adjoining room, and presently returning, informed him his mistress would
ait on him presently. William, now left alone, was, for some moments, lost in thought,
lie partition between the rooms being, however, slight, his meditations were soon interrupted
! r two voices, one of whom was singing

" Tome, come, bid adieu to fear,
Love and Harmony live Lere !
No domestic jealous jars,
Buzzing blaudcrs, wordy wars,
In my presence will appear ;
Lore and harmony reign here!"

" But I will neither sing nor say any more till I have dispatched my visitor," continued the
me voice. " By his nameless modesty, it is, I suppose, one of Mr Whitmore's creditors,
ith a bill as long as my arm ; but I shall dispatch him in an instant."

With these words, the lady opened the door, and assuming more gravitv, said, " If you

ase, sir, I will now attend to your business."

William, more overpowered than before with vexation to find he had called on so des-
cable a wretch, yet determined to advance and question her ; but had no sooner entered
e room, than he became fixed as a statue, with surprise and horror ; for on a sofa, lolliog,
s brother Edwin, apparently quite at his ease. " Amazement !" exclaimed Edwin, starting
om his seat, hardly less astonished than William. " Is it possible my brother !" " No,
3u mistake," replied William, putting him back with his hand, for he had advanced towards
m : " you have no brother ; you lost him when you became a villain !'* The first idea that
truck Edwin was, that his seduction of Agnes was discovered, and that he should lose her
r ever ; anger and distraction at this thought mastered every other consideration ; and
nmiliated to be thus treated before the haughty Mrs Whitmore by his rustic brother " A
llain," echoed he, seizing William by the arm ; " dare not to repeat it, lest I indeed forget
ur relationship." " Yes," replied William, with equal heat, " a false and most despicable
llain, destitute of honour and honesty ! Nay, unhand me," continued he, shaking Edwin
F, who appeared almost ready to strike him, " lest I should be tempted to chastise you on
|j|l||he spot."

Mrs Whitmore, by this altercation, discovering her mistake in respect to the stranger,
ad fearing some mischief, screamed aloud, and violently pulled the bell ; on which three ser-
ants rushed into the room, and in some measure calmed the impetuosity of both bro-
" Edwin needs no protection," said William, " he is beneath my resentment. I came
) inquire of my unhappy sister, whose fault is already lessened when I see what dangers
er inexperience has been exposed to."

54 THE FARMER OF 1NGLEWOOD FOREST.

Mrs Whitmore would, if possible, have adopted her usual haughtiness, but her behavioi j
like an arrow drawn against an impenetrable target, only rebounded without injury to tfl
object. He did not, it is true, return scorn for scorn, but appeared to feel her efforts I
little as doth a giant those of a pigmy. Edwin, too, after the first exertion of passioj
seemed sunk within himself, and blushing in spite of all his pride, to appear to owe his safe
to the domestics, entreated Mrs Whitmore to command their absence ; which being at leng'
complied with, unable to bear the presence of his brother, he rushed out of the room.

William, who was anxious to gain some intelligence of his sister, on Edwin's leaving tl
apartment, made a cold apology to the lady for what had passed, and began the discour
nearest his heart ; but finding he could procure no information, soon left her, and remoun
ing his horse, with a heavy heart took his way towards Inglewood.

THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST. 55

urc violent, and, untaught by education to subdue them, they had gained fresh strength
the neglect of Whitmore, whom she had long regarded with indifference, and amused her-
as best suited her inclinations ; but as, until very lately, she had been cautious in her out-
rd conduct, was universally well received. The aflair with Darleville had been the most
>, probably from his vanity ; for she certainly felt no particular aftection for him, having
msed him before the duel took place, expressed no uneasiness when she heard he was
unded, nor pleasure when informed he was out of danger.

While Edwin was endeavouring to dissipate his merited uneasiness, William, as he ad-
iced on his journey, was forming a thousand different plans to lessen the weight of the news
had to communicate to his friends, while his own heart was distracted with grief and vex-
on. He had made the journey to town on his own horse, but found that unequal to the
with which he wished to return, and therefore left it to be brought down by tho wag-
ner, and returned post.

William, by this means, reached the Forest much sooner than either his fatncr or wife, who
ew his real destination, could expect ; for Mrs Godwin and Agnes had no suspicion ol the
th. As he advanced towards home, the tidings he had to communicate became so painful,
it he slackened his)pace; and the pleasure he would have otherwise felt at the idea of embracing
dear wife, smiling babe, and family, was lost in the agonizing thought, that it should fall
his lot to disclose events, whose effects, he much feared, would have a fatal tendency. It
is the close of day when he reached home. Never before had he thought it painful to cross
threshold ; he reflected with vexation on the speed he had used on his journey. " It is,"
d he, "as if I was in haste to distress them as deeply as myself." He then, not meeting
y one, turned his horse into the stable, and with an irresolute step advanced towards the
or ; when in the kitchen, he heard Fanny, whose voice was wild music, singing to her

ant,

" There's nae luck about the hocse,

There's nae luck at a';
There's nae luck about the bouse,

When our gude man's awa. ,

'' Sae sweet bis voice, sae smooth his tonjue,

His breath like caller air,
His very tread has music in't,
As be comes up the stair.

" There's nae luck, &c."

Oh, it is too much," exclaimed William. " Inhuman, barbarous monster ! for I cannot
II him brother who rends asunder such ties, and agonizes those he is bound, by every senti-
tnt of honour and gratitude, to protect. Alas ! I have now no brother no sister ! would
heaven I never had, or that they had died in infancy innocent and happy !"
He now entered, and found his parents and Fanny seated together ; all leaped up to receive
m : Fanny depositing her charge in the cradle, and flying into his arms, Mrs Godwin unsus-
ciously inquiring after Bernard's friend, while Godwin fixed his eyes in silence on the altered
d pale face of his son, and already shuddered at the expectation of what he had to repeat.

" His brow's the title page

That speaks the nature of a tragic vouime.

Thou tremblest, and the whiteness of thy cheek

Is apter than thy tongue to tell thy errand.

E'en such a man, so faint, so spiritloaH,

So dull, so dead in look, so woe begone,

Drew Priam's curtain in the dead of night,

And would have told him h&lf his Troy was burnt;

But Priam found the fire ere he his tongue."

56 THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST.

THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST. 57

most choked his speech, w Condemn you ! may heaven condemn me if I do ! No, my
laart bleeds for you. Ah, SVilliam, thou wast right when thou blumest me for applauding his
ping to town." " 1 will retire," said Mrs Godwin, rising, but sinking again in her chair ;
J am not well, my head is giddy, and my heart is cold,. Give me your hand, Fanny, and
jad me to bed. Oh, my children ! my children 1"

j Fanny and William led their unhappy mother to her chamber, where the former insisted
i attending her for the night, but was refused by Mrs Godwin. " No," said she, " you will
jreafter, my child, I fear, have to attend your suffering sister ; surely she already suspecti
Lnething, for her health droops daily." Fanny again pressed to stay. " Will not my
jloved husband be with me ?" replied Mrs Godwin ; " we will pray and comfort each other.
Low often have we passed the hours in exultation over the growing virtues of our children-*
Unight we will weep over their vices ! "

Fanny retired and joined the unhappy father and Willinm, who were devising means how'to
Uclose Edwin's perfidy to Agnes ; Godwin at length taking the task on himself. The parties
lien withdrew to their respective chambers, not to sleep, but to deplore the depravity that
Ld banished happiness from their bosoms arid converted the mansion of peace into a house of
lourning.

CHAPTER XX.

I; the morning all met at breakfast but Mrs Godwin, wno appeared too much indisposed to
lave her bed. Agnes, apparently lost in melancholy, was not, however, insensible to the
Jstress that hung on every face, and with a fearful energy entreated to know the cause.
I Godwin at length informed her of Emma's flight, adding, as he concluded, while tears
Jreamed down his venerable cheeks, " But I will endeavour to tear her from my heart, thou,
Jgnes, shalt supply her place, and become doubly dear to me." "Oh, my beloved, my
Iihappy Emma," cried Agnes, weeping, " how sincerely do I feel for you ! She has been
J'ceived, deluded ; and if she can but be regained, forgive, my father, and receive her to your
Jtsom. Oh, she has a thousand virtues to counterbalance this one error ; and will, I hope,
lhave hereafter in a manner to make you even forget it." As none seemed willing to con-
liue the discourse, it ceased here, and the breakfast passed in silence, being removed almost
Jitouched, each appearing to shun the eye of the other even little Reuben's smiles being
Isregarded.

J The visible anxiety that already hung on Agnes, made Godwin doubly unwilling to disclose
le unhappiness that yet awaited her, yet he thought it justifiable to lengthen her delusion ;
lerefore, after breakfast, being alone with her, he began the painful task. As he proceeded,
Is tenderness redoubled his emotion, and he was frequently for some time inarticulate.
1 Agnes's behaviour, on the contrary, was even painfully calm ; she shed no tears, vented no
jproach, but listened in silence as one on whom neither joy nor sorrow could any longer
lake an impression. " Oh, my beloved child !" concluded the old man, "how shall we be
Ale to obliterate from thy memory the unworthiness of the ungrateful Edwin ? Yet it shall
1 my daily prayer to heaven to effect it, and the constant endeavour of us all to love thee
Jth redoubled affection, particularly of mine, my child." " Oh, I am unworthy," exclaimed
Jgnes, breaking silence. " I am unworthy ! call me not your child I am vile, abandoned,
It. In an evil hour 1 forgot virtue, and heaven has forsaken me !" ' Impossible, my love !
Jistress has impaired thy senses ; thou wert ever virtuous as lovely, the delight of the eye,
Id darling of every heart." " Oh no, my more than father !" replied she, falling at his feet,
se ie scalding tears flowing in torrents down her blushing cheeks, and concealing her face on
ra |3 knees ; " I cannot deceive you you are too good to be deceived ; your kindness pierces
J!L heart, and forces me to lay it open to your view ; yet do not hate do not banish me your
jesence ; I cannot bear your displeasure. Though I am not the virtuous Agnes you once
"jew, do not spurn me my life will pay the forfeit" A gloomy presage seized the mind of
J>dwin, and transfixed his soul with horror. " It is impossible," said he ; " yet speak, my
'Jfajes fear me not ; Edwin cannot have been such a villain ! he did not sure attempt thy
f'.Jocence ! " Agnes for a moment made no reply, at length exclaimed" Oh, my father,
'fjlwin is not more guilty than the abandoned Agnes ! "

'1 Godwin gave a cry of surprise and mingled horror ; resignation and patience appeared
)r f ally to have forsaken him. In speechless agony he threw himself on the floor, and tore

THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST.

THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST. 59

ch she struggled for some moments, but at length recovered, though with increased weak-
j and additional symptoms of approaching dissolution; her speech too, though almost
ticulate, was returned. " Bless -ye, bless ye, my good, my dutiful children ! forgive,
/ for your deluded brother and sister. Agnes, be comforted : Edwin is most to be pitied,

you are virtuous he is " Then turning to Godwin, " Friend, husband, companion, be

forted ; we shall meet again." As she spoke she extended her arms, and was received

his, where, after remaining some moments, apparently in silent prayer, she bowed her
, and articulately said" From these arms, which have led me in innocence and peace, oh,
ive thy servant ! Blessed ! blessed " her voice failed, respiration grew weaker, and

few minutes she expired on his bosom.

' And art thou gone for ever !" said Godwin, after a long pause, at the same time laying
wife's head on the pillow, and fixing his eyes upon her lifeless face" I am indeed left to
p'thy loss, to mourn thy untimely death ! Devoted children, how will ye hereafter answer
? Edwin, thou hast gained wealth, but lost thine own 'soul !'

William and the family were unequal to the task of administering comfort, and stood
und weeping in silent anguish.

But shall 1 selfishly repine, blessed saint?" resumed the old man, kissing her hand.
Drbid it, heaven ! thy cares are past, and thy reward prepared. Be comforted, then, my
dren, and bless the power that spared her thus long. Methinks she smiles upon us all.

us kneel around her our prayers will ascend to the throne of mercy, where we have now
essed mediatrix."

The family obeyed ; the old man prayed long and fervently, until at length that resignation
ch true piety ever inspires calmed the acuteness of their feelings, and left them able to
form the last attention which duty demanded for the honoured clay.

60 THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST.

Edwin had waited for him with impatience ; and so numerous were his questions, that tl
man knew not how to reply, but entreated his master to suffer him to relate the whole m
thodically.

" It was," said Harris, " near four in the afternoon before I got there. I meant to rema
in the vicinity until the evening, then, as I was on foot, pretend to be benighted, and inqui
at your father's my way to the next market town ; never doubting but they would
humanity sufficient at least to offer me some refreshment, if not a lodging for the night, ad
had all my story ready, and thought in that case I should find an opportunity to deliver fl
message. As it was far too early to appear, I kept walking about at some distance, fearful
being noticed, and at length came to the little church, and for awhile passed my time
reading the gravestones until the bell began to toll ; and I saw numbers of people comii
from all sides, and thronging the churchyard. As I had plenty of time, I thought I might
well stay and be a spectator ; not doubting but it was the funeral of some nobleman, and mu

beloved, as almost every one wept." " D n your funeral ! come to the point : they ha

lost their paragon, I suppose. I have forgotten her name, though I heard her praises suffi
ently sounded while I was at Inglewood ; but my mind was too much engrossed with Agn
to think of aught else." " It was not the person you allude to," replied the man, in a voi
that alarmed Edwin; "the loss concerns you more nearly." " Distraction !" exclaim
Edwin, starting from the chair, a cold sweat bedewing his forehead, and his knees knockii
against each other. " Say not it is Agnes, unless you would lay me dead before you." *'
was your mother's funeral," replied Harris ; " I saw her laid in the earth." " And art th
gone, mildest, best of women ?" exclaimed Edwin, weeping bitterly, regardless of his servai
*' Any vexation I may have given her, surely could not be violent enough to occasion b

THE FARMER OF INGLEVVOOD FOREST. 61

cred by every one of the distressed family on the body being laid in the grave, each endea-
iring to sustain the other, though unable to support themselves. At length, all being
eluded, the people began to separate, and the sorrowful party retook their way homeward,

old man who had been so communicative joining one of the mourners, and accompanying
m a circumstance that greatly disappointed me, as I wished much to question him
ther. The night was dark and rainy, and I ventured to walk several times round the
ise, where, however, I heard so many voices, that I relinquished my first purpose, of pre-

iiii; to be benighted, lest I should meet among them the old man I had conversed with ;

do.s from the badness of the weather, I had no doubt many would stay all night. I there*

proceeded about four miles, where, at a little alehouse, I procured a bed, and early next
rning measured my steps back, walking carelessly at a distance from the house, which
ee horsemen were just leaving, and passed me on the full gallop. Soon after I saw your
icr, with Mr Bernard and your brother, whom I instantly recollected, come out, and take

road to the church. I determined not to lose this opportunity, and walked up to the
ise, where, to my good fortune, it was opened by the beautiful girl I saw at the funeral,

whom I instantly knew again. Oh, sir ! you will forgive my being the messenger of such
tidings, as I have succeeded in my errand. She was alone ; I therefore declared my busi-
whicb, when she had heard, she withdrew, desiring me to stay, as she would write an
wer." " Charming angel ! and how dared you keep me thus in suspense ? By heaven, I

never forgive it ? Haste haste ! Why did you not begin by delivering it ?" I kept
o make my peace after my bad news," replied Harris, " with the freedom of a servant
ply in the confidence of Ws master's unworthy secrets, and hope it will fully answer your
ectation,"
Edwin received it with a trembling hand, tore it open, and read as follows :

INHUMAN EDWIN, Was it not enough that but yesternight your mother was laid in the
th, but you must seek to redouble the blow, and pursue the devoted Agnes to the brink
he grave ! Oh ! before it is too late, repent of the death of your mother ; and soon that
Agnes will plunge you in guilt beyond all hopes of pardon ! With these riches you have
learly obtained, if possible, be happy, and by numerous good actions endeavour to oblitc-
3 your past errors ; respect the woman that has bestowed them, nor seek to injure her
ce or ours, by insulting those you are bound to honour ; for every affront offered to Agnes
IT father and brother will look on as their own.
* As for your pander, I have left him in his mistake he thinks me Agnes. Alas ! I have

words to throw away on such wretches, but would advise you, for his own sake, to send

6 2 THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST.

well, and waited accordingly. While she was absent, I cannot say but I was under som
apprehensions lest your father or brother should return, and suspect my business ; and egac
sir, I should not much like a controversy with the latter, for he seems a powerful man, an
one that don't look as if he would be trifled with. From the former my heels might hav
saved me ; but against your brother, I am conscious none of my efforts would have availed.
" Cease your digressions what care I for your fears or his prowess !" cried Edwin, imps

tiently. " Sir, I have just done. She soon came down with the letter, and said, * Take this

and give it to your master ; but beware how you come any more here ; next time you ma
not escape so well. 1

*' I protest, sir, I thought she meant kindly, and thanked her accordingly ; for if she mean
otherwise, and her voice is such music when she chides, what must it be when she is please<
Her eyes, to be sure, were red and swelled with weeping, and she spoke particularly serious
but that I attributed to her recent loss." " Enough, enough ! " exclaimed Edwin : " I will hea
no more ! Begone I will call when I want you. Totally ruined with my father !" resume
he, mournfully ; " detested by my brother my mother dead, and her death laid to me
that of Agnes too, her raven-like sister has predicted ! distraction is in the thought ; tha
alone is wanting to complete my crimes, my misery at least, it should be the signal for the
conclusion," continued he, looking at his pistols, which were hung up in the apartment, "f<
I have not plunged thus far in guilt to live without her."

Edwin could not be long absent from his regiment, nor yet could he resolve to live in cor
tinual uncertainty respecting Agnes ; he therefore at length came to a determination
leave Harris in the country, to send him constant intelligence, which he determined to obtai
by means of the landlord where they then were, Edwin telling him he was Godwin's soi
under some displeasure with his father, and on that account particularly unhappy, an
interested to hear constantly of his family.

Old Godwin, though not personally known to the host, was too much respected for b
name to be a stranger ; he therefore lamented that there should be a difference between hi!
and his son, especially as Edwin's appearance and behaviour much delighted him, wonderin
within himself how the farmer could be displeased with so fine a gentleman, whom the servai
assured him had a very handsome fortune ; all which finally operated with him to promise li
would procure the wished-for intelligence, and keep the whole a secret, as particularly recon
mended him.

Accordingly the farmers who were continually passing to Inglewood, or returning, wei
questioned respecting the Godwins, who were so generally known and beloved, that evei
material occurrence respecting their health or welfare usually transpired, the recent death
Mrs Godwin furnished a pretence for the landlord's inquiries.

The whole family, they informed him, were said to be in the deepest affliction, not only ft
the loss of Mrs Godwin, but for the present unhappy state of Bernard's youngest daughte
Agnes, who was seized, on the death of Mrs Godwin, with a delirious fever, which ha
increased to so great a height that her life was despaired of.

With this intelligence Edwin was forced to set off for London, not being able to procui
any more satisfactory ; leaving, however, strict charge with his servant to write by evei
post.

CHAPTER XXII.

THE intelligence of the farmers respecting the Godwin family was strictly true. Agnes
spirit, exerted to the uttermost, had supported her until the death of Mrs Godwin ; but thi
blow, ndtied to the preceding distress, was more than her nature could sustain, and a fev<
and delirium was the almost immediate consequence. Her cruel seduction by Edwin she hi
alono revealed to his father, who had not the heart to disclose it to any one, though tl
secret preyed on his vitals, and redoubled his sorrow. He was continually by her sid
praj -ing with her, administering her medicines, or endeavouring to calm her frenzy ; evei
exclamation she uttered adding an additional pang, as they usually respected Edwin and h<
own happiness.

At the beginning of her illness, the ring she had received from Edwin she put upon hi
rin-r'T, siiviiig she was his wife, an asseveration no one would deny, the least contradictU
making her outrageous. For two months her life was declared in the utmost danger, and (i

till

THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST. 63

^ onsiderable time longer continued in a very precarious state ; but at length the fever
idually decreased, though the effects still remained, her understanding having received a
>ck the more alarming, as, though her bodily strength slowly returned, her mental faculties
^ nained equally deranged, though more calm, her ideas still dwelling on her faithless lover,
i usually concluding every subject with lam Edwin's wife.

Mrs Palmer, who had been absent from Inglewood, returned at t-hii period, and was both
et ^ eved and shocked at the distress her favourite family had experienced, though she knew
t to what extent. Eager to endeavour to alleviate their woes, she immediately hastened
them, and did not refuse a friendly tear at the alteration that had taken place in so short a
le ; her eye, whichever way she turned, that was wont to meet placidity and happiness,
how changed ! Mrs Godwin's seat was vacant ; Godwin much thinner, and his form,
ich used to be perfectly upright, bent forward, with the appearance of an added twenty
irs, and his fixed eyes constantly on the ground ; Bernard with his arms across* his head
k on his bosom, his jollity fled, his pipe neglected in the chimney corner, and his jug
pty on the shelf. William endeavouring to conceal his distress, fearful of increasing that
"H lis father and wife, while the sighs that frequently escaped him, and the looks with which
tfle i viewed them, bespoke the acuteness of his feelings ; the once cheerful and lively Fanny,
e and melancholy ; while Agnes, unconcerned at all, sat in a corner amusing herseif with
les, a faint flush spread over her cheeks, the mild lustre of her soft blue eyes changed to a
zling, but less pleasing brightness, and perpetually cast around, as in search of some object,
ch, failing to meet, they usually fell on the ring upon her finger, with a sigh, and I am
win's icifc. In short, little Reuben was the only one who smiled ; he appeared to thrive in
amity, laughing while his mother wept, seizing his grandfather's buttons, or sometimes his
hairs, until he had forced him to notice him, and for a moment beguiled him of his sorrow.
Mrs Palmer appeared particularly interested for Agnes, and that with such sympathizing
derness, that she became more estimable than ever ; they saw her compassion, as well as
iosity, was not a little excited by the constant allusion to Edwin and the ring. She had
[uently heard the family say that they were affianced to each other ; but no word of
uiry escaped her ; she only endeavoured to soothe and prevent the attention of Agnes
^ ng too much fixed on one object.

"My dear child!" said Godwin, addressing Fanny, "my brother Bernard, William, and
self, are going out for a short space : our good and condescending friend will excuse us ;
ur absence open your whole heart, to her : spare not my unworthy son, nor yet my more
appy daughter : a female friend, of her judgment, will not only be a comfort to you, but
essing to us all, for she will not deny her advice where she has not refused a tear."
When Godwin ceased speaking, Mrs Palmer arose from the side of Agnes, and taking his
d, replied " Believe me, my good friend, not only my advice, but anything else in my
wer, is entirely at your service in this unhappy juncture, which I hope will, however, ter-
tate happily, and more speedily than you expect. The derangement of Agnes I regard as
rely the effect of fever : and that once totally removed, the other will naturally cease."
Godwin bowed, repeated" his thanks, and, accompanied by Bernard, left her alone with
inny and Agnes.

Fanny was too much distressed to be in haste to obey her father-in-law, and was likewise
strained by the presence of Agnes ; but on her retiring to rest, with a few words and many
irs, she related all that had passed, the goodness of her own heart prompting her to palliate
whole as much as truth would aliow.

As she concluded, Mrs Palmer embraced her, saying" Fear not, my amiable girl, your
ty and sisterly affection will meet its reward ; the present trials are severe, but will, I hope,
succeeded by a calm. In the meantime, regard me as your friend, mother, sister, or any
e that best accords with your own heart. I, alas ! Fanny, though enjoying wealth even
>re than I wish, have room for all those claims, as I am literally (though possessed of rela-
ns) alone in the world, my dearest connexions being torn asunder."

Fanny pressed the hand of Mrs Palmer to her lips, and bathed it with her tears." Oh,

ir truly, madam, did my father speak, when he said you will comfort me ! Alas ! " said she,

toting, " I have secrets that I cannot reveal to men, however dear." " If necessary to

'pclose them, my dear girl," replied Mrs Palmer, " fear not to trust to my prudence ; yourself

'""all only withdraw them from my bosom."

64 THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST.

Fanny wept and seemed irresolute ; but the kind assurances of Mrs Palmer at length,!
some measure, reassuring her, with tears and glowing blushes she owned that she had a (
on her sister's account that overwhelmed her with shame and confusion ; in fine, that dur
the latter part of her illness she could not avoid perceiving an alteration in her shape, wh
but too truly corroborated what she revealed in her frenzy, frequently speaking of an 04
and ever at the time viewing a ring (which was a diamond set in the shape of a he:

and surrounded with rubies and brilliants alternately), repeating her favourite adage I

JEdwin's wife.

Mrs Palmer, though shocked at this intelligence, endeavoured all in her power to cons
her young friend, representing it. was very possible she might be mistaken in her surmis<
but if not, thought the unhappy Agnes so greatly to be pitied that she would devise means
she survived) to conceal the misfortune from the world.

Fanny could not speak her thanks, but threw herself at Mrs Palmer's feet, expressing 1
gratitude in a language far more emphatic than words.

Mr Godwin and his companions, on their return, were pleased to find Fanny more co
posed than usual, and returned a thousand thanks to Mrs Palmer, who, however, deligh
more in doing a good action than hearing it acknowledged, and cut them short, by saying
" You will fright me from my purpose of visiting you daily if you treat me thus."

Mrs Palmer was true to her word ; not a day passed but she called at the farm, and
her kindness and attention alleviated the sorrows of all but Godwin, who, though he
her kindness, could not forget the ingratitude of his children, whose conduct, like a corrodi
poison, was continually preying deeper on his heart.

Mrs Palmer, with the characteristic goodness that peculiarly distinguished her, on be
informed by Fanny of Emma's flight, and that if William could have discovered her roi
he would have pursued her, wrote to several correspondents she had abroad, lequesting th
privately to inquire after Whitmore, and, if possible, send her information. The only accoi
she gained was from Paris, where she learned he had remained a month, and that he ha<
lady with him, remarkably handsome, who was said not to be his wife, but apparently hap
in her situation ! that he went from thence privately, and it was uncertain what route he h
taken. As this account contained nothing satisfactory, Mrs Palmer communicated it' ale
to William, who could only thank her for the interest she took in their affairs.

The health of Agnes, in the meantime, continued in the same precarious state,
eminent physician who had been consulted, advised .a perseverance in their own leni
methods, together with music, exercise, and conversation, by pursuing which means, he ent
tained no doubt but time would restore her reason ; but had far more fear for her heal
which he pronounced had consumptive symptoms, very alarming at her ago. Her situati
which confirmed all Fanny's fears, became weekly more conspicuous, though unsuspected
any of the male part of the family, until, unable to conceal it much longer, Mrs Pain
persuaded Fanny to suffer her to disclose it a step she thought the more necessary,
Fanny herself was pregnant, and in such perpetual anxiety respecting her sister's situati
that it materially injured her health. Godwin and William received this intelligence
a fresh strike of thunder Bernard, the big tears chasing each other down his own chee
in vain endeavouring to speak comfort to them.

Mrs Partner proposed that Agnes should be removed to a house of hers on the borders
Yorkshire, where she had a person she could safely trust : and that Fanny might accompt
her with any other of the family they thought proper. This generous offer was, after so
consultation, accepted, but delayed as unnecessary for two months at least. Mrs Palmer,
the meantime, as if the good of her fellow-creatures was her nearest concern, was const!
in her visits to the farm, where she had caused a harpsichord to be brought an instrume
on which she was an adept, and played to Agnes daily. At first she tried sprightly mus
but it appeared to increase her derangement, and was therefore immcdiat. 1\ changed for
penseroso, which had a more happy effect, attracting her attention and callinpr forth her tea
This success encouraged Mrs Palmer to continue ; and one day, after having played Pop
Ode of ' Vital spark of heavenly flame,' and accompanied it with her voice, Agnes, for t
first time since Mrs Godwin's death, appeared to recollect her, and starting up, holding
hand to her forehead, she said " I will go to my mother's grave, for I am Edwin's wife."

Mrs Palmer desired she might be gratified, and sending for her carriage, Agnes was lift

THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST. 65

and accompanied by Fanny and her generous friend. When they arrived at the church-
d, leaning oa Fanny's arm, she walked to the grave, and sitting upon the ground, kissed
sod that covered it, saying " Ah ! my dear mother, I am ill, very ill, but do not forget,
, though you are in heaven, for I am Edwins wife. 1 will bring flowers and set them
p, M continued she, "flowers for summer, autumn, winter, and spring; nothing but
?ers shall cover her grave : and who so proper to plant them as me for / am Kdidns

Fanny wept bitterly, and though Agnes had never paid any attention to her tears, she
noticed them. " Why do you weep, Fanny?" said she. " If it makes you uneasy, you
plant the flowers for spring and summer yourself, for you are William's wife, and your

rt is warm. I will set those for autumn and wintor, for my heart is cold I am Edwin's
' " Oh ! I cannot cannot boar it !" cried Fanny. " Inhuman barbarous dege-

ite monster !" " Of whom do you speak, Fanny ?" replied Agnes ; " not of Edwin, I hope ;

jgb now I remember," continued she, pausing for some minutes, as if endeavouring to
oi t herself, " his father cursed him, and his brother despised him ; I, however, forgave
so you may all do as you please, though it does not become me to hear it, for / am
's wife"

rj Palmer, who perceived the effect this scene had upon Fanny^by gentle means drew
s from the grave ; and placing her with her sister in the ccrach, returned home with

om this time Agnes went daily to the churchyard, usually accompanied by her brother
n-very; for the whole family had joined commands to entreat Fanny to keep from
nding her thither.

During the first two months of Agnes's illness, Edwin's servant had remained at the inn,
juring intelligence by various means ; but after that period, being assured by the country
pie it was a regular insanity, which they attributed to her lover being false-hearted (though

situation was a profound secret), he returned to his master, leaving it to the landlord to
them information by letter from time to time, in which, he did not fail, as he was quite
is w.fe's opinion, that Captain Godwin (as she called him) was a very handsome man, and
enerous as handsome.

n ttiis state passed the time for near seven months after Mrs Godwin's death, when
rin received a letter from his correspondent in the country to this purport :
HONOURED SIR, I think fit to inform you that, three days ago, farmer Bernard's two
fa jj ghters left the Forest in a postchaise, attended only by an old black servant, whom I never
before. As our house is the first stage from Inglewood upwards, they changed horses,
never got out of the chaise ; nor should I have known them but for the post-boy, who
med me who they were. As the black came into the house, I thought he might have
n me an answer like a Christian servant, and therefore asked him to take a glass, which,
ie -accepted, I said (not pretending to know them), ' You are going to London, I pre-
e?' To which he replied, 'No.' 'Crosscountry?' 'No.' 'To the races, mayhap?'
;' and throwing down the money for his liquor, mounted his horse, and followed the
ise like a pagan as he was. I am sure, sir, you will allow with me, that it is a wicked sin
irefer blackamoor heathens to good white servants, who know how to give a civil answer ;
, as my wife says, it is allowing to their want of education, for they run wild before they
taken and tamed by us Christians, and know no religion but what their own foolish
are prompts; nor have any laws to restrain them, which, however, don't much signify,
3, hey have no propeity to secure, but would make sad work in a Christian nation, where
pie know right from wrong, and act accordingly. But all this, good sir, is from the
poso. I was willing to oblige you, and so by the post-boys traced them two stages, where
^ were met by a plain chaise and pair, in which they continued their journey, but I know
whither.

{ ' I have no more to add, but my best wishes for your welfare, and thanks for your kind-
and remain, " Your obliged humble servant,

" JEREMIAH JENKINS."
This intelligence added curiosity to the other unpleasing sensations which possessed Edwin.

ere could Fanny and her sister be going, while the health of the latter was in so precarious
i ? Their attendant, too, what could he be ? He appeared bound to secrecy, and

66 THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST.

equal to the trust. In short, the more he ruminated the more he was perplexed, and
length came to a determination to entreat leave of absence, and endeavour to develop t
mystery himself. The death of his mother, nor the subsequent illness of Agnes, had not be
able to awaken him to a proper sense of his errors ; he felt, but it was a momentary sensatiot
for, .scared at the very idea of reflection, he fled to dissipation, and soon obliterated, or at leai
protracted, the pangs of retrospection ; by debauchery, luxury, or gaming, neglected his wi
and added ingratitude to the catalogue of his crimes. Mrs Godwin, whose only incentive
marry Edwin was love, had alternately recourse to tears, entreaties, reproaches, and ang
but equally vain ; he fled from all ; home he thought hell, and his wife the commissioner
torment him ; while he had constant recourse to the sprightly, wanton Mrs Whitmore, w
laughed at his scruples, and gave occasion for fresh ones ; yet Agnes was still dear to him
and he would willingly have relinquished all he possessed to have been reinstated at Ing
wood, as he was before his acquaintance with Whitmore.

CHAPTER XXIII.
WHEN Agnes was supposed to be about seven months advanced in her pregnancy, accoi
panied by her sister, she was moved to a small house near Richmond, that appertained to M
Palmer, but in which she had lately settled the widow of a sea officer, who had been left
indifferent circumstances. Here Fanny and Agnes were received with true tenderness ai
respect. Mrs Palmer having prepared Mrs Smith, the lady of the house, for their receptio
and also sent them attended by her favourite domestic, Felix, the negro mentioned by
Jeremiah Jenkins. The separation was painful to the whole family, though allowed by all
the most prudent plan to conceal the unhappy situation of Agnes, whose intellects, thou
rather more settled, were yet far from right ; and, to their future uneasiness, her bod
strength apparently weakened as her mind recovered its vigour. Mr Godwin's health, t<
daily declined since the death of his wife, and the effects of the misery that continually prey
on him seemed hastening to a crisis.

The change from Inglewood to Richmond, after some little time, appeared to have a hap
effect on the senses of Agnes ; she frequently inquired for her father, William, and particula
Mr Godwin, pressing Fanny to let her return to him, in a manner that pierced her heart ; s
apparently too began to be sensible of her situation, and frequently wept for hours.

William, who had not attended them on the journey, joined them soon after with his fathc
and after some stay returned to the Forest, leaving Mr Godwin behind, as Agnes appear
rejoiced to see him, and was so greatly distressed when they spoke of his departure, that
determined to remain and wait the event.

About a month before the delivery of Agnes her senses became perfectly collected : b
that event, which they had so earnestly desired, served but to increase their sorrow ; her
reproaches were continual, and the kindness of her friends apparently increased her distre
thankful for their constant attentions, but ever declaring that, though they forgave her,
should never forgive herself. Fanny was likewise advanced, though ot so forward in
pregnancy ; and the fatigue and uneasiness she had undergone on account of her sister h
greatly impaired her health, though she carefully endeavoured to conceal it, lest it shoi
increase the general uneasiness.

Mrs Palmer, before they had been moved a month to Richmond, came to see them ;
general philanthropy easily accounted to her domestics for her conduct to the sisters, the 01
one of them who had any knowledge of the real situation of Agnes being Felix, whose attci
ance Mrs Palmer had judged necessary, as Mrs Smith kept but one female servant, and it ?
thought most prudent, at the present period, not to increase the number. The chaise
which Mrs Palmer travelled was the same that had met and conveyed Fanny and Agnes
Richmond, at which time the latter was wrapped up in a long cloak, that her shape was by
means discernible, had the man who drove the vehicle been curiously inclined, which was
from the case ; for he had long resided with his mistress, was satisfied implicitly to follow 1
commands without question, and loved her better than any other object except his hors
On her arrival at Richmond, not choosing more inmates than absolutely necessary, she 1
sent this servant with her carriage to an inn, Felix going with orders when they were giv<
thus there was no apparent secrecy affected in the retreat of Agnes, Mrs Palmor simply sari
among her ovrn people, that she was moved to try the air. Felix had replied to Jenkins in

THE FARMER OF INGLIiWOOD FOREST.

mer he did, merely because he conceived his questions impertinent ; for to every other
lerson who inquired, Bernard and William, by agreement, answered truly, that the sisters
ere at a house of Mrs Palmer's, in Yorkshire, though without signifying the immediate spot.
|lrs Palmer, in the kindest manner, endeavoured to cheer the depressed spirits of Agnes ; and
Lying no musical instrument, strove to divert her attention by various relations, some
Inusing, others melancholy ; and observing that she sometimes appeared to regard Felix with
h emotion of fear, said to her one day, with a smile, when he was absent, " My dear girl, I
Link I can tell you a story that will make you forget Felix's colour, or at least reconcile you
|>it; besides, it will pass the time this long evening, and banish more painful thoughts."
.gnes bowed ; all subjects were immaterial to her but that nearest her heart ; while Fanny,
llad of any attempt to divert her sister's melancholy, returned thanks for Mrs Palmer's conde-
Ijension, as did also Godwin, who declared he was totally regardless of the complexion of Fa-
lse, when he conversed with him, as he appeared at once well-informed, and possessed a good
leart. " Well, then," said Mrs Palmer, taking her seat between Godwin and Agnes, " I will
Imply relate to you the events of my own weary pilgrimage Felix had some share in them ;
lor am I the only one of my family on whom he has conferred obligations ; but the occurrences
lefore I knew him will be the best related by himself. I am the only daughter of an af-
luent merchant, called Somerton ; my grandfather, by the mother's side, possessed a con-
Iderable estate in Jamaica, and had only a son and daughter, the younger of whom, my
hother, was educated in England, and by that means, in all probability, her life was saved, for
loth her parents were killed in an insurrection of the negroes, and from which fate her bro-
jr was only preserved by the affection of a slave. My mother, at this unhappy period, was
(ineteen, and her brother a year older ; both were left in the guardianship of a merchant, with
rhom, as soon as her brother could reach England, they took up their residence. The only
>n of this gentleman, in about a twelvemonth after, married my mother, by whom he had
jveral children, all of whom died in their infancy, except myself, who was the youngest. My
lincle, whose name was Walters, in the mean time, disliking an inactive life, and being dis-
lusted with the West-Indies, had sold off the greatest part of his possessions there, and com-
jaenced merchant, in which profession he was uncommonly successful. From the death of a
loung lady to whom he was contracted, he had formed the resolution of remaining a bachelor ;
[nd, to divert the melancholy occasioned by his loss, he frequently took long voyages, so that
seldom remained in England for any length of time. He was tenderly attached to my
lothcr, who was equally so to him, and myself the darling of both ; my uncle, whenever he
has at home, loading me with presents, and gratifying my wishes even to profusion.

In this manner passed my childhood until my fourteenth year, when my uncle departed
>r India, leaving my father the entire care of his whole property in his absence ; and tenderly
Embracing me before his departure, seeing me weep, he said, Cheer up, my girl, I am only
letting rich for thee;' and pulling out a valuable watch, he presented it to me, adding, ' there,
me see how carefully you will preserve this for my sake ; and on my return I will change
for one double the value.' He soon after departed, leaving me very melancholy, though, I
lust confess, my grief was rather lessened at intervals on contemplating the present he had
jade me ; it was a gold watch, with the cipher of my name enamelled on the case, and the
surrounded with pearls. His business, it was expected, would detain him near three years,
iring which time my father had a young man articled to him ; he was an orphan possessed
a decent property, which his guardian wished him to better by trade, and therefore placed
for instruction with my father. This young man was about five years older than myself;
I, by his engaging manners, before I was seventeen had made an impression on my heart,
rtiich, however, at that time was not suspected by any one. At this period we received a
ter, informing us that speedily we might expect to see my uncle, as he purposed returning
Europe by the first ship that sailed ; but how great was our sorrow and disappointment,
rhen some time after, we learned that he had indeed sailed, but that the vessel had been cast
ray on the coast of Caffraria, and what became of the crew that escaped the waves was
Iracertain. This news was a heavy blow to my mother, who loved her brother with unfeigned
Fection ; yet for two years we flattered ourselves with the hope of his return, at which period
expectations began to decrease. For my own part, I confess I loved my uncle better than
ly father, for he was indulgent to all my whimsies, while, on the contrary, my father could
allow for the errors, or eren the playfulness of childhood ; you may, therefore, readily

68 THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST.

judge my tears were sincere for his loss. My father still continued the management of my
uncle's property, as in the case of his death my mother was heir-at-law, he imprudently having
left no will.

"I was just nineteen when young Palmer's articles to my father expired, and he settled for
himself. He lamented with me the loss of my uncle, as that event would apparently increase
my fortune beyond what he could expect, especially as my father was rather addicted to a love
of wealth, and my mother's will was ever subservient to his.

" Thus we were situated when I unhappily lost my mother in an apoplectic fit, by which
means my uncle's property became totally vested in my father. I shall pass over my grief for
this loss, which, however, I assure you was great, as was also my father's for a considerable
time, he applying himself with redoubled earnestness to banish thought; and settling my
uncle's affairs on the most lucrative principles, the estate, which remained unsold in Jamaica,
h disposed of, together with the negroes that cultivated it, and who, during my uncle's life,
indeed until this period, had been so happily situated as to have no wish to change, being only
under the command of the negro who saved my uncle's life, and who had from him received
his liberty, making him also overseer of the plantation he reserved a trust he executed with
justice to his employer, credit to himself, and the universal satisfaction of his fellows.

** My f.ither was enabled not only to do tins, but also to make what other changes he thought
necessary, as, previous to my uncle's departure, he had given him a letter of attorney to act,
in case any alteration should be found necessary in his absence. He had been gone five years
at my mother's death, and a year had elapsed since that period, when my father formed a
connexion unworthy either his understanding, situation, or age ; in short, it was with the
servant who immediately attended me, and who was about four years older than myself. I
was involuntarily a spectator of some little freedoms that passed between them, but which I
thought it most prudent not to notice for some time, though she grew negligent of her busi-
ness, and was frequently absent at those hours when she knew I should particularly want her.

" I was not weak enough to suppose I had power to break this connexion, but on mature
deliberation concluded it would be less vexatious to me, if pursued in any other place, than
immediately in the house where I dwelt ; and accordingly one evening, after her remaining out
very late, I gave her a dismission, desiring she would seek another situation, as I had no further
occasion for her services. I am not naturally passionate, and gave this discharge in my usual
manner, and without entering into the cause of my displeasure ; yet she answered me with
uncommon insolence, saying, ' You mistake, madam, you will have more occasion than ever for
my services, and must likewise learn to deserve them, or you may find yourself uncomfortably
situated.' With this she bounced out of the room, leaving me both distressed and astonished,
as her threats appeared to imply a greater power over my father than I could either suspect
or dread.

" The next morning, at breakfast, my father was uncommonly serious, and continued to treat
me with a kind of gloomy reserve for some days, without, however, mentioning the subject of
his displeasure, until one evening, after supper, first increasing his courage by two or three
glasses of wine extraordinary, he ventured to tell me he had been very uncomfortable since
the death of my mother. I naturally expressed my sorrow at this information, hoping no
neglect of mine had added to it ; declaring he had only to name what had given him displea-
sure, and I would be particularly careful to remedy it Before I could proceed he interrupted
me, saying, ' No, no, I cannot accuse you of neglect, but I have thoughts, Anna, of marrying
again, and therefore would prepare you to receive the woman I shall choose with the respect
becoming my wife and your mother.'

" The business was now plain ; but endeavouring- to conceal my dissatisfaction, though
bad dissembler, I replied, * As the object of your choice, sir, will doubtless be respectable, I
must necessarily esteem her, though I cannot flatter myself with meeting the tender affections
of a first parent.*

" ' I possess the means of making her respectable,' answered my father, drinking another
glass of wine; * and I have no one's inclination to consult but. my own.'

" I bowed my acquiescence. He soon after retired for the night ; and the first news that
reached me the ensuing morning was, that at an early hour he had taken Mary with him in
the postchaise, aud set off for the country.

41 Two days after, their marriage was publicly declared, though they continued for a fort-

THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST. 69

t out of town. I leave you to judge the uneasiness I experienced. I was totally dependent
my father, whom I had every reason to fear would be a slave to the caprices of the woman
ad married, and whom I naturally concluded would be my enemy, were it not only that I
apprised of her conduct before he espoused her. I c;xn truly aver, that had he married a
uous and worthy object, whatever hail been her situation, my pride would never have
come me so far as to forget what was due to my father's wife ; my heart recoiled both at
former conduct and insolence, so that I knew not how to receive her. Deliberating on this
ect two or three days after the marriage, Palmer was announced, and immediately admitted,
r the usual salutations ' I will not congratulate you,' said he, ' on your father's marriage ;
ugh I will, my Anna, truly confess it has given rise to hopes I before dared not cherish, as
ink he may now be the more inclined to part with you.'

1 have already said I was partial to Palmer, and was yet more, for I sincerely loved him ;
though possessed of nothing romantic in my disposition, had determined, that if ever I
ried, he should be my husband. Little persuasion, therefore, obtained my permission that
hould apply to my father, as I had judged he would, as well as his wife, be pleased at my
oval. I was, however, mistaken ; my father desired time to consider ; and consulting my
mother, an absolute denial was the consequence. I could attribute this but to onecauae,
ch was, that she suspected my affection for Palmer, and took a malignant pleasure in
arting my inclinations.

' After this refusal, Palmer wrote to entreat me to accept his hand without the consent of
father ; his business, he said, was prosperous, and my fortune never an incentive ; and
he was convinced I was unhappily situated at home.

Pleased at the generosity of tin's offer, I however declined it, at least for the present, as
anted ten months of being of age, but promised at that time to answer him more fully. I
uld but weary you by relating all the despicable methods my father's wife put in practice
ender my situation unpleasant, while he, who was absolute in my mother's lifetime, had no
but what this woman pleased, and was blindly subservient to all her arts. We seldom met
at meals. I was polite, but cold, familiarity being as much avoided by me as absolutely
leasing her, as in the first place I must have been obliged to suffer perpetually the empty
parity of her conversation, and in the latter all the vindictiveness of narrow ideas and
fined education. My father's fondness was entirely founded on her person, which, indeed,
good ; his was likewise flattered by the show of affection, which she was continually and
'ustingly bestowing on him ; and if he had a grain of paternal love left for me, it entirely
shed, when, six months after her marriage, she declared herself with child.
My father came from Change one day, accompanied by an elderly man, who was a dry.
er of considerable fortune, but had risen unexpectedly to his present affluence by the death
relation ; stepping at once into a great fortune, but destitute of understanding, education,
ren common politeness. This man honoured me with his good liking, and made prooosals
y father, which his wife approving, were immediately accepted, and I was desired to
rd Mr Brewer (which was his name) as my future husband. I have already told you I
not romantic, therefore I neither wept nor threw myself at my father's feet, but before his
, simply desired him, on my part, to thank Mr Brewer for his good opinion, but that I
d not accept his offer.' 'And pray why not?' said my father; 'what are your objec-

?' ' In the first place,' replied I, ' he is low-bred and illiterate, which, I think, my dear

8 a powerful objection, and sufficient without any other.'

'Mrs Somerton looked as though she could have struck me, while my father gave a hem,
took a pinch of snuff. ' And pray what other great objection can you make ?' said my
er. ' As great a difference in age as disposition/ replied I.' You, perhaps,' resumed
father, 'have forgotten the change in your circumstances, and consider yourself as my
ediato heir. I would wish you to recollect the alteration which has taken place I may
have a numerous family to share my property.' I could scarcely suppress a smile, but
aef |ed, ' To prove to you, sir, that I have not disregarded that circumstance, it was in order
kson your family that I consented to Mr Palmer's entreating your approbation to our
4^Kj. ' So then, miss,' said Mrs Somerton, ' it is not matrimony you object to, but the
nil .' 'Exactly so, madam,' replied I, forgetting my usual coolness ; ' there are some men
Mu as women whom I view with peculiar dislike.'

Somerton at once applied my answer to herself, and choosing rather to interest my

70 THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST.

father by her softness than by her spirit, pretended to burst into tears, and be ready to fa
my father in the meantime entreating her to be pacified, and vowing that no one should o
her with impunity, concluded with telling me that he regarded Mr Brewer's as an unexcep
able offer, and which, if I did not accept, he would totally disclaim me, bidding me con
what he had said, and on the morrow return my answer. ' It needs no time, my dear
replied I ; ' to-morrow can make no difference : grieved as I am, and ever must be, at
displeasure, yet Mr Brewer shall not be my husband.' ' My dear love,' said Mrs Some
addressing my father, ' give way a little, Miss Anna is in love with Mr Palmer, and
severity may make her regardless of consequences, and elope with him.' ' Do not t!
madam,' replied I, ' provoked at her duplicity, I will ever forget what is due to my fa
while he "ecollects I am his daughter ; nor will I ever form a connexion so serious as mar
without his consent, unless absolutely forced to it. In that case, madam, I will neither
out of the window, nor fly to Gretna Green, but wait until I am of age, which will be in t
months, then walk into the first parish church I meet with, and give my hand where I
already bestowed my heart.'

" My father was so much provoked at this reply, that he ordered me to leave the roo
a command which I instantly obeyed.

" My situation from this period was, if possible, ten times more irksome than before,
father refused to dismiss Brewer ; I therefore took that task upon myself, and was soon
from his persecutions, though his acquiescence redoubled the rancour of Mrs Somerton tow
me, and consequently the ill-will of my father. The old servants, many of whom were gi
grey in our service, were discharged on various pretences, the smallest particle of attentk
me being certain to procure their immediate dismission.

" Thus disagreeably passed my time, until I completed my twenty-first year, when Pa
once more, at my request, pressed my father to consent to our union, nor did I scrup
second the entreaty ; but fruitless was the attempt, though Palmer's prospects might
entitled him to a fortune superior to what my father now declared he meant to give me,
married with his consent, which was ten thousand pounds ; but if I disposed of myself
out his concurrence, I was to expect nothing. Mrs Somerton being likewise present whei
father gave his final determination, appeared to exult in thus crossing our wishes, while Pa
stood overpowered with disappointment and vexation, declaring that his solicitation was
with an interested view, but merely to procure my father's approbation. As he well km
held his concurrence necessary to my happiness, he entreated to be informed if there was
thing in his conduct or circumstances that operated to his disadvantage, as he would endea
to remove it ; or if that was impracticable, should at least have the satisfaction of kno
why he was refused.

*' All these concessions, however, were productive of nothing more than a repetition o
refusal, Mrs Somerton adding, with her usual insolence, ' That as matters stood, his visi
our house would be dispensed with.'

' I kept silence until the whole conversation was concluded, and Palmer was advan
towards the door, when, calling him back, I said ' I have listened with uneasiness thr<
this disagreeable business. Had my father any reasonable objection to you, and would
descend to explain it, far be it from me to act in opposition to his wishes; but as he adva
none, I naturally conclude it proceeds not from himself (looking firmly at Mrs Somor
and therefore set it aside, and freely offer you my hand, if, poor as I arn, you will acce]
The niece of Mr Walters should indeed have brought her husband some fortune, but w
if you can overlook, I will never regret, and in its stead endeavour cheerfully, with prudence
affection, to make up the deficiency.' ,

" To describe what followed is beyond my power. Mrs Somerton endeavoured to ap
shocked at my undutifulness and ingratitude, while Palmer expressed his transports, as t'u
I had a throne to bestow with my hand ; my father alternately soothing his wife, and
vows of vengeance against me ; finally declaring, as I had formed my resolution, the so
I left the house the better.

" In this temper we separated, and I retired to my own room for the remainder of the
during which I received a letter from Palmer, entreating me to be prepared at eight the
lowing morning, at which time he proposed to call for me with a licence, and accompa
by his late guardian, who would act as my father on the occasion at the parish church.

THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST. 71

In the evening I wrote to my father, inclosing Palmer's letter, entreating him, by every-
he held most sacred, and by the beloved memory of my mother, not to cast me off;
t my writing was equally ineffectual as my prayers ; for he simply returned for answer, that
lad chosen my fate, and must abide by it all he desired was to hear no more of me.
" The next morning Palmer was true to his time, and, accompanied by his friend, we reached
atjjj church, where I was united to a man whom I loved living, and whose memory must be
r cu\ir to me the man who won my virgin heart, and never gave me cause to repent its
posal."

Mrs Palmer's voice became tremulous, and suddenly rising" I will relate the remainder
morrow night," said she, " it is now almost supper time."

CHAPTER XXIV.

K following evening Mrs Palmer resumed her narrative.

" As I brought my husband no fortune, I thought it my duty to be peculiarly economical,
d had the satisfaction, at the end of two years after our marriage, to find our expenses kept
nsiderably within our income ; add to which, I thought myself the happiest of wives and
Dthers, for that time had given us a lovely boy. My father's unnatural behaviour, and the
collection of my uncle, were the only subjects that gave me pain ; the former had a son
rn in about two months after my marriage ; and the death of the latter was no longer
ubted.

" My felicity had continued for two years, when a capital banking house at Amsterdam, and
eminent commercial one at London, in both of which my husband was nearly concerned,
)pped payment, and gave at once a blow to our prosperity and happiness, for every effort to
trieve the loss was tried in vain ; my husband was unavoidably a bankrupt, and all our effects
irely sufficient to pay twelve shillings in the pound. So highly was my husband respected,
had he but possessed a sum to have enabled him to wait the returns of trade, he might
jej.ve obtained credit to any amount, and surmounted every difficulty ; but we had given up
without reserve, and had no resource my father, to whom I, unknown to my husband,
refusing to advance a single thousand pounds ; and to add to my calamity, Palmer's
th had received a blow, in consequence of his misfortunes, that I much feared might
asjrminate fatally. Thus situated, we determined for some time to remove a little distance
>m London for change of air, which I hoped might prove salutary, and accordingly took
ings in the most private part of Islington ; the few valuables I possessed, and my household
n, which had been spared by the kindness of the creditors, being our whole fund, and all
<e reserve we had to trust to. Though we lived with the utmost frugality, and kept but one
rvant, yet our means daily decreased, and I considered with anguish the poverty that was
ofjiady to overtake us : determined to protract it as long as possible, I yet more retrenched our
penses, moving to a cheaper lodging, and discharging the only servant I kept.

In this manner passed the first year of our misfortunes ; Palmer's malady, by almost im-
aaijrceptible degrees, undermining his constitution, and rendering him unable to make any
iroKertion to extricate us from our unhappy situation, or even to soften its asperity.
,-,j " One day, that he had been yet more disordered than usual, he walked out for air into
rjie fields, leaving me engaged in my domestic concerns, but had not gone far when he was
itiuzed with a pleuritic pain and shortness of breath, that rendered him unable either to pro-
epjjed or return.

J. " Hoping it would abate, he sat himself down in a field where some haymakers were at
M |ork, but in a short time became so much worse, that his illness was perceptible to the
fibourers, several of whom came and spoke to him ; and, among others, a negro, whom
mierhaps you will truly surmise was Felix.

I " Mr Palmt-r by this time was almost unable to speak, and could not faintly signify his
Desire to get home -, but his pain was too violent for him to be able to walk, and in the
ioflhidule of the fields no conveyances could be obtained.

I " In tiiis dilemma Felix fiew off with the utmost speed, and reaching the town, ran intc
e|be first apothecary's shop he could meet with, entreating the master, for the love of heaven,
Jo come into the fields ; for that a man had been seized with so violent a pain in the side,
he feared, without immediate assistance, it would prove fatal. The apothecary, who
ioubtless surmised, from the appearance of Felix, it was one of his fellow-labourers, replied

72 THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST.

by desiring him to lead the sick man to his shop, and he would bleed him, which he did no
doubt would afford relief, but that himself had not time to go so far. ' Not time !' replie
Felix ; ' then the poor soul must die, for I am sure he cannot walk hither; besides, I though
it was your profession to attend the sick, not the sick to attend you.' ' You are an impuden
fellow,' answered the apothecary, ' to suppose I should walk about a mile to bleed a man fo
sixpence, or perhaps for nothing : but go about your business there is a barber a few door
farther, that will perhaps suit your purpose; for my part, I never step over the threshold t
let blood under half-a-crown.'

" Felix paused, then fumbling for a moment in his bosom, pulled out a dollar, in which
small hole had been drilled, and a piece of ribbon drawn through. ' Here,' said he, ' I hav
no money but this ; keep it till to-morrow night, and I will redeem it if the sick man canno
pay you ; for he must not die for want of help. I have then my week's hire to receive ; all
beg is, you will be careful of it.'

" As he spoke he held out the dollar ; but the apothecary, doubtless ashamed to be out
done by this simple child of nature, putting back his offered hand, replied, ' No, no ? an
snatching down his hat, bade Felix lead the way.

" On their arrival at the spot where Mr Palmer still sat, he immediately bled, and in ha
an hour was so greatly relieved as to be able to walk home, attended by the apothecary and th<
friendly Felix, the former being now as assiduous as he was at first careless ; for though w
were in reality very much reduced, Palmer had still an appearance of respectability.

' ' Had you told me,' said the apothecary, as they were helping Palmer home, that it was
a gentleman who was taken so ill in the fields, I should not have hesitated a moment ; but at
you spoke, I protest I thought it was one of your comrades.' ' I was not sufficiently ac*
quainted with European customs to know that such a distinction was necessary,' replied
Felix, drily ; ' but you may depend hereafter I will not fail to remember it ; and every mar
in want of assistance shall by me be styled a gentleman.'' ' Thou art an odd fellow,' said th<
apothecary ; ' have you been long in England ?' ' Long enough,' replied Felix, ' to convince
me of the erroneous opinion I had formed for the first forty years of my life of Englishmen^
whose hearts, I had persuaded myself, were as good as their faces, but have learned, to mj
cost, the only difference between many of them and us is, we wear the black without thej
within.'

" Palmer, in spite of pain, could not suppress a smile ' I am sure,' said he, ' you do no
include all in your account, as it seems to imply you have met some few who deserve appro-
bation. ' Approbation,' replied Felix, ' is a cold word I could almost say adoration but it
is past : meteors are not frequent, nor in your country subjects of worship. I indeed knew
one, whose virtues made this land dear to me , but he is gone to heaven, as you call it, or th(
land of souls it is the same thing, and where even negroes will rejoice to meet him.'

" This discourse brought them home, and was repeated to me both by Palmer and th(
apothecary, the latter declaring it made an impression on him never to be effaced, and which
would oblige him henceforward to attend sufferers without questioning their pretensions to
gentility. Palmer Was much better in the evening, at which time Felix did not fail to come
and inquire after him with great respect.

" Recovered from my first alarm, 1 was not yet so destitute but that I had it in my powei
to offer him some small compensation for his trouble and the time he had lost ; but declining
it, he drew back, saying, ' No, madam, I labour for hire I have not laboured for yout
husband.' ' But your labour,' said I, '.is not, I fear, sufficient to support you in the neces-
saries of life : stranger as you are, you cannot be supposed to possess the resources ofj
native.' ' Industry, madam, 1 replied he, 'is universally understood ; and, with health, fully
adequate to sustain the wants of man, it procures me bread, and sometimes meat, this habit
to shelter me from the weather, and at night a place of rest for my wearied limbs.

" I put rny money back into my pocket, at once humiliated and pleased, saying mentally,
* A diamond is equally precious, whether enclosed in a casket of ebony or ivory.'

From this time our friendly negro, by my desire, frequently called, and was ever anxious
to rciultT us a number of little services that he thought we might feel derogatory. My little
boy, who.was now turned of two years old, had at first been frightened at his appearance,
but by the gentleness of big manners had grown so attached that he never failed to cry
after him.

THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST. 'ft

" Three months had now passed since we knew Felix, whom I frequently determined to
question respecting his former life, but was so entirely occupied by my domestic concerns and
the still declining health of Palmer, that it was ever neglected ; besides, the. name of master
never escaped him unaccompanied by a tear; and I could not bear to gratify my curiosity by
Renewing his distress, which must apparently have been the case ; his stay, too, whenever he
called, wa short, as he constantly laboured in the fields or gardens, in the neighbourhood of
Islington, his visits being merely, as his conduct showed, to endeavour to do us s. : -\ ice, as
fetching me coals, cleaning Palmer's clothes, or any other little office he could
refusing money at. most accepting the remains of our frugal table, and a draught of h.-.-r.

" At this period my little darling was seized with the small pox, of a most, mnlignant kind ;
and for throe weeks my heart was alternately torn with anguish, or revived by hope, as the
symptoms increased or abated : regardless of my poverty, HO 1 could save my child. I spared
no expense, employing every able physician I heard recommended, but in vain I was doomed
to be childless, and to survive those tics dearer to me than life."

Mrs Palmer ceased for a moment, and perceiving both Fanny and Agnes wept, she said,
crossing her own eyes with her handkerchief, " I rejoice, Agnes, at this proof of your sensi-
bility ; it is a plain demonstration that your own sorrows have not selfishly narrowed your
tii^heart, as they yet leave you a tear to bestow on others.

" I shall pass over the death of my son," continued Mrs Palmer, "for the subject even yet
is painful ; suffice that 1 found myself not even possessed of money to lay his beloved remains
decently in the earth ; all our little valuables and linen had been disposed of; the watch
given me by my uncle alone remained, and which had been preserved merely from affection to
the giver. My husband, depressed by a long illness, on the loss of his son, appeared totally
to sink under his calamities, and to regard everything around him with an insensibility that
cruelly alarmed me. To consult him, then, in this dreadful crisis was useless, and could
answer no end but increasing his distress. To apply to my father would be unavailing; nor
could I bear the thought -of giving his unworthy wife, the pleasure of triumphing over my
misery. Felix had been daily xvith us since the child's sickness, and, in spite of all opposition,
bad frequently sat up with him, attending him with a kindness that, even young as he was, he
was sensible of; for the evening before he died, he said, as he held Felix by the hand, ' Dear
papa and mamma, always love Felix, for he loves me.' But I wander from my subject, which
was to pass the child's death," continued she; "but the fond partiality of a parent involun-
tarily beguiled me. Unable, as I before observed, to consult Palmer, and without any resource
but the watch given me by my uncle, I determined to part with it, and for that purpose
calling Felix into the garden, I disclosed my intention, and asked if he could take it to London
and sell it for us, aa I really myself was unable. Felix had beea too much with us to be
ignorant that we laboured under difficulties, yet seemed distressed at this proof of it; but
promised implicitly to obey me, and repair to a capital watchmaker, whom I specified, and
return with the money as speedily as possible. This settled, Felix took the watch, and left
me about nine o'clock in the morning. As he had only to go to Cheapside, I naturally
supposed he might return in about a couple of hours ; but five had passed without his
appearance, and I began to be uneasy. I did not doubt the honesty of Felix, but dreaded
rer some accident had befallen him, yet did not venture to declare my fears to Palmer. At length
I heard a knock at the door, and hastening down, met Felix in the passage, but at the house
in door discovered a man apparently waiting. . Wishing to speak to him unheard, I stepped into
the little parlour, and was upon the point of questioning him,when, raising my eyes to his face,
the animation of his features astonished me. ' What has happened, Felix?' said I ; ' surely
you have met with something uncommonly pleasing !' ' Uncommonly pleasing f repeated he,
oh ! I am too happy !' But suddenly appearing to recollect himself, and to struggle with
bis feelings. ' The man, madam,' continued he, ' that is the watch, madam the gentleman
waits.' ' For heaven's sake, what do you mean, Felix ?' replied I ; ' surely you do not drink ?

74 THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST.

watchmaker would not purchase it without seeing the owner, lest it should be dishonestly
obtained, and had sent a gentleman with him for that purpose.

" Convinced that Felix was in liquor, I advanced towards the door to call in the stranger ;
but regardless of compliments, he rushed before me, saying, Walk in, sir, pray walk in,
heaven bless you !'

" The stranger immediately entered ; he was a man in the decline of life, and of a very
respectable appearance. ' I am sorry, sir,' said I, 'that you have taken the trouble; bul
the watch is mine ; a cruel emergency obliges me (heaven knows how unwilling) to part \\ith

it.' As I spoke I could not restrain my tears, nor was the stranger unmoved. ' As you

appear, madam, to value it so highly,' replied he, pardon me, but can nothing else supplj 1
this emergency, as trinkets, rings, or other female decorations?' ' Alas ! they are all gon
cried I, weeping ; ' this only remains : it was the gift of my more than father, and nothing b
the distress of the present moment could force me to part with it, to lay the beloved remaii
of my infant in the earth, and to nourish the expiring spark of life that yet remains in tl
best of husbands.' ' And what, madam, do you ask for it ?' replied he, turning aside his head.
' Alas !' answered I, * I am no judge ; 1 see you feel for my distress, and will not, I am sur
wrong me ; I am willing to abide by your decision.'

" On his first entrance he had drawn the watch from his pocket, and laid it upon the tab
that stood between us. ' Well, then,' said he, after a pause, and with increased emotion,
think thirty pounds is nearly the value; it has apparently been carefully kept.'

" His offer was double what I expected ; for the price obtained for the things already so
scarcely amounted to a third of their value. ' I am content,' said I, weeping ; and taking
as I thought for the last time, in my hand, could not refrain pressing it to my lips. ' Farewel
cried I, ' last token of the best beloved of friends ! Could he even see me in this hour
anguish, I should obtain his pardon.' ' Thou hast it, my Anna my child,' exclaimed tl
stranger, clasping me in his arms j ' henceforward doubly endeared by thy misfortunes.*

" I was so lost in astonishment, that I had not the power to repulse the stranger, had I bee
so inclined ; but fixing my eyes in silence on him, I eagerly endeavoured to trace the perso
of my uncle Walters, but in vain ; my uncle was fair, lusty, and wore a brown wig, while th
stranger was uncommonly dark complexioned, thin, and wore his own hair, which was
white as flax.

'"And have ten years totally obliterated thy uncle Walters from thy memory, Anna?' crie
he. ' Indeed I believe my person is changed, but my heart is still the same.'

" My pleasure and amazement were too great for words ; I threw myself on his neck, an
wept in silence. Felix, who had withdrawn as soon as my uncle entered, had in the mea
time been with Mr Palmer, to whom not being charged to keep silence as he was to me, h
had disclosed the happy meeting that was taking place, and returned down stairs with hii
at the moment I was weeping on the neck of my uncle.

'* In a few minutes Mr Walters seated me in a chair, and affectionately saluted my husband
telling him his pecuniary difficulty was over, and to look forward to health and happiness.

'* In the mean time, the behaviour of Felix was still far from calm, and might have alarme
an uninformed spectator of his intellects ; he walked round his master (for Felix was th
identical slave that had before saved his life), examined his face, touched his hair, rubbed h
own hands in an ecstasy of joy, and finally snatching up my uncle's hat that lay in the window
kissed it with transport.

" Our tumults being a little subsided, my uncle bestowed a tear to the memory of my child
but peremptorily insisting that all the care of the funeral should centre in himself, thus kindl
endeavouring to spare me what he truly surmised must increase my sorrow.

CHAPTER XXV.
" A FEW days after the remains of my infant were consigned to the earth, Mr Palmer and mysei
at the express desire of my uncle, removed to his house, which he commanded me hencefbrt!
to consider as my own.

" The tfrst emotions of grief for the loss of my son, and the joy of meeting my uncle, were n
sooner subsided, than the mutual inquiries took place of all that had befallen us during a tei
years' separation.

" My uncle informed us4hat he had, as we truly heard, been cast away on his return fron

THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST. 75

dia, on the coast ot Caffraria, about three years after he left England ; that the greater
.rt of the crew had perished in the wreck, twenty-four only escaping, twenty of whom had
.deavoured to explore their way to the Cape of Good Hope, but had doubtless perished,
ther by hunger or from the natives, as they had never reached it. For the others, two were
y uncle's domestics, and a third, a young man, his clerk, who attended him on his voyage,
I of whom determined to share his fortunes when he refused to accompany the party who
ught the Cape, being convinced it was impracticable without knowing the country ; and a
ore of provisions, the small stoek they had procured from the wreck, being soon expended.
" The inhabitants of the coast had at first behaved with ferocity, but finding the unhappy
truders too few in number to give them alarm, and likewise unarmed and willing to part
ith anything they possessed, as their clothes, watches, or money (the two last mentioned of
hich they converted into ornaments), they soon became familiarized, and supplied them with
ilk, rice, and venison, sufficient for their support. My uncle's design was, if possible, to gain
leir confidence sufficiently to persuade some who were best acquainted with the country to
scompany them to one of the Dutch settlements ; for to undertake to walk such an extensive
act of land, penetrate the thick forests, cross such rapid rivers, and climb the almost per-
endicular mountains, without a guide, was at once vain and impracticable. None, however,
; the inhabitants of the settlement had ever been at any great distance from home (as they in-
rmed them when they began to comprehend a little of thie language), nor would, for any reward,
ndertakc such a journey. Thus circumstanced, my uncle thought his destination fixed, and
ndeavoured to comfort his companions. With the approbation of the natives they erected
lemselves a hut, and surrounded it in the manner of the Caffres, with a plantation of rice,
'he clerk, who was a youth, and one of the domestics, who was likewise young, by infinite
erseverance learned to throw the assagay with so much skill, that it not only procured them
lenty of food, but raised them much in the opinion of the inhabitants, who saw them with
leasure give into their customs, and adopt their weapons.

' In this manner passed three years, my uncle and his eldest domestic convinced they should
raw their last breath in this country, and the younger people only withheld from the wild
ndertaking of exploring their way to the Cape, by affection for their companions. At this
eriod two brothers (natives, who had been made prisoners in a contest with some neighbouring
ations), returned, after five years' absence, the greater part of which time they had resided in
ae distant country of the Auteniquas. Travelling, or perhaps the difficulties they had endured,
ad enlarged their minds, for they treated the strangers with more humanity than any of their
ompanions, and after holding various discourses with them, as they now perfectly understood
he language, said, that affection for their father had alone induced them to return, being
ouch better pleased with the inland country than the coast ; and that, was their parent no
oore, for a proper reward they would not scruple to risk their journey, but that, during his
fe, nothing should tempt them to forsake him.

" This discourse again revived their hopes, for the travellers' father was very old and infirm,
irhich gave them daily expectation of their wishes being soon fulfilled; but, to their great dis-
ippointment, he lingered two years. He was no sooner dead than my uncle renewed his
jromises of reward, and in short, soon obtained what he had so long solicited, they agreeing
4) accompany him to the first Dutch settlement, where he had no doubt but, by making him-
lelf known, he could obtain credit for the promised reward, which was to consist of iron,
abacco, and other articles, considered by. them as particularly desirable.

" The difficulties they encountered during this journey were innumerable, and would have
been impossible for them to support, but for the resources which necessity had taught the
natives, whose skill at their weapons constantly procured food, the country abounding in
elks, &c. They were likewise well versed in the necessary precautions to secure them from
.he attack of wild beasts. Some days they could not advance more than four or five miles,
from the obstacles they met with, as thick woods and steep mountains ; at other times were
detained by waiting the reflux of prodigious rivers, which they were obliged to cross, or to
coast along the banks at the expense of both time and fatigue. At length, however, they
reached a Dutch settlement, where their appearance caused no small surprise, for my
uncle, as well as his companions, were naked, the small remains of covering the natives
had left them having been so long worn out, that they were grown perfectly familiarized to
the omission, and their skins changed to the complexion of copper.

76 THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST. _

~*\
\\

J"fr

CHAPTER* XXVI. L,

" THE Dutch factor received them with tolerable kindness, but did not appear willing to advai"
a reward my uncle thought adequate to the services of the Caffres; he therefore, \vithc
much difficulty, persuaded them to accompany him to the Cape ; and after some stay tl
resumed their journey, and to their great satisfaction, at length reached it.

" iMy uncle was well acquainted with two capital merchants there ; one, to his great dist
pointment, he found was dead ; but was more fortunate in his second inquiry, though lp
friend at first did not know him; but after some few preliminaries, acknowledged, al,,i
readily embraced him, insisting that he should take up his residence at his house, and drj
on him for what sums he found necessary.

My uncle at first thought to write to England, but after a short time determined to si|
prise his friends. The merchant's offer he willingly accepted, his first care being to rewa
his guides to the utmost extent of their wishes, dismissing them with four oxen loaded w^
what they thought most valuable.

The business settled, he waited for a homeward-bound Indiaman, and at length embarl
with his three faithful companions for Europe, which he reached after a pleasant voyage.
' On his first landing he immediately repaired to my father's ; though his appearance
now very respectable, yet the change his person had undergone rendered him perfect
unknown ; he, however, soon made himself acknowledged, and then learned, to his grij
that his sister was dead, and myself, his great favourite, married to a worthless man, who hj
lately become a bankrupt, and with whom I was now withdrawn, no one knew whither,
was not my uncle's custom to condemn unheard ; he therefore determined, if possible, to
me, for he found no great predilection for my father's wife, and even declined taking up H
residence with them. He had been but a fortnight in England when he met with Felix, ail
had already advertised three times, desiring me, if alive, to apply to his attorney, or if any o*
could give intelligence respecting me, offering a reward. This kindness had, however, bee
fruitless, for we never saw the newspapers ; nor did any one, since our last removal, knoj
where to find us, as we wished to -conceal our miseries from the world.

" That morning my uncle fortunately met \vith Felix, he had accidentally, in passing aloi
Cheapside, recollected he wanted a watch, and walking into a shop, the man had shown nil
several, and they were on the point of making an agreement when Felix entered. My uncj
recollected him at once, but astonished to find him in England, stood for a moment lost
surprise, and seeing him offer a watch for sale, determined, if possible, to remain undiscover
and wait the event; but what was his astonishment, on taking the watch from the hand
the shopkeeper, to recognise it for the same he had formerly given to me. ' How came yoi
by this watch, my friend?' said my uncle, addressing him in a kind voice; 'it appears to be
woman's, and of some value.'

" Though my uncle's person had totally escaped the notice of Felix, yet the sound of h
voice startled him, and viewing him for a moment with fixed attention, he answered, wit!
drawing his eyes with a sigh, ' Bless your voice, it is like music to my heart. The watch j
not mine, but a lady's, who must sell it to pay those rights which your country's custor
demands, before the body of her child can be permitted to mingle with the dust; to hire me
who assume the semblance of sorrow with a black coat, and pay for a peculiar spot of eartl
as if all on which the sun shines was not equally hallowed.' * And what is the lady's namei
said my uncle ' Palmer,' replied Felix.

My uncle made no reply, but seating himself by the counter, remained lost in thought.
" ' And what do you ask for the watch ?' said the shopkeeper, addressing Felix. Sh
leaves it to yourself,' returned he, 'she is no judge; but I conjure you, by the God yo
profess to serve, consider her distress, and do her justice a dead infant ! an almost chin
husband ! weigh these sorrows ere you speak. Ah, had you seen her part with it, you coul
have judged of its value, It was the gift of my best friend, said she, then pressed it to he
lips and wept : it is yet dull with her tears. 1 ' I will kiss them off," cried my uncle, snatchin
the watch, ten thousand pounds shall not purchase it.'

" The shopkeeper looked astonished, while Felix again fixed his eyes attentively on tb
face of my uncle with visible agitation,

THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST. 77

"' Have ten years hardship and grey hairs made such an alteration, Felix,' said my uncle,
at I have lost a friend, the preserver of my life?'
" Felix gave a loud cry, and fell senseless at his feet.

" By the care of the master of the shop, Felix was soon restored ; but hi? effusions were
jovernable; he could neither ask nor answer questions; all was genuine transport,
mixed with form or restraint, and spoke the unadulterated language of nature.
" At length, being somewhat calmer, my uncle informed him that he suspected the owner
,. the watch was his neice, and desired to know how he became acquainted with me.

Felix disjointly related what he knew, mixing the whole with encomiums on myself and

Palmer, not forgetting a tear to my little one.

My uncle then determined to accompany him back, charging him to say nothing of what
cl passed, but to introduce him as a person sent to conclude the bargain for the watch.

Felix certainly obeyed him to the U'st of his power ; bnt nature in him was superior to
., and, in spite of all his endeavours, could barely be restrained.

have now informed you how my uncle and Felix met, and have only to tell you that,
en when surrounded with affluence, I was to feel yet more acutely than ever, for in three
mths after finding my uncle I lost my beloved husband ; his misfortunes had made an
pression never to be erased, and which totally ruined his health. Bath, and the various
.tenng places in the kingdom, were tried in Vi\in ; he died in my arms, one of his hands
iked in that of my uncle, blessing the Almighty that he had lived to see me secured from
int, and perfectly resigned to his fate. Pardon me, my friends, though time has also taught
e resignation, yet I cannot forget that I was once a wife and mother tender claims ! ye
e written on my heart in traits never to be obliterated.

Mrs Palmer ceased, and for some time gave vent to the emotion painful recollection occa-
ned ; nor were her auditors unmoved all bore silent sympathy; Godwin rose and walked
the window; Agnes had involuntarily laid hold of her hand; and Fanny instinctively
ew her chair close to hers.

It is past,' said Mrs Palmer. I will conclude a narrative that I am not sorry to see
oee |ts interested you; it will teach you, Agnes, that there are others equally unfortunate with
urself.' ' Equally unfortunate,' replied Agnes, they may be ; but few, I hope, have
ual cause for self reproach.'

Mrs Palmer, to prevent further discourse on the subject, resumed her narrative.
" Though I by no means aggravated the behaviour of Mrs Somerton, and totally en-
avoured to exculpate my father, yet my uncle came to an immediate settlement with him,
mbursing him for the trouble he had taken, and having a prodigious sum to receive, the
terest having accumulated on the principal for ten years.

A coldness had subsisted between them ever since my uncle discovered me ; and the
siness between them was no sooner completed than an entire alienation took place, which
7 father's wife did not fail to attribute to the influence my art had gained over my uncle.
" He next settled his domestic economy, giving me the entire command, and retaining
ilix, by his own desire, about his person, rendering him first independent, that in case his
nd should hereafter change, he might be under no restraint.

For the faithful attendants who were shipwrecked with him, the clerk he retained as
eward to his estates ; and for the other two, the elder retired upon a comfortable provision,
na lnd the younger married, and was by my uncle settled in a lucrative business.

I have now but little more to tell you. My friendly kind uncle survived h.s return ten
ars ; in him at once I lost a tender parent and a sincere friend ; nor could his whole fortune,
ich he left me without restriction, have any effect but in making me more sensible of my
ss, as it plainly proved how truly he esteemed me. The disposal of my uncle's effects, as
u may suppose, was very displeasing to my father, whom, however, I have never seen,
ough he is still living. On my uncle's death, I endeavoured to banish my melancholy by
levelling and change of ^place. Inglewood I had frequently heard him speak of, but never
en, as it was purchased before ne went abroad, and had not been visited since his return,
precarious health usually confining us in the neighbourhood of the capital, for the
vantage of medical assistance. The situation particularly pleased me ; and disliking a
n life, I determined to fix my residence there a resolution I do not think I shall change,
i tsteem my neighbours, and hope they do the same by me.

78 THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST.

" Mrs Palmer ceased, and received the thanks of Godwin and his daughters, the former c
whom said ' Esteem, madam, however flattering the term may be when applied from you
us. is not comprehensive enough to express what we owe to you; add to it gratitude ani
affection, and it will more nearly declare the sentiments your kindness has inspired.'

*' Ah," said Agnes, " I shall never more, madam, look on Felix's face with dislike ; I shal
consider him as attending the little sufferer, and forget his complexion." "I always iiket
him," added Fanny ; but from this day he will be yet more estimable to me." " I sha
leave you to-morrow," replied Mrs Palmer, "and will desire him, in my absence, to relat
to you how he saved my uncle's life, the reason of his leaving Jamaica, and his subsequen
distress in England. I should not neglect to tell you, that his grief on my uncle's death
equal to my own ; and though I offered to double the independence my uncle had left him,hi
declined it, entreating that he might never leave me." ' Do not banish me, madam,' said he
' I am almost sixty years old, and shall die with grief if I am again driven into the world
" You will easily suppose he was not necessitated to press his suit ; I assured him he was fre
to choose, and in consequence he remains my confidential servant, and I do not blush to ad<
my friend."

Fanny and Agnes then retired to their chamber ; after which, Godwin and Mrs Palme
conversed for some time, both coinciding in their fears that Agnes would hardly survive th
event that was now almost daily expected a thought that wounded Godwin to the soul, an
grieved the friendly Mrs Palmer.

CHAPTER XXVII.

ON the morning following, Mrs Palmer arose early, and taking leave of Godwin and the sis
ters, returned to Inglewood, leaving Felix to execute any commission they might want,
in case of any alteration, ride over to the Forest ; for though he was in years he was strong
and able to undertake a far longer journey. She likewise desired him to relate such event*
as might illustrate her own story, and pass the time in her absence.

The evening after her departure, Fanny reminded him of the promise, desiring him to tak
a seat among them, which, however, he declined until much pressed ; then drew a chair at
respectful distance, and began as follows : " I was born on the coast of Guinea, and kid
napped from thence when about twelve years old, and brought to Jamaica, where I was ex
posed to sale. Among others, my late master's father, Mr Walters, came to view me, bu
thought me not fit for labour ; his son, who was about my own age, was with him, and looke
upon me with such compassion, that, sensible of my situation, I could not avoid saying,
I must be a sla ve, I had rather be so with you than any other.' I was however, not under
stood ; my melancholy rather interested him than my words, for running up to his father, b
pressed him so warmly to purchase me, that he at length consented. The bargain concludec
I was ordered to follow them home, and introduced to my mistress, who was a West India
by birth, but had married Mr Walters, who was an Englishman, when on a visit in that conn
try, where her children had likewise both been born. Education and example had rendere
Mrs Walters harsh and unfeeling ; as she was so to her husband's son, you may therefore rcadil
believe the slaves were not exempt. I know not whether you are acquainted with it, but
is the custom to mark the newly-purchased slaves just above the shoulders with the initials
their owner's name an operation that is performed by heating a piece of silver, on which th
letters are engraven, over a flame of spirits, and pressing it on the back. This ceremony M
"Walters always performed herself, affirming that the slaves never pressed the stamp sufficient
to make the letters legible. After finding numberless faults (at leost I judged so by her a<
tions and countenance), she made ready to give me tho usual mark, which, though in rralit
no more than a common burn, appeared doubly horrid from the preparation. My \oon
master, who was called Henry, was not present, but entered at the moment ; I knew not \vh<
he said, but could plainly understand by his gestures that he was pleading for me, for he wa
crying bitterly from the mere dread ; but I afterwards learned from an old slave who wa
present, that he insisted to his mother who, in spite of her temper, was extravagantly fond
him, that his father had bought me for him, and that he had determined I should bo tnaike
with his own initials only. A short contention ensued ; but my young master got the bette
ajid bore me off with my back unmarked, but his goodness engraven on my heart in far mor
indelible characters. From this time I can say I truly loved him ; wished to learn his Ian

THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST. 79

age to express my gratitude. He was sensible of my endeavours, and would frequently
ndescend to teach me my letters; and finding I was not dull, persevered, with an att-'iitm:
common to his youth, until I could write to make myself understood, and read passably well.

t.hi> time I was fourteen, and perfectly understood my situation, which I considered fixed

life, yet I cannot say the thought on my own account gave me much pain ; so true it is

t kindness and humanity may make even bondage bearable. About this time my mi
o was extravagantly fond of china, had a present of a valuable set from Kn^land, and
ich was placed on a table in the saloon. One day that my master and mistress were gone
TIC miles on a visit, Mr Henry and myself were trying who could leap the farthest in the
me apartment, when unfortunately he fell against the table, and totally demolished the whole,
r a moment our fears kept us silent ; to conceal it was impossible ; and we well knew that
r rage would exceed all bounds. At length we agreed to retire to a pavilion in the farthest
rt of the garden, until the first storm should be blown over, and that Mr Henry should pre-
nt himself, and express his contrition. We accordingly went thither; I could not but see-
at this silly accident made him uneasy, and racked my mind how to exculpate him from any
are of the blame. At length, having remained until we were assured my mistress must have

n sometime returned, and have discovered the mischief, as she always sat in the saloon, I
oposed that I should repair to the house, and discover how she bore the loss ; if with calm-
ss, I would wr.it for him at home ; but if, on the contrary, she was outrageous, I was to
urn in the course of an hour, and let him know. He consented to this conditionally ; I
is, as the secret was entirely between us, not to confess I was even present when it hap.
ned, but to say my young master had told me of the misfortune, and was under great con-
rn for it.

This plan settled, I returned home: but I know no terms strong enough to paint the
nfusion I was witness to : all the slaves had been called, and accused with the mischief, but
eir innocence alone had been a poor defence ; she had buffeted and struck them with her
n hand, Mr Walters in vain endeavouring to pacify her. I entered at this moment. I was
new object : screaming with passion, she exclaimed ' It is this young villain that has done
I see it by his face! I will have him flayed alive.' Summoning all my courage, which I
nfess was inferior to the love I bore Mr Henry (for had not the latter supported me, I
ould certainly have relinquished my purpose), I replied 'If I have done it, madam, I am
lling to pay the forfeiture.'

" * And pay it you shall,' furiously exclaimed she ; and without further question, ordered me
be taken into the court, and severely whipped. Had not my pride supported me at that
oment, I know not what might have happened ; but the idea of showing my young master
what I was capable of bearing to screen him from blame, rendered me equal to the effort,
d I accompanied the men who were to punish me without resistance, tears, or entreaties,
y mistress, with an inhumanity unbecoming her sex, placing herself at a window to see her
mmands properly obeyed. I was tied to a post, my crime proclaimed aloud, when Mr
enry rushed so suddenly between myself and the executioner, that he could not withhold his
md ; the blow fell on his shoulders, and died his cotton waistcoat (which, except a shirt, was
3 only covering) with blood. Distracted at the sight, I cried aloud, and struggling with
alence, broke the cord that held me, covering his body with my own ; but there was no
casion ; the man who inflicted the punishment stood aghast, without attempting another
roke, my mistress at the same time making the colonnade resound with her screams.

trike,' said my young master, ' I alone am guilty : think you I will see another punished for
If the paltry china must have a victim, let it be me. I am the offender, and if blood

ist be the expiation, it shall be mine.'

" The behaviour of my young master put an entire stop to the business ; my mistress was
ocked, and ordering me to my work, called Mr Henry to attend her to her chamber, where
eing her weep as his shoulder was bathed with spirits, he said ' Ah, madam, hereafter
nember, that the unhappy men whom fortune has placed at your command, have also equal
ling, and perhaps parents who may contemplate their wounds with as much anguish as you

Mr Henry, almost immediately on my leaving him, had followed me; he feared I should
r his mother's anger for only bearing the news, a&d throwing off all fear, generously deter-

80 THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST.

mined to meet the storm himself. In a word, he arrived in the critical moment I noticed!,
saved me from the stroke of the whip, and wrote a fresh obligation on my heart.

" The favour of my young master procured me the kindness of the slaves ; and from thi
time until I was near twenty, at which period my master and mistress were unhappily killed,
my situation was far from unpleasant.

" The estates adjoining my master's were very extensive, and belonging to two gentlemer
particularly disliked ; the one employed about two hundred negroes, and the other a yg
superior number. These men, from repeated provocations, had formed the design of risin
and revenging themselves on their persecutors, and accordingly, seizing a favourable oppor
tunity, they joined, and executed their purpose, killing the tyrants, and deluging the estate
with the blood of their oppressors.

" This event had been planned by the slaves of both plantations, and who, having satiatec
their vengeance at home, hastened to the estate of Mr Walters, which they reached by brea
of day (and whose wife, I grieve to say, was particularly disliked), and removing all opposition,
rushed in, and sacrificed her and her too complying husband to their resentment.

" My young master's apartment was on the other side of the yard, and I, by his owr
desire, lay in the antechamber ; the noise awakened us, and hastening to the window, wha
was our alarm to see the carnage that had taken place ! Mr and Mrs Walters dead, nake(
and disfigured, were carried and exposed in the open court, together with several oppressors
The sight was too much for an affectionate and dutiful son ; he fell on the ground in a stat<
of insensibility, which, dearly as I loved him, I at that moment thought happy. Aftt
hastening to fasten all the doors of the outward apartments, I returned to the window, where
I had the mortification to see that many of our own slaves had joined them, and though nol
absolutely active, were at least passive in the mischief. Throwing up the window, I criec
aloud to be heard, but the general confusion for some time rendered it impossible. ' Give u
your young master,' cried the strange slaves; 'we have dug up the root, and will cut dow
the branch.'

' With these words they advanced to the outward door, and all hope nearly forsook me
when calling aloud to several of our own people by name, said Hear me but a moment ;
have something material to say ; I will then throw open the doors, and leave you to act i
you please.'

" I have already said I was fortunate enough to be beloved by the companions of m
slavery, and the present instance proved it ; for, crying aloud, they stayed their companions
and entreated I might be heard, saying, I was their countryman, and a desirable ally, as I no
only understood the use of fire-arms, but could also decypher the thoughts of Europeans,
they expressed them in black characters on white paper, and by that means might fore wan
them of threatened danger, if any such communication should fall into their hands. Fortu
nately this reason procured a short cessation from violence, and I was permitted to speak
when, addressing particularly our own people, who were about two hundred, I said, as nearl
as I can recollect ' Friends, countrymen, and fellow-sufferers, it is an European saying, tha
time and chance happeneth to all ; in you it is verified ; the present time is yours, and yon
enemies are crushed beneath your feet ; but may not hereafter the same chance make yol
the vanquished ? for what so variable as fortune ? not even the moon itself is half
inconstant ; then may they not redouble our hardships, and plead for excuse that we set th
example of blood, and are only to be ruled with a rod of iron? Their powers and resource
in. this island are numerous : what are ours? a herd of naked, unarmed men, whose sol
defence against their numerous engines of death is bodily strength and undaunted courage-
poor auxiliaries to ward off the thunder of their cannon, or yet more certain musket shot
You have been cruelly oppressed, I confess it, but your tyrants have paid the forfeit ; thei
blood rest upon their heads ! To the slaves of this plantation I would simply direct a que
tion what has Henry Walters done ? If he is the son of one of your oppressors, is that hi
fault ? Is he to suffer for the errors of his parents ? Let the man speak whom he has injured
and here I pledge my truth to him, to yield him instantly into his power. It is not you, Peter
for I remember he saved you at the expense of blows from his mother ; nor is it you, Caesar
for when you were ill, how tenderly did he visit you, supplying all your wants unknown to th<
family I You, Juba, I think, be purchased with money given him to expend in pleasure

THE FARMER OF JNGLEWOOD FOREST. 31

(because with your former master you were harshly treated ; it is not, therefore, you ; nor yet
Stephen there, for I remember when nis wife and child lay dying of the smallpox, though he
had never had that infectious distemper, he came to see them, brought them wine, and when
they died he wept.'

" I here paused a moment, but all being silent, I resumed * If none answer, I must then
[presume none have been offended ; why thuii do ye seek the life of one who has never wronged
you. For me, my friends, 1 freely declare my own safety is not dearer than his. Ingratitude
is not a negro vice it is the produce of colder climates. He is my friend ; his shoulders yet
bear the scar of the whip that would otherwise have marked mine ; pain, with him, was not
[put in competition with truth he saved me at the expense of himself. I have no more to
5a v he is in this apartment ; vain would be our struggles against a multitude we will make
[none. I will, as I promised, unbar the doors, and, if your hearts will let you, kill the truest
friend you have among the Christian men, and stab the bosom who would willingly bleed to
give you liberty, happiness, for I will not survive him we will die together.'

With these words I opened the doors. My master, who hud recovered the first shock.
Ivanced to meet them, presenting his breast, and saying, ' I am prepared strike.' My
[countrymen, at these words, set up a loud cry, exclaiming, ' Live, white man live to conquer
[black man by humanity !'

" Soon after this, the strangers began to disperse, our own men who had been in any means
[instrumental to the mischief accompanying them, the rest hanging their heads in mournful
lence, or falling at my masters feet, and entreating his compassion and pardon.

" My master, soon after this event, sailed for England, and settled there ; the melancholy
[scene that had passed had disgusted him with Jamaica ; he therefore sold off the greater part
pf his possessions, reserving only one small plantation, whose situation he was particularly
[fond of.

At the earnest eutreaty of the negroes, he made me the overseer, first giving me my
liberty, and investing me with the entire command.

was very unwilling to be left behind ; but my dear master so clearly pointed out that
[ny stay nearly concerned his interest and the quiet of the plantation, that I consented. For
;wenty years I fulfilled the duty he enjoined me, with great satisfaction to him, and, also, to
.hose over whom he tyid given me command ; and if I have anything in the world to boast of,
t is, that by mild measures, fifty negroes on our plantation did as much labour as double that
Lumber on most others. During the period before mentioned, I had seen my master four
^imes, in the last of which he informed me he should, in the year following, go to India. Alas !
'ou know the event of that voyage. I even now tremble at the recollection ; the news of his
>eing cast away, I can truly assure you, was sincerely lamented by all his dependants ; but
bow much more, I leave you to judge, was their sorrow increased, when, the year after, they
received the dreadful tidings that the plantation was to be sold, and the labourers -disposed of
|o the best bidder ! For myself, I was ordered to England, to render up my accounts. With
heavy heart, I bade adieu to my faithful companions ; and, on my arrival in England, I
nrnediately repaired to the house of my master's brother-in-law ; but what a difference in
umners -. Mr Somerton was narrow-minded and avaricious; and, having examined my
counts, which he found perfectly just, he discharged me entirely from his employ, presenting
with five guineas in recompense for my services. I well knew my master had a niece, but
rhat had I to expect from her, when her father had treated me so inhumanly ? for had he
ttily empowered me to go to Jamaica, many gentlemen would have been glad to employ me.
ik heaven, however, he did not, for by that means I not only met my generous mistress,
rhom I did not even know by name, but also my revered and lamented master.
" Stranger in England, new to the customs and manners, I at first found it difficult to get
iploy ; but, after some time, was seldom at a loss, the gardeners and farmers about Islington
Imost constantly employing me. Here it was, as I believe you are informed, that I first met
rith Mr Palmer, and had some difficulty to persuade an apothecary to walk into the fields to
[leed him, and which I verily believe he would not have done, but from shame of offering him
dollar to keep until he was paid for his trouble. Alas ! nothing but the distress of a fellow
iture could have forced me to make the offer, for the dollar was presented me by Mr Wal-
on the day he rescued me from being marked on the back, since which period I had ever
rorn it in my bosom, having drilled a hole, and fastened it to a ribbon for that purpose.

62 THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST

w When I met my long-lost master at the watchmaker's, his person was so altered that it
totally escaped my recollection j yet the sound of his voice attracted my attention, and made
me anxiously examine his features, which, though I found exactly formed like those of the
person I lamented, yet the difference of ten years, complexion, and grey hairs, deadened my
hope, until he blessed me with a certainty by calling me the preserver of his life.

" To paint my joy is impossible ; let it suffice that I confess it the most happy day I ever
experienced, save one, that on which I enjoyed the pleasure of recalling to the minds of my
countrymen the virtues of their master. Often has he flattered me by naming me the
preserver of his life ; but it was his goodness and gratitude alone that gave rise to the idea
His virtues alone preserved him ; they wanted only to be remembered, to operate in their full
force."

When Felix ceased, Mr Godwin arose and stretching out his hand, said" To express th<
sentiments your narrative has inspired, would, I am sure, be displeasing to you ; I can therefon
only say, that for the time I have to live, I shall be much gratified by being ranked among tht
number of your friends."

Felix took the offered hand, pressed it to his bosom, and expressed his gratitude.

" Ah !" said Agnes softly to Fanny, " I would compound for all men's faces to be like
Felix's, to make them equally virtuous."

Fanny too expressed the satisfaction the narrative had given her, after which the conver-
sation took a more general turn, the favourite topic, however, being Mrs Palmer's goodness
numberless instances of which Felix repeated ; and among others told them, " that hot only Mr
Smith, where they now were, but also her brother, the surgeon, were totally indebted to he
for their present happiness, which," he concluded by observing, " they were perfectly deser-
ving of."

From this evening Felix rose considerably in the opinion of the family, Godwin eve-
assiduously seeking his company, and frequently beguiling his sorrow for an hour by
conversation.

CHAPTER XXVIII.
AT length the hour arrived when the unhappy Agnes was to feel the pangs of a mother ; he
strength, before exhausted, and her spirits sunken, she was ill able to bear the struggle c
nature, which was long and dreadful, being attended with repeated faintings and returns <
delirium, that left little hopes of her recovery, should she even live to be delivered. The kin
and attentive Fanny, almost equally agonized, kept close to her side, praying, whisperin
comfort, and entreating her beloved sister to support her spirits ; and forgetting everythin|
but that on her recovery depended the happiness of her friends.

At length the practitioner, who was particularly skilful, delivered her of a living daughtel
which he gave into the hands of the trembling Fanny, who, pressing it to her bosom, wef
over it in agony, Agnes being insensible for several hours that she was a mother.

When the child was presented to Mr Godwin, he received it in his arms ; and, raising hi
eyes to heaven, exclaimed " May the blessing of an old man, offspring of sorrow, hover ov<
thee ! may thou never feel the ingratitude of a beloved son, nor the shame of a delude
daughter ! may peace and innocence attend thy steps ! and," to conclude, " may thou be moi
virtuous than thy father, and happier than thy mother !" As he ended, he pressed its fa<
with his lips, and returned it to Fanny, who, laying it tenderly to sleep, was soon after oblige
to retire to her own bed, which was in the same room with that of her sister.

Agnes slept long and heavily during the night after her delivery ; but the effort had bee
too much for Fanny, who grew so ill, that Mrs Smith, who sat up with them, thought!
necessary to call in the medical practitioner, who declared that the emotion and fatigue she ha
sustained, had brought on a premature labour, and in two hours delivered her of a dead chil<

Agnes was perfectly collected when she awoke, though disturbed by the general confusion
and sensible of what had passed, the pangs of her sister redoubled her own. \Yceping ovj
her sleeping infant " Alas ! child of sorrow and shame," cried she, " thy birth has cost the li
of one who might have been the pride of its parents, and produced to the world with hon
while thou, unhappy babe," continued she, " if thou livest, will be scorned by the rigi
virtuous, and pitied by the gentle. Ah, may the same hour that closes thy unhappy mothei
close also thine ! and in my bosom thy innocent shame be buried with my weakness."

THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST. 83

Fanny, who was declared in no danger if kept quiet, ordered her bed to be placed close to
Lhat of Agnes; and taking the infant to her affectionate bosom, soon forgot she had given
Dirth to a dead child.

Mr Godwin, on the first alarm, had sent Felix to Inglewood, and who returned the next
.iay with William and Mrs Palmer.

William at once felt the sorrow of a dutiful son, a tender brother, and an affectionate
husband. His father's health was visibly on the decline; Agnes grew daily weaker ; his
Deloved Fanny was confined to her bed; and he had lost the second pledge of her affection.

Godwin led the way into the apartment, and casting his eyes mournfully around, said in a
low voice, ' Alas ! Edwin, couldst thou but see this thy work, it surely would awaken thce
to repentance."

Mrs Palmer drew near the bed of Agnes, and seeing her overcome with confusion, took her
hand, saying," Banish your fears, my good girl I came but to endeavour to speak peace to
your wounded spirit ; I have long learned to distinguish between guilt and weakness ; yours
!s forgiven by your earthly father, and I have no doubt by your heavenly one ; bear up, nor
aink under calamity ; your life is dear to your friends, and necessary to this little one ; endea-
vour then to overcome the unhappy sensibility that destroys you, and live to fulfil those claims
which friendship and paternal care have on your heart." " It will not be," replied Agnes ;
though sensible of the kindness of my friends, I rejoice that my dismission is at hand, and, like
a tired traveller, look forward to the hour of rest. For the little unfortunate I have no fears ;
f it survives, it will not miss a mother's tenderness," looking on Fanny. " Would you
believe it," continued she, " she gives it suck ; and, although a child of shame, lulls it to sleep
in her virtuous bosom !"

William, who was leaning over the bed of his wife, dropped a tear on her faco, and pressing
her hand to his lips, said in a low voice" Oh, Fanny ! how is it possible you can love Edwin's
brother."" Because I love virtue," replied Fanny, warmly, " and revere her in William
Godwin."" One thing alone," continued Agnes, after a long pause, during which no one
broke silence, " hangs on my spirits ; my unhappy child, should its birth transpire, may be
claimed by Edwin ; and Edwin, though, alas, he must be beloved until my heart shall cease
to beat, is not, I fear, virtuous enough to educate a daughter ; but what is education, or even
example !" looking at Fanny : " all I would therefore ask is, that, as she cannot be produced
at the Forest, without divulging my shame, and incurring the danger I dread, that she may be
put to nurse under the guidance of Mrs Smith, who is a good woman : my Fanny will at least
see her yearly, or perhaps, oftener ; and when time shall have obliterated my memory from
all suspicion, she will perhaps condescend to take her under her own care, and at a proper
age tell her the story of her unhappy mother : but conceal her father : for Edwin's child,
though unknown, ought to respect him."

Fanny attempted to reply, but Mrs Palmer prevented her, by saying " Warmly interested
For your family from the first moment I saw you, I flatter myself I have a proposal to make
which may be yet more agreeable. Fanny has already the cares of a mother, and from her
age, those claims may be greatly increased, and sufficient for her to fulfil. I have none of
those cares, no fears to apprehend, no scandal to dread, and have frequently wished, as I am
fond of children, for one whom I might rear from its infancy, and be witness of the growing
virtues I would endeavour to inculcate ; for if I failed, at least my heart should exculpate me.
I propose then to adopt this little stranger will hire her a nurse take her home with me in
a short time guard her during my life with care ; and, at my death, place her above those
temptations which prove so fatal to poverty."

" Best of women !" exclaimed Godwin, bending his aged knee, " accept an old man's thanks ;
but that God, whose precepts you follow, can alone requite you."

Mrs Palmer raised him. " Speak," said she, addressing Agnes, " do you approve of my
offer."

Agnes clasped her hands, but could only articulate an almost incoherent blessing.

I know not," said Fanny, " whether gratitude should compel me to silence, or affection
force me to speak ; but, sure of favour from all, affection for once shall get the better. From
the hour I found my little one was dead, I formed a plan, which, I trust, will meet the Appro-
bation of all ; it is to substitute this infant for my own, and to take it home as such. My
pregnancy," continued she, a slight blush crossing her cheek, " was visible, and known long

84 THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST.

before I left the Forest ; who then can suspect the deception ? surely none. The secret will
rest with ourselves and Mrs Smith, whom we can trust. To your proposal, madam," added
Fanny, " I would also make a reply, but am unequal to the task ; to refuse your generous
offer would be to be unworthy of it ; let the cares of the first year or two be mine, the rest
will more worthily fall on you ; and may she live to prove her gratitude !"

Agnes raised her eyes to heaven, and, after struggling a moment with her emotion,
exclaimed, " Merciful God ! I thank thee ; thou forgivest me, or blessings would not thus be
multiplied upon me !"

Mrs Palmer applauded Fanny warmly, saying, *' Be it as your tenderness has best devised,
most exemplary of sisters ! To ask the opinion of either your father-in-law or husband would
be superfluous ; their eyes sufficiently speak their sentiments ; the little one shall be baptized
here, and on your return, acknowledged your child and my goddaughter, which will, in some
measure, account for her hereafter residing with me."

The preliminaries thus seltled, Mrs Palmer, as Agnes appeared exhausted, proposed to
retire, and was accompanied by Godwin and William, the first in silence contemplating the
arrangement that had taken place, and the latter, in exultation which he could not suppress,
blessing the hour that allied him to Fanny.

They were soon after joined by Bernard, who had just arrived, anxious to see his daughters.
He was informed of all, and expressed the highest satisfaction of the arrangement, repeating
his unpolished thanks with a sincerity that politeness cannot always boast of.

On being introduced to his daughters, he scarcely knew which to caress most, and was not
a little delighted to find Agnes better than he had dared to hope, the return of her senses
being regarded by him as a certain symptom of recovery, embracing both his children, kissin?
the infant, and assuring the weeping Agnes it was as dear to him as herself.

He then observed that the absence of Godwin and William from the Forest made more
inquiries than that of his daughters, and pressed them to return with him the following day,
observing, with Mrs Palmer's leave, the babe might be baptized that evening, and all settled:
and when he reached home, he should give out that Fanny had misreckonedher time, and had
been unexpectedly delivered : and that Agnes was somewhat recovered, and with her sister,,
expected to return speedily.

" Ah, my father !" cried Agnes, " I shall indeed speedily return ; but never more shall
these eyes behold the Forest of Inglewood. Lay me by Mrs Godwin ; living, she would not
have despised me. nor have forbidden my dust to be mingled with hers. Fanny, my beloved
Fanny, shall return with my unhappy babe drawing life from her bosom ; hers shall return to
moulder in mine." " Why wilt say so ?" said Bernard ; " thou art better, I am sure, and do>
not make thy father unhappy, all will yet be well."

Mrs Palmer changed the discourse by giving her approbation to Bernard's plan of imme-
diately baptizing the child, that they might return, at least ail but Godwin, whom Fanny and
Agnes both entreated might remain.

The curate of a neighbouring village was then procured, and the child, by Mrs Palmer's
express desire, baptized after her, Anna Palmer, and truly registered as the daughter of Edwin
Godwin and Agnes Bernard, the generous sponsor first taking the clergyman aside, entrusting
him with the unhappy state of the mother, and entreating his secresy, which he promised.

The ceremony was just concluded, when the medical practitioner entered, and pronouncing
Agnes, on the whole, better, and Fanny almost recovered, entreated both might be kept quiet,
and soon after took his leave.

The following day Bernard and William departed for the Forest, and soon after Mrs Palmer
first bidding an affectionate adieu to the sisters, and promising to see them again speedily.

CHAPTER XXIX.

EDWIN, as before observed, had determined to get leave of absence, and endeavour todevelope
ill that was passing at Inglewood ; he had no doubt but Fanny had revealed to his father the
business of Harris, and immediately surmised that the health of Agnes was restored, and
removed from the Forest to be out of his power. Full of this idea, he prepared for his
departure ; neither the entreaties of his wife, nor yet the fascination of Mrs Whitmore, having
power to alter his purpose, or even to procure intelligence where he was going, Harris alone
being in the secret. Mrs Godwin, whose temper was naturally violent, and whose conduct

THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST. 85

lad proved how much she was attached to Edwin, could ill brook such constant neglect frem
a man she had raised even to the height of his own wishes ; and having in vain tried entreaties,
could no longer conceal the sentiments his conduct inspired, and gave free vent to her anger,
reprobating her own folly and his ingratitude in the strongest terms, all of which had no effect
but increasing his dislike to her, and forcing expressions that wounded her in proportion as she
ovt-d him. In short, the agitation of her mind brought on a fever, which raged with such
violence that her life was pronounced in the greatest danger, and Edwin's journey in conse-
quence stopped, not from affection, but merely to preserve appearances. Harris, however, he
mmodiately sent oil' to Mr Jeremiah Jenkins, to procure all possible intelligence, and endea-
vour to discover the retreat of Agnes. Mrs Godwin's fever, from its first appearance, had
been declared of the malignant kind, and on the tenth day manifested the most alarming
symptoms. Edwin was, therefore, with all due preliminaries, desired to prepare for an event
which might give him the highest pleasure in ezpectancy the death of his wife. His conscience
would, indeed, in spite of all his endeavours, be troublesome, and present his ingratitude in
strong and glaring colours ; but these qualms were more than counterbalanced by the rap-
turous idea of being at liberty to address Agnes, whose forgiveness he could not doubt,
circumstanced as they were ; and he possessed a fortune which, even disinterested as she was,
could not fail of having its proper weight.

The cold severity of his father, and the warm resentment of William, gave him some
uneasiness ; but even these he thought could be easily surmounted ; he should represent his
former conduct as an error he was unwarily drawn into, and throw himself totally on the
mercy of Agnes. Notwithstanding these meditations, he was so good an adept in the art of
dissimulation, as to conceal his pleasurable sentiments under the specious guise of concern and
tenderness, attending his wife with an unwearied care, which was applauded by the spectators,
and highly grateful to the unhappy object, who still loved him well enough to believe every
excuse he chose to advance for his past conduct, and every asseveration for the future, if she
was spared to him.

Thus, for her own satisfaction, happily deceived, she forgave all, and expired as he was
seated by her side, the unhappy victim of a misplaced affection, to which she had first sacri-
ficed her person and fortune, then her life.

Though this event was more wished than dreaded by Edwin, yet, when it arrived, it made
an impression which he could not immediately shake off, particularly as he had no pleasurable
resources in his own mind to banish the uneasy sensation, nor could in such a case seek them
abroad.

Mrs Godwin had particularly desired to be carried to the family vault of her parents, in
Leicestershire ; and partial, even in her last moments, to the unworthy object of her affection,
had requested he would attend to her remains, all which he faithfully promised, and as truly
performed.

During Mrs Godwin's illness Edwin had heard twice from Harris, but nothing satisfactory,
except that it was reported that Agnes's unhappy malady was rather decreased, and that
she had only been removed for change of air.

Possessed of this intelligence, he attended his wife's funeral, which was no sooner over than
he returned post to London, determined to settle his affairs with all possible despatch, repair
to Inglewood, procure his pardon, abjure his errors, and wed Agnes, as soon as her consent,
and decency, would allow.

He felt the influence wealth had on his own heart, and doubted not but it must also have
some on that of Agnes, and therefore determined on what he thought a master stroke to
silence all reproaches. This was no other than causing a deed to be properly executed, by
which he endowed her, on their marriage, with the entire command and disposal of the sum
of ten thousand pounds, which was more than the half of his property ; and that he thought
a full compensation for past errors, and what must effectually silence all present objections.

Thus prepared he determined to depart, and join his servant at Jenkins's, make every
necessary inquiry, then act accordingly ; but the evening previous to his journey received the
following letter from Harris :

Sir, I have been indefatigable in the business in which you have employed me, and hope
this time to retrieve my error at Inglewood. All my inquiries to discover the retreat of the
sisters were fruitless until yesterday morning, when I saw a chaise pass the inn at full speed,

80 THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST.

followed by your brother, and soon afterwards by the negro whom Jenkins mentioned. I lost
no time, but mounting my horse, kept them in view the whole day ; and towards evening saw
them stop at a small house near Richmond, where your brother handed out a lady and dis-
missed the chaise.

" As this plainly proved it the place of their destination, I rode into the town, entered an
inn, and having ordered supper, asked several questions, and among others, describing the
nouse, and pretending to admire the situation, inquired to whom it belonged? The waiter
replied, it was originally purchased by a lady of great fortune, but who was supposed to have
given it to a Mrs Smith, the widow of a sea-officer, and sister of a surgeon in the town,
whose name having enquired, I ceased my questions, fearful of incurring suspicion. The next
morning, being for your service, sir, conveniently seized with a bilious complaint, 1 walked to
the doctor's to procure a medicine, or rather intelligence, but found that the principal was
engaged with his patients, and a deputy, exactly suited to my wishes, left in care of the shop.
After drinking one of his infernal potions, which nothing but my respect to you, sir, could
have made me swallow, I retired, entreating he would call on me at my inn in half an hour, as
I assured him my disorder sometimes increased very suddenly, and required immediate
assistance. The fellow was punctual ; but being quite recovered by the first salutary draught,
I generously, sir, as I knew you would approve, presented him with a couple of guineas for
himself, and called for a bottle of wine. In short, sir, the money and my elocution charmed
him ; and the wine warming his heart, he grew communicative, and before we had finished
the second bottle, perfectly understood each other he answering my questions as readily as
I asked them. His master, he said, was a close old fellow, whom it would be useless to
interrogate ; and that for his own part, he knew little of the ladies at Mrs Smith's, except
that one had just recovered frem a melancholy state of insanity, but was supposed to be in
the last stage of a consumption ; yet, on the whole, she was, he heard his master say the
evening before, better than he had seen her. Not being able to procure more satisfactory
information, I dismissed him, having first finished another bottle, and obtained his promise of
calling on me again in the evening. I was, however, much vexed and disappointed, for he
returned in an hour miserably drunk ; and, with a melancholy face, informed me his employer
had discharged him, in consequence of his being in liquor.

" Sincerely vexed at this, I entreated him to go back, and endeavour to make his peace ;
but he assured me his master was so obstinate a dog, it would be of no avail ; nor did he, as
he said, much care, as he had long proposed to go to London. Thus obliged to acquiesce, I
made him farewell, and sat down to give you this information, waiting your orders at the
Angel Inn, in this town, not venturing near Mrs Smith's, lest I should be discovered by your
brother's wife, and give suspicion. Wat ing your answer with impatience,

" I am, sir, your humble servant,

" EDWARD HARRIS."

Edwin had no sooner read this letter, than instantly ordering a postchaise and four, he
departed, travelling day and night until he reached Richmond, rejoicing at the intelligence
that Agnes's senses were restored, and never doubting but, as her malady proceeded from his
falsehood, his return, ready to espouse her on any terms, would remove it.

At first he thought, of writing to his father or Agnes, but soon relinquished that project,
saying, as he considered on the subject " No, no, a personal interview, and that unexpected,
will be the most decisive for me ; a letter would be only productive of a consultation, in
which cold prudence would be predominant, and our meeting protracted ; while on the con-
trary, if I take them unprepared, on my knees entreat to be heard, plead for pardon, and
promise never more to err, nature will at once incline my father to pity, and love force my
Agnes to forgive, and once more receive my vows vows which I henceforward mean to hold
sacred, for where can I find such another angel ? Methinks I already feel the exultation I
shall experience on presenting her to the world she universally admired, myself universally
envied ; thus at once gratifying both my pride and love."

The ill state of health of Agnes would now and then -intrude, but elated with the flattering
picture ardent fancy had painted, he endeavoured to cast off all uneasy reflections, and think
alone of the pleasure that awaited him.

On his arrival at Richmond, he ordered the post-boy to the inn Harris had mentioned, and
found him waiting for either the letter or his arrival ; he could, however, inform him

THE FARMER OF 1NGLEWOOD FOREST. 87

nothing farther than what he before knew, except that he believed there were none of tha
male part of the Inglewood family at Mrs Smith's, as William and Bernard hud passed him
on horseback on the high road the afternoon he wrote the letter which brought Edwin with
such speed, and who arrived at Richmond the seventh day after Agnes's delivery.

This news was not unpleasing to Edwin ; he flattered himself he should be more success-
ful by taking Agnes alone, or at least only supported by Fanny; and therefore, regardless of
fatigue, he determined to lose no time, but visit them th.t t rery erening.

Harris would have dissuaded him from this step, as it was late, and he apparently much
fatigued, but in vain ; he ordered him to show him the house, which before they reached, it
was nine o'clock, and the night completely dark.

Arrived at the gate, Edwin dismissed his servant, and entered the court before the door.
An unusual tremor seized him as he raised his hand to pull the bell : and withdrawing
it without the effort, he paused a moment to reflect and recover his emotion. " Why do I
tremble thus?" said he, " what have I so much to dread, or whose frowns need I fear? An
hour's anger will be the most of the business, or a few reproaches, which I shall long to
silence, while uttered from the beautiful lips of my Agnes ; away then with this childish folly ;
I am determined to conquer, and triumph over every difficulty."

During this soliloquy he was walking round the house, the garden of which joined the fore-
court, and completely surrounded the dwelling.

In the back front was a door ; and what gave no small pleasure, it was half open. Deter-
mined, if possible, to determine whom he had to expect to meet with, he cautiously entered, ,
and for a moment stood still to listen ; but all was dark and quiet, except on one side, in a
parlour fronting the garden, where he perceived a light under the door. Emboldened by the
solitude around, he advanced, and lent an attentive ear, but no sound reached it. His eye
was next applied to the keyhole : but the apartment was apparently deserted, though he
could not see to the farther end, but plainly perceived two large candles burning on a table in
the centre. At that moment he heard a walking over head, and was on the point of retiring
hastily ; but again all was still, and he regained his post.

He now repented that he had not written first to Agnes, to inform her of all that had
passed his contrition and intention but it was too late. " Yet," continued he, after a
pause, " as I am so ridiculously weak to-night, I am half inclined to retire, first leaving on
the table in this apartment the deed which makes the greater part of my fortune over to
Agnes ; I have it in my pocket. I will show her I am free to offer her my heart, and prepare
her for my reception to-morrow. It is sealed and directed, so there can be no danger of
leaving it ; or should it by any means fall into other hands, it would be useless fortunate
thought ! it will save me a world of explanations, nor can she be insensible to it. I am
to-night overpowered with fatigue, and shall to-morrow urge my suit with redoubled ardour."

Thus resolved, he opened the door with caution, and convinced that the apartment was
npty, advanced ; but a scene at once presented that struck him with astonishment and
horror, for on the side of the room he had not before seen, stood on trestles a coffin, simply
decorated with the usual insignia of death. A cold swe.at bedewed his forehead, his knees
knocked together, and for some moments his feet seemed rooted to the ground. At length
" What business had I here !" exclaimed he ; "yet what is this to me? Cannot people die
without causing me this alarm ? I blush at my folly to be thus startled at the sight of a
mere wooden case ; yet, merciful God ! should it contain my father, for he was said to be ill ;
but, fool that I am he is doubtless at Inglewood. Distraction ! " continued he, viewing
the coffin, without approaching it, " I can bear no more ? Away, foolish fear ! I will be
satisfied, whatever be the consequence."

With these words he approached, and, with a forced courage, snatched one of the candles

from the table, and advanced towards the object of his terror, twice raising his hand before

- he could find strength to remove the lid ; which at length pushing aside, regardless of the

inscription, he discovered, in the calm sleep of death, the beautiful and once blooming Agnes,

with an infant on her bosom.

CHAPTER XXX.

EDWIN gave a cry of horror his strength forsook him the candle dropped from his enervated
hand, and he fell senseless on the ground by the side of the coffin. The noise alarmed the

p THE FARMER OF INGi^EWOOD FOREST.

house ; and Godwin, leaving Mrs Smith with Fanny, ran towards the apartment, being joined
on the stairs by Felix, who had heard the noise, and who was also hastening to learn the
cause. Though astonished on their first entering the room to find a man extended in all
appearance lifeless, on the floor, yet that sensation was speedily banished by humanity,
curiosity, and every other idea, giving way to the sensation of the intruder.

Edwin was in deep mourning, and had fallen on his face, which circumstance, added to his
dress, totally concealed him from the knowledge of his father. Felix, most alert, ran to raise
him, and turning him from the position in which he had fallen, at once discovered to Godwin
the face of his guilty son.

" Execrable murderer !" exclaimed the old man, withdrawing the hand he had stretched
out to assist him, as if it had touched a serpent, " dost thou persecute her even in death ?"

By the application of water to his temples, and the care of Felix, Edwin began to recover.
" Cease your attention," continued Godwin, gazing on him with a countenance impressed with
mingled grief and resentment ; " let him die, lest he live to commit more crimes, and swell the
account beyond the reach of mercy."

Edwin slowly revived ; and though neither fear nor superstition had any share in nis
character, yet his eyes first fixing on the figure of Felix bending over him (so powerful was the
sense of guilt), that striving to disengage himself, he exclaimed, shuddering with horror,
" Merciful God, who art thou?" His eyes at that moment met those of his father, and the
emotion occasioned by the person of Felix, as the lesser evil, instantly vanished, and hiding his
face on his shoulder, he cried " Hide me save me my father's presence is to much ! all else
I can bear." " Unhappy, guilty wretch !" exclaimed Godwin, " if you shrink thus from my
sight, how will you meet that of a justly offended God, from whom neither your crimes nor
murders are hidden ? The longest life spent in contrition and penitence can scarcely atone
for parricide, perjury, the violation of innocence, and the fell consequences of your depravity,
the death of one whose only fault was her misplaced tenderness; and finally, that of an un-
happy babe, doomed even in its mother's womb to fall a victim to your offences ! Can such
deeds, Edwin, hope for mercy ? If they can, delay not, but repent ; and with a sincere COH-
trition seek for pardon." " I dare not hope nor ask it," answered Edwin ; " I am forsaken o:
God, and ere this you must have cursed the day in which I received my being." " Alas !'
replied Godwin ; "in an unhappy hour of distraction, I indeed did more 1 cursed thyself:
but what is my curse seek to deprecate that of heaven guilty, that I was, when the mile
angel most injured, forgave, and even with her latest breath entreated pardon for thee !"
" Enough ," cried Edwin, " it is complete ; my own curse is fallen on my devoted head
repentance and contrition are vain ; can they recall the past reinstate me in innocence and
your affection bring back my mother from the grave, or awaken Agnes and her infant to life ?
" Her infant /" replied Godwin ; but instantly recollecting himself, and giving in to Edwin's
mistake, he added, " Thank heaven, her infant is beyond the reach of its inhuman father !"
" Oh God !" cried Edwin, in an agony of grief, as he gazed on the lifeless form, could I have
suspected this ! a child ! Oh! Agnes 1 Agnes ! what must have been thy sorrows! This>
babe, that might hnve been a pledge of love between us, is but a fresh weight to plunge me
yet deeper in perdition ! Oh, had she but lived to hear my penitence, to know my sorrows
or had even the infant been spared, that I might repair to it the wrongs done to its unhapp}
mother ! But it seems as if all the avenues of mercy were closed against me ! yes, I fool the
hand of heaven is upon me, and to struggle with my fate is vain. You weep, my father-
but what do I say ? I have no father, no brother I am alone cursed even in existence
Could tears of blood obliterate my offences, yet what would they avail ? Oh, that look o
innocence, his face falling on the bosom of Agnes, will sentence me to everlasting perdition."

The distress of Godwin was too powerful to be expressed in words; he leaned against
the foot of the coffin, and appeared ready to sink on the floor from the violence of his emo-
tion.

" You have called me your friend," said Felix, addressing Godwin ; " at this time permit

me to use the influence of one. Withdraw from this scene ; consider the situation of your

daughter-in-law, and the anxiety she is now labouring under."

With these words Felix gently took the arm of Godwin, who made no reply, and led him
from the sight of Edwin's unavailing sorrow.

Edwin, now left alone, gave way to the most frantic grief; he called aloud on Agnes exc

THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST. 89

ated himself wept over her kissed her cold lips and her right hand ; then raising her left
iat was his surprise to see on her finger that, ring which he had placed there on the fatal
ght of her undoing ! This silent but painful remembrance redoubled his anguish and dis-
[ction; he started, the hand dropped from between his, and striking his forehead with his
nched hands, he rushed out of the apartment, exclaiming " Hell ! hell ! thou const not
ve extremer torture !"

Felix, in the meantime, led Godwin to his daughter-in-law's chamber, where he forced him
swallow a glass of wine, then hastened down to the room where he had left Edwin, who was
ne, as already related, and in such confusion, that his hat still lay on the floor where it had
ret fallen.

Felix had but just communicated this intelligence to Godwin, when a ringing was heard at
>e gate, and which proved to be William, who was arrived from Tnglewood. His sorrow for
e loss of Agnes was not inferior to that of his wife and father, and was greatly increased by
e scene which he heard hud just passed. The news of Agnes's death had reached him two
f9 before, but the distress of Bernard had rendered him incapable of attending them there ;
e particulars of the unhappy event were therefore unknown to him.

Agnes had died on the third day after her delivery, the flattering symptons so frequent In
cays having suddenly disappeared, and given place to the immediate prognostics of ap-
oaching dissolution. Calm and resigned, she endeavoured to speak comfort to her weeping
ter, and the still more unhappy Godwin ; gave the kindest remembrances of duty to her
her, and gratitude to Mrs Palmer and William ; and, finally, in the broken snatches of her
eath, fervently prayed for her infant and Edwin.

* Oh, Father of Mercy !'* cried she, "by the peace thou hast designed to shed on my
ul, I trust I am forgiven ! Oh, extend the goodness to the partner of my crime ! awaken
m to repentance and virtue ; his faults are not beyond thy power to pardon ; error to
an is as inherent as mercy and forgiveness are to thee. Bless my babe ; may every sorrow
lave felt be repaid by a blessing on my child ! Make her worthy those friends thou hast
sed to shield her from the opprobrium that must have otherwise fallen on her helpless
nocence ! At some distant time may her father love her as I would have done ! so shall my
frit, if permitted 'to look down on earth, be gratified." Agnes ceased for a few moments,
id appeared to struggle for breath ; hut recovering in some degree, she resumed, addressing
odwin " Oh, my dear, my honoured parent !'for so I will call you for this last time, give
t way to sorrow ; weep not for me ; Fanny will repay my debt of love and duty. Fanny,
y beloved companion, sister, friend, what words can I find to address thee, or what blessings
ual to my wishes ! The strongest I express is, thy own deeds hang over thee ! Assist my
>rthy brother in comforting my father ; tell him I wished to fix my last looks on him. Then
rning her expiring eyes towards Godwin, she added, after a painful and convulsive pause
31ess all my friends ! Pardon, my father, pardon the deluded Emma ! tell her I remembered

1 at this awful hour : and, oh, God of Mercy, hear my prayer ! forgive my unhappy Edwin."

This sentence .she pronounced with energetic earnestness, her eyes raised with fervent
pe, and a sweet smile of placid happiness enlivening her features ; then gently bowin? her
ad forward, as she pronounced the last word, expired without a groan, struggle, or any
nvulsion that might mark the final separation of the active spirit from its earthly tenement.

Though this event had long been expected, yet the shock it occasioned was dreadful ; had
t Godwin's grief been diverted by the situation of his daughter-in-law, he had undoubtedly
nk under it ; but her sorrow, in some measure, beguiled him of his own. She had been
lirious the whole night after her sister's death, calling aloud on Agnes, and struggling to get
t of bed to go to her; but exhausted by the exertion, towards morning had fallen into a
avy sleep, during which Mrs Smith had persuaded Godwin to have the body of Agnes
moved, as the sight at a future period would but increase 1 er grief. Fanny, after a few
UTS' rest, awakened, relieved from the fever, and resigned to her loss, the acuteness of her
rt sorrow sinking into a serenity that at once bespoke her fortitude and religion.

At first she seemed dissatisfied that Agnes was removed, but her father's reasons were
mitted with a sign of acquiescence, and pressing the babe to her bosom, she exclaimed
\gnes, if ever I forget thy worth, so far as to love any child more than this thy sacred
posit, may the Almighty shew me my error and ingratitude by depriving me of it !"

In the morning a man had been sent off to Inglewood by the surgeon, as Felix could ill be

90 THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST.

spared, in the general distress, to convey the news by letter to Mrs Palmer, entreating her to
break it to Mr Bernard and William, the former of whom had been so violently shocked at the
intelligence, that William, however distressed, and anxious to attend his wife and father, could
not determine to leave him until he became more calm.

Agnes, in this interim, had been put into the coffin, and the babe of Fanny, conformable to
what she had herself expressed, placed by her side. This arrangement had likewise another
incentive; Fanny wished her infant to be buried at Inglewood, and by this means she
was conveyed thither, without the questions which a second coffin would doubtless have
occasioned.

On Agnes being placed in her last receptacle, Mrs Smith had attempted to draw the ring
from her finger ; but either from the stiffness of death or its swelling, had found this difficult
to effect, and therefore had referred the task to her brother, in which interim Edwin had
arrived, and added redoubled anguish to the yet bleeding wounds of the family.

William, on his first arrival, hastened to the chamber of Fanny, whom he found employed
in endeavouring to restore his father to some degree of calmness. He looked at her in silent
admiration ; traces of the most poignant affliction sat on every feature, yet she evidently
endeavoured to suppress her own feelings, fearful of adding to the general unhappiness.
Having first embraced his father, he advanced towards her, and throwing his arms about her
as she sat up in bed, could only express his sorrow by speechless agony. For some time she
joined her tears with his ; but soon recovering her emotion, she said" Is this. William, tha
way you should teach me fortitude? We both love Agnes, as our actions to this little one
shall prove, but we have also other duties to fulfil to comfort our parents, by conquering our
own grief and enabling them to bear theirs by shewing them they have children yet left tf
soften the sorrows of their age. "

" Matchless woman !" cried Godwin, " with such a monitor should William ever err, ho*
heavy must be his condemnation !" Then struggling with his emotion, he had entered into
the particulars of what had passed, expressing his concern at the outrageous grief of Edwin s
and his surprise how he could enter the house, and also depart so privately.

This mystery was, however, soon explained by Felix, who informed them that the glaa
door to the garden had been left open, and that he had doubtless entered and departed tha
way. His discovering their retreat was also a subject of wonder : but his apparent ignorancf
respecting the infants convinced them that his intelligence could not give them materia
uneasiness, as he would not fail to keep secret the share he had in Agnes's death.

" Good heaven !" cried Godwin, " should the unhappy boy, in this hour of anguish, rush int*
the presence of his Creator ! Alas ; I qven yet tremble at the remembrance of the horror an<
despair which distorted his features !"

William made no reply, but soon after leaving his father and Fanny, he, with Felix, walkei
into the town, and inquired at the various inns for his brother, both by name and describinj
his person. At the last he called, he was told that such a gentleman had that very evenia|
arrived about seven o'clock, and inquired for a man who had resided there for near a week
that both had gone out together, but returned separately ; the first returned in a short time
and the other, after some stay, in a state of frenzy ; that he had struck his companion, anc
ordered a chaise and four almost instantly after his return, and, finally, had gone, accompanies
by the man, who was apparently his servant, near two hours.

With this intelligence, William hastened to his father, to whom he disclosed it, being more
reconciled, on the reflection that Edwin was not, at such an hour of deserved punishment
left entirely to himself.

William, before he retired for the night, stole alone to the receptacle that contained nil
lister Agnes, and kissing her cold lips, cheeks, and forehead, bade her a final adieu.

" Merciful God !" exclaimed he, as he gazed on her, " is this all that is left of the beauteom
and blooming Agnes, who two years since was hailed the Queen of May, whose lively har-
monious note was most distinguished in the song, and whose active stp was foremost in th
dance? Cruel Edwin, what hast thou done! grasped at a shadow, and cast from thee a
treasure never, never to be regained !"

By Fanny's desire, the burial was delayed until she should be able to return to Inglewood
the coffin, therefore, on the following day, was closed, the surgeon first taking off the ring
which was now removed without difficulty, the swelling having entirely subsided. A few

THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST. 9F

lings after arrived the friendly and humane Mrs Palmer ; William now lost no time, but
jsing an affectionate farewell of his wife and father, delighted to leave them in such hands,
hastened away, in order to administer comfort to the distressed Bernard.

CHAPTER XXXI.

IJWIN, on his rushing out of the house, had, as the man truly told William, returned in a
lite little short of frenzy, and having no other object on whom to vent his rage, had struck
larri.s and cursed him in the bitterest terms, accusing him of, twice drawing him into the
Lst horrible dilemmas. Harris, however had borne all with temper, endeavouring to per-
|ade his master to bed, but in vain : he insisted on a chaise being instantly made ready, and
tting off immediately for London. ' I will fly," said he in a paroxysm of rage, " I will fly,
Id forget them all ! a father tdo ! Accursed night, in which I purchased a momentary
latification at the expense of years of pain ! infernal villain that I was, to take advantage
the alarm and emotion my arts had created ! But I am justly punished the pangs of hell
nnot equal those I feel. My wife, too (accursed name), died, as if on purpose to mock my
pes! Another murder! Well well well ! is not my number yet complete ! For what
.ve I now to live ? nothing ! My dearest hopes destroyed, and by whom ? fool, knave,
|.ot, miscreant, that I am by myself!"

The chaise being prepared, he threw himself in, and had advanced three stages towards
bndon by the next morning, when he found himself too ill to proceed, and was unwillingly
lliged to give war to Harris's entreaty, and retire to bed. Rest, however, was not to be
ocured, even by the fatigues he had undergone, the horrors that distracted him redoubling-
quiet and inaction: in a few hours his overcharged brain lost the faculty of distinctly
linking, and he was bewildered in frenzy. Harris immediately called in medical assistance,
no pronounced him in a high fever, and used the necessary means to relieve him : but all
leir cares were unavailing : for three weeks his delirium continued with short intervals, the
l.roxysms being not only dreadful to the sufferer, but also to the beholders, dashing his head
|ainst the bed posts, striking his forehead, gnashing his teeth, and calling perpetually on
les, his wife, and mother " Take them away," cried he, "drive them back to the grave,
jy torment me to death my wife has poisoned me my mother has shot me through the
lad and Agnes," exclaimed he, with redoubled emotion, u has struck a poignard through
\Y heart. Murder murder who has committed murder ? Not I. I can kill without
jiison, pistol, or dagger my love can do the business. Now see see they all laugh at me !
xy, then I'll laugh too ha, ha, ha ! Oh, oh ! Agnes, Agnes."
These paroxysms were usually followed by insensibility ; nor was his delirium always
Iving, but frequently partook of the melancholy cast, yet always referred to the same object*.
|." Hark !" said he, "they are letting Agnes's coffin down into the grave they are placing
on my mother the worms that will devour the first will now feast on the last. See two
|.e already fixed on her ruby lips, and one in the dimple of her downy cheek ! will no one
love them ? Call my wife she can take them off, for she helped to fix them there. Tell
\.r I'll give back all her wealth. What ! cannot ye find her ? Seek her then in the charnel
Use -. bid her take all, but save my Agnes."

Such was the unhappy fate %>f Edwin, a victim to his own crimes, and a terrible example
fat the pangs of conscience can render even this life a hell, though possessed of youth,
rength, beauty, understanding, and wealth.

At length he began slowly to recover, but was for above three months unable to leave the
where he was taken ill. When he gained a little strength, he made short excursion*
|und the country, carefully avoiding all correspondence with his family, whom he could now
bear to think of, as he was convinced that they must regard him as the cause of all their
[isfortunes, and hate him accordingly.

A month after Agnes's death she was removed to Inglewood for interment ; Godwin, Ber-
I, and William, preceding the hearse on horseback, in deep mourning, and with hearts yet
>re gloomy than their habits. At a short distance behind was Mrs Palmer's chaise, contain-
J5 herself, Fanny, and the little one, attended by Felix on horseback, in which order they
;hed the Forest in two days, the scattered inhabitants of which, being informed by the di-
jssed Bernard of the time the body would arrive, having collected to receive it at the
rtance of a mile from home ; the elders on horseback, the youths on foot, in their best habi-

92 THE FARMER OF 1NGLEWOOD FOREST

liments, attending, the maidens in white gowns and muslin hoods. On meetrng the cavalcade
the hearse was stopped, and six young farmers drawing- the coffin, proceeded with it to church,
two young girls walking before strewing flowers, eight supporting the pall, and the remainder
following, with the youths singing a funeral hymn.

The whole family, together with Mrs Palmer, had so strongly urged Fanny to be taken im-
mediately home, that she consented, though with difficulty, the lady accompanying her.

The alteration that three months had made in little Reuben, who was now near a year old,
his artless caresses, the jealous curiosity with which he appeared to view the young stranger,
all conspired to blunt the acuteness of her grief. He viewed the infant's hands, touched its
feet, chuckled, and finally held up his chubby face to kiss her. Fanny pressed both to her
bosom, wept over them, and her tears having eased her overcharged bosom, by the time the
mourners returned from the funeral, she calmed her emotion and received them with com-
posed firmness.

It was happy for Fanny that she had been dissuaded from attending the burial, for God-
win's distress had deeply affected the spectators. The earth had been removed from Mrs
Godwin's coffin in digging the grave of Agnes, who was placed by her side ; which sighl
redoubled his grief to such an excess, that his son could scarcely support him, Bernard wring-
ing his own hands, yet sobbing words of comfort to his brother-in-law.

" Oh, Agnes, Agnes!" cried Godwin, "would I had died for thee ! how much bettei
would my age have become the grave than thy youth and sweetness !" " Be comforted, my
best friend," said Bernard, taking his hand ;. "it breaks my heart to see you thus lament a
child of mine. God gave her, and has taken her back ; but he hath left us other children
therefore be comforted."

Ail stayed until the grave was closed, when Bernard taking the right arm of Godwin,
William holding the left, they proceeded homewards, accompanied by the friendly villagers
who saw them safely enter their own house, and then departed in silence to their respective
homes.

For some weeks the family remained absorbed in grief ; at length the lenient hand of time
began to reconcile them to their loss, and the living rather than the dead caused their tears
to flow.

By Mrs Palmer's bankers in town they had made inquiries concerning Edwin, and learn
his lady's death but of himself nothing ; as to Emma, all respecting her was silent ; th
family therefore would have thought themselves more happy to weep on their graves, than con
tinually to deplore the errors of their lives.

Godwin's health, in the meantime, appeared by almost imperceptible degrees to recovei
but his former muscular strength was gone, and he was reduced into a thin old man.

Felix, whom he had introduced to Bernard, was their favourite companion, and frequent!
helped them to beguile their long winter evenings with tales of his former days, the unhapp
state of the negro slaves under inhuman masters, and numberless other subjects, all new t
Bernard, who, on the relation of any exertion of cruel power, would clench his fist, scarcel
refrain an oath, and wish he had the fair breaking of the oppressor's bones.

Reuben at first, on the appearance of Felix, would hide his face in his mother's apron, bu
soon grew familiar ; would run to meet him, climb on his knees, or explore his pocket for a
apple, which was usually deposited there.

William, by his activity and good management, took the whole care of the farms on him
self, Fanny being equally diligent in her department.

Margery, according to her promise to Mrs Godwin, was only employed with the children
two strong girls, as the family was large, being taken for the household work.

CHAPTER XXXII.
EDWIN had in some degree recovered his health, as before observed, but his spirits ha
received a blow not easily overcome ; he determined to hasten to London, dispose of his com
mission, retire abroad, and endeavour by travelling to conquer his melancholy ; but, befo
he went, resolved to rido over to the Forest, visit the grave of Agnes, and take an everlastin
farewell of the spot. One fine morning he accordingly executed his purpose, having been f
some days within a few miles ; and leaving his horse at a house of entertainment at the villag

THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST.

talked forward to the well known churchyard. A plain stone, with his mother's
larked the spot where she was laid, and by its side stood one equally simple, with this
|iscription :

AGNES BERNARD,

DIED SEPTEMBER 10, 17,
AGED 19.

His mind, though inured to sorrow, was not proof against this trial ; he threw himself on
ie ground, and wept aloud for a considerable time, until a labourer coming over the stile
hustling, disturbed him from his posture, the man, by his spade and shovel, showing he was
>ing to make a residence for some new inhabitant.

The fellow, who had only come to the Forest to assist the sexton, who was a man in years,
nee Edwin's departure, seeing a fine gentleman, pulled off his hat, made a leg, and said,
Mayhap, sir, if you be a stranger, you may wish to see our church?" Edwin conquered
mself sufficiently to reply in the negative, and was about to depart when the countryman
Ided " You ha' been reading the gravestones belike : I used to read them myself before I
so much among them. Many a time have I spelled over them till I cried again, but now
think little about such matters, or if I do, I sing or whistle to drive them out of my head."

Edwin made no answer ; he wished to tear himself away, but could not remove his eyes
jm the grave of Agnes.

" Ah, master ! you be looking at that there new stone," said the man. " If you had but
n the girl it covers, you would have owned you had never met her like. Poor soul ! she
;nt mad for love and died : " D n the fellow " say I, " that occasioned it ! he could never
.ve the heart of a m;m. for had I been king of England, member of parliament, or even lord
ayor of London, I would sooner have took her with a single smock, than any far-fetched
incess, though she brought her weight of gold and diamonds."

This simple eulogiumstruck Edwin to the heart. He could bear no more ; so hastily throw,
j the man a crowu, he covered his eyes with his handkerchief, and precipitately departed.
He had not proceeded far when he perceived a woman and two children at some distance,
d soon discovered it to be Margery. He would feign have avoided her ; yet a thousand fond
meinbrances rose on his heart, softened as it was by the foregoing scene, and determined him
t to shun her.

Anne, now four months old, was in her arms, while Reuben, holding up her apron, trotted
her side. Margery gave a cry of surprise : her master's children had all been fondled in her
ns/and were as dear as though they had been her own. She was shocked at the wan and
iguid countenance of Edwin, and readily agreed to sit down and converse with him.
" Lovely children !" said he, caressing them ; " I did not know my brother had a second,
ippy William, thou art blessed while I am cursed ! thy virtue is indeed rewarded, and my
.e is punished. This little one, I think," continued he, with a sigh, " has the features of a
1, born, I suppose, in the height of calamity." " She was born,*' replied Margery, "three
s before Agnes's death my mistress was frightened into labour by her agonies; but, thank
d, the child is strong and hearty."

Edwin gnashed his teeth in anguish, and for some moments was unable to repiy. At length
uttered in a tremulous tone" Well, well, say no more; lam punished, even sufficiently
ratify the most rancorous hatred." " And who hates you ?" said Margery. " If wishes for
repentance are hatred, then do they indeed hate you, for prayers are never said at night
hout you and Emma being particularly remembered." " I thank them," replied Edwin,
ghtily, pride for a moment overcoming every other sensation. " But let us banish the
ject. Tell me, Margery, all that relates to my Agnes, and I will sit, while I have life, to
ir ; you, I am sure, know every secret, and are acquainted with all my follies." " Follies !"
lied Margery, "that is the London name, I suppose, for wickedness. Little did I think,
n I nursed you in these arms, that you would turn out such a bad man."
Sickness and sorrow had depressed the spirits of Edwin ; he therefore bore the reproaches
argery with more temper than he usually possessed ; and at length conciliated her so far,
she related to him the whole process of Agnes's illness, her delirium, and constant allu-
to the ring, with the repetition of" I am Edwin's wife !"
win's heart was pained with the recital ; he wept aloud, but entreated her to continue,

94 THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST

" I have no more to say," answered she ; " by what I have heard, you "know the rest toi
well. How you could seduce her I never could devise, for surely a better or more modes
girl was not under the sun. You must have used some of your London potions, I suppose
for I have heard of such things, or surely she never could have been overcome."

Edwin denied the accusation. " No, Margery," said he ; I am sufficiently guilty withou
that crime. But relate to me every circumstance ; why was my beloved removed fror
Inglewood ?" " Why, marry, to hide your shame, for I cannot call it hers ; she was remove*

to lie-in privately, and there " " Died !" groaned Edward. " Alas ! too well do I kno\

that." " Her pangs were so heavy, that they frightened your brother's wife into labour 1
Agnes died in three days, and the child was buried with her." " Enough ! cease !" exclaim
Edwin, " unless you would drive me to distraction. Methinks I see them now ; never w
the remembrance be effaced from my memory."

Margery was, as Edwin truly observed, in all the secrets of the family ; a faithful servi
of thirty-seven years had entitled her to confidence, and she was most worthy the tru
Her answers to Edwin were strictly true, yet they disclosed nothing she was bound
conceal.

" And now, Margery," said Edwin, after a pause, " I will now bid you farewell a lo
farewell, for heaven only knows whether we may ever meet again."

" What ! without seeing any of the family ?" replied Margery. " Surely you cann<
mean it."

" I would sooner face death than either Bernard or my father," answered Edwin ; " an
for William, even when he was in town, and did not know the extent of my follies, he sho
me from him like an adder, whose very touch was venomous ; what, then, should I expe
now? No, Margery, they all hate me, and I will leave them for ever. Had Agnes lived,
might have sued for pardon, and they perhaps bestowed it ; as it is, all is now immateria
my destiny is fixed. I will seek that villain that seduced my sister, and on his accursed he
rsvenge the misery he has for ever entailed on me!"

" God mend us all !" sighed Margery. " I wish you would not be so passionate, but lea
vengeance to God ; you may be sure it will overtake him ; besides, the scripture says, ' Plu
the beam out of thine own eye, before thou takest the mote from thy neighbour's ' or wor
to that purpose ; but I suppose you have forgot your religion since you turned a rich gent
man. Your fine London wife too (God rest her soul !) I hear is dead ; she was surely great
to blame, for she well knew you were engaged to Agnes. I have seen enough of Londom
to make me dislike them as long as I live. They well repaid your father's kindness ; but
them, all had been right your mother alive Emma virtuous Agnes a blessed wife i
mother and you, instead of being an unhappy fine gentleman, a plain, honest, cheer
farmer, like your father, beloved by the whole country, and almost adored by your family.'

Edwin was for a few minutes too much affected by the reflection to reply, and wt-pt b
terly ; while little Reuben, who had stuck himself between his knees, peeped up in his fa
with mournful sympathy, and, taking up his frock, wiped off the falling tears.

" It grows late," said Edwin, " and I must be gone. Tell my father and William that
have seen me, and that, if I hear of Emma, they shall know it. Say to Bernard, that wov
my life and all I possess recall the past, I would rejoice at the forfeiture. Say also to Fan
that if she knew what passes here (laying his hand on his heart), though she must hate
vet her pity would so far surpass her hatred. Farewell," continued he, kissing first Reub
and then the little girl, who chuckled at the pressure of his lips ; " by heaven !" cried
" she has the smiling mouth of Agnes, and the beauteous dimple of her cheek. Ol, n
they hen-after tempt no villain to destroy them ! or, if they should," continued he, aftei
pause "may he, if possible, be still more cursed than I am !" With these words he r<
hastily from the turf on which he was sitting, and waving his hand as he ran, ere Margi
could make reply, was almost out of sight.

What had passed seemed to Margery almost a dream ; she however, as speedily as possit
returned home, and related all to the family. Edwin's pallid and altered person she did i
fall to describe, together with his apparent contrition and sorrow for the past, observing I
likeness between the infant and Agnes, his vowed vengeance on Whitmore, and his firm
viction that he was too much abhorred by the whole family ever to meet their pardon.

" We hate him not," replied Godwin, "but abhor his crimes ; to expiate them is imp*

THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST. 95

unless repentance could awaken the dead. Let him, by the most exemplary conduct*
avour to make his peace with heaven, which is far more material than the pardon of a
old man, which, however, shall not be withheld if he returns to virtue ; for shall an err-
ortal deny to his fellow-sinner what God hath promised to all? But. for my part, I will
cruplc to say that this frenzied sorrow und contrition appear to me rather the effects of
ojdisappointed passion than sincere repentance ; penitence is calm ami humble, and by the
blameless conduct endeavours to obliterate the errors of the past by the immci-nce of tho
e. It is not so with Edwin ; did he not say he meant to seek revenge on Whitmore ? and
hat? a crime that he has himself more than doubled, for no promise or rxprrt.uu-y of mar-
could seduce Emma ; she was acquainted with his situation, and voluntarily rushed into
while Edwin's was a premeditated and cruel seduction, rendered doubly atrocious by
epoated perjuries, when even at the moment he was the husband of another. Is he, then,
n to draw the sword of vengeance ? Surely not ! his heart must fail him in such a ren-
re, and his guilt-struck conscience enervate his arm. Had he indeed said, I will leave
e scenes which first seduced my unsuspecting innocence, fly from pride and ambition,
Emma, and by my own repentance and conduct, endeavour to influence hers, or, if
1, retire to some peaceful retreat, and dwell in inoffensive obscurity then indeed might
leart have cherished hope j but, as it is, 1 fear this contrition will wear off, and his vitiated
, like a rank soil, produce fresh thorns to wound us." " Though I am convinced,'' re-
Beraard, " that your opinion is usually better than mine, yet in this case I must differ
you ; ana I cannot say but he would make a great step towards my forgiveness, if I
d he had fairly killed that villain Whitmore." " Would murder, then, think you, lessen his
es ?" answered Godwin ; " for a duellist is at once a suicide and a murderer ; if he falls,
he not rush uncalled into the presence of his God ? or if he conquers hateful alterna-
has he not sought and spilled the blood of his fellow ? There does not live the man,
lard, no, not even Edwin, who has most injured you, that you would slay; nor, on calm
[deration, would you approve the action in another. Reason disclaims it : it is merely the
ring of false honour, which sacrifices the nobler feelings of the soul at the altar of pride
vain glory a mask of bravery to cover cowardice, big words and rash actions frequently
ealing a trembling and dastardly heart. True courage, in my opinion, consists in bearing
ommonills which attend human nature with calmness, not suffering my own temper to be
ed at the folly or knavery of others ; to be able to repulse violence or insult with a firm
ness : to defend the weak and oppressed with steadiness : in fine, to seek the life of no
, but if our own is attacked, to defend it as a sacred trust deposited in our hand by the
t Creator, and not to be pusillanimously surrendered. Oh, my friend ! can the blood of
tmore recall the past ? can it restore us peace, or her innocence ? Ah, no ! it can do
e of these ; it can only plunge his corrupt soul beyond all repentance, and heap fresh
es on the head of Edwin."

With ycur approbation, my father," said William, " I will write to Edwin, and give him
oint opinion on the subject; a letter will doubtless find him at the house of his late wife."
The action will become you, my son," replied Godwin, " and acquit you to your own
rt, whatever may be its success."

(Villiam, in the evening, wrote to his brother, not, it is true, with the same friendly spirit
formerly dictated his letters, but with manly firmness, and without reproach, conjured him
bstain from every action which might contribute to increase his father's uneasiness ; and
if by any means he should meet with Emma, to endeavour, by lenient measures, to draw
from guiit, and leave vengeance to that power who had called it his own peculiar province.

CHAPTER XXXIII.
JVIN had no sooner parted with Margery but he hastened forward to the little public house
re he had left his horse, and mounting him, set off at full speed, in vain endeavouring to
ish the uneasy reflections that oppressed him. At night he slept at the distance of thirty
is from tfce Forest, and next day joined the servant, who waited for him at Ferry-bridge.

ordej-ed him to prepare to depart the next morning for London ; and, upon the whole,
TIS considered him as more calm than before his journey.

On his arrival in town he repaired to his own house, and for the first time sincerely lamented
. . wife. At least, had she lived," said he, " 1 should have had one friend ; unhappy woman,

96 THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST.

she proved how much she loved me by the sacrifice she made ; and I requited her as I di(
the rest ! Henceforward I must live for myself alone : if life is desirable on such conditi<
money must purchase substitutes for happiness, for the reality is for ever vanished from m(

Three days after his arrival he received William's letter. " They have not quite cast
off," said he ; " but. how altered ! William's letters used to breathe nothing but friends
this contains only cool advice ; and that given, methinks, as if he felt the superiority of
virtue : and is rather dictated to preserve the peace of the family than out of affection to
I will therefore simply thank him in his own style, and act as my fate shall direct, for my
is neither valuable to myself nor to others."

He then sat down and replied to William's letter, thanking him for his advice, say
" That though he had been heretofore unfortunate enough to cause his father great unha
ness, yet he hoped in future to give no fresh subject; that he meant to relinquish
commission, and go abroad ; from whence, if his present disposition continued, he shoulc
in all probability, return ; concluding the whole by expressing his best wishes for the happ
of his family, and duty to his father."

His next care was to settle his money concerns, dispose of his house, and relinquis
commission. His favourite companion (Mrs Whitmore) had been gone two months
Continent, but her place of destination was uncertain, nor had Edwin the most slender
to be apprised of it, for the hearts of neither had any share in this connection. Oa
Whitmore's part it was only to gratify her pride, by having so handsome a fellow in her t
but after in vain expecting his return for six weeks, her patience was exhausted, and she
sought amusement in the gayer scenes of France.

Edwin's attachment was merely licentious, and consequently the sentiments she ins
on calm reflection, rather caused disgust than pleasure. During his stay in the counti
had scarcely thought of her; and even now, on his return, felt no inclination to renev
acquaintance, had she been even on the spot.

All this business settled, he set off for Paris, which he reached in safety, where a new s
of dissipation presented, and sometimes, for a short season, banished the cruel remernbr
that destroyed his peace; his fortune procured him admittance into the most fashionable
ties ; and his pride was gratified at the expense of large sums, which he was perpetually
at play. One evening that he happened to be at the French Comedy, he discovered
Whitmore in the opposite box, who also perceived her recreant lover, and gave him a sm
invitation ; but he only replied by slightly bowing, without, offering to move from his sitiu

" And is it possible," said a sprightly Frenchman, who was present, and spoke En
"that you can be insensible to so charming an invitation? The lady, however, will
be console'd ; she is universally admired as an English beauty with French manners."

Soon after, two gentlemen of distinguished rank entered Mrs Whitmore's box, and tippi
to pay her the most marked attention. " There now," said the Frenchman, ' I told
the lady would soon be revenged on your coldness ; you have missed an opport.unit}
to be regained ; for Dumaresque is at once the most gallant as well as the most hand
man in Paris/'

It has been before observed, that vanity was one of the most predominant passio
Edwin: therefore, though his heart was totally indifferent in regard to Mrs Whitmor
resolved to show the Frenchman his mistake, and immediately repaired to the lady's
At first she received him with coldness ; but after a time with her usual indulgence.
observed he was much altered, and uncommonly dull ; a circumstance he accountec
by informing her of his illness. In short, the meeting, after some little discourse, appt
rather agreeable to both; Edwin's vanity being gratified by showing the Frenchman
he could easily regain the opportunity he had apparently lost.

At the conclusion of the piece Edwin waited on the lady home, where she venture
questions respecting the business that had so completely concealed him since the dc.itl
wife : but he was in no humour to gratify her curiosity, and she soon changed the di;
to more lively subjects. After supper, having drank plentifully of wine, he jjrew diet
and, for the first time since Agnes's death, a smile enlivened his features. Before
separated for the night they agreed to keep house jointly ; for who could presume to set
lize a lady who was under the protection of her brother I

Edwin now no longer felt bis former compunction ; he was rejoiced that he had met

THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST. 97

who could help to divert his chagrin, and sometimes banish painful remembrances from
fancv ; his temper, however, had suffered beyond the fascination of Mrs Whitmore to
tove ; to his domestics he was harsh and unkind, was frequently inebriated, and gave way
;he most outrageous passions on the most trifling subjects.

After four months' stay at Paris, Mrs Whitmore expressed a wish to see Brussels ; to
*ch Edwin having no objection, they departed, and reached that city, where they entered
h avidity into the various amusements ; the lady from a natural love of dissipation and
asure, and her companion as a kind of soporific, to lull the torments of reflection.
Harris being sent for, had hired apartments in a large furnished hotel; and in about a
night after the remainder of the house was engaged for an English family that were daily
>ected, and who accordingly arrived late one evening, after Edwin and his companion had
red to rest.

The following morning, as Edwin was descending the stairs, he was surprised by the sight
Whitmore's valet on the lower story, and the moment after, by Emma herself, who came

of one of the apartments to give orders. He immediately hastened down, opened the door
the room she had re-entered, and presented himself before her. An exclamation of mingled
onishment and pleasure escaped her, and opening her arms to embrace him. sho cried " Is

ossible, my dear brother, that I meet you here ?" But putting her back, he answered, " I
ve nothing to say to you, infamous girl ; with your paramour 1 have a long account. How
t possible, at your age, to have so soon forgotten the precepts inculcated in your youth?"
Ah, how is it possible, indeed, Edwin," answered she, "to forget the lessons of whole years
an instant ? To confess the truth, my dear brother, (for I cannot adopt your coldness or
ger,) I but followed your lead ; your marriage to Mrs Delmer but paved the way to my
ht, as it furnished opportunities too difficult to be resisted : but smooth your ruffled brow,
d tell me all the news ; your wife, we have heard, is dead. Are you prepared to do justice
Agnes? Ah, Edwin, that was a bad business ! How are all the dear family at Inglewood?

though I have learned to laugh at their prejudices, I have not learned to forget them ;
t I fear they have forgotten me."" Your mother, at least, has forgot you," replied Edwin,

or your conduct has " " Oh God ! " interrupted Emma, trembling, " do not speak

at I dread to hear ! for though I am convinced that I have acted right by following the
tates of reason and nature, unshackled by the ties of priestcraft, yet I cannot bear to think

should be fatal to her." "The dictates of hell and damnation!" exclaimed Edwin.
The infernal sophistry of Whitmore has plunged your family in misery, and your mother in
e grave; and by her iiue lies =*"" rVnor" demanded c-umiti, Witu a iGuk GJ tiunuF.^
Agnes," cried he, with scarcely less emotion. " Alas, Agnes," repeated Emma ; " cruel
Iwin ! has my conduct caused her death too ?" " No j the cause was the natural depravity of

own heart, aided by the accursed maxims of Whitmore ; ambition first beguiled me from
f home, and the wealth of Mrs Delmer tempted me to falsify my vows ; but unable to live
thout. Agnes, I, in an accursed hour, seduced her ! Her death has been the consequence ;
e is now an angel, and I, living, bear the pangs of hell ! " " Oh, my dear mother ! my sweet
jnes ! and are ye both gone?" cried Emma, weeping. Ah, Edwin ; such cruel conse-
ences are enough to force us to lament not following the precepts implanted in our infancy."
' May the villain be accursed," replied Edwin, " who taught us to despise them ! But
ere is he? say, is he in the house?" " He is not," answered Emma, "if you mean Whit-
ire. But why, Edwin, will you speak thus of a man to whom you have been so highly
iged. You will not surely raise your hand in anger against the father of the infant I bear,
d particularly when you remember he is the brother of a woman who has made your
tune." " Say marred it rather," replied Edwin ; "for can paltry gold recompense me for
at 1 have sacrificed to obtain it parentsbrothers Agnes all ? But tell me, Emma,
1 you return to Inglewood if the family consent to receive you ?" " Never," replied she,
h energy ; " I would die for their service, but never more will 1 behold them. Think you,
win, I could meet the eye of my father, or even that of William, prejudiced as they are ?
ir able how sunk must I appear before them ! No, Edwin, 1 have chosen my fate,
1 will abide by it."

At that moment Whitmore entered. " Ah, Edwin ? well met," said he, " I have just
ird you were in Brussels, from my servant ; you have a fair companion too, I find j
hope you behaved well to my sister, for aught else I am your humble servant.".

98 THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST.

" We are, indeed, well met," cried Edwin, " for we have a long account to settle on pecu
niary subjects, and yet a larger on the score of honour." "Honour!" repeated Whitmor
with an ironical laugh ; " you will remember that it is through me you were first entitled 1
use the word honour , but as these are subjects on which I never balk any man, nor talk <
before women, let us for the present banish this discourse. Come, tell us what is passing i
England." " For your pecuniary favours," replied Edwin, taking a draft on his banker f<
three hundred pounds from his pocket-book, and throwing it on the table, " this may reps
them, for I acknowledge no other ; to your sister were the rest due. Would to heaven I ha
perished before I accepted of either !" " I have indeed heard it whispered," said Whitmori
that you were not altogether so sensible of her condescension as might have been expecte<
but could never believe it until this confession." " For goodness' sake do not quarrel," crie
Emma ; " my heart is already almost broken. My mother and Agnes are, Edwin informs m
both dead !"

Whitmore endeavoured to banish her fears, and comfort her ; while Edwin, casting a 1<
of rage at both, left the apartment.

About an hour after, Harris, by Edwin's order, found an opportunity to give a note p
vately to Whitmore, containing an appointment for the next morning, which was immediat
accepted.

CHAPTER XXXIV.

THE following morning, Whitmore, attended by a gentleman of considerable fortune, w
whom he had formed an acquaintance since his residence abroad, met Edwin at some distan
from the city, who, on his part, was accompanied by a young officer whom he had known
England, and accidentally encountered at one of the places of public amusement. The w
pons chosen by both were swords, as their skill was pretty equal. The first passes were ma
without effect on either side, but the second essay was more fatal, for Whitmore received
thrust in the side, and instantly fell. " The chance is yours, Edwin," said he, with his us
levity, " and in faith I deserve it for substituting a sword for the dungfork ; but why the de
could not you have rested as satisfied with your sisters chastity as I was with my wife
Confound all new candidates for honour," say I ; " they take .such a d d deal of trouble
establish their fame, that a man is never safe with them."

A surgeon, who was in waiting at some small distance, was now called, and stopped tl
effusion of blood, but declared that he entertained the most alarming doubts respecting
wound ; Edwin therefore determined to lose no time, but hasten back to France.

On his licentious companion (Mrs Whitmore) he hardly bestowed a thought, simply givi
Harris orders to follow with his baggage, ,first leaving a letter to be delivered to Emma.

Whitmore was immediately carried home, where his wound was pronounced mortal ; a
was informed that, in all probability, a few hours would terminate his life. Though t
information could not fail of being particularly displeasing to a man of Whitmore's charact
yet he received it with his accustomed carelessness. ' ; If," said he to the gentleman who act
as his second, " I had fallen by the hand of a virtuous man whom I had injured, it would ha
forced me to believe somewhat of retribution ; but, as it is, this convinces me that chan
directs all, for Edwin is certainly as faulty as myself. To be sure I found him virtuous, b
he was as ready to learn as I to teach ; and if I seduced his sister, has he not returned t
favour with my wife, and, by my sister's folly, stepped into an easy fortune ? One thing or
concerns me ; my estate is greatly entangled, and if I die, will immediately be seized by t
next heir; nor have I it in my power to make any provision for Emma; a circumstance t\
gives me great uneasiness, both on account of her situation and future comfort."

' Let not that disturb you," replied his friend, whose name was Hartford ; " I give you r
word to protect her."

At this moment Emma entered, in a state little short of distraction ; she wrung her han
in agony, and in the bitterness of her grief cursed her brother Edwin. The letter which he b
sent her, and that simply contained his desire she would join him at Paris, with a note of fil
pounds, she tore in pieces. Whitmore, as well as he was able, endeavoured to comfort hi
but in vain ; her grief knew no bounds, until, nature exhausted, she sunk into a fainting fit,
which she was removed from the apartment, and a few hours brought on abortion.

Whitmore passed a dreadful night, and on the following morning death was legibly paint

THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST. 99

his countenance ; but firm to his accustomed tenets, he appeared to treat its approaches
h contempt, recommending Emma warmly to the protection of Hartford, saying, with a
it smile, " Though, by heaven, I would not, living, have suffered a rival in her love, yet I
e no objection to a worthy successor ; she is too charming a girl to be buried in obscurity,
1 cost me some pains to eradicate the follies of country education. Be kind to her, and
Fer her grief to weaken itself; it is violent, and therefore cannot last long."
The surgeon entered soon after ; his face rather than his words declared his opinion.
Vhy, man," said Whitmore, " your features may serve as a kind of thermometer to prog-
ticate the situation of your patient ; to me they appear beyond the freezing point. Pish 1
in- grief, ever live while you can, and banish painful reflection ; it has heretofore cost mo
ne trouble to do it, but I at length came off conqueror, and have enjoyed life as much in
enty-seven years as many in sixty."

A violent convulsive pang here put a stop to Whitmore's speech, and he strug-gled for
ne time in great agony ; from which at length he was, in a small degree, recovered, but
peared much weakened, his spirits much depressed, and likewise seemed shocked at the
ful crisis that was approaching.

Towards the close of day, and just before his dissolution, his attendants declared him
irious ; for starting as from a kind of dose, he exclaimed" The farce is over the curtain
ips darkness and doubt ! Old Godwin's kindness was ill repaid. I wish I had left

win in his native Emma too tell her ." A dreadful spasm here for some moments

pped his utterance ; at length, faintly struggling, he added," Her father ! forgiveness !
Inglewood !" and with another pang expired.

Thus fell, in the prime of life, the gallant, gay, Whitmore a victim to his own follies, and
e vices ne had inculcated.

Whitmore's death was a dreadful blow on Emma, as it not only deprived her of the man
whom she had sacrificed everything, but left her in a situation she could not contemplate
hout horror ; a return to Inglewood appeared the only alternative ; for the decorations of
ury he had lavished on her, with some trifle of money, was all she possessed. " And how,"
ed she, " can I ever stand in their presence ? they will accuse me with the death of my
thcr, and view me with hatred. The country people, too, will point at me, and say the fine
ndon madam was obliged to come back to her old home. Oh, I can never, never bear it ;
vill sooner labour in the most menial manner than submit to it. Would to God I had never
them, or that Edwin had died before this horrid meeting ! Join him at Paris ! No, never !
e murderer of Whitmore ! I will perish first !"

At that moment a person was announced from Mrs Whitmore, who laid claim to whatever
>perty might be left at Whitmore's decease, and of which she should, as his wife, render the
>per account to the next heir. Emma, in this distress, knew not what method to have
course to : her distress was almost too great to bear ; the man she loved dead in the house ;
self confined to her bed; in a strange country, and on the point of being deprived of the
try baubles for which she had bartered both her peace of mind and innocence. Uncertain
at measure to pursue, she was lost in the most distracting reflections, when a note was
isonted her from Hartford, and contained as follows :

" MADAM, The fear of intruding on your distress has alone withheld me from offering my
vices to settle your affairs ; but as T understand Mrs Whitmore's conduct has made it
cessary, beg you to command me to the utmost.

" I am, madam, your humble servant,

" E. HARTFORD."

Emma immediately replied, by requesting Hartford to act for her as he shoud think m ost
per, expressing her thanks for his kindness. Hartford, thus empowered, waited on Mrs
litmore, and by his rhetoric and well-placed compliments, prevailed on the lady to decline
r first intention, and the more easily, as he assured her the effects were of little value. Tho
rial of W T hitmore he also ordered ; had him enclosed in lead, and sent to England, to be laid
his parents and sister in Leicestershire.

Emma in the meantime had recovered from her indisposition ; and her grief, at the end of
> months, began to lose its bitterness. To Edwin's letter she wrote an answer, and sent,
.ording to the address he had specified, to Paris.
Though at the first receipt of your hateful letter I had determined not to answer it, yet,

100 THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST.

on mature deliberation, I have resolved for this last time to address you, though only to saj
how much I despise you. What had I ever done that you should seek to make me v/retched'
Or why was Whitmore's friendship to be repaid with murder? I remember when we met a
Brussels, you said that your errors were owing to his pernicious tenets : how weak you mus
naturally be to blindly adopt principles that your own heart told you were erroneous ; o
surely, if they occasioned the death of Agnes, the effect must have been easily foreseen. Seel
not, then, such paltry subterfuges to palliate your vices they but add the name of fool to tha
of villain. Did the example of Whitmore influence you to forsake Agnes, wed his sister clan
destinely, and afterwards offer the most sacred promises to your deluded victim ? No, i
taught you none of these the depravity of your own heart alone prompted them ; and now
coward like, you would fain cast the opprobrium on another. Think you, woman as I am
that I will have recourse to such despicable evasions? Never, my follies be on my own head
I imbibed Whitmore's opinions from reason ; and though, when I fled with him, I certainl;
expected he would procure a divorce from his wife and marry me, yet, when I found that stej
was impracticable, and must materially injure his fortune, I readily relinquished it, preferring
the man I loved in defiance to the weak censure of a few ; and though you were pleased t<
say that my conduct occasioned my mother's death, I have no doubt but your own hand ha<
at least an equal share in it.

" You ask me to return to Inglevvood I answer you definitely, No. The dear inhabitant
I love and honour, for they act up to the principles they profess, while you have behave*
with constant duplicity, and been a slave to the most unpardonable avarice, not only deceivin;
your parents, but falsifying your vows both to your wife and Agnes a girl whom a monarcl
might have gloried to obtain ! Then, to complete all. you have basely shed the blood of amai
to whom you owed your advancement ; and what is your excuse ? the seduction of yon
sister, while you are enjoying in the wealth of his, and living in bold adultery with his wife

" I have nothing more to add, but that, whatever may hereafter be my destiny, my firn
resolve is, to avoid you as I would a pestilence ; not from fear, but hatred. In my father 1 ;
or William's presence I might shrink, but in yours my soul could feel no sentiment but con-
tempt, aversion, and disdain ; therefore pursue me no more. I leave Brussels this day, ane
my utmost wish respecting you is, that my eyes may never more be tortured with you
presence : or if they are, not that they had the power to strike you dead, but to dart never
dying anguish into your heart. *' EMMA GODWIN.'

Edwin's rage at the receipt of this letter was beyond all bounds ; his sister's reproache
stung him to the heart ; and had she been in his power at that moment, he would willing!]
have sacrificed her to his fury.

He immediately wrote to Brussels to the master of the hotel : and enclosing a gratuity
entreated to be informed whether Emma was in reality gone, or had only deceived him 01
that subject.

By the most speedy conveyance he received for answer, that she had indeed left hci
lodgings about a fortnight before, and gone away in the company of Hartford, apparently ver;
melancholy and in deep mourning; but that he was uncertain as to the place of their desti-
nation. Wearied with France, and determined to take no more heed of his sister, Edwii
resolved to return to England, inform his friends of what had passed, and, as he still continue*
unhappy, to devise some new means, if possible, to banish reflection and recover lost peace.

This resolution was directly put in practice ; and the family at Inglewood, three week
after, received intelligence that the seducer of Emma had fallen, but that herself was totall
abandoned ; for that she had taken another paramour, and withdrawn herself from the know
ledge of her brother.

CHAPTKII. X\\V.
EDWIN'S letter caused great uneasiness at Inglewood, renewing tho wounds that, thougl
far from healed, were at least palliated by time. Godwin by no means approved Edwin*
behaviour : he had but increased his own crimes, and plunged Emma into fresh guilt, whic
would yet more familiarise her with vice, and render prostitution habitual,

" Hud he but sent us word when he found her," said Godwin, "inconvenient a* such
journey must have been, William should imnv.-diat.cly have undertaken it, and perhaps, h
lenient measures, have prevailed on the poor misguided girl to return, for the seeds of virtu

THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST. 101

not be totally eradicated from her heart, and would, perhaps, havn revived at the sound of
iveness ; but Edwin h;xs rendered all fruitless, and b\ his violence forcod IHT to ha\ c
>uise to deeper guilt, rather than trust to a parent's mercy, whose daily prayer is her
urn to virtue, and a sen-- , : or."

tie then replied to Edwin's letter, totally blaming his whole conduct in the business, nnd
ring him tiiat, if in future chance should throw Emma in his way. lie would IM\<- them
rmntion, without first having recourse to violent m<-a>ures ; lamented that he hid added
lis former guilt by the death of Whitmore ; and finally desiring him to review his conduct
repenr.

This letter increased the vexation of Edwin. " I might have been certain," said he, " of
eting their displeasure ; it is only for the calm, dispassionate William, to net with propriety ;
tvever, in this case I am satisfied with my own behaviour, and am careless of their opinion,
ma mav hereafter act as she pleases ; I have done with her, and, in all probability, with
;m ail ; they have no affection to bestow on me, nnd I do not want their advice."
Edwin, thus resolved, returned no answer to his father's letter, but sought, as usual, to
reflection in dissipation; but finding it unavailing, and that both his fortune and his
1th were evidently impaired, in twelve months after his wife's decease he began seriously
epcnt his giving up the army, as it would at least have served to employ some part of his

md divert more acute sensations.

The-e sentiments made him again resolve to seek military promotion; and by dint of
>lication and money well applied, he soon got reinstated in his former rank, but in a
iment which, to his peculiar satisfaction, was ordered abroad. He felt some uneasiness at
informing his family of his new resolve ; but certain that this, as well as his other late
duct, would not meet their approbation, he left the kingdom without even a single line to
>rm them of his destination.

In the meanwhile the family at Inglewood had no cares but what were occasioned by the
ughts of Edwin and Emma. William was regarded as one of the most prosperous and happy
ung men in the whole county ; his land was highly cultivated, his barns well stored, and
house a little paradise ; the satisfaction of the old men, the smiles of his wife, and the
eerful antics of the little ones, repaying all his toils. Reuben was now in his third year,
na in her second, and a young son, called Edward, after Bernard, again filled Fanny's arm,
d shared her maternal tenderness.

Mrs Palmer, who was their constant visitor, and more affectionately attached to them than
er, now proposed to take Anna, who was grown the pet of the whole family, and particu-
ly of Godwin, on whose knee she never failed to climb ; while Reuben took the same place
Bernard's. To reconcile Anna to the change of situation, Reuben was for some time to
tompany her ; and both grew so perfectly familiarized to their new situation, that they
peared to consider it as much their home as the farm. Mrs Palmer taught Anna to call
r mamma ; and, indeed, nothing but the name was fictitious, for her care and affection were
ily maternal. Anna she had designed for her particular favourite ; and Reuben, by a
ousand little beguiling words and actions, contrived to share her tenderness. If Anna called
mma, he was sure to say, and Reuben's mamma too; or if Mrs Palmer kissed her adopted
ild, Reuben was ever ready to hold up his head, present his ruby lips, and claim the same
rour.

Mrs Palmer, whose attachment to the parents increased with the affection to the children,
d for some time formed the design of rendering William independent, though she could not
actly f?x on the means, until one day happening to be at Godwin's when he received a
;ter to inform him of the death of the person who had hitherto managed his money business,
d in whose hands his savings had been constantly deposited, the heir at law requesting to
J informed of his pleasure ; adding, that he was ready to pay up the sums in his hands at a
'.jcek's notice. Godwin expressed his sorrow at this intelligence, and immediately had recourse
J Mrs Palmer, to advise on the best means of disposing of the sum he possessed, which,

ough but a few hundreds, was to him too considerable to be neglected.

. j " Suppose," replied the lady, " you made a purchase, should you meet with a good offer ;
think that an eligible method of disposing of money." " I am of the same opinion," said
ibdwin ; " and the only objection is, that it would be extending our property ; the money was
pginally, or at least the greater part, laid by for a little fortune fo- the unhappy Emma j she,

IQO THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST.

alas, I fear will never claim it, or still would I regard four hundred pounds as hers, not as
marriage portion, but to place her with frugality above want. I have, however, other duties
continued the old man, wiping oft' a starting tear, and looking fondly on his grand-childrei
" I would, therefore, willingly place our little all in safe hands, or as you say, madam, make
purchase for their future benefit." " Well then, what say you to buying the whole of t
land you rent of me, which, with what you already possess, will be a respectable property."
* Madam ! " replied Godwin, astonished at the proposal, " we have not half the sum yo
land is worth, the purchase of which was the farthest from my thoughts j for so kind are yi
that the most distant idea of a change never entered my mind."" It is, however," answer,
she, " as you have asked my advice, the most prudent plan ; besides, now I think of it, I m
have an occasion for six or seven hundred pounds, and would sooner let you have a bargi
than another." " Pardon me, madam," replied the old man ; " if your generosity forces y
to be extravagant, it must not make us, the most obliged of your dependants, imprope
impose on that goodness. Extensive as are your charities, 1 have heard you aver that y
always lived within your income, and can but regard your offer as an effusion of the friei
ship with which you have honoured us. Condescend, madam, to place our money with soj
you may doubtless have out at common interest it is the utmost I aspire to. Hereafter
ever it should be in William's power, for he is uncommonly prosperous, to make an hon<
purchase, I have no doubt, to possess the land which gave his father bread would be
height of his ambition : at present it it as far beyond our abilities as our wishes ; a dependen
on you, I am convinced, we shall never find painful." " I have ever thought," replied JV
Palmer, with a smile, " that you were much unacquainted with the ways of the wor
Pray, what business have you to value my land ? to state the price is my business, and yo\
to get it as cheap as you can." " Not at the expense of your generosity and my own probit
answered Godwin. " To make your son William independent has for some time been
intention," replied she ; " but I could not conveniently before devise the means ; I have m
discovered them, and shall feel myself offended if not suffered to gratify my inclinations
the expense of what is to me a trifle."

Godwin was unable to reply ; sentiments too great for utterance swelled his bosom, a
prevented speech ; while Fanny, who was alone present at the discourse, remained also sile
overcome at once with pleasure and gratitude. William and Bernard at that mome
entered, and Mrs Palmer, in a lively manner, immediately referred the dispute to them,
crimson flush for a moment overspread William's face ; but having expressed his thanks,
begged to decline what he must ever consider, should he accept it as an imposition on 1
generosity.

" Simply, then," replied the lady, " you refuse what would give me the highest satisfactic
as I should consider myself instrumental to your welfare, and take delight in it according
If you outlive me, you may chance to have the land at a cheaper rate, but then, rememb
I shall not have the pleasure of contemplating my own work."

This last observation was too much for all ; but Fanny, whose affection was far superior
her respect to Mrs Palmer, threw her arms around her neck, and wept on her boso
" Never, never, may I live to see that day," said she ; " again should I lose a sister,
again would my Anna become an orphan."" Not so," replied Mrs Palmer, looking aflectio
ately around her, " Anna can never be an orphan while any of these survive ; but, howev
for a moment attend to me ; then, if you decline my offer, I have done, and withdraw it. ]
ideas on some subjects are singular, and I, perhaps, have ideas of gratification peculiar
myself. What I die possessed of, will doubtless be disposed of to my friends, or for purpo
which I may think for the best ; but believe me, I had rather bestow living what cann
injure my fortune, and see the effect of my gifts, than have afterwards statues erected to
memory, when I am insensible what fruits they have produced. Let me, then, contemph
your rising prosperity let me have the satisfaction to think I contributed towards it ; nothi
but either a false idea of probity or pride can make you decline it. I have no relations w
want it, no claims but what my fortune can tenfold repay ; and to reconcile you to tl
business, I offer to take the whole of the money you possess, yet would far more willing
make it a .crift. Whivt, then, have you to object? If you accept my offer I shall be oblig
and gratified ; if you do not, I shall look upon you as a proud family, who despise even tl
assistance of a friend."

THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST.

103

" God forbid that," said Bernard. " Not one here but what loves you dearly, but at the-
me time arc fearful of imposing upon your good nature and kindness. I am an old man,

adam, and simple ; but with your good liking, if you accept the ready money, to which I
Itn add about three hundred pounds, I think William, by continuing his usual payments, in a
w years might be able to discharge the whole." " I will accept only of seven hundred, "re-
rned Mrs Palmer: " if the estate is worth more, to you I will Iqave it in trust, to pay UK;
orpins to Reuben and Anna, whom I regard as my peculiar charge: the first from the
[collection of my own beloved boy, the last from both promise and affection. Nay, no reply;
I it as I have said, or I must regard my friendship as spurned, and act accordingly. The
>eds shall be immediately ready, and I expect your concurrence without further hesitation,

you value my good opinion."" May we never forfeit it, madam !" replied Godwin. * Be

as you have said : heaven make us worthy of your goodness. "

Thus concluded the business that placed the farmer above dependence, and gratified the
merous mind of Mrs Palmer.

The writings of the estate were regularly assigned to William in a few days, and seven
indred pounds paid down, which Mrs Palmer declared to be her full demand ; while William,
|i the other hand, protested that he could only regard that sum as one third of the purchase.
From this time Godwin's consequence increased in the county ; for though he did not
:laim what had passed, yet Mrs Palmer made- no scruple to declare she had sold the estate,
lid who was the purchaser. The title of esquire now began to be tacked to the name of
(odwin ; but this was so peremptorily refused that it was speedily dropped.

The appellation of esquire," said William, one day to a farmer who thus addressed him*
by no means belongs to me. I am, like yourself, a plain farmer, and superior success entitles
e to no such distinction. Had I lived, indeed, in the days of chivalry, I might perhaps have
ibibed the folly of the times, in thinking the name glorious, and have possibly thrown away
y life in the service of some silly knight, who chose to affirm his paramour a miracle of
.astity, or constellation of beauty ; but these Quixotisms are past, simple reason prevails,
:d knights are no longer so valorous, nor esquires put to so hard a service. The name now
general implies either a fox-hunter, or a man who can live without labour. I am not the
(st of these, nor can I live without industry. I am therefore plain William Godwin, or farmer
|odwin, no squire, but I trust, an honest, man, and as such at your service."
Notwithstanding these contracted ideas, William was universally esteemed ; not a respect-
>le man in the whole county passed him unnoticed, nor a poor one without a blessing.
In the midst of happiness, anxious for Edwin and Emma, he had by every possible means
[uired after them, but in vain ; and was at length obliged to struggle to forget them in the
rmony of his domestic circle.

CHAPTER XXXVI.

nus passed days, month?, and years, honour increasing with age in the one part of tne
jnily, and reason, affection, strength, and beauty, with the other, until Reuben had attained
r|; fourteenth, and Anna her thirteenth year a period that had given William two more
ildren, Edward, and a blooming girl called Agnes, all happy as they were innocent, their
arts as free from guile as sorrow.

The education of the boys was now the amusement of Godwin, who, surrounded by his
and-children, forgot the seventy winters that had passed over him. The remembrance of
e ungrateful Edwin and Emma alone cast a cloud over the otherwise serene evening of his
ys, though he now had not any doubt but that both were dead, as no tidings had transpired

so long a time.
Edward was somewhat more than two years younger than ileuben Agnes in the same

portion from himself, of similar tempers, open, cheerful, and humane, and tenderly attached
each other; but if there was any partiality, it was evidently between Reuben and Anna,

o, although they did not live together (Reuben residing at his father's), could not pass a
y asunder. Anna, educated from her most tender infancy by Mrs Palmer, knew no dif-

nce between the affection she felt for her and her reputed mother ; she looked up to both
duty and tenderness, and would frequently, in the overflowings of her little heart, ex-
What a happy girl am I to have two mothers ! an expression that never failed to force

ar from Fanny, and cast a momentary gloom over the party.

104 THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST.

Bernard was still strong and hearty, and apparently as hnppy as his grand-children ; he sur
with them, played with thorn, and was ever foremost in devising sports for their amusemen
Godwin and William were his oracles Fanny his paragon : but the children, yet more than a
were his pride, his delight, and his companions,

" From morn to noon, from noou to dewy ere."

About the period before mentioned, .Mrs Palmer's steward dying, and having no one si
could immediately appoint, with the assistance of Godwin and Felix, she for some time tran:
acted her own business ; during the course of which a lease of considerable value expirin
she entreated William to take a journey to London, and renew it to the former holder (
terms she specified.

William accordingly departed, taking Reuben, who was now almost as good a horseman {
himself, for a companion ; and, after a pleasant and easy journey, reached the metropolis.

The business that brought him to town was his first care, and which completed, he wou
willingly have hastened immediately back, but Reuben's curiosity had a number of incentive
which his father chose rather to gratify than, by opposition and uncertainty, leave him
suppose they were more pleasing or desiiable than they really were.

Thev visited the Tower, St Paul's, the Abbey, and lastly, the Theatre, where, happening
be late, and on an evening when the house was uncommonly crowded, William, sooner tha
disappoint his son, went into the boxes. Until near. the end of the fourth act their attentk
had been totally drawn towards the scene ; but William then casting his eyes around, disci
vered, in one of the opposite boxes, a person that at once attracted his whole attention,
was a person past the bloom of youth, but yet extremely lovely, though art appeared in son
measure to supply the ravages that intemperance had made on her beauty. Her arms wei
naked far above the elbow, and her bosom uncovered even sufficiently to have occasioned dii
gust in any but the breast of a libertine ; nevertheless, this woman entirely attracted William
attention, and, for the time, not only banished the play, but every other object from h
thoughts. He gazed as if he doubted his sight sighed got up sat down and at leugtl
unable to bear the torments that distracted him, fondly as he loved his boy, desired him
remain where he was until he ngain rejoined him.

The lady, whose eyes had been thrown around in search of prey, had observed the peculis
attention she inspired, and in her turn had carefully examined the person of William, who wa
distinguishable from the surrounding beaux by the plainness of his habit. Though emotion
of the kind are seldom felt by ladies of her description, yet her heart sympathized with tl
emotions of William ; her bosom swelled almost to suffocation, her eyes overflowed with tears
and raising her eyes towards heaven with a look of despair she hastily left the box in whic
she was sitting the moment after William quitted his.

Unacquainted with tho theatre, William mistook his way, and though he hastened rounc
was too late to meet the object he sought, who had already left the house, and his inquiric
being fruitless to trace her, the only intelligence he could procure was from the box-keeper
who informed him she had been a celebrated courtesan, but was now on the decline, an
usually attended the boxes every night.

William, more unhappy than he had been for some years, returned immediately to Reuben
and though he forced himself to sit out the rest of the play, was so evidently disordered, ttu
Reuben, wholty interested for his father, saw the curtain drop with pleasure, and attended hi
to the inn where they lodged, more concerned at his melancholy than amused with th
remembrance of what he had seen.

The idea of the lady banished rest during the whole night from William's pillow; andrisii

at the dawn of day, leaving his son in a sound sleep, and in the care of the hostess, he inquire

,y to the printers of several newspapers, in all of which he ordered the following adve

tisemont to be inserted :

If K m a G d n, who fourteen years since left her friends, through the artful persu

sions of a worthless man, and who is now known to be very unhappily situated, will r< turn
lici relations in Cumberland, or inquire for her brother, W 1 m G d n, at the Swan In
Lad lane, he will receive her with open arms ; and she may yet meet the forgiveness of
parrnt before he drops into the grave."

This advertisement, though repeated a whole month, during which he remained in townl
that purpose, met no reply, nor were his visits to the theatres more availing. At length "

THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST. 105

as obliged to depart, leaving, however, with the hostess, a very particular message respecting
ie person who might apply, and an order for any money she required.

During William's stay in London he also made particular inquiries for Kdwin ; but uncer-
in win-re to apply, was obliged to have recourse to the heirs of Mr Delmer, and his lady's
inturc falling to them, he conjectured they might be able to afford some information ; but
ey simply knew that Edwin had turned his whole property into money, entered a?ain into
c army, and was gone abroad. With some pains William at length found out to what n-iri-
ent he belonged, and on applying to the agent, gained the further information that. Kdwiu
d, years before, a second time resigned his commission, since which he knew nothing
spec-ting him, but recollected to have heard one of the officers who belonged to the
gimont say he was advantageously married.

On William's return to Inglewood he disclosed the intelligence he had received respecting
dwin. but remained totally silent in regard to Emma to all but Mrs Palmer and Fanny, as
at information could but unavailingly have given fresh anguish to his father.
Reuben was pleased to find himself once more at home, and hastily embracing his family,
quired for Mrs Palmer and Anna ; but had scarcely given them time to tell him that both
well, when he declared that he was not in the least tired, but would go and see them ;
i the speed of a greyhound, flew from home, and took the road to the manor-house.
Mrs Palmer and Anna appeared to participate the pleasure he felt at this meeting. Anna
ing round his neck aud wept with joy, while Reuben fondly kissed her lips, cheeks, and fore-

'17 " I will never go to London again, Anna; indeed I have been very unhappy."

" Unhappy," replied Mrs Palmer, "pray, my young friend, what made you so?''
" Why, in the first, place, rnadam, my father was uncommonly melancholy, and when we
t down to our solitary meals I looked round, and seeing neither my mother, my grandfathers,
r my Anna, my heart sunk in my bosom, and I was more ready to cry than to eat ; then, as
tlept in the same room with my father, in the night he would sigh bitterly when he thought
was asleep ; but I was as little inclined to forget myself as he was, for when all was quiet, I
membered the pleasures of home, and comparing them with the bustle of London, wished
i were safe back, and never more to leave Inglewood."

" But surely, Reuben, some of the pleasures, or at least sights of London, amused you,"
d Mrs Palmer.

" They rather surprised than amused me, except the theatres," replied Reuben ; " for example,
e morning, after pushing through numberless crowds and dirty narrow streets, we came at
ce to that magnificent building, called St Paul's, which struck me in a manner I cannot
scribe ! With my father's permission I walked round it in wonder and admiration, as 1 had
t before supposed such an edifice in the whole world ! From thence we proceeded some-
lat further, to a place where the noise and confusion of languages brought the tower or
abel so strongly to my mind, that I could not forbear laughing ; but my mirth was of short
ntinuance, for a little on one side we passed a place full of the most ill-looking, gloomy
ings I ever saw, many of whom were silent, and apparently lost in thought, their eyes fixed
the ground, their foreheads knit, and their eyebrows scowling ; others were talking fast
id loud, and seemingly, by the little my ear could catch, enumerating."

" Well, but Reuben," interrupted Mrs Palmer, " you saw the Tower, did you not? What
ink you of that?"

; * Why, that was among my disappointments, madam : I expected quite a different build-
; and when I found a mere jumbled crowd of houses, I was disgusted before I entered."
" But the inner part certainly repaid you for your disappointment," said Mrs Palmer.
Did vou not admire the armoury ?"

" I was astonished at the ingenuity, or rather at the patience of the rnan who placed the
eapons ; perhaps I should have viewed them with some pleasure, had not my father given
e to a very disagreeable idea, by saying ' How many widows and orphans, think you,
uben, those instruments of dr-nth have made?' This remark disgusted me with them, and
reviewing them I could almost have fancied the points of the spears were stained with
ood."

" But then the other curiosities the jewel office, and the wild beasts."
' For the first, madam, I am no judge, though I think they would have delighted my

106 THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST.

sister Agnes. My father particularly called my attention towards them, by observing h(
very much to be pitied was the virtuous man whom fate had destined to support such
weight of care as must ever accompany a crown. But, madam, pardon me asking you
question : Of what use are the wild beasts ?"

" Indeed, Reuben," replied Mrs Palmer, " I cannot well answer you; but I suppose th<
are kept either for curiosity or amusement."

" I would sooner keep a lamb or a dove," said Anna ; " I am sure such ferocious monste
could never amuse me."

" The beasts, I see, we must give up," added Mrs Palmer ; " but the Abbey were y<
not charmed with that, Reuben ?"

" Yes, madam, it inspired both pleasure and awe ; I was delighted to see monumen
erected to genius and merit, and reflected with reverence on the once distinguished characte
that surrounded me. At that moment I could almost have wished I had been born to be
warrior ; but my father again called off my attention by pointing to a worm that had bee
thrown out with some earth, desiring me to notice the difference between that and the worn
that fed on plebeians in the church yard at Ingle wood."

" And pray what might be the purport of your observation ?" said Mrs Palmer, laughing.

" Very trifling, madam," answered Reuben, joining her mirth ; " but I was aware why m
father advanced the subject. He observed with what pleasure I contemplated the tombs
particular characters I had either heard or read of; I therefore pretended to look carefully a
the worm, and replied, the only difference I believed was, that this was rather fatter."

" An excellent incentive for a man to become a hero," returned my father ; " yet so far,
must confess, heroes are the best friends to worms, as they procure them most food."

' We were then shown the wax-work," continued Reuben : " a number of strange, ui
meaning, tawdry, ill-dressed figures, with fixed eyes, and that neither give pleasure nor caui
any emotion, one only excepted ; this my father regarded with so much respect, that I ii
voluntarily caught it from him."

" Was it General Monk ?" interrupted Mrs Palmer.

" No, madam, it was Lord Chatham. My father afterwards, as we passed through th
park, related such things of him as made me almost ready to run back and look at him again

" But the theatres, Reuben," said Mrs Palmer.

Oh ! they delighted me," replied he. " I saw some of Shakspeare's plays ; and while m

eyes were wet with the sorrors of one scene, the wit and humour of the next made me almos

ready to burst with laughter."

" Well, after all," said Anna, "if the pleasures of London are only what you describe, I se
nothing among them to be preferred to a dance on the green in summer, or the manor hall i
winter."

" Preferred !" replied Reuben ; " there are none equal to it, or at least none to my fancy
and if my father goes again, it is Edward's turn to accompany him ; I am sure I shall no
envy him."

The discourse was here put an end to by the arrival of William, and some others of th
family, who, after passing a cheerful evening with Mrs Palmer, returned home.

CHAPTER XXXVII.

FOR near four years after the journey to London no material occurrence disturbed the har
mony at Inglewood. The old men, though now both verging towards eighty, were still able t
walk about, their senses perfect, and were neither troublesome to themselves nor others. N
news had yet transpired of either Edwin or Emma; and William cherished a hope that h
unhappy sister's vices were terminated by death.

Mrs Palmer, who had the newspapers regularly remitted, one day, in reading the content
of one, became informed that the estate in Jamaica, which had formerly appertained to he
uncle Walters, was to be sold, together with the stock and negroes " I have a strong incli
nation," said she to Godwin, who was present, " to make inquiry whether any of the slave
formerly belonging to my uncle are living; I would freely purchase and restore them t
liberty. Though I am unacquainted with them, Felix can direct me on the occasion, and wi
in this case be the most proper commissioner."

THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST.

107

The Godwins all warmly applauded the motive, and Felix being called and consulted,
3Cepted the office with a joy little short of rapture. He was now turned of seventy, but
eclared, that if it was not possible to transact the business in London, he would willingly un-
Drtake a voyage to Jamaica on such an occasion ; but which doubtless would be unnecessary,
frthe estate was to be sold publicly at Garraway's, if not previously disposed of by private
ntract, and there must necessarily be an agent in town, who perfectly understood the whole,
ad what negroes were upon it.

Reuben, it has been before observed, was not particularly partial to London ; he therefore
no inclination to take a second journey ; but Edward, who was now sixteen, felt the
armest desire to accompany Felix, and whispering his wishes to Reuben, they were soon
onveyed to his father, who, willing to gratify him, immediately proposed his accompanying
'elix an offer that was accepted with the utmost pleasure.

Furnished with a letter of credit on Mrs Palmer's banker, a few days after they set off for
Condon, travelling by easy stages in a postchaise, for Felix grew too advanced in years
ride far on horseback. After reposing one day on their arrival, they repaired to the
gent, who, however, was unacquainted with anything but the gross of the business; but
eferred them to the lady, of the name of Fitzmorris, who was sister to the owner, who, he
bserved, was out of town; but that he had no doubt the lady could give every information, as
had resided some years on the estate, and was also now accompanied by the owner's
aughter, who might assist her recollection.

Thus informed, Felix and his young companion waited on Mrs Fitzmorris, and were imme-
j.l.iately admitted. The lady was not alone ; the daughter of Mr Fitzmorris, a tall girl of four-
een, was seated at work by her side, and possessed one of those fascinating countenances
hat might almost be said to be impossible to be looked on without interesting the beholder,
ier features were exquisitely formed, her complexion brunette, but so clear that every
nation of the mantling blood was discernible ; her eyes were black and sparkling, but, soft-
ned by modesty and gentleness, they appeared rather formed to steal into the heart than,
ake it by surprise ; her hair was dark brown, and waved in luxurious negligence down her
vaist, which showed the perfect symmetry that might be expected when its growth was
mpleted.

Felix and Edward were received by the eldest lady with politeness, and being informed of
.he business, coolly approved the motives ; while Miss Fitzmorris applauded it with warmth,
md laying down her work, viewed the strangers with a pleasure that sparkled in her eyes.

' I have a list below," said Mrs Fitzmorris,. " of the persons, ages, and names, of all the
legroes, which my brother desired me to send to the agent ; but which I have omitted through,
"orgetfulness. If you please, we will refer to that ; and if any of the negroes there are among
;hose you wish to liberate, I will desire the agent to accommodate you, as Mr Fitzmorris is
aow at Bath, and will not, I am sure, disapprove my obliging you."

With these words the lady ordered the list, and, with Felix, examined accurately the per-
ns and names. Felix, however, only found two of his old acquaintance among them, and
those very much advanced in years. While they were thus busied, Miss Fitzmorris had with-
drawn for a few minutes, but returned before they had concluded, and drawing near Edward,
while her aunt leaned over the table, gave him a small parcel undirected, and that so cau-
iously, that it was unobserved by any but the party to whom it was presented, who instinc-
ively put it into his pocket, though with a trembling hand.

Felix, furnished with the intelligence he wished, retired with his young companion, who
n told him of the strange occurrence. They immediately adjourned into the first house of
entertainment they found for their purpose ; and Edward, with an agitated hand, hastily
broke the seal, and found, to his utter astonishment, five bank notes for ten pounds each
nclosed in a paper containing these lines :

" As I know neither of you, I cannot address you by name ; but my heart whispers you
are possessed of humanity, or the good lady, whose charity leads her to liberate those unhappy
negroes, would not make you her agents. My father and aunt are both good people, but are
too much accustomed to the West Indies to think on those subjects as your employer does,
and have therefore refused me the freedom of a woman slave and her son, whom I dearly love,
for the woman attended my mother in her last illness. What I would request, therefore, is,
that you would condescend to mention this circumstance to the lady, and entreat her to buy

108 THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST.

them among her number ; the purchase will, I fear, be more than I have enclosed, which ii
all I at present possess, and what I have been these two years accumulating for that purpose
but tell her, if I live, I will gratefully repay the overplus, ever esteem myself her debtor, an
love her dearly for interest. " EDITHA FITZMORRIS.

" P. S. Let me know the lady's name, if she condescends to grant my request. The slav
alluded to is called Julia, and her son Scipio."

The amazement of Felix and Edward at the contents of this letter is easier to be conceive
than described. The open freedom of the young lady charmed the old man. " Ah, swe
maid !" cried he, " I am sorry your father is going to sell the plantation ; my poor countryme
will not, I fear, find such another kind mistress."

" Then she is such a lovely girl, Felix," returned Edward : " I thought she looked like ai
angel, even before she spoke. I wish she lived near Inglewood ; my sister Anna would, I an
sure, be charmed with her : as it is, we shall never see her more. But what do you mean t
do in regard to the woman and her son whom she has mentioned ?" " Free them, moa
certainly," answered Felix ; ' I am worth more than twice as much money as will do tha
and will willingly expend it in such a cause. Her notes I will return ; she will find many use
for them ; and there is no occasion to let her know the address, as it will but. put her to strait
to endeavour to repay the money." "Then," replied Edward, "we shall not even hear o
her again ; yet, perhaps, as you say, it would but distress her."

Felix and Edwin then adjourned to their lodgings, where, on farther investigation of t!
business, it was agreed that Felix, on the next morning, should again wait on Mrs Fitzmorr
pretend to look over the list of slaves, and fix on the two additional ones specified by the younj
lady.

Felix then enclosed the notes ready to return to her ; Edward wished to write a line witl
them, and sat down to execute his purpose, but in vain. After repeatedly beginning,
tearing the paper, he gave up the attempt, unable to satisfy himself in what he wished t
express.

The next day Felix and his young companion waited on Mrs Fitzmorris so early that
lady was not risen, but sent down to request that they would wait a quarter of an hour, wh
she would attend them.

They were then shown into a parlour, but had scarcely taken a seat when Miss Fitzmor
entered : a crimson blush for a moment dyed the cheeks of Edward, which as speedily commuj
nicated to those of the young lady. " Ah !" said she, " I fear you think me a strange, bold girl
but. indeed, necessity forces me to 'be so ; for if my poor Julia and her boy were sold, it woul
break my heart. The money allowed for books and my pocket I have long been hoardin
and I will as soon as possible make up the remainder of the sum." " They shail be freed, youn
lady," replied Felix, " never fear ; but as I am ready to oblige you in this business, you mu
also, in your turn, favour me by taking back your money a heart like yours will often
occasion for it. For me, I am an old man, and have an earnest wish to do a good actio
before I die : let this be it ; you look too gentle to be proud, and I flatter myself will not di:
dain to be obliged by a negro." " Disdain !" replied she, holding out her hand with t
freedom of an old acquaintance t; no ; I will think of your kindness as the kindness of
father. Alas!" continued she, "my father called my request folly, and so did my aun
but you have complied with it, and made me happy, though, indeed, you must take the money.1
" Not now," replied the old man, " I will demand it hereafter. If I humour you, you mus
also humour me."

Felix now presented the notes, which were with great reluctance received by the youn
lady ; and Mrs Fitzmorris entering soon after, the business was brought Toward ; Felix agaid
examined the list, and fixing on the mother and son, requested they might be added to hU
number, saying, that he had some confused recollection of knowing the former when she reside^
on Mr Walters's estate, though she then belonged to a different master.

This request was readily agreed to, and Felix departed with a line from Mrs Fitzmorris
the agent, requesting him to suffer the bearer to purchase the slaves specified. Felix an
Edward being fortunate enough to meet with him at home, the business was completed ; and
sum over and al>o\e the agreed price left in his hands, to transmit to the persons libcrat
either to assist them in Jamaica, or to enable them to reach their benefactress, to whose lawye
in town they were directed.

THE FARMER OF INGLE WOOD FOREST. 109

'elix and Edward passed some short time afterwards in London, to gratify the curiosity of
latter, and then returned to Inglewood, where they were received with delight, though
mcr was grieved that no more of her uncle's slaves survived to -\i>.'rirnee her bounty.

were, particularly pleased with the behaviour of Kdith-i 1- it /.morris, in whose praise
vard was never weary. The purchase of her favourites had cost a hundred pounds, which
>ersuasion could make Felix swerve from insisting to pay, though Mrs Palmer would will-
y have had the young lady her debtor ; she was, however, constrained to resign in his
ur.

diiha was now the constant theme of the younger part, of the family. Anna would fre-
itly wish she was acquainted with her ; and Reuben did not fail to express a pleasure at
character ; but all praise was cold to Edward's, for with him she was at once a miracle
;oodness and beauty.

' Ah, Reuben !" said he one day, when alone with his brother, " I have often thought our
er a lovely girl, but she is not to be compared with Miss Fitz morris : her fine ha/el eyes arc
superior to Emma's blue ones ; and don't you think dark hair more beautiful than light ?"
Not I, indeed," replied Reuben, warmly ; " I do not dispute but she may be a lovely girl ;
to say that she is handsomer than Anna is ridiculous. No one can persuade me that any
s can exceed hers in loveliness the sky itself is not of a more charming colour : and then
la's hair ; can any dark locks equal that ? No surely, Edward, you must be a very bad
e, for Anna's hair is the finest I ever saw ; it ^s the first shade of light brown, and in the

looks like threads of waving gold."

Felix at that minute entering, the dispute was referred to him, and he was appointed judge
A-een them. "Indeed," said he, "young men, you have set me rather a difficult task :
r sister Anna is a lovely fair girl, and Miss Fitzmorris, though brown, equally lovely ; there-
! I cannot give to either the superiority : your opinions of beauty, it seems, are different,

opposite to your own persons ; for Reuben himself has dark eyes and hair, yet he admires

complexions ; while Edward, on the contrary, is light coloured, and is charmed with tho
wn. My countrymen," added the old man laughing, "are not so puzzled; our beauties

all of a colour."

The warm attachment between Reuben and Anna, while it pleased the family, yet some-
es gave them a sentiment of sorrow : Fanny, particularly, would frequently lament that Mrs
mer acknowledged her, as otherwise she might have become the wife of her son.
The partiality of Mrs Palmer for Anna, added to her own lovely form, in the mean time*
withstanding her youth, brought her some unexceptionable offers: but as both her reputed
ents and Mrs Palmer declared her at liberty on that subject, they were rejected.
" Ah, madam !" said she to Mrs Palmer, " I will never leave you ; for where can I be so
>py ? Not my mother herself is dearer to my heart ; she, heaven be praised, has many to
nfort her ; but you," continued she, fondly kissing her, " have only your poor, grateful Anna !'*
" Far be it from me," replied Mrs Palmer, " even to wish to be separated from you, mr love ;
, Anna, I cannot but say I should like to see you happily settled." " And so I am," replied
i. " Ah, madam ! I always pray that you may live to such a good age as my grandfather,
1 then, you know, we shall both be old together."

" Six or seven-and-thirty years will always make some difference between us," answered
s Palmer with a smile ; " however, be assured, in the article of marriage, you are totally your
n mistress."

The affection of Mrs Palmer for Anna knew no bounds ; she regarded her as a tender
>ssom she had reared, and gloried in the expansion of virtues she had inculcated, introduc-
; her to those few friends she had regarded, as a beloved child ; and ever, when speaking
her, using the name of Anna Palmer an appellation, as it gratified her benefactress, that
B was generally called by, not only by the domestics, but even by the whole neighbourhood
Mrs and Miss Palmer being the common distinction.

CHAPTER XXXVIII.
us PALMER had now passed near 19 years in the peaceful retreat which her hoart approved,
ien she one day received a letter from her attorney in town, entreating her to hasten to the
tropolis, as her father, who was now above eighty, and not expected to live long, had ex-
jssed the most ardent wish to see her before he died. His son had been some years dead,

110 THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FORESTS

since which event, the influence of his wife had been in vain exerted to divert him from th<
earnest desire he had to once more embrace his now only child. Determined, at all events,
satisfy himself on a subject so near his heart, he had employed her attorney to make his will
and likewise requested him to send her word that he wished to see her in town.

Mrs Palmer immediately replied to her correspondent, that she would set off for London
speedily as possible, entreating him in the mean time to procure her either a small house read]
furnished, or convenient lodgings, as she did not choose, if even invited, to be under the sam<
roof with her mother-in-law. Anna she proposed to take with her ; but her old and faithfu
Felix was now too feeble to undertake such a journey, the last being almost too much for hi
strength.

Anna, though tenderly attached to Mrs Palmer, felt but little predilection for the journey
and the evening before thev were to depart, when she took leave of the family, appeared over
whelmed with grief.

" With no one but your best friend, my love, would I trust you," said Fanny, as she cm'
braced her, " but under her guidance you are safe ; for, though bred and educated in tha
nursery of vice, how spotless and unblemished has ever been her conduct. ! I shall anxiousl]
wait your return, for my happiness can never be complete while any of you are absent ; and
sincerely confess I hope to find you as little pleased with London as your brother Reuben was
for J cannot but say I fear my Edward was rather partial to it." " No, indeed, my dear mo-
ther,'' replied Edward ; " I certainly should like to see it once more, though not from any par
ticular attachment to the place ; I only wish to hear what Miss Fitzmorris says respecting hei
slaves, and to know whether she is well ; she must surely have a cruel father to refuse he
such a request. Ah !" continued he with energy, " I wish she was yours or any farmer'
daughter near Inglewood ; she would then, I think, be much happier, and I am sure I shoul
never wish to see London again."

Fanny saw with concern that, young as her son Edward was, his heart was prepossessed it
favour of Editha ; but trusting to time to remove so early an impression, she passed from th
subject to some other less interesting to him.

" Mrs Palmer," said Anna, resuming the conversation, " has determined to visit Mrs Fitz
morris when she goes to town, and thank her for the trouble she took concerning the slavea
if it is only to form an acquaintance between her niece and myself." " Oh ! how kind an
good !" exclaimed Edward , " how charmed will you be with her, Anna ! I am sure you mus
love her. Tell her we talk of her at Inglewood, and wish her as happy as her company woul
make us."

" You, Reuben," said Anna, " will write to me, I know, and tell me every particular re
specting home; and, in return, I will inform you of every circumstance that happens in town.

Reuben threw his arms fondly round her, a tear trembling in his eye " Ah, Anna !" sai
he, " I have frequently lamented that you were brought up from home ; had that not bee
the case, we should not now have been separated." " It will be but for a short time, my bro.
ther," replied she, kissing his cheek, " and I shall return to Inglewood with rapture ; for wha
can make me amends for being separated from such dear friends ? I am sure, Reuben, if 1 ha
my will, I would never wish to be parted from you."

Fanny regarded them in silence, while a tear stole down her cheek ; but Mrs Palmer a
that moment joining them, the conversation became general, until the parties separated, afte
repeated adieus, embraces, and tears.

On the morning following Mrs Palmer and Anna set off for London, where they arrive
after a pleasant journey of five days, and found all prepared for their reception, Mrs Palmer'
correspondent having punctually obeyed her orders.

CHAPTER XXXXI.

IT was in the beginning of the month of January that Mrs Palmer and Anna set off for Lonj
don, leaving the family at Inglewood more oppressed with their absence than the gloom of thej
season. The weather was particularly severe, the snow had fallen in great quantities, and
prevented the poor from having recourse to their usual industry. In this distress William j
had stepped forth, though without ostentation, and supplied them with corn at a reduced price ;
and even to many, who were yet more distressed, without payment a conduct that, if he wasi
before beloved, made him now perfectly idolized.

THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST. ]]1

One night, after being employed during the whole day in these humane and charitable
ributions, h'j retired early to rest, satisfied with himself, and recounting every particular to
Fanny.

The clock had struck eleven before either felt inclined to sleep ; the wind blew a perfect
ricanr, and rain and mingled snow beat against the window, and Fanny, in the charity of
heart, had recommended to the protection of heaven all who were exposed to the incle-
icy of the night, when in the intervals of the tempest a kind of hollow moan struck her
She listened, and again heard the same sound, but so blended with the storm as to
der it uncertain from whence it could proceed. Alarmed, she shook William, who was
ost asleep, and bade him listen ; but all was again quiet, except the weather ; and William
lid fain have persuaded her that what she had heard was merely the wind.

Alas ! I fear not," said Fanny, " I rather dread it is some unhappy creature who is lost
tie snow, and perhaps by this time is incapable of any exertion, for the voice seemed faint

near, and I am convinced was human."

Nothing more was necessary to awaken the humanity of William. He arose hastily, and

tin" 1 on his clothes, as did also Fanny, they descended, calling first to awaken their sons,

to tell the old man, who asked the reason of their rising, that they feared some one was

ildercd in the snow, as Fanny had heard a voice of distress apparently very near, desiring

m to lie still, and they should be informed of their success. Reuben and Edward were

ssed in a moment, and sallied out, accompanied by their father, in search of the cause of

r alarm. After having repeatedly halloed round the house and adjacent grounds without

eiving any answer, they determined to return from their successless errand. Fanny in the

in time had not been idle; hoping they would meet with the distressed object, she had

red up the kitchen fire, and fetched out a bottle of wine and spice, in order to prepare what

thought necessary on such an occasion, when again, in an interval of silence from the

i, she heard the sound that had first alarmed her, but more faint, and, to her imagination,
lost close to the house.

Fanny was no coward ; and placing her candle in a lantern, she went out, and looked cau-
sly around, but could see nothing, yet again heard a groan. Convinced now that it
ceeded from the wood shed, she hastened thither, and holding up her light, said, " If any
is near, let. them speak, and they shall have immediate assistance."

Her only answer was another groan ; but the light at that moment discovered to her sight
uman form lying on the ground, if not lifeless, at least so benumbed with cold as to be
ost reduced to the last extremity, Fanny now felt greatly alarmed, though not sufficiently
is to prevent her using means to assist the sufferer ; and finding she was unable alone to
)f much service, left the shed to call her servant maids ; but meeting with her husband

sons, who were returning from their fruitless errand, informed them of the discovery she

made, and that the unhappy object was a woman. Reuben being first, lifted her in his
s, and carried her into the house, where all were now employed in her service ; Edward in
.ping piles of wood on the fire, Reuben in warming wine, and their father and mother in
.fing and endeavouring to recover the stranger. Her face was distorted by convulsions, the
e livery of death appeared to overshadow every feature ; and for some time all their cares
e ineffectual ; but at length the convulsive spasms, being solely occasioned by cold,
eared to decrease, and her features to settle in their regular form.

William and Fanny had their eyes fixed upon her ; but as her features recovered their
per symmetry, theirs became imprinted with horror, amazement, and pity ; and withdrawing
ir look from the object that had before totally employed them, they now endeavoured to
d each other's thoughts.

It is impossible !" exclaimed William; "yet surely I cannot be mistaken ! it is it is
sister the unhappy, lost Emma !" " It is, indeed, our Emma !" replied Fanny, " and
sed be the hour that restores her to us ; it is a proof that she has abjured her errors ; and
> can refuse her forgiveness ? You have frequently, my sons, heard us lament her unhappy
iation from rectitude, which, from what you now see, has been followed by the most direful
sequences. Retire ; her senses may speedily return, and it might occasion a relapse to

other witnesses than your father and myself; we will call if more help is necessary. In
mean time, let not a word transpire to your grandfather of what has passed ; for if he is

112 THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST.

informed too suddenly, it may prove fatal." " Be it as your mother has said, my sons," ad<
William ; " her prudence, even in this surprise, I see has not forsaken her."

Reuben and Edward immediately withdrew in silence, deeply impressed with compassk
A few spoonsful of warm wine were with much difficulty got down Emma's throat, and
senses began to return ; but fixing her eyes on William, she slid from her seat to the groi
holding her hands in a suppliant posture.

Fanny dropped by her side, and pressing her to her bosom, exclaimed, " Fear not, Emmaj
you are thrice welcome to your native home. Have you forgotten that there is more joy
heaven over one sinner that repenteth, than over ninety-and-nine just persons who need
repentance ? And shall it not on earth be the same ? nay, weep not, nor wring your ham
thus." " Oh, say," at length sobbed Emma, in a voice far from articulate, 4< is notmyfath(
dead ? Miserable wretch that I am, I can never receive his forgiveness." " Not so," replit
William ; " he is yet spared to afford you that comfort, if you merit it ; but for the present
endeavour to recruit your strength by refreshment and rest ; our father must not this nigl
be told of your return : his age, and the repeated shocks he has received, might render sucl
information dangerous ; he shall simply be told we have succoured some one bewildered
the snow." " And can you, William," answered Emma, as she yet more recovered, " aofl
you, virtuous Fanny, can you forgive a wretched prostitute. Ah, no ! you cannot when yo
know the extent of my crimes! they are beyond human forgiveness nay, I fear, beyond
reach of divine mercy !"

As she spoke her head sunk on her bosom, and for some moments she appeared overjf
powered with anguish " Ah ! happy abode of my youth and innocence !" she at lengtfl
exclaimed, gnzing around her" and shall I be permitted to draw my last polluted breatla
under this roof, stained as I am with a thousand vices ? Will heaven permit it ! Ah, noil
when you know all,you'will spurn and detest me, as I do myself.'' " Alas !" answered FannJ
" whatever may have been your faults, repentance, and your present misery, will, I trusfl
atone for them. William, your sister is at present unable to walk let us bear her to beifl
after which go to our parents, nnd if they are not asleep, relate what has happened, withoifl
mention of person."

William now bore Emma in his arms to the bed chamber, where he left her with his wife
who undressed her, and was not a little shocked to see the emaciated state of her body, hefl
bones being almost sharp enough to break through the skin that covered them.

Having placed her in bed, Fanny would fain have persuaded her to take some refreshmcoB
but she declined it. Fanny judging rest the most salutary to her exhausted frame, for a shofl
time retired, and joined William, who waited for her below stairs -

The strangeness of the whole occurrence employed all their thoughts and conjectures!
Emma's dress was clean, though of the most simple kind. Her features, though much emu
ciated, were yet lovely ; and notwithstanding she was past the age of thirty-six, might stfl
have been accounted captivating.

Several times during the night did the kind and attentive Fanny steal into the apartment tflj
look on the poor penitent, but constantly found her awake, and listening at the door,
her always in earnest prayer.

CHAPTER XL.

IN the morning, Godwin and Bernard inquired in the kindest manner after the stranger, fl
whom they had no suspicion, beyond wh;it had been told them, until after breakfast, Williafl
having sent his sons and servants on different errands, determined to disclose the truth of tfl
business. " My father," said he, addressing Godwin, " I grieve whenever I reflect on tfl
many sorrows that have embittered your life ; it is to me a proof that even virtue is notfl
security for happiness here below ; for whose life has boon more spotless, and yet who has JSfl
more calamity ? But, my father, \ou have borne up nobly, have struggled with afiliotion, afl
will not, 1 trust, sink un;1er a surprise which, on the whole, must <;iv; you more pleasure thfl
pain." " My son," replied the old man, calmly, " the Power who has hitherto supported wM
not at this hour, I trust, forsake mo ; speak then, and fear not ; I feel thy care ; thou watchqH
my a_'o with the tenderness of a parent, and hast, been the prop of my declining years ; but
thce, \Vihinm, and thy an:: el wife, I had long since sunk into the grave ; but thy duty <M

THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST. 113

jtion have supported me, and I have lived even to the time when man's days are said to be
,ur and sorrow-, yet it is not so with me ; whenever I look round I see blessings, and bow
i reverence to heaven, who, though it has afilietfd, 1ms also blessed me beyond the common
)f man."" Best of men and parents!" replied William, " our sister Emma is returned
itent, and I hope worthy of your forgiveness."

'either age nor time had sufficiently blunted the feelings of Godwin to hear this intelligence
lout emotion. The old man turned pale, a universal trembling shook his frame, and for a
nt he cast his eyes anxiously around, then sunk senseless on the bosom of his son. His
atiou for some time caused alarm ; but by the cares of his attentive children he was at
th recovered : and rising, he said" Lead me, lead me to my misguided daughter : if she
deed repentant, I have but one wish remaining unsatisfied, and that is, if Edwin lives, that
nay be the same." " Precipitation, my father," replied William, " might be fatal ; Emma
ea'tly reduced ; we will first, if you please, inform her you condescend to see her, and that
may hope for your forgiveness." " Be it so," replied Godwin ; " in the mean time I will
e, and offer up my heartfelt thanks for this unexpected blessing. "

odwin now took the arm of his son, while Fanny retired to inform Emma that her father
apprized of her arrival, and to prepare her for his presence.

Curing the absence of Fanny, Emma, weak as she was, had risen, and sat dressed by the
side ; she had apparently been weeping ; and on the entrance of her sister, dropped on
knees, and entreated her to plead for her with her father.

anny, in the most gentle terms, told her that he was informed of what had passed ; at the
e time conjuring her to be careful of her behaviour as she dreaded any strong emotion at

time of life might be fatal,
t length the sound of feet on the stairs gave notice of William and his father's approach ;

Emma, unable to suppress the alarm that overpowered her, sunk on the bed, exclaiming
voice of terror Open, earth, and hide from the presence of a virtuous father a monster,
orthy to see the light a prostitute a parricide a Oh, Great God ! my crimes crush

and, infinite as is thy mercy. I dare not hope to meet it.

.t that moment the door opened, and Emma, with more exertion than she appeared
able of, threw herself from the bed at the feet of her father, cryingMercy! mercy ! while
hvin could not speak, and gazed in silence on his once beautiful and innocent daughter,
h ; my father," added she, " you cannot forgive me ; but crush me even beneath your feet,

I will bless you. "

'he old man for a moment raised his eyes to heaven, then turned with a look of compassion,
sobbing aloud, exclaimed " Oh, blessed saint ! if thou art permitted to view us at this
nent, plead at the Throne of Mercy for this thy unhappy daughter, who, I trust has
red her errors !" " Oh, my father !" cried Emma, does the slaughtered lamb entreat for
wolf that, has shed its blood? How then can a murdered parent plead at the Throne of
cv for the parricide that plunged her into an untimely grave ! Ah ! heaven would reject
prayer, and pour fresh horrors on my devoted head ; yet curse me not, my father ; my
tis sufficient, and my punishment, though perhaps not adequate to my faults, yet has been
re ; the hand of God 1 am convinced is on me, then add not your hatred to the blow."
If my forgiveness can soothe thee, thou hast it,'' replied Godwin; " thy errors have been
t ; let thy repentance be exemplary."

mma was for some moments unable to reply ; she clasped her father's knees, and in the
iliiition of her heart, kissed the ground on which he stood. At length she exclaimed
i ! you know not the extent of my crimes, or you would not pardon me ! vice has brought
,o the very gates of hell ; atrocious in guilt, heaven has been exemplary in my punish-
t." " Whatever may have been thy errors," replied Godwin, " I trust sincere repentance
obliterate them ; to thy own heart recapitulate, and to God alone confess them. Thy
d countenance betokens ill health ! soon mayest thou, perhaps, be summoned before that
1 tribunal, from whose justice there is no appeal. The forgiveness of an earthly father

hast, Emma: none but thyself can procure that of thy heavenly one.
r illiam, who dreaded to prolong a scene so painful to both, now addressed his father, saying
ur sister, sir, requires rest : suffer me to. attend you for a while ; in an hour or two both
be more composed, and equal to another meeting." " Be it so, " replied Godwin,
ig his son's arm. " Emma, seek repentance, and thou shalt even yet find peace. Faro-

114 THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST.

well ! thou shalt not want my prayers." Blessings on his honoured head !" cried Emm
as he left the apartment. " Alas, how has sorrow changed him." " Time as well as sorrow
replied Fanny, " have contributed towards the alteration ; his health, however, thank heave
is far better than it was some years back ; your return too, will, I trust, add to his comfor
Could we now but hear that Edwin, if he is living, had renounced his vices, we should ha
but little to wish." " Edwin living !" replied Emma, shuddering, " Alas! do you not kno
he lives ?" " No," answered Fanny, " he has not been seen by any of his family since abo>
four months after my beloved Agnes's death, which is now near seventeen years ago. On th
event he quitted the army, but has since re-entered it, as we learned ; and also a confust
account that he was again married to some woman of large fortune. Oh , may heaven, if it
so, inspire her with the power to lead him back to virtue?"" To virtue !" repeated Emm

wildly. " No : Edwin is not returned to virtue, except then becoming more calm," si

continued " we began the course of vice together monsters of iniquity, may our crim
have terminated together !" " You know then that he is living !" replied Fanny, astonish
at the manner in which she spoke. " Too well I know it," answered she ; yet, for pity's sak
ask me not how ; nor am I informed of particulars : only that he is rich, and equally aba
doned of God as myself!" " We will not then name him to our father," returned Fanny, wi
a sigh. " He had better think him dead, or entertain the most distant hope of his reform
tion, than be told what would lie heavy on his heart."

As Emma appeared faint and exhausted by the conversation, Fanny persuaded her
endeavour to rest, and soon after left her, to disclose to William what she had heard respect!
Edwin, and the emotion she showed at the mention of his name.

" Alas !" said she, " I am convinced she is informed of some horrid circumstance, whi>
perhaps we are happier to be ignorant of. Heaven has brought back one wanderer ; in
own time perhaps it may also lead back the other."

CHAPTER XLI.

EMMA, after she had been returned a week to the farm, so far recovered from her fatigue, a
the misery she had undergone, that she was able to leave her room ; but her health w
visibly declining, and a hectic cough, with an expectoration of blood, daily reduced h
though by almost imperceptible degrees. The whole family treated her with peculiar kii
ness and spared no pains to recover both her health and her spirits, a circumstance that ei
called forth the most bitter self-accusation. Her person waseven yet lovely, but vanity
dead in her bosom ; her hair, which had been uncommonly fine, was cut off before her retu
to the country, and her dress she continued equally simple as that she then wore. In t
morning she arose with the earliest dawn, and after passing an hour or two in prayer, wrc
until breakfast time, when her eyes were usually swollen with weeping. She afterwards
spite of all Fanny's entreaties, would assist in domestic occupations until dinner, of which i
ate very sparingly, drinking nothing but water ; and in the evening a draught of milk, whi
concluded the regimen of the day; then retired very early, though not to rest, two or thi
hours being devoted to the same duties as in the morning.

The name of Edwin ever caused her the most violent emotion, and was therefore, as mu
as possible, suppressed by William and Funny, without giving suspicion to their lath
To the little Agnes Emma was particularly attached ; and if ever for a moment she forg
the sorrow that devoured her it was in her company.

In the meantime, Mrs Palmer and Anna were settled in town, were they much feared thj
should be long detained, as Mr Somerton's health, was in a most precarious state ; and he h
lived to be sensible of the attentions of a virtuous daughter, from whom he declared he vvoi,
be no separated.

His temper, naturally bad, was now yet more embittered by illness and age ; and thou
he had some years before left his only daughter, her husband, and infant, to perish from waj
yet now expected that daughter to devote herself to him. She frequently lamented havi
brought Anna to London with her, as she was under the necessity of either confining her u
sick chamber, or leaving her for whole days together. This consideration determined her)
hasten to form an acquaintance, if possible, with the Fitzmorris family ; for if she foil
them agreeable, Editha, though younger than Anno, would prove an agreeable compuuioa

THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST. 115

One morning, therefore, with Anna, she paid the preliminary visit, and was received with,
particular respect. Mrs Fitzmorris, according to the common acceptation of the word, was a
good sort of woman, but possessed none of those humane sentiments that distinguished her
new visitor ; of her niece she was particularly fond, and being pleased with the person of
Anna, readily acquiesced with Mrs Palmer to the wish of a further acquaintance with them.
The young girls were mutually delighted with each other ; nor was Editha less pleased with
Mrs'Palmer, with whom she wished to converse without the restraint of her aunt's presence,
ind give vent to the overflowings of her heart.

The next morning Mrs Fitzmorris, to gratify her niece, returned Mrs Palmer's visit, and
nvited her and Anna to dinner on the day following an invitation which, though her at ten-
ion to her father obliged her to decline for herself, she accepted for Anna, whom she proposed
to call for in the evening, on her return home.

Anna was delighted with the invitation, and charmed with Editha, who, though not much
ibove fourteen, possessed an understanding uncommon at her years. In the course of tho
afternoon Mr Fitzmorris was announced, business calling him to his sister's, whom he seldom
visited on any other account, possessing none of that parental fondness for Editha, who
constantly resided with her aunt, that many persons might have felt for so amiable a daughter.

On his entrance the appearance of a stranger excited only an inclination of the head;
>ut after a few minutes the beauty of Anna more particularly engaged his attention, and he
ondescended not only to address her, but also to congratulate his daughter on so amiable an
& acquaintance.

Mr Fitzmorris was apparently not beyond the middle age, but bloated, and bore the appear-
M ance of a free liver. In his manners he was haughty and imperious, and in his disposition at
once avaricious and prodigal ; by every means in his power accumulating wealth, and squan-
dering it in the gratification of every favourite vice.

Such was the father of the artless, open-hearted Editha, who from her tender years had
trembled at the presence of a father, and whose youthful mind had received a shock two years
before, when she lost a mother, from whom alone she had ever experienced parental affection.

Fitzmorris had also a son, two years younger than Editha, but for whom he appeared to
lave as little affection, and whom he kept constantly at school, perhaps fortunately for the
youth, for, at least, it preserved him from the contagious poison of ill example.

Fitzmorris's ideas were too depraved to admire beauty without wishing to possess it ; he
therefore contemplated the innocent attractions of Anna as the kite doth the dove he means to
devour ; and on her leaving the room for a short time with his daughter, questioned his sister
respecting this new acquaintance. Mrs Fitzmorris, who judged from the behaviour of Mrs
Palmer, and the appellation by which Anna was distinguished, that she was undoubtedly her
daughter, replied by informing him that she was actually so.

" And who," said he, " is Mrs Palmer? Have you long known her?"

His sister replied in the negative, saying, " I became acquainted with her merely in con-
sequence of her purchasing, while you were at Bath, those old negroes that I mentioned to
you. She is the only daughter of Mr Somerton, and is reported to be immensely rich."

This intelligence was not so pleasing to Fitzmorris as if he had heard Anna was poor and
unprotected, for in that case his fortune might have assisted his designs ; as it was, he regarded
success to be almost impracticable.

Anna and Editha in the meantime were cementing their new friendship by numbers of
little interesting communications.

" Ah, Miss Palmer," said Editha, " how happy are you to possess such a mother ! Indeed
I do envy you ; but her tenderness, when she addresses you, brings my own so strongly to my
remembrance, that my eyes, notwithstanding all my endeavours, overflow with tears. Ah,
if you had known her, you must have loved her even our negroes idolized her. Their bitter
lamentations on her death even yet make my heart sink when I reflect on them : she was
ever their mediatrix, and frequently turned the anger of my father from them to herself. How
often have I wished I had died with her !" " That wish is wrong, ray dear Miss Fitzmorris,"
replied Anna, " and almost ungrateful to those dear friends you have left. Have you not a
tender father and a good aunt ?" " This is true," answered Editha ; " but my father's
manner is so distant, that, though I often long to embrace and clasp his neck, yet I dare not,
he looks so coldly on me. I hope he loves me, Anna; but I sometimes fear he does not."

116 THE FARMER OF INGLEWOOD FOREST

"He must love you," replied Anna, warmly; " how can he avoid it, when even I, that know
you so little, love you ? Mrs Palmer, too, the worthy Felix, my brother, and all, are charmed
with you." " Your brother ! Was that youth your brother, then, that accompanied th
good old man, who came to purchase the negroes, and to whom I am so much indebted fo
his goodness?" " Yes, my younger brother, Edward," answered Anna. " I have also
brother called Reuben, and a sweet young sister named Agnes." " Bless me," cried Editha
" you amaze me ! I understood you were Mrs Palmer's only child, by the manner in whic
she spoke of you." " You misunderstand her kindness, my dear," replied Anna; "Mr
Palmer is only my godmother; but, brought up with her from my infancy, the name is mor
familiar to me than my own : I love her equally with my father, and she, I am sure, loves m
as her child."" That is sufficiently evident," answered Editha. " Happy, happy Anna,
have two mothers, and perhaps a tender father !" " Yes, my love, a dear, kind, and affec
tionate one ; and who, though only a farmer, is universally respected and beloved." " Rich
rich Anna !" exclaimed Editha, " I would I were your sister, and my poor brother also
yours !"

Thus ended the discourse, but not the impression it made on botn. Anna's heart wa
afflicted for the gentle Editha, who appeared to deserve more tenderness than she apparently
met with. Editha, on her part, reflected on the happiness of Anna, and was astonished to
find she was not Mrs Palmer's daughter,.as that lady always addressed her with my dear child
or speaking of her, said Anna, or Miss Palmer. That she was a farmer's daughter did no
lessen her in Editha's opinion ; but she was too well acquainted with both the disposition o
her father and aunt not to