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Maiden, Sherbourne-Lane, For Ann Lemoine, White Rose Court, Coleman. Street, And J. Roe, No. 90, Houndsditch. Sold by all the Booksellers in The United Kingdom. [Price Four-Pence.] ** A ic tº a ºn "Lºv, at "...c. + ſº \º \at 2. • \).2% z 55 | Soº, deals , **** Žá.6%. f ( ) - /2 -'73,4- ZELIA IN THE DESERT; o R, T H E FEMALE CRUSO E. Iſritten by Herself. -º- WAS born in London, of an English father and a French mother. My father's fortune had undergone many vicissitudes. He had been long in the service of the Dutch East-India Company, and possessed a con- siderable plantation in the island of Java, near Batavia. Obliged to go there with my mother, and fearing to expose me to the dangers of a long voyage, they agreed to send me to my grandmother at Paris, where my fa- ther had determined to establish me, and settle there himself on his return from the Indies; but the death of my mother made him change his resolution. Ile there- fore requested Madame Mastridue, the governess, to whose care he had entrusted me, to use every effort to inspire me with a taste for England; but she being averse to my father's plan, made my grandmother ac- quainted with it before she spoke to me on the subject; and it was some time beſore she executed her commis . sion, well knowing it was my grandmother's intention to make me espouse her nephew. I was then in my fifteenth year. I had often seen the young Count d'Ermancour at the house of a friend of my mother's. He was born of illustrious parents, distinguished for their probity and bravery. His father, after having served thirty years with honour, retired to one of his estates in Normandy, where he lived happy A 2 zE LIA IN T H E D Es ERT. Tale 71. and contented. The young d'Ermancour was inspired with the most tender sentiments for me, and his passion seemed to increase in proportion to the indifference with which I always treated it. I was far from being so insensible to the tenderness of M. d’Ermancour, as I appeared ; but while he ac- cused me of an indifference, which I really had not for him, I was witness to a scene truly distressing to my heart. The young person, who was the object of it, holds a place interesting in my history. Nina de Lizadie was the daughter of a gentleman of Normandy, who had served with distinction in the army, but whose imprudent conduct proved the ruin of his family. He was come to Paris in hopes to get the reversion of the pension he enjoyed from government, settled on his wiſe. She died during the interval; in consequence of which, his daughter was sent for to Paris at the age of eighteen. She had not been long arrived, when her father died, and left her in extremè distress. . Count Lizadje had been attended by an English phy- sician, who was so struck with the graces of his daugh- ter, that he was always speaking of her among his friends with rapture. * * * - * The portrait which he drew of her one day, in pre- sence of a young English Lord, inspired him with cu- riosity to see this interesting beauty; and the physician introduced him to Count Lizadie, as one of his friends. He was well received, and, by his merit and personal accomplishments, gained the esteem of the father, and the heart of the daughter. He obtained even the con- sent of Count Lizadie to espouse his mistress privately, until an opportunity offered of confirming his marriage according to the laws. These two lovers were on the eve of being married, when Nina lost her father, and soon after accepted of an asylum in the house of Ma- dame de Lentitaire, where I became acquainted with her. The amiable qualities of her mind and heart, united us in the strictest ties of friendship. * $ Tale 71. z E LIA 1 N T H E D F SER T. 5 One day, as we were walking in the garden, a ser- vant gave her a note, which caused the mºst violent emotions. “ I am lest,” said she to ine, with a voice almost extinct, and throwing herself into my arms : * See, my dear friend, read that fatal note.” To MADE Mois ELLE DE Liz AD 1 E. “ Do not afflict yourself with my absence, tender and charming friend; I am forced to obey the cruel or- ders of a father, who tears me from your arms. But thou shalt be, in spite of the inhumans who persecute me, the cherished wife of “THE BA Ros De Ko N IS B E R G.” Aſter I had read the above letter, my friend begged permission to retire to her chamber. I was eight days without seeing her; but we never ſailed writing to each other. In about fifteen days I set off, accompanied by Nina, for the country seat of Madame 'l héadon, my grand- mother, about twenty leagues from Paris. I had neither firmness nor influence enough upon the will of my grandmother, to hope she would abandon the project she had formed of uniting me to her ne- phew. I could not, therefore, expect a favourable change in the state I was, but from time, and the coun- sels of my friend. It was in this situation of mind that I arrived at the castle of Théadon. What served to render this retreat more disagreea- ble, was the arrival of M. de Théadon. I lis presence and attentions tended only to make a contrary impres- Sion on my heart, to that which my grandmother had hoped. - - At length, came a letter from my father, informing me, that he had a second time changed his opinion re. lative to my establishment and the place of his own re- sidence ; that he was disgusted with London; and that an amiable young man had come to make a purchase of t- A 3 -6 zE LIA IN T H E D Es ERT. Tale 7 l. his Batavian plantation, if he chose to sell it. . The young man, added he, demanded of me your hand, for one-àf the conditions of the treaty; and he finished by naming M. d’Ermancour. My surprize and joy were extreme !“ Answer me insantly, (said my father.) I expect only thy determi- nation to give him the title of my relation.” º I wrote my father a letter conformable to the senti- ments with which M. d’Ermancour had inspired me. They had many conversations together, how to act with respect to my grandmother, the result of which will appear in the following letter. “I have seen with chagrin, my dear child, the pro- ceedings of my mother-in-law with respect to you. . It is my intention to pass some years at Batavia, in order to arrange my plantation concerns, which I have allotted for your dowry, with the chosen husband of your heart. I have desired Gousseau, my agent at Paris, to see you in safety to Brest, where you will find a father, and a spouse, equally anxious to see you.” By the same conveyance came the following letter from M. d’Ermancour to Nina. “ I am concerned that it is not in my power to give you satisfaction with respect to Lord Konisberg. He is so watched, that he cannot hold communication with any one. A favourite servant in the family informed me, it is his father's determination to constrain him to marry a young lady of one of the first families in Eng- land, whom he cannot love. I dare not advise you, but recommend it to you to accompany Zelia. Do not de- prive yourself of so worthy a friend; and whatever part you may take, be assured I shall ever remain respect- fully yours.” 1 looked at my friend after she had finished this let- ter, in order to know if she approved of the plan. “It is my only resource, (said she, flying into my arms ;) I can find no consolation but in the heart of my sympa- thising friend.” , Penetiated with the grief of my friend, and learn- ing, in the noments of her despair, that certain marks Tale 71. Z E LIA IN THE DESERT. 7 of her dishonour could no longer be concealed. I said every thing that a tender soul could inspire to soften a crime which had been the impulse of passion, strength- ened by the authority of a father, and the honour of a man, who wanted nothing but the means of doing jus- tice to her character, to fulfil his promise as soon as it should be in his power. At length, she began to grow calm, from a consciousness of her own innocence, and We#. for our voyage. ~. - our days after the receipt of my father's letter, we found means to escape from the castle, and descended into the valley, where I found M. Gousseau waiting with a carriage. We departed from thence, and hap- º arrived at Brest. * found my father and lover at some leagues distance from the city. Judge what must be my sensations at such an interview We embarked on board a vessel then at anchor in the road, and destined for the Indies. Our voyage was prosperous; and my father, on ap- Fº Batavia, spoke of nothing but the pleasure e should receive in seeing the ceremony of our mar- riage performed. - We had arrived off the heights of Sumatra, without experiencing any contrary wind, when all at once a violent hurricane carried away our masts and sails. The dreadful scene was only made visible by the lightning which flashed around our heads. In the midst of this awful visitation of Providence, I received, alas ! the last adieu of my father, of my lover, of my friend. I Was swooning in their arms, when a terrible wave split 2ur ship upon the point of a rock, and separated me from them. * , ~ When I began to recover my senses, I envied the lot 9f my friends who had perished in the deep. - While I was reproaching heaven with my existence, I heard, at a little distance, some plaintive cries, which strick terror through my soul. ſ descended from the **k, upon which I had been cast, and advanced to- Yºrds, the wood; but having searched some time, I judged that the cries I had heard were the effects of 8 - ZE LIA IN THE DES F. R.T. Tale 71. my own troubled imagination. I was persuaded of this illusion, when I perceived within the thickets of the wood, at a little distance from where 1 stood, that the small shrubs were much agitated. I advanced trembling, and thought I saw between the branches d person of my own sex, I approached, uttering some words, in order to calm the fear of that which I ob- served was ready to escape me again. e “Ah, fly not an unhappy wretch, (said I, with a voice doleful and suppliant.) Whoever you are, I im: plore your protection.”—“What do I hear, (cried Nina, whom I then knew.)—“What is it you? (said she to me, throwing herself into my arms.) Was it my friend that I fled !” I was myself so astonished with joy, that I fell almost senseless at her feet. The approach of night led us to search for some place of shelter against the ferocious animals and sa- vage men we had to fear; and we at length perceived a deep and hollow rock, in which we took up our abode for the night. The howlings of the animals of the forest, which seemed to be disputing for some innocent victim, penetrated us with horror and compassion. At dead of night, we heard something moving about our retreat. My unhappy companion ſainted in Iny arms. While I was employed in recovering her, I saw a large animal ready to enter the place in which we had taken refuge. I screamed violently, and it fled towards the wood. - When we were more tranquil, we considered the danger we had avoided, and determined to be more careful in future where we took shelter. Two days and nights had escaped without our having been able to find a safe and commodious place of retire- ment; but heaven, which was watchful over our pre- servation, inspired us with the idea of going farther into the wood, * - * - . The day was nearly finished, when we arrived in a district of the wood which appeared to have been cul- fivated with care, and, from other observations, that it was the work of humán hands. While we were deli. Tale 71. ZE LIA IN T H E D ESERT. 9 berating what to do, a very fine sheep came towards us, and appeared familiar. My companion followed it. I lost sight of her for some moments, which appeared as so many hours. In a short time she appeared, mak- ing signs of admiration at what she had discovered.— “We have nothing to fear, my dear friend, (said she ;) the neat habitation which you are going to see, cannot inspire you with any ... and much less the master who lives there. He appears to me to bend beneath the weight of years. I perceived that he entered his peaceful abode, followed by the sheep we wanted to caress.” - I was struck with the extreme order of this little ha- bitation. A large dog barked sharply on our approach: his master soon after entered: his long beard terrified me: however, his honest reception dissipated my fears. The good old man asked us, by what chance we found ourselves in so savage, a place. “‘Twas a shipwreck, (said I to him) that threw us upon these coasts.” I asked him, with impatience, if he had seen any other persons besides ourselves who might have escaped the same danger. He answered in the negative ; and added, “Ladies, I am a native of France, as you are. Remain here without inquietude; consider yourselves as the mistresses of this dwelling: make choice of one of the two chambers you see, and arrange it as you please.” We accepted his offer, and took a little re- past of strawberries and dried grapes. My friend's situation was such, that we were sensi- ble it would be necessary to acquaint our host with it; we therefore came to the resolution of saying that she had lost her husband in the storm. . . . . ...When the hour of supper arrived, we found the ta- ble served with such neatness as excited our admira- tion: . The repast being ended, we were favoured with the history of the old man. , “I was born in France, My desire to travel, led me to quit my country at an early period of my days, . and chance conducted me to the East Indies, where I made a fortune in a little time. I returned from thenae | 0 ze LIA IN THE DESERT. Tale 71. in a ship of my own, laden with the riches I had ac- quired, and with a treasure far more valuable, which cruel destiny, alas ! ravished from me. I was accom- panied by a charming girl, who had quitted her rela- tions, and a considerable fortune, to follow me : we hoped to be united on our arrival in France. Contrary winds obliged us to put into this island, where this lovely fair one died in three days. I embalmed her body, which is now preserved in a rock. I visit the dear remains night and morning. This alone has at- tached me to the spot for twenty years.” , - 4 The history of this man made a deep impression on my mind. I was also much affected for my friend, whose pregnancy was far advanced. Oft did l find her in tears, at the idea of bringing into the world an in- fant, who had no father to protect it. 1 offered her every consolation it was in my power to bestow; and sincerely recommended it to her, to endeavour to live for the sake of an infant and a friend, who might be destined to pass a miserable existence in a desert isle. , The next night Nina brought into the world a char- ming girl. I nursed the mother and child with un- ceasing care, and went to acquaint our host with the event. “God be praised, (said he ;) I shall have a third daughter, who I hope will prove a happiness to her mother and yourself. ſº (added he] let us hasten to make her a Christian.” He officiated in the double capacities of priest and godfather, and I as godmother. We named the child Ninette. & * , Nina, worn out with the reflections which agitate her mind, and weakened by suckling her infant, paid the debt of nature. Her final moments were such as Would even excite envy from the giddy and the gay. The amiable Nina died as she had lived—the excellence of human nature : My departed friend had consigned to my care a packet, which contained the portrait of Lord Konis- berg, together with an attestation, signed with his own hand, that he was the father of the infant. This was, indeed, a sacred trust : Tale 7 ſ. Z E I, I A IN T H E D ESERT. 11 After my friend's death, Marcourt became every day more dear. His instructive converse attached me sincerely to him. What moments of delight did I pass in his company with my little Ninette “My child, (said he to me,) I am not immortal; accustom yourself to the idea of seeing me disappear from this world : dread not the time when I shall leave. you. When I am dead, you will have no means of subsistence, but by your own labours. I will, there- tore, write down every thing that will be necessary for you to attend to day by day.” He died in a few mor ths after my dear Nina. “I die,” (said he to me, some hours before the fatal catas- trophe happened.) 1 threw myself on my knees to receive his benedic- tion. After he had pronounced the most pious invoca- tion to the Almighty for my future welfare, I held my little Ninette in my arms, while the holy man showered his blessings upon her. * - I went to quit him, when I perceived that he breath- ed with difficulty, and that his countenance was pale and livid. A little liquor, which I gave him, re-ani- mated him: ... I then went to my chamber, and, laying down my infant, took a walk in the garden before I returned to the sick man. He was not in his bed when I returned an hour after. Judge my surprise at his disappearance, which appeared impossible to me in the state of weakness in which l had left him. After ºrious conjectures, it occurred to me, that he might have crawled to the tomb. I went there, and per- ºved, by a lamp which lighted that sad cavern, all that ! had he'd most dear. My poor friend Nina occupied * Place by the side of the wife of M. de Marcourt, who * extended motionless: at their feet, ... He was no II) Ore. tº , - , i regained the house, oppréssed with melancholy.— he cries of my poor Ninette re-animated me. The '* in which I found her made me forget all. She “d had no nourishinent all the day, and her voice was 12 Z E LIA IN THE DESERT. Tale 71. nearly exhausted with crying. She was then twelve months old, and promised to be a fine girl. I laid the infant on the bed, and, after offering my prayers to the Most High, for his divine assistance, I left her, and passing by De Marcourt's chamber, I perceived on the table a paper, addressed to me, con- taining instructions for me how to act. Underneath he had added some lines, to assure me the gift of his habitation, and every thing else that be: longed to him; specifying many objects, such as gold and precious stones, and that he hoped they would, some time or other, prove a means of my deliverance. I passed near a º in the deepest melancholy, de- siring every day to die with my Ninette, whom I held continually in my arms. - By M. de Marcourt's written instructions, I was not only enabled to take care of my cattle, poultry, &c. but also to have plenty of vegetables and fruits all the year round. . 3. Ninette, at the age of seven, could understand and answer me very . at eight she had an air as easy and reasonable as myself: she was serious, though I did all in my power to inspire her with gaiety. ... I had na- turally contracted a sedate air, which Ninette, no doubt, borrowed from me. I saw the years roll on without the least prospect of my being delivered from my situation, and could entertain but little hopes after a residence of eight years in my island. e One night, when I was occupied with these sad ideas, I heard something strike against my door. Fright seized me in a moment. I heard a second stroke, stronger than the first, which knocked in my door. I set up a loud cry, embracing my Ninette, but had not strength to console her. . I listened, and heard something walk in the neigh- bouring chamber, My first step was to get out of the window, which was about five feet high, and, taking Ninette in my arms, I jumped down, without sustain- ing any hurt, and ran with her into the wood as fast as my feet could carry me. Tale 7 I. ze LIA IN THE DESERT. 13 It was one of the darkest nights ever beheld, and rained hard. I had seated myself under a tree; with. my poor infant in . hp and remained in that situa- . tion till day appeared. I passed the night in a dread- ful state of wretchedness: the approach of day, how- ever, calmed my despair; l gained, by little and lit- tle, tranquillity enough to reason coolly on what had happened. Perhaps, thought I, it may be M. d’Erman- cour: that thought inspired me with courage; I rose up immediately, and ran to the side of my dwelling.— My heart then failed me, and I sat down upon a bank. Ninette had entered the house without my perceiving” her, and came back to tell me there was a great beast. lying in the chamber. I asked her how the beast was made. “O, Mamma (said she,) very large " On my rising up, a large antelope came out of the house, into which the tempest of the night had driven her, for the purpose of bringing forth her young. The noise. we made obliged the animal to spring out so rapidly, that she ran over my little one; and left her motionless on the ground. I made terrible lamentations till my dear girl recovered, which she soon did, not having been materially hurt. - * - On entering my chamber, 1 found the new-born animals; and judging that the mother would come back in search of them, I carried them into the garden, about thirty steps from the house; and in about half an ' hour she returned, and carried them off. * wº. About a month after this adventure, I observed the traces of a mark in the sand, which appeared to be those of a man's foot. Going farther in the wood, I observed still more traces of the same kind. This dis- $overy filled me both with pleasure and fear. I fol- lºwed the same steps till they brought me to the bor- ders of the sea, where.I saw a boat fastened by a rope to a tree. This discovery so ravished me with joy, that my senses almost forsook me, . . . . - As I returned to Ninette, whom I had left seated at the foot of a tree, I peºd at some distance a rib- 14. Z E LIA IN THE DESERT. Tale 7 l. bon tied to a branch, with these words written on it: “. If you find this ribbon, my Zelia, leave in the same place something that will inform me it is you who have taken it.” - I kissed, a thousand times, the precious pledge of d'Ermancour's fidelity, and bathéd the characters with tears. I had a patch-box that º lover knew ; I put it at the foot of the tree where I found the ribbon, and tied my handkerchief to one of the branches; after which 1 scratched a place in my arm, and wrote a note with my blood, acquainting him where to find me, and enclosed it in the box. - On my return to the place where I had left Ninette, I found her crying. She came running to tell me that she had been frightened by a beast that spoke to her. At this instant 1 º M. d’Ermancour. I set up a cry of surprize and joy, running into his arms. “Ah, cruel Zelia I (said he, repulsing me with in- dignation,) you have deceived me.” Saying these words, he left me, and I fell senseless. On my reco- vering, I could not compreheid the meaning of this conduct. I ascended a rock, from whence I was upon the point of precipitating myself, when I saw the boat at a distance rowing from me. I was petrified; scarce- ly could I see the objects that surrounded me. I should have died upon this fatal rock, from whence I had discovered my misfortune, if the cares I owed my little companion, had not forced me to go and con- duct her to the house. A fever seized me so violently, as to threaten my dissolution. I saw the danger of my situation without fear; I regretted nothing but Ni- nette; I felt for her the tenderness of a mother, and could not look upon her without shedding tears. I had never yet imparted to her the secret of her birth, which I now thought it my duty to do; and I availed myself of an interval of tranquillity. The little unfortunate set up loud cries when she heard me say that I was not her mother. I held her upon tny knees, when I heard 3. knocking at my door, and the sound of a man's voice. 1 raised myself in the bed, and could perfectly hear it Tule 7 l. Z E I, IA IN T H E D ESERT, . 15 to be that of M. d’Ermancour. I endeavoured to get up, but could not. “My dear Ninette, (said I,) run and open the door;” which she did : it was M. d’Er- mancour. I fainted away; and, on opening my eyes, I found myself in the arms of my lover. Astonishment, pleasure, shame, all filled my heart, “I am a monster (said he) to my Zelia; I must create horror.” “You see none, (said I to him, with a voice almost extinct.) Alas! I am too happy if you repent of having suspected me. But whence arose your sus- picions ** “ From a word that I should have inter- preted otherwise than I did; but I will avow to you all y errors.” “Ah! your presence has effaced them aſi, (said I to him:) give me but news of my father. Has he escaped Shall I see him Where is he ” This tender lover begged me to be composed before he an- swered me. He explained to me the cause of his jealousy, which arose from his having heard Ninette call me her mam- ma, and thence concluded he had a rival in the island, on whom he was determined to be revenged. D’Er- mancour, with this view, was listening at my window, at the very time that I was informing Ninette of the Sircumstance of her birth. This undeceived him, and he knocked at the door. While M. d’Ermancour and I were in conversation, heard a noise at the door, I looked at him with asto. ºishment, “Do not fright yourself; it is my servant. Permit him to come in: he is the only person, besides us, who was saved.” - “But how (said I) have you subsisted so long in this desert?” “With a little industry, Jeremy and I built a retreat to shelter us. We found in the wreck of the *sel some provisions, which proved a great resource *us; for the biscuit, (of which we had a pretty large Tuantity,) the flour, and the corn, (which I had the }. to sow immediately,) have supported my ife till this day. As to cloaths, I found them in the *sts, which the sea had thrown ashore.” B 2 16 ZE LIA IN THE DESERT. Tate 71. “My heart (said I) has long preferred you to all the world. But you, generous friend, who quitted all to unite your destiny to mine, will you be contented with what I have to offer—a cabbin and a desert 1" He answered me with the enthusiasm of a heart pierced with the most tender love. ty Being overcome with the scenes which had happen- §d, M. d’Ermancour retired to the adjoining cham- Per, where he passed the night. I recovered strength hourly. The next day my friend gave me an account of the manner in which he and Jeremy escaped, and that, ince their residence in the desert, they had fre- jºy changed the places of their habitations, wan- dºing about like the Indians, who roam through the Wilds ºf America. This sad recital caused me to let .fall a shower of tears, in which scene of sensibility my Ninette joined me in the most endearing manner. One morning, as M. d’Ermancourand Jeremy were standing, near the borders of a, river, they perceived a boat, in which were two men and two women, rowing *ar the place. . M. d’Ermancour called to them, but they did not understand him. At length, hailing them in Spanish, they were able to comprehend him, and ºf on shore... They consisted of father, mother, son, a daughter. ..M. d’Ermancour, with Sagerness, asked, if they had seen any strange person ºny Part of that island. The young girl answered, with rapture, that she had seen a fånäſe sitting at a P. ºf the island, but, as she was reading attentively, and at a distance, she did not see them. ºy the assistance of this family, who lived six months With M. d’Ermancour, he was enabled to prosecute his researches after the fair object, which he was sensible could be no other than his, Zelia. The old man, d'Er- *our, and Jeremy, made their first essay in the boat belonging to the former." Happily they reached the Place ºf d'Ermancours wishes.” he first object that struck his sight was Ninette, who, calling for mamma, and seeing his dear Zelia running up to her, he was Tale 71, ZE LIA IN THE DES E R T. 17 seized with that jealousy which led him to accuse her of having deceived him. * Every thing being prepared, we proceeded in our boat to M. d’Ermancour's habitation. On entering the place, I was penetrated with the most tender sensa- tions. I was astonished to find we had lived so near each other. I found, in fact, my habitation was very near, on looking towards the edge of the forest. But I could not then have discovered the inaccessible mountain that separated us. M. d’Ermancour, in conducting me in- to the wood, made me take notice of that only barrier. * > r We then took a review of all the several articles which had been saved by M. d’Ermancour from the wreck of our unfortunate ship. I shall not give a de- tail here of every thing so great a number of chests and bales contained; I can only say that I felt satisfaction in seeing myself surrounded by such a quantity of mer- chandize, the produce of my own country. * ſº Two years now passed away in the pleasing society of M. d’Ermancour, when all of a sudden I perceived à change in his manner of behaviour. In tead of pay- ing that attention to me which he was wont to do, his actions all appeared constrained; and even his civilities Were so distant, that they came like daggers to my hºart. Our happy walks in the forest were at an end, Ile left me whoſe days, to wander like a solitary being through the woods, and his approach, when he return- ed to our habitation, was more like that of a stranger, º of the valued friend I had ever found him until l£n. * He came to me one day, “My dear Zelia, (said he,) heaven, as I thought, destined us for each other. We Yaited only for our arrival at Batavia to be joined in the holy bands of wedlock. Your departed father ap- plauded, approved, and ardently wished the union to take place.” It was the will of Providence to sever us !º each other, just as we had reached the happy land that was to have crowned our joys. The same B 3 * * !.8 7, E LIA IN T H E D ESERT. Title 7 ( , Providence, in his goodness, brought us again miracu- lously together, after an absence of many years spent in bitterness and woe, amidst all the horrors of a desert isle. Do not you imagine, my adorable girl, that we were thus brought together to ratify an union which had every sanction but that of the necessary forms of the church. But in this desert there is no church, nor is there a priest to join our hands. Let us, then, in the presence of pur two friends, and in the face of that Power who fº each secret movement of our hearts, unite ourselves in the sacred ties of marriage.” The arguments M. d’Ermancour had used were so persuasive, that I consented that the ceremony of our union should be performed the same evening in the presence of Jeremy and Ninette, which was accord- ingly done in the same place where we had made our first engagements, and which M. d’Ermancour had so prettily ornamented, that one might call it the temple of friendship and of love. We repaired to that place: many lamps lighted the avenue to it. A kind of little altar occupied the mid- dle. Two praying desks before, and chairs on each side for Jeremy and Ninette. Penetrated with respect for the ceremony, and with gratitude to M. d’Ermancour, who contributed to it with so much good grace, and all the decency that was possible, I fell upon my knees; I prayed a long time with my body half bent, and my crape lowered to hide ºny tears. After having satisfied myself with that debt, I arose. "M. d’Ermancour, who was by the side of me, gave me his hand as a pledge of his faith, and pro- nounced, with an exalted voice, the words used in that ceremony: I did the same; and without quitting his dear hand, which I laid upon my heart, I addressed my prayer to the Supreme Béing. ' - . There passed now a mute scene more expressive than all we could have said. M. d’Ermancour took ºne, with transport in his arms. Ninette and Jeremy had each one of my hands in theirs. They bathed them with their tears. The day of our marriage was cele- Tale 7'ſ. ZF LIA IN THE n Es E R T. *. brated with more true pleasures, than if we had been in the world, in the midst of vain shew and opulence. It was not in a magnificent palace, but in the middle of a pretty lawn, and under young trees, planted by the hand of M. d’ Ermancour, that we made our nup- tial repast. The warbling of little birds of all kinds, served us in lieu of those brilliant concerts which aſ: great feasts, on similar occasions, call in vain for plea- Sll re. * From that day we always supped there three or ſour times a week, till my pregnancy was so far advanced as not to permit me to go there. In the course of the year, I was brought to bed of a * ... I was the more charmed with it, as it was what M. d'Ermancour wished much. “It is a son that we havº (said he to me, taking me in his arms ;) he shall be thy friend, my dear Zelia, thy support; if thou sur- wivest me, he will love thee as his father does.” § I was soon re-established in health, owing to a con- *uted mind, and the assiduous cares of M. d’Erman- Sºur and Ninette. Each evening they quitted me with regret, and each succeeding morn they visited me again with redoubled pleasure. The chace, the walk, the Sultivation of the garden, were the ordinary occupa- tions of M. d’Ermancour. For me, I gave myself al- fººt,entirely up to the education of my children. I .." brought a second into the world eighteen months *ter the birth of the first: it was a daughter, whom I *rīshed like her brother, and who gave me as much Satisfaction. -: - ºnette, however, troubled me: she had no more that lively manner which characterizes the native gaiety !" youth. She was sad and thoughtful when left by ºrself. I went one day to seek herin her distant walks. She was seated under a tree writing upon her knees. **ing me, she gave a loud scream, and hid the pa- P° upon which she was writing in her bosom, . " I came to look for you, my dear,” (said I, without taking the least notice of what I had seen.) “Ah! "*"ma, how good you are to me! (said she, 20 ZE LIA IN THE DESERT. Tale 7 1. raising her eyes towards me.) I am not worthy of the tenderness you show me: my heart is penetrated with the most exalted gratitude.” When I saw her a little calm, I persuaded her to return to the house. From that day she appeared a little more at her ease; so much so, that I believe she would have recovered her usual state of tranquillity, had it not been for the unhappy adventure which I am going to recount. M. d’Ermancour and Jeremy wandered one day in the wood in pursuit of an animal, which they saw in 9ur plantation for the first time. The desire of know- ing what it was, carried them so far, that night sur- prised them upon a very high mountain, where they Were obliged to wait till day. We passed that night in the most cruel anxiety, without either Ninette or my- self daring to communicate our thoughts to each other. At length our fears were relieved by the appearance of M. d’Ermancour and Jeremy. "ſhe former first tºok me and Ninette in his arms, and then called for his dear children. The little boy was then five years old, and little Zelinette three. Lºlot was large in sta- #. Well made, and like his father. Zelinette was a ittle doll, who seemed formed for the graces. M. d’Ermancour and Jeremy recounted to us the important discovery they had made from the summit of the mountain where they had passed the night. “Our misfortune, (said my husband,) has made us know that we have neighbours on the other side the north mountain. We perceived fires from place to place, and even thºught we heard human voices, which i. from a situation where we observed the greatest ight.” - * * - a r * * - This recital, which frightened me a little, made me ask a thousand questions. “ They are probably Eu- *P*ans, (said Mi. d’Ermancour.) For it is those who have conquered almost all these islands. If there are still any savages, they must be small in number, and Fººd, most likely, into the interior parts of the coun- * try.” Tale 71. ZE LIA IN T H E D ESERT. 9 | Ninette listened with great attention to that part of the recital where it was said, they were people who resembled us. “But, (said she,) this discovery is not to be neg- lected. Let us go in search of these people. They may perhaps be useful to us.”—“ I shall take good care, (replied my husband,) for the mountain is on their side inaccessible. Besides, if they should be Eu- ºpeans, they will take possession of our little planta- tion ; and if they are savages, we shall be still worse. It is better therefore for us to remain as we are.” From this time Ninette assumed an air of gaiety, which made our little society in every respect agreea- ble. One morning, however, she disappeared, without leaving any traces of her flight. - When Jeremy, whom I had sent to lobk for her to come to dinner, returned to tell me he could not find her in any of the places where she had been accustomed to Walk, I was much agitated. I imagined she was gone farther than usual, and after having waited an hour in Vain, we dined, with the intention of going immedi- ately, after dinner to search for her in the wood. Our Sarch was fruitless; night came on, and, no Ninette appeared. We were in a state of distraction, fearful that something dreadful had befallen her. M. d’Er- mancour determined to go in quest of her, fearing the ‘ºnsequences that must attend this innocent wanderer, was she to find herself among strangers, whether bar- barºus or civilized. . . . . . - Full of this humane though dangerous intent, he Salled me to him. “ My dear, (said he,) you must Promise not to follow me. Take care of our children, Peserve that dear treasure, the ties of our hearts.” dº then departed all in tears. " . . . He was not an hundred steps from the house, when he repented having left me so precipitätely. ... I was up- 9m my knees with his children: these poor little crea- tures both held up their hands like me towards heaven, "Plöring God for the preservation of the life of so **d a father. I saw him enter at that instant, and 22 Z E LIA IN T H E D ES E R T. Tale 71. advance towards us, so quickly, that I received him in my arms without changing my attitude. He was af. fected in the most lively manner with the spectacle be- fore him; and while we were concerting together the measures necessary by way of precaution for our safety during his absence, Jeremy appeared, and gave us hope. He told us he had discovered the route which Ninette had taken. “ I have, (said he,) remarked the print of her feet upon the borders of a brook, which issues from the mountain where we were benighted.” It appeared clear that Ninette was gone in quest of , the inhabitants on the other side of the mountain; in consequence of which M. d'Ermancour and Jeremy set out in pursuit of her. The hopes I had of their success, occasioned me to enjoy an undisturbed repose, and I was much rejoiced on awaking to see M. d’Ermancour. Jeremy returned soon after, and both of them more discouraged than ever. I persuaded them to go to bed; and going to look for some work which I had left in Ninette's chamber, I found the following letter lying on a table: ? “How shall I begin, Madam I say, Madam, for I dare no more assume the title of your child, since I fly to break all the ties which attached me to yoa. . I am no more that innocent girl whom you have brought up with so much tenderness. Pity me. Sometimes think of the unhappy Ninette, who has the sincerest love and veneration for you, and all that endearing family, for whom I shall never, never cease to offer up my, prayers, wheresoever my destiny may lead me.” This letter made a very forciblé impression on my mind; and on shewing it to my husband, he and Je- remy were determined to go again in search of this ſu- #."; who, from accounts received many years after ºr flight, had left our habitation with a ſittle linen which she had put into a basket, and provision for five or six days. She had a cane in her hand, and for her * a little turtle dove, which she was very fond Tale 71. Z E LIA IN THE DESERT. 23 It was happily the finest season in the year for tra- velling. At break of day, weeping and returning at each step to look back to the house i. had abandoned, and which contained not only all that was dear to her, but the only persons she knew in the whole universe. But when she had lost sight of the objects which were known to her, the attention she was forced to pay to the way she had to pursue, fully engaged her thoughts. She went along the borders of the rivulet where Jere- my had observed the print of her feet, and not being able to ascend the mountain, she was obliged to take shelter in a grotto, where she awaited the approach of dy. + Here the silence of the night, and the dreary soli- tude in which she found herself, discouraged her. “Ah! cried the wanderer, I am punished for my fault.” . At length, overpowered with grief and fa- tgue, she fell asleep. - ºr It was broad day when she awoke. The first thing she did was to return thanks to the Supreme Being for *Ying protected her so far. - Ninette pursued her steps with animated vigour, When all on a sudden she saw a light issuing through the cavern of a rock. Curiosity prompted her to take * hearer view of it, and she found it to be a ray of the ‘un which penetrated through the cavern from the *Astern side of it. The desire to see what she could discover by this little opening led her to go nearer it. it what was her surprise, when she perceived an in- mense country, very different from that she had left * vast cultivated campaign, a prodigious number of houses, which probably contained a greater number of inhabitants This spectacle filled her in a moment with “spect and fear. y - . ºr poor traveller remained a long time not knowing what to do; at length she determined to pursue her Way. - , - fi island in which we were, was called Sumatra, ...ºf those generally spoken of as the isles of Sunda; *quently, the country which Ninette had disco- 24, Z E LIA IN T H E . D. ESERT, Tale 71. vered made a part of it. The cavern where Ninette had passed the night was near a volcano, which had been extinguished for a great number of years. It was since the last eruption of this volcano that the inhabi- tants of the plain had totally abandoned that papt of the mountain, behind which we had our habitation. This was the reason we were not found out. There were even old laws, prohibiting any one to approach that mountain beyond certain limits which had been marked out for them. They had been careful not to overstep those bounds, because, according to tradition, that mountain was said to be inhabited by evil spirits. When she had gained the other side of the mountain, she found herself upon a hillock covered with moss; she fell upon her knees, recommended herself to God, and proceeded on. She deliberated, during her route, on.what she should say to the first persons she should meet. She remembered what I had recounted many times of my shipwreck; she resolved to act in the same manner, in feigning that she had been cast upen a rock, and knew not what was become of the rest of the crew of the ship. When she descended the hil- lock, she found herself under a fresh embarrassment: she not only was unable to find at the bottom of the hillock, the houses which she had discovered, but they were not even any more to be seen ; she did not know but she might be still very distant from them. Our wearied traveller walked a ſong way without seeing the least sign of what she was in search of. At length she perceived a hut that had been lately deserted: as she was much fatigued, and night approached, she retired into this hut, in order to take some repose, and wait theºreturn of day. - . . . . . Around this place were a hundred other huts, occu- R. by F.P. employed in the cultivation of pepper. linette had neither seen the huts nor plantations, as they were a quarter of a league distant from her. When she awoke, her astonishment was great at Grceiving a nutmber of black persons at the door of the ut, and an aged priest by her side. “Who are you, Tale 7 l. ZE LIA IN THE DESERT, g 25 . my father, (said Ninette,) and what fate awaits me in this unknown land " ' ar The priest understood the French language; but as * could not at that time see any resource to save her from the perils to which she was exposed, he replied “asively. Her new protector took care to hinder the ºwds who surrounded the hut from approaching too "“ar Ninette. They brought her food, and she soon . ºustomed herself to see the black people without lear. She kiiew not what would yet be her destiny, but amused herself with caressing her dove, who was " ºrightened at the number of persons assembled to “...it play with its mistress. Some of the natives, whose dress and manners pro- "himed them to be of the highest rank, now entered the hut ; and the priest addressing a few words to one * them, as if to desire his care of Ninette, retired. She was Very unhappy at his absence, shed º tears, * uttered exclamations of sorrow. Assan Étendi, * young Lord to whom the priest had spoken, pre- ºtly divined the cause of her grieſ, and went to seek * good man. He met him returning with M. Sping, **tchman, who had long been established at Achen, and had it in his power to serve the fair stranger. * Soon as the priest entered the hut, Ninette held ºut her hand to him, “My father, do not abandon me. "t in you.” He was enchanted with her beha- . '*, and introduced his friend to her. The Dutch- . "an spoke French fluently, and interrogated. Ninette, *ºning her name, and what circumstance had ... ght her to that country. To avoid confessing the . truth of her flight from her friends, she answered, that * had been thrown half dead upon a rock, from a s? .*...that was wrecked on their coast, but was igno- : ... ºf the fate of the ship's company; that on her re- .**ing from her swoon, and seeing no resource from . '*, *ā-side, she turned her steps toward a forest; º, *...traversing it some days, (only subsisting on a * biscuits, which she tortunately had in her pocket, n *me wild fruits,) she gived at the hut, almost , # $ 26 ze LIA IN THE DESERT. Tale 71. perishing with fatigue and hunger. “Inform me then (said she) what I have to fear.” The Dutchman replied, that she was in a country where almost all were Mahometans, and that the king secured to himself all handsome women who fell into his power. But, to obviate this, he offered her an asylum in his own house. Ninette gladly accepted this honour- able protection ; and they left the hut. They had to pass through the village to the Dutchman’s house. He was the agent for the Dutch East India Company, and chief director of their factories. All Ninette saw was new to her, and she was at once amazed and de- lighted. , Madame Sping, and her daughters, came out to re- ceive Ninette, and gave her a flattering welcome. After she had partaken of some refreshments, the lady of the house led Ninette to the apartment con- signed for her use. - The rest of the narrative runs in Ninette's own words, addressed to Zelia. Next morning the family assembled in Madame Sping's apartment. The mother and her daughters received me with smiles. I enquired for the father of the family, but he was gone to the English factory. “ He will most likely bring news of thy brother," (said she to her daughters.) * You have a son then, Madame 2"—“ Y. ; and I am under anxiety on his account; he used to be attentive to the busines: of the plantations, but since he is became acquaintº with some English officers, he gives himself up wholly to pleasure.” l . . . . 'hile she was speaking, her husband and son enter: ed. “Ah, (said she to the latter,) go, and return thanks to that lady, that I do not scold you for staying from home last night.”—“Wife, (said the Dutchman, I know his reasons, and he is not so culpable as W* thought.” - . . . . º We breakfasted together, and I then retired with Madame Sping to my own apartment. She knew. design of writing a journal,’ in hopes that I show Tule 71. zE LIA IN THE DESERT. 97 some time, have an opportunity of presenting it to my dear lost friends, now weeping for and anxious at my unkind absence, she supplied me with writing mate- rials, and left me till the dinner hour. The good priest dined with us; and Madame Sping presented me with two dresses made in the English fashion, which is the mode here. The next day, I visited with the family at the house of a rich uncle of M. Sping, who is his heir. We were accompanied by a Mr. Lendon, who paid his addresses to Mirza Sping. I was not at ease, for there Was a large company; and it was owing to their curio- sity. - I learnt to draw, and take lessons from a master who attended Mademoiselle Sping. But I must tell you, what led me so quickly to this study. I found on my toilette a purse of ºld. I ran into Mirza's chamber, to ask if she knew to whom it belonged. She affected to joke upon my eagerness to restore it to the owner, and advised me to keep it. It is yours, (said she.) I put the purse where you found it, and beg you to take it till you are in a situation to restore its contents.” ... I expressed my gratitude, but refused to take more than one piece of money. She would not take back the Purse. I laid it on the table, and returned to my hamber. As I left my door open, I saw young Sping enter his sister's apartment; and in a moment after she came, and brought me the purse. This led ºne to suspect that it was more likely the brother than the sister who wished to make me the present. I sent for Mr. Supple, the good priest, who fre- uently honoured me with his advice. When Mr. Supple came, he judged as I did, that the present Yas from young Sping, and desired me to be upon my guard with respect to him. He appeared, the good man said, to be much struck with my beauty, and had §nounced going to the city ever since I had been with his parents: #. added;" that the younger Sping was *h, and must marry a woman of good fortune also, **cºunted to him my history, and yours, mamma. He *rd me with astonishment; he was surprised at the C 2 28 zE LIA IN THE DESERT. Tale 71. establishment of your family, and the order that reign- "ed there. The worthy father then said, he would find some resource to enable me to be independent of my friends. The next time I saw him, he thus addressed me. “I have fixed upon painting as an art by which "you can procure a living, particularly as I have an ac- quaintance in the community of the conception, who can serve me in my plan. She paints well in miniature, and instructs the lădies of the convent. She was go- -ing to retire, but has now promised me to keep her place, which is very fúcrative and respectable, till you are qualified. She will perfect you when you have had one year's instruction from the master, But the 'Spings must not 'at present be informed of this arrange. Iſhent.” 3. - * * To day, M. Sping, the son, began a conversation with me on the subject of love, and endeavoured to get a knowledge of the sentiments with which he had in- Špired me, but which I was careful to conceal. I there- fore put an end to the conversation, by addressing my: 'self to his little sistér Sophia. He changed colour, and left the room. I own I was piqued at his absence. . At *that thºmbiit Sir George Härture entéred : He is a 'young Englishman, whom I have séen 'several times since my arrival. He wearies me with his compli- 'ments. The tharriage of my friend Mirza to Mr. Leridon had made somé alterations in Öur family. Ma- "dame Sping, regretted the departure of her daughter, and renewed in my mind what my friends must have felt when I’deserted them. # ... I have been too low inspirits to write for some days; I now résume my pen. Mr. Supplé came this morn; ing, and made a proposal of marriage which astonished me. It was Sirº §eorge Harture who had charged him with this cominission; to which I gave a peremptory denial. The worthy missionary applauded my Prº dence, and undertook to convey my 'answer to the British officer. In 'all the agreeable company ſhave yet mixed, I must be candid to confess, that my heart "feels the most lively sentinents for M. Sping. I know Tale 71. 2. E LIA IN THE DESERT. 29 he is destined to another, and on that condition the W. fortune his uncle possesses is to devolve to him. When Mrs. Lendon told me this, I could not suppress my tears. Yet I ought to be gay but it is my wish to have money without being indebted, to any one. make little patterns of flowers, which Mr. Supple sells for me in the city; and I can pay the servants for the services they render me. That good man has ac- quainted me with a circumstance that gives me plea- sure: he has found two persons who will undertake to seek your place of abode. I give way to the pleasing hope of hearing from you. Madame Sping gives me every day fresh proofs of her goodness; yet I must leave this family, in spite of the pangs it will cost me. Ah, why have I not a crown tº offer him? I should lay it at his feet. M. Sping not only declines marrying the lady his uncle has chosen, but treats her with indifference, and pays the utmost attention to me. What can I expect from the preference He cannot espouse me : he is rich; and I suspect that the money f receive for my drawings, comes from him and Mr. Supple, in order to make my mind more easy; and not consider myself a burden on the family. The people set of yesterday tº seek for mamma's retreat. F. have accompanied them, but every body here opposed it. Since I related your his- tory to them, the younger Sping, takes, pleasu. hearing me recount our mode of living. He concludes always by saying, he envics the lot of M. d. Erman- cour: he is persuaded that happiness consists in living with those we love. This converse brought on the ſhºr day an explicit declaration of his passiºn tºº What do I hear ! (said 1.) Have you reflected on What you say : Me who am supported by the gene. ºsity of your family.” lle interrupted me, . I used ºvery argument to convince him he had nothing to ºpe; but my tears, sighs, and tender looks, told him that he was not indifferent. I left him, and went tº *y chamber, where I continued till supper. I was : C 3 a - .. & ... º 'º * - & * 30 z E LIA IN THE DESERT. Tale 71. ashamed and humiliated, that M. Sping had drawn that secret from ne. s I was vexed to find Sir George Harture one of the company at supper. Before we parted, M. Sping gave ‘me a letter. I hastened to my chamber, eager to pe- ruse its contents. It contained an offer of his hand in the most engaging terms. Politeness rendered an an- 'swer necessary. I again recounted all the circum- stances of my birth, and conjured him to reflect on the ſatal consequences that would result from a clandestine union. To this I added many other prudent re- flections. - While I was buried in a reverie, Madame Sping sent for me. When I entered the chamber, I found she had the letter in her hand which I had sent to her son, who was seated by her side. I fell on my knees. “Ah, Madame, pardon, pardon I’” I could only say these words. She took me in her arms. “Come, my child, my daughter, embrace thy mother, and thy spouse; and she presented me to her son. When the first emotions had subsided, she made me sit between them. She acquainted me with what I already knew of the plan which had been arranged for her son's mar- rying Mademoiselle Turnot. She had the delicacy to pass slightly over the fortune her son would lose by re- fusing that lady. She told me that her husband was gone express to Batavia, to settle that affair with the relations of the deserted fair one. The uncle had con- Sented to this arrangement; and the most of his fortune has been settled on the lady, to console her for the disappointment; and that, on the return of the gene- rous Dutchman, he hoped to call me daughter, and to advance the happiness of his son. My lover, on parting, seemed to leave me with an 9ppressed heart, for which I could not then account. About an hour, after I had retired, I heard a loud knºcking at my door. Mrs. Lendon begged me to open 1t immediately. , “Ah great God, preserve your brother's life Where is he “ She only answered with tears. “Ah! I have lost him,” said I, and faint- Tale 7 l. 7, F. L. I. A J N T H E I) E S E R T . 3 ) ed. During this interval, Mr. Lendon arrived, and, on my recovery, informed me that M. Sping has had an affair of honour with Sir George liarture, on my account, whom he had slightly wounded, and that he must fly the country for the present. He remained, however, at a place incog, till the English officer should be pronounced out of danger. In the mean time, we corresponded together through the medium of Mr. Lendon. Sir George Harture's father is arrived at Achen : he is come from England on purpose to persuade him to a marriage he has much at heart. I felt for this worthy Y. : he found his son in a deplorable situation. Mr. ndon has waited on him, in hopes to accommodate the affair. The world speaks highly of Lord Harture; and this circumstance gave me hopes, which were soon realized. Lord Harture has declared his son in the Wrong, and, in his behalf, solicits the pardon of M. Sping. M. Sping has returned to the house, to the inexpres- sible joy of the family. Alas! till now I knew not that he was also slightly wounded. While we were exchang- ing vows of affection, Lord Harture was announced : he came to dine with us; his eyes were continually fixed on me during the repast. He asked me several times if I had not been in France, and said ime had cer- tainly seen me somewhere. I assured him he had ne- yer seen me. “But, Miss, permit me to doubt your having always lived in a desert.” Here he paused, and seemed lost in thought. Lord Harture was invited by Madame Sping to re- main with us till next day. That evening, M. Sping's Wound opened again, and he was enfeebied by the loss ºf blood. Madame Sping and Mrs. Lendon agreed to it some time in his chamber; and I retired at an early hour. His Lordship and Sophia remained in the sa. ºn he asked her a thousand questions conceriſing ºne, which the little innocent girl answered, and gave him the following account. 32 ZE LIA IN THE DESERT. Tale 71. “ Miss Ninette had a mother, whose name was Nina : her father deserted her: she was born in a de- sert: her mother died in child-bed, and she was brought up by a young lady named Zelia.” “Zelia and Nina 1" said his Lordship, and rushed out of the room. Sophia hastened to relate this myste- rious behaviour to me. I had for some time been un- easy at not seeing Mr. Supple: but I now learnt that the good man, accompanied by a Black, is gone in search of the dear friends I deserted. - O, what a day of joy was the next On going to the saloon after dinner, by Madame Sping's desire, I found no person there but Y. Harture. I sat down at some distance. “Come near me, (said he,) I am the best of your friends. Are you not the daughter of Nina de Lizadie '’ e To be brief; I found in Lord Harture (who, in his youth, was called Baron de Konisberg,) my father. I shewed him the certificate he gave my dear mother on parting. He said, Heaven had preserved me to be the comfort of his days; and that he would make it his study to repair the wrongs he did my poor mother, by showering blessings on me. * When this aſſecting scene was over, his Lordship added to my pleasure, by informing me that Mr. Sup: ple was returned ; that he had seen my mamma, an that the indisposition of M. d'Ermancour prevented her from coming with him ; but he had brought a acket of letters for me. I was expressing my ac- nowledgments to Lord Harture, when Madame Sping entered, and gave me the packet you had sent. His Lordship informed her he had made the intended dis- covery, and presented me as his daughter. “Ah! my Lord, (said this worthy woman,) would I could rejoice at this event. It may, perhaps, cost me the life of my son. I have passed two hours with him, and cannot remove his fears ''' 3 * * * “...What my dear Madame,” replied my father:- “All my family fears, my Lord, that you will take Tale 71. z E LIA IN THE DEs ERT. 3.3 this dear child from us.” “Was I a Prince, Madame, I should think myself honoured in giving my daughter to your son.” . . . ; Kºi. Sping took me in her arms, and called me her dear daughter. Mr. Lendon, his Lady, and little Sophia, were soon acquainted with the glad tidings.-- My father then repaired to M. Sping's chamber, and º him happy, by the assurance that I should be IS. In the evening I saw Mr. Supple: he gave me a de- tail of his journey, and the reception he met with from the dear inhabitants of the Desert. O, how I pray for the recovery of M. d’Ermancour, that I may once more behold my friends. Lord IIarture joined us at an early hour: he was accompanied by his son. Sir George en- treated pardon for the uneasiness he had occasioned me, and we embraced each other affectionately. Ile and 1. Sping are perfectly recovered from their wounds. On parting, Mr. Supple gave me a box, which Madame d'Ermancour had commissioned him to deliver. I found it contained a small packet: on the cover were the ſol- lowing words, written with my mother's own hand: & ... “ This box incloses the portrait of Baron de Konis- berg, father of the child, which I leave on my death- bed to the care of Zelia. If my daughter should be happy enough to find her father, I demand from both of them a tear on kissing this picture, which I bathc with mine.” , My father caught me in his arms. . . Come, my child, mingle thy grief with mine: we will lament to- gether the best and most hapless of women I’’ M. Sping intreated his Lordship to spare a heart too full of sensibility. “I resign her to you,” said my father, and left the room. - * > The elder M. Sping returned from Batavia the next Thorning, and congratulated me on my good fortune- My father overwhelmed the good man with his ac- nowledgments. In speaking of such persons as Pos- 34 7. E LIA IN T H E D ESERT. Tale 71. sess the greatest plantations, he mentioned Mr. Mars- field; and it appears that the worthy father of Zelia had miraculously escaped from the wreck. The next thing that happened of consequence was º removal to the house of Lord Harture. Myself, and all the company, were carried by blacks in palanquins, preceded by a troop of officers on horseback, and the most distinguished inhabitants of the city. Sir George Harture is commander in chief of the port of Achen: in consequence of which, the ships saluted us by a dis- charge of cannon. During the procession, Sir George and my lover ne- ver quitted my palanquin. My surprise was great on cntering a church, instead of Lord Harture's house, to which T supposed they were conducting me. , My no- ble parent came to tell me that, after T was baptized, he could receive me as his legitimate daughter. The ceremony was not long; and the same retinue attended me to my father's house, amidst the sound of music, the firing of cannon, and the acclamations of the peo- ple. Lord Harture presented me with a purse, con: taining a hundred pieces of gold, telling me I should find a like sum in my toilette every month. I distri- buted this first gift of my father's among the servants of the house, and the blacks, whom I had seen on my first arrival at the island. -. The first person I was introduced to the next day was Mr. Märsfield, the father of the benevolent Zelia. After some consultation, it was determined that we should set off for the Desert the next day. . . M. Sping, the elder, and Mr. Supple, have just re- turned from the march they stole over the Red Moun- tain, in order to pay my beloved friends a visit. They have informed us of every interesting particular. . I am now coming to that delightful epoch of my life, when, surrounded by relations and friends, I once moſt visited that solitude from which I had º fled. My return was as brilliant as my departure had been disgraceful. I was enjoying the scene with rapture; when the sound of the musicians aroused me. I looked Tale 71. Z E LIA IN THE DESERT. 35 round, and perceived my dear good mamma placed be- tween her father and her husband. I screamed, for , my feelings overpowered me. “I have then ſound my dear child, (said Madame d'Ermancour:) I am com- §. blest: surely Heaven conducted the steps of inette to Achen.” Zelia's children recognized me, and were eager in their caresses. I embraced M. d'Ermancour with ardent expressions of gratitude and affection; while he assured me of his joy at my return. My father requested a private conversation with my good friend. T afterwards discovered that he wished to be conducted to the place where the remains of his dear Nina were deposited. . His feelings on entering this desert mausoleum are better conceived than de- scribed. After dinner, while we were all dancing on the lawn, we perceived an Indian girl, who was disputing with our domestics the right of coming to us. It was the good Maria, whose father had proved the means of finding the dear Zelia, when M. d’Ermancour was lost in the Desert. This affectionate girl was received with F. by all the company. Mr. Marsfield presented er with a purse of gold : and the faithful Indian had an annual pension settled on her, payable out of the rents of his plantations. - It was now agreed upon that the d'Ermancour’s should leave their habitation: but when the moment of eparture arrived, Madame d'Ermancour felt a kind of dread of mixing again in a troublesome world, abound- ing with deceit. ... *s revious to our quitting the Desert, Lord Harture etermined that the marriage between me and M. Šping should take place in the rural chapel where my friends had been united. The ceremony took place the ºxt day, and made me the most happy of women. Mr. Supple passed the nuptial benediction; in return for which, my father gave him a plantation in the De- ºrf, where the good missionary spent the remainder of his days. *. & - 36. z E LIA IN THE DESERT. Tale 71. * After the ceremony, we returned to Achen, where a superb éntertainment was provided ; and in this pro- vince it is intended we shall settle for life. Here Zelia resumes her Pen. After passing fifteen days at Achen, I embarked with all my family for Batavia, where my father freight- ed a ship with the riches he had amassed in India, and we happily arrived, after a pleasant voyage, on the coast of Normandy. The seat where the Marquis aad Marchioness d'Er. mancour resided, was situated at some leagues distance from the city of Rouen. The interview between my husband and his venerable parents was truly affecting, ... We remained six days at their castle, and then proceed- ed to Paris, where I had the pleasure of seeing once more my dear grand-mamma, who agreed to pass the rest of her days with us and my father at l'ouen. 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