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 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 
 
 Bare innocence is no support, 
 When you are tried in Scaniial's court. 
 Stand liigh in honour, wealth, or wit; 
 All others who interior sit, 
 Conceive themselves in conscience bound 
 To join and drag you to the ground. 
 Your altitude offends the eyes 
 Of those, who want the power to rise. 
 The World, a willing stander-by. 
 Inclines to aid a specious lie; 
 Alas ! they would not do you wrong; 
 But all appearances are strong ! 
 
 SWIFI ON t KNSURE. 
 
 VOL. II. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PRINTED FOR HENRY COLBURN AND CO. 
 CONDUIT-STREET, HANOVER-SQUARE. 
 
 1822.
 
 
 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 
 
 CHAP. I. 
 
 I COULD not rest. The scene of 
 the preceding night was before my 
 eyes; and then my thoughts recurred 
 to home — to Gertrude : and the morn- 
 ino- was far advanced when I fell 
 asleep. My uncle sent for me at ten 
 — I found him in his study. I tried 
 to apply myself to business, but he 
 must have perceived, though he did 
 not remark upon it, the distraction of 
 
 VOL. II. B 

 
 2 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 
 
 my thoughts, and the constraint of 
 my manner. As soon as I was re- 
 leased, I hurried to Lady Orville's 
 door. I approached it twice ; but 
 each time seeing Lady Denmont's 
 carriage, I did not venture even to 
 leave my name. 
 
 It M^as nearly a week before 1 again 
 saw Lady Orville ; when we met, she 
 told me of Moncriefs generosity, but 
 she also told me, that he had treated 
 her with some harshness and severity. 
 She confided to me that Lord Or- 
 ville was on the brink of ruin ; that 
 he accused her extravagance as the 
 cause of his distress, and had de- 
 clared to her his serious intention of 
 separating himself entirely from her.
 
 GRAHAM HAMILTON. d 
 
 She concluded this melancholy dis- 
 closure, by enjoining me to leave her 
 to her fate, and see her no more. 
 ** Oh! wherefore," I cried, "banish 
 me your presence? Why have you 
 permitted me to see — to hear — to 
 adore you, and then say coldly, cruel- 
 ly, — ' Never approach me again' ?" 
 
 Lady Orville again bade me fly her; 
 and yet her countenance seemed to 
 express a different wish, and beseech- 
 ingly to say, " Remain and comfort me 
 — you are my only friend." I knew 
 not how to act— but I obeyed her 
 looks, rather than her words. I saw 
 her again and again, and every time 
 1 saw her, I became more and 
 more entangled. At length I re- 
 
 B 2
 
 4 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 
 
 solved, cost me what it might, that 
 I would break off an intercourse, 
 which every day engrossed me more 
 entirely; and which, novice as I 
 then was, I felt could lead only to 
 error and misfortune. Exhorted by 
 her I summoned up all my resolu- 
 tion; I recalled to my mind the 
 form— the features of Gertrude; I read 
 over her innocent— her simple letters: 
 but all these exertions and resolutions 
 were insufficient to enable me to cope 
 with the force and vehemence of my 
 passion. 
 
 As a last desperate resource I 
 plunged into folly, vice, and dissipation. 
 I thought nothing wrong which could
 
 GRAHAM HAMILTON. O 
 
 be the means of estranging me from 
 her. I sought other society — I courted 
 new friends, and followed other pur- 
 suits. I indulged in profusion and 
 extravagance ; but by some unac- 
 countable means I always met her, 
 and sometimes in situations of great 
 interest and difficulty. With her mo- 
 ney-affairs I became connected; what 
 I could to soften my uncle in her fa- 
 vour I did; and whilst we were both 
 determining to fly from each other, 
 chance threw us continually together. 
 Though she was grieved, she did not 
 express offence, nor had she firmness 
 sufficient to break off a friendship 
 which she knew to be so sincere —
 
 6 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 
 
 SO devoted — and which had, in mo- 
 ments of great embarrassment, ren- 
 dered her such material assistance. 
 
 Notwithstanding my excesses, my 
 uncle's munificence towards me be- 
 came unbounded ; his attachment and 
 his pride in me increased. I was no 
 onger called a Scottish adventurer, 
 or a poor student— a friend whom Mr. 
 Brandon had picked up at Edinburgh 
 — but I was talked of every where 
 as the brave Captain Hamilton's ne- 
 phew, — Sir Malcolm the rich mer- 
 chant's heir — and a young man of sur- 
 prising genius. I was generally court- 
 ed and sought after. Cards on cards 
 crowded my table with invitations to 
 dinners, concerts, parties, and balls.
 
 GRAHAM HAMILTOX. 7 
 
 But what was all this to me, after 
 the first few weeks, when my success 
 was evident, and my vanity gratified ? 
 — ^when women, for whom I did not 
 care, made advances I wished not 
 to return, and talked to me during 
 operas and plays, which I was dy- 
 ing to hear ? What was it to me to 
 dance — to dine — to drink — to game — 
 to sit the eternal length of dinners — to 
 be mixed in the senseless crowding of 
 assemblies — to witness the vulgar ser- 
 vility of those who were pushing their 
 way into the world of fashion, and the 
 equally vulgar arrogance of those who 
 considered themselves its leaders ? — 
 What was it to me to hear, one by one, 
 the names aspersed, and the characters
 
 .'.■TIT' 
 
 8 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 
 
 trodden down into the mire, of women 
 who appeared to me all that is good, 
 innocent, and pure ? I was not hap- 
 py. I look not back upon those days, 
 however brilliant, as days of enjoy- 
 ment. My vanity was gratified, and 
 time passed swiftly by; but still it was 
 not happiness — not such as I had felt, 
 when first Gertrude had told me I was 
 dear to her, when my heart pictured 
 no other delight than spending th"e 
 remainder of my life in her society. 
 
 My attachment to Lady Orville 
 caused me bitter sorrow; T heard 
 her spoken of in terms which I could 
 not endure; I heard her name cou- 
 
 ])led with my own, in a manner 
 
 Oa.'i..'\; 
 which made me miserable, — Moncrief
 
 GRAHAM HAMILTON, 9 
 
 taxed me with my conduct. As a 
 mend, older than myself, he admo- 
 nished me for Lady Orville's sake — 
 for my father's — for Gertrude's — at 
 least to be more circumspect. I re- 
 assured him. " Can you really say," 
 he asked, " that my fears are unfound- 
 ed r "1 assure you oi it, upon my 
 honour." ** All I ask of you," he said, 
 ^^ is, not to deceive me." '' Is nothing 
 going on in secret f " 1 never see 
 her in private," I replied : " Upon my 
 honour v^e do not even meet." He 
 gave me his hand and said, "I believe 
 you, and you are a noble fellow." 
 
 But very shortly after this a cer- 
 tain Colonel L., a forward profligate 
 coxcomb, who, judging from his own 
 
 b5
 
 10 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 
 
 want of both, believed neither in hO" 
 nesty nor virtue, affirmed in my pre- 
 sence, that- '. No, I dare not — I 
 
 cannot even now repeat the terms in 
 ■which he characterised her. 
 
 The blood boiled in my veins ; too 
 rashly I called upon him to account 
 for his shameless aspersion. He smiled, 
 and would have withdrawn from the 
 danger of supporting his own words. 
 Forgetting that I should certainly 
 make Lady Orville's name as well aj^ 
 my own public, I listened only to my 
 resentment, and expressions passed 
 before others, which made it impossi- 
 ble that Colonel L. should not demand 
 satisfaction. We met — Mr. Brandon
 
 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 11 
 
 was my second. The Colonel received 
 my fire — discharged his own pistol in 
 the air ; and I was compelled to de- 
 clare myself satisfied. The affair with 
 its cause became generally known, 
 and had the natural effect of still far- 
 ther injuring Lady Orville's reputa- 
 tion. 
 
 It were difficult to believe how 
 many unfounded stories were circu- 
 lated by malice against her. It was 
 aot indeed to be expected, that a cen- 
 sorious, officious, intermeddling world 
 — ever greedy of scandal, ever ready 
 to adopt the worst construction, and 
 hasty to condemn — should shew un- 
 wonted mercy and compassion to one
 
 12 GRAHAM HAMILTON'. 
 
 whose superior endowments had so 
 deeply mortified its vanity and ex- 
 cited its envy. 
 
 Moncrief was confident that these 
 reports were unfounded ; but he proved 
 to me too clearly that my imprudence 
 was the cause of them ; and he urged 
 me to find any pretext for quitting 
 London immediately for some time. I 
 pleaded a thousand excuses : and 
 when I at last yielded to his argu- 
 ments, I still urged a thousand rea- 
 sons for putting off" a step, which 1 
 could not deny to be absolutely ne- 
 cessary. In ten days — in a fortnight, 
 I promised to depart. I undertook 
 during that time not to approach Lady 
 Orville's doors ; and though for some
 
 GRAHAM HAMILTON". 13 
 
 days I kept my engagement in this 
 respect, I still delayed breaking to 
 my uncle my intention, or asking his 
 permission that I should leave him. 
 
 Lady Orville had of course heard, 
 and she had been much affected on 
 hearing of the risk I had run on her 
 accdnnt. The gallantry and devotion 
 of my conduct w^as in her eyes, as it 
 would have been in those of most 
 women, more than an atonement for 
 its rashness and imprudence. She 
 had twice written to ask me to come 
 to her ; but I would not break the pro- 
 mise I had made Moncrief. At length 
 I heard that she was ill, and I could 
 resist no longer. Sick of scenes of 
 vice, a loser of more than I cared to
 
 14 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 
 
 confess at the gaming-table, and under 
 the consciousness that half the town 
 believed me the favoured lover of a 
 person for whom my admiration was 
 such as not to permit me to lower her 
 for a moment even by an unworthy 
 thought, — with such feelings I entered 
 her apartment, and at once communi- 
 cated to her my intention of leaving 
 London. 
 
 She seemed aifected, and instantly 
 said there was now no necessity for my 
 departure — it was too late : malice 
 had done its worst. '* Oh yes, there 
 i;5 necessity," I replied, "for I have 
 no command — no control over my- 
 self, and I must leave you. You once 
 commanded me to do so — it had been
 
 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 15 
 
 better for me had I then obeyed 
 you." " You obeyed me in every 
 thing," said Lady Orville : " it is now 
 unnecessary — ■ you must not leave 
 London." " May I ask you where- 
 fore ?" I replied hastily. '' Ah! where- 
 fore such confusion ? Your tears, 
 your embarrassment, all tell me that I 
 am a source of misery and disquiet to 
 you. Why do you start from me as 
 from something hateful?" 
 
 " Oh, if I were to tell you," she 
 replied, " that I returned that interest, 
 that friendship, your looks and words 
 and actions all prove that you feel for 
 me — if I were to promise you my 
 friendship, what would you then think 
 of me ?" — '' I know not, but in that case
 
 16 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 
 
 I would fly you still more, still far- 
 ther," I replied, as firmly as I could. 
 ''Alas!" she said, in tears, "every 
 friend I have thus forsakes me — they 
 either leave me as Moncrief does, 
 or I force them from me, as I do 
 
 T if 
 
 you — yet am 1 not your protectress, 
 your friend in society? Is not my 
 house at all times open to you ? If I 
 say it is shut, if my protection should 
 b'^'\vimdrawn ?" — " It were better for 
 ni^)^^ I answered, struggling with a 
 variety of feelings, " far better for me 
 than any success accompanied by 
 disgrace." " Could you bear to live,' 
 and never see me again ?" "I know 
 not, I answered, hesitatingly ; but this 
 I know, I could never bear to live.
 
 GKAHAM HAMILTOX. 17 
 
 1 1 ,'f 
 
 if you were I^pj^^worthy — if I becaip.e 
 so. 
 
 _ Lady Orville coloured deeply, and 
 appeared struck to the heart by these 
 words. They seemed to overwhelm 
 her with confusion. "Oh ! Mr. Hamil- 
 ton," she exclaimed, '* where have 
 you lived that you should cherish 
 such noble sentiments ? or rather, 
 where have I lived that I should have 
 forgotten them ? Lord Orville is cold, 
 severe, and unfaithful.' y./'^ Have you 
 done nothing to render him so V " 1 
 have never dishonoured him." " Good 
 Heavens ! can you talk so coldly of 
 such a crime ? " " Mr. Hamilton, 
 hear me : why in your own mind pic- 
 ture me a being superior to all others,
 
 18 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 
 
 in order to wound me the more 
 deeply— to use me the more unkindly ? 
 How inconsistent your conduct has 
 been : why even risk your life in de- 
 fence of my reputation if in fact you 
 are indifferent ? " " Indifferent ! do I 
 appear so ? Look at me and see if in 
 these eyes, this countenance, you can 
 trace indifference to your welfare ; but 
 do not imagine I am base enough to 
 mistake your friendship, your conde- 
 scension, or to forget the principles 
 of honour and religion ; do not tell 
 me of Lord Orville's coldness, and 
 your own unhappiness. 1 am the 
 last in the world to whom you should 
 name them." " You have wrung my 
 heart," replied Lady Orville : " I am
 
 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 19 
 
 alone upon earth ; you know not 
 what it is to be so. I pass my 
 days in a struggle to appear gay, 
 my nights in tears." 
 
 " Your mother," I said faintly, in- 
 terrupting her, "■ your mother could 
 be a friend." *' She cannot sympa- 
 thise with my woes — it would break 
 her heart were she to hear them. Ah ! 
 have you never done any thing wrong, 
 that you can speak with such severity 
 to me ?" I felt my strength fail ; I 
 saw Lady Orville's tears, and I faintly 
 continued, *' Moncrief is your friend," 
 — and as I pronounced his name, I 
 tried to penetrate into her very soul. 
 
 Her fair arm, supported her head ; 
 her dark brown hair, carelessly dishe-
 
 20 GUAHAM HAMILTON. 
 
 .veiled, fell over her pale cheek, yet 
 ,wet with tears ; her eyes were lowly 
 bent — she raised them softly — she 
 looked beseechingly on me. " Gra- 
 ham !" she called me thus: — the ten- 
 derness of that soimd — the emotion of 
 hearing such a woman thus call me 
 :• — overcame my assumed firmness. 
 I bent forward to take her hand,-^ 
 perhaps to press it to my lips. Start- 
 ing back, " Oh no," she cried, **you 
 misunderstand me : 'tis a friend^ — a 
 kind, an ardent, an unspoiled friend, 
 I wish for — one to soothe my harassed 
 soul, to lead me back from the road 
 of ruin, iVom the brink of that gulf of 
 .crime into whicJi I assure you" — her 
 .look was truth — ** I never yet have
 
 GRAHAM HAJIILTON. 21 
 
 fallen. It is for this alone I sought 
 you.'*-^^*^ I will be that friend," I cried, 
 throwing myself before her. ** I will 
 serve you with zeal ; weep with you, 
 ifit^cannot comfort you; pray for you, 
 if nothing else is left me — pray with 
 you, Lady Orville, and teach you to 
 fii& your affections higher than the 
 transient dream of this world. 
 
 As I was thus speaking, the door 
 opened, and Moncrief entered.' ''^ """'■ 
 If Never was confusion greater than 
 mine; never was terror more strongly 
 impressed on any countenance than 
 upon her s — what then was my sur- 
 prise, what my relief, when Moncrief, 
 perfectly composed, and appearing 
 not even to observe me, seated him-
 
 22 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 
 
 self near Lady Orville, and in a 
 somewhat anxious tone inquired of 
 her, whether she had heard from her 
 husband. With hesitation, with em- 
 barrassment, not knowing what she 
 said, Lady Orville first answered that 
 she had — then that she had not. 
 
 " I conclude," continued Moncrief, 
 " that I may speak to you openly 
 before Mr. Hamilton : he seems," — and 
 he smiled with bitterness, — '* he seems 
 perfectly acquainted with all that is 
 going on." " Not in the least," I 
 said eagerly. Moncrief cast his eyes 
 upon me with a glance of superiority 
 and proud contempt I could not en- 
 dure. He then continued, addressing 
 Lady Orville — " You know my wishes.
 
 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 23> 
 
 my proposal — the offer I have made 
 is sincere ; decide in whatever way 
 you may think most conducive to 
 your happiness : mine, you are well 
 aware, depends on yours." 
 
 He was strongly agitated as he 
 spoke. Lady Orville wept, but made 
 no answer. I felt that I ought to 
 leave the room ; but my embarrass- 
 ment was such that I could not do it. 
 At length Moncrief rose to depart, 
 and as he passed me, said in a low 
 solemn voice : " meet me to-night : 
 I am engaged until twelve, after that 
 hour you will find me at my own 
 house." 
 
 As soon as he had left the room, 
 Lady Orville beckoned to me, and I
 
 24 GRAHAM HAMlLTOSr. 
 
 seated myself by her side. She took 
 my hand, and said, *' What must 
 yon think of me — of me to whom you 
 have been accustomed to look up as 
 something elevated and superior. 
 Hear me, and learn to appreciate 
 real worth — learn to know the dis- 
 tinction between the appearance and 
 the reality of generosity of sentiment 
 and ma^nanimitv of soul. Moncrief," 
 — her voice faltered, — " Moncrief was 
 to have been my husband : he had 
 loved me from infancy — our parents 
 were friends. I left him for the prO' 
 ferred hand of one of the richest and 
 handsomest men in England. Lord 
 Orville rewarded me as I deserved — 
 but enough of him. After my mar-
 
 GRAHAM HAMILTON'. 25 
 
 nage, I saw Moncrief. Piqued at 
 Lord Orville's indifference, and con- 
 scious that Moncrief still loved me 
 with ardour, I sought his society, 
 tortured his heart, and led him 
 about in triumph as my victim — 
 I felt pride in humbling the proudest 
 of men. My vain heart exulted in 
 shewing a man of integrity and 
 honour a prey to the maddest at- 
 tachment; but I was disappointed 
 in my unworthy wish. Moncrief was 
 firmer than I had expected: and, what- 
 ever pain I may have given him — 
 however I may have deserved other- 
 wise—he has never treated me but 
 with the respect and attachment of 
 a friend. 
 
 VOL. II. c
 
 26 GRAHAM HAMILTOX. 
 
 " He sought to save me when he 
 found me involved in debts and many 
 difficulties : and now — now that Lord 
 Orville, enraged at the magnitude of 
 my offences, has determined to part 
 from me, Moncrief offers to go to 
 him., to attempt an arrangement of 
 my affairs, and a reconciliation be- 
 tween me and my husband. But I 
 have been so deeply injured by 
 Lord Orville, that I cannot forgive 
 him. My affections are entirely alie- 
 nated; and I had rather be sepa- 
 rated with all the obloquy that at- 
 tends upon such a measure, than 
 consent to return with him into the 
 country, and see my friends no more. 
 Think, Mr. Hamilton, of his proposal :
 
 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 27 
 
 see — read it in his own letter, *' That 
 Lady Orville should give up her ser- 
 vants, her equipages, her house in 
 London; that she should consent to 
 reside, for the next three years in the 
 country ; and that upon these condi- 
 tions an arrangement may be made 
 for discharging her immense debts 
 contracted by boundless extrava- 
 gance, undiscriminating charity, and 
 the most inconsiderate negligence." 
 
 *' And have you consented V I 
 said eagerly— " Have 11" she replied: 
 *' Oh, Mr. Hamilton, that I had your 
 simple habits — your integrity — your 
 real spirit of independence. Look 
 at this house — the gilding of the 
 ceilings, the pictures, the splen- 
 
 c2
 
 28 GRAHAM HAMILTOlsr. 
 
 ^b'tff -df ' tlie' furnitliVi^?''!^ " What are 
 these things," I said, ** if one single 
 debt be left unpaid ? Such scenes as 
 that of the evening of the ball must 
 deprive you of all enjoyment of these 
 luxuries. And after all, magnificent 
 mansions and numberless servants 
 do not promote the happiness of those 
 to whom they belong. The mirth of 
 the heart, the amusement of the mind, 
 gaiety of spirit, social intercourse, 
 and pleasant conversation, cheer and 
 delight humbler dw^ellings. I care not 
 for these pomps and ceremonies — you 
 cannot in your heart regard them, 
 either: and remember, that sooner or 
 later you must be called upon to re- 
 sign them."
 
 GRAHAM HAMILTOX. 23 
 
 *' But the friends who now consider 
 me as their first object— my parties, 
 to be invited to which there is so 
 much emulation — my suppers, at 
 which politics are debated, and where 
 statesmen settle their measures— all 
 these will be lost for ever, and the 
 world will seek some other general 
 place of union, if I give up my pre- 
 sent place in society, and retire into 
 the country for three years/' 
 
 "It will not be for three years," I 
 replied. " How!" " It will be en- 
 tirely, if you once retire : if you once 
 resolve upon an interval of reason and 
 reflection, you will no longer care for 
 these things, as you do now. With 
 your mind — ^withyour resources — you
 
 30 GRAHAM HAMILTOX. 
 
 will soon discover the superior enjoy- 
 ment of a more rational and more so- 
 cial course of life. And oh ! Lady Or- 
 ville, can one like you hesitate be- 
 tween the empty pride of being at the 
 head of a train of persons, who would 
 not refrain from going to the next 
 ball, were you to die to-morrow, and 
 the solid merit of living the ornament, 
 the delight, and comfort of your 
 family ?" 
 
 *' I wish," said Lady Orville, half 
 smiling, ** you were permitted to 
 preach publicly to ladies in general ; 
 you certainly would make many con- 
 verts — but my case is different, your 
 reasoning does not apply to it. I have 
 no home to adorn, no husband who
 
 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 31 
 
 i-equires my attention, no child to in- 
 struct,— my babes are not yet of an 
 age to demand my care ; and besides, 
 if they were, I could not pass my 
 time in hearing them their lessons. 
 I hate to torment children ; they are 
 my only comforts now, yet my heart 
 requires more, I feel too ardently to 
 
 bear existence without . ' 
 
 She hesitated:— I did not venture to 
 interrupt her. '' I am not yet twenty- 
 four years of age/' she continued; 
 *' and what does life present to me ?" 
 '' What it ever must present to all," I 
 replied, '' a varied field of good and 
 evil. Much happiness is yours— some 
 sorrows have fallen to your lot ; but 
 I am convinced that of all the latter
 
 32 GRAHAM HAMILTOX, 
 
 the most difficult to endure is self- 
 reproach." 
 
 Ladv Orville seemed affected with 
 my conversation — I fear these details 
 may tire others ; but let it be remem- 
 bered by the lovers of a more laconic 
 style, by those who suffer under an 
 irritable impatience of monotony, and 
 nourish by all incentives a passion for 
 continual novelty, that I spoke to a 
 woman, of herself and her own affairs 
 ^that I was not yet twenty years of 
 age — and that something of the ardour 
 of an enthusiastic lover broke in ui)on 
 and relieved the tediousness of ad- 
 monition. 
 
 " Had I once heard you speak thus, 
 Mr. Hamilton," at length she said^
 
 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 33 
 
 r.ir- 
 
 looking at me with irresistible sweet- 
 ness, — " I might, perhaps, have felt 
 amended, but now to me perpfetual 
 change of scene, variety of conver- 
 sation, and multiplicity of acquain- 
 tance are become necessary. You 
 €nce told me that existence was, as it 
 were, dead without active pursuits, 
 and that action was the light of life. 
 I cannot labour — write I do ; but 
 were I to publish what I write, I 
 should only make enemies, or incur 
 censure. In the country I dread the 
 tediousness of neighbours, the wrang- 
 fihg of companions — and then the 
 ridicule ! As all other fears in society 
 lose their power, this fear increases ; 
 and no one who is not aware of the 
 ' ''^' '■' c 5 ■ '
 
 34 GRAHAM HAMILTON, 
 
 manner in which others talk, laugh, 
 and misrepresent, can at all imagine 
 how unpleasant it is to be the jest 
 even of fools." " Where there is 
 complete heartlessness," I replied, 
 •' there must be a total want of sym- 
 pathy for those who act from right 
 feeling; but, be assured, the scoffers 
 fear what they ridicule, and only 
 affect to despise those who, they 
 know, must deeply despise them. 
 Act upon higher motives than the 
 dread of this ridicule. Oh, if you 
 knew how they already aspersed your 
 name — how little they really love you 
 — how soon the idol of the day is 
 forgotten by those who pay the most 
 abject adoration — and how every fault
 
 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 3o 
 
 is noted in those who, from whatever 
 cause> are thrust into public notice !" 
 j^. It was thus I went on, till Lady Or- 
 ville discovered that she had listened 
 to me for nearly three hours ; and I 
 felt that attachment alone could have 
 induced her to do so : this led to a 
 more dangerous explanation. No one 
 appeared to interrupt us. My ima- 
 gination was overheated, — I forgot 
 myself so far, as to forget what was 
 due to her. I owned that I felt for 
 her with ardour — Lady Orville blush- 
 ed : never had I seen her look so 
 beautiful. Hope and passion gave me 
 a confidence in myself I had not be- 
 fore. I uttered the rhapsodies of en- 
 thusiasm, the promises which some
 
 36r> GRAHAM HAMILTON'. 
 
 think are only made in order to bej 
 broken, but which I at that hour con- 
 sidered as sacred. At length I recol- 
 lected the necessity of departing, ^nd,> 
 tore myself away — my heart beating 
 with agitation, and my mind in strange 
 disorder. 
 
 " Mr. Moncrief requested me to 
 remind Mr. Hamilton that he expected 
 him this evening at twelve," said the 
 servant as I descended the stairs. 
 ** Good heavens! I had forgotten it; 
 and what hour is it?" *' It is half- 
 past two," said the man with a smile ; 
 and I immediately hastened whither 
 Moncrief had appointed me. As I 
 went out, I heard the porter say, 
 " Did you tell my lady that Lady
 
 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 37 
 
 Denmont and Miss Clairville had 
 twice called this evening, but I re- 
 fused them on your orders?"-"'^! 
 did," said the laquais aloud, that I 
 might hear him, " you were quite 
 right ; her ladyship was too much 
 indisposed to see any one." 
 
 •itt.--n'T('v^ hnrf T ! ■sfTftTROff .booO -' 
 
 - lix
 
 38 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 
 
 CHAP. II. 
 
 That Moncrief thought I had de- 
 ceived him, 1 was convinced ; that he 
 would demand of me satisfaction, I 
 considered as inevitable : with a mind 
 possessed by these expectations, with 
 passions excited, and an imagination 
 inflamed, I arrived at the place which 
 he had appointed. He had been 
 w^aiting for me two hours — yet his 
 manner was calm. " It was kind of 
 you, Graham," he said, extending his 
 hand, " thus to comply with my re-
 
 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 39 
 
 quest : and to disarm at once your 
 brow of that haughtiness, which I 
 perceive upon it, and to check a 
 young enthusiast who may be de- 
 lighted with the idea of sending a 
 bullet into the bosom of the only 
 friend in London w^ho wishes him 
 well, let me inform you, that what- 
 ever you may say, however you may 
 provoke me, my arm is defenceless 
 aoainst vour's — never, never will I do 
 any thing to harm a person whose 
 merit I appreciate, and whose inex- 
 perience I would guide." Softened 
 and somewhat calmed by this address, 
 *' I came not hither," I said, " in the 
 idea that you would act unkindly by 
 me. I shall never forg^et the ser-
 
 40 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 
 
 vices you have done me, and I ask 
 yon, Moncrief, to speak to me sin- 
 cerely — to give me your full confi- 
 dence ; I think I shall not abuse it, 
 or be deficient in that generosity and 
 noble virtue, the example of which I 
 have ever found in you."' ' '■ 
 
 " Graham," said Moncrief, after a 
 few moments' silence, " you have de- 
 ceived me — it was, however, natural, 
 perhaps right ; for had you spoken 
 the truth to me you had betrayed 
 Lady Orville. Lady Orville loves 
 ^OU,"' he continued in a hurried 
 tone. " Loves me !" I exclaimed. 
 " No childish denials ; if you are too 
 innocent to perceive it, others are notV 
 She loves you — I see it, I know it;' 
 
 tnrlt hhn I
 
 GRAHAM IIAMILTOX. 41 
 
 nay, you are aware of it ; and, wj.th- 
 out returning- her attachment, your 
 head is turned, your passions are 
 excited, and your vanity is flattered." 
 " My vanity !" — " Cease, and hear 
 me : all I ask is, to be quietly heard, 
 Avithout aff"ectation of surprise and 
 without interruption. To Lady Or- 
 ville I have been attached for many 
 years : before her marriage I loved 
 her with the romantic ardour of 
 youth;— since that period, I have 
 omitted no one act that fidelity and 
 disinterested affection suggested for 
 the protection of her innocence and 
 the security of her happiness. It 
 may not sound pleasing in your ears, if 
 
 I add that I have felt for her all the
 
 42 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 
 
 attachment that I could ever feel in 
 honour to a married woman. That 1 
 could have made her forget her duty, 
 I do not believe; and had I done so — 
 had I, in the common acceptation of the 
 world, succeeded with her, I had felt 
 humbled, and not triumphant: for it 
 is in her virtue, her excellence, her 
 superiority over every other woman, 
 that I place my pride and satisfac- 
 tion. 
 
 " 1 have even been careful, by my 
 attention to propriety, to keep the 
 busy tongue of scandal silent. 1 know 
 it is said I love her absurdly, madly; 
 — but what of that ? no one can ever 
 even hint that my devotion has for- 
 gotten the respect due to her, or ever
 
 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 43 
 
 attempted to influence her mind to 
 what is base. I have exerted myself 
 to keep my own bosom sound and 
 pure, that it might not, by commu- 
 nication, contaminate hers. Such 
 conduct is, I am sorry to beheve,rare; 
 perhaps few would understand it suf- 
 ficiently to admire it : neither was it 
 for the praise of others, that I acted 
 thus. The virtues which really apply 
 to the great leading relations and cir- 
 cumstances of life are neglected and 
 undervalued — enthusiasm, false refine- 
 ment, exaggerated sensibility are more 
 interesting. I wish not to interest ; — 
 but, Graham, I did hope the reward 
 of so many years of devotion to one 
 individual would have met with a dif-
 
 44 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 
 
 ferent recompense. Lady Orville has 
 at length forgotten what was due to 
 herself, and I may add, to her only real 
 friend. It is ever thus, when constan- 
 cy and virtue possess the heart of man : 
 when, departing from the ordinary 
 track, he exercises a generous self- 
 denial — when he struggles to over- 
 come his passions, and to treat the wo- 
 man whom he loves as if she were a ra- 
 tional being, she is sure to disappoint 
 his expectations, to undervalue his at- 
 tachment, and to throw herself away 
 upon the first young enthusiast with 
 whom she meets. That flattery which 
 I have denied her, your ardent and 
 admiring eyes have bestowed. From 
 the first I saw it : she was capti-
 
 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 45 
 
 vated by your frankness, beauty of 
 person, and youth ; she has not even 
 paused to ask if there is one ster- 
 ling virtue beneath. After years of 
 long-tried acquaintance, after a de- 
 votion to her, I believe unparal- 
 leled, she calls you by the name 
 to which I alone have a right to as- 
 pire — by the sacred name of friend. 
 Oh woman ! how worthless a thing 
 art thou; and even in thy perfection 
 how contemptible ! " 
 
 I felt offended at his severity. To 
 maintain the propriety of Lady Or- 
 ville's conduct would have been inde- 
 licate and ungracious ; but I took ad- 
 vantage of the generality of his last 
 remark, and undertook the defence of
 
 46 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 
 
 the sex. " Women were the comfort, 
 the delight of life," I said. " They 
 were less selfish — they had more 
 kindness, feeling, generosity, devo- 
 tion, love — than men; who were cold, 
 arrogant, tyrannical." 
 
 " What then are your intentions ?" 
 said Moncrief, earnestly. — " Leave 
 London — see no more of Lady Orville 
 — remember the delicacy, the danger 
 of her situation — act nobly, though I 
 scarce expect it of you. If you can- 
 not, follow the customary track. See 
 her — be her ruin; go on in the old 
 hackneyed course, under the name of 
 Friendship ; say you will pause here, 
 and there — so far, and no farther ; 
 dream away hours in ecstatic bliss, as it
 
 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 47 
 
 is called — and when you have de- 
 praved your own heart, and tainted 
 her's, rejoice, if you can : — and for me, I 
 shall henceforth leave you to your own 
 reflections. I shall never intrude 
 again. Of one thing, however, feel as- 
 sured — if I do take this step, it shall 
 be decisive. Will you, therefore, take 
 upon yourself to replace me — to 
 watch over, to defend, to save from 
 error, a woman M'ho might have 
 been heaven's masterpiece in mind, in 
 character, as she is in beauty, but for 
 these fatal weaknesses, which will, I 
 fear, corrupt all her virtues, and ren- 
 der her talents useless, her life dis- 
 honourable, and her death without 
 consolation."
 
 48 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 
 
 " Depend upon it," I said/ " with 
 all your kindness and all your gene- 
 rosity, you do Lady Orville the cruel- 
 est injustice in supposing her guilty 
 of ingratitude towards you : and as to 
 the wrong feelings and the attach- 
 ment which you condemn, though I 
 cannot declare your suspicions en- 
 tirely unfounded, yet be assured that 
 they are greatly exaggerated." 
 
 Moncrief was incredulous. I per- 
 sisted. Our discussion was long ; each 
 of us kept his temper, nor used one 
 harsh or unbecoming expression ; but 
 it ended, like most discussions, in the 
 conviction of neither party. The 
 hour of the morning to which we had 
 prolonged our conversation, compelled
 
 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 49 
 
 US to separate. I returned fatigued 
 and harassed, but still vain and 
 elated, to my uncle's. 
 
 Moncrief, hurt and wounded both 
 by Lady Orville's conduct and mine, 
 hopeless of rendering her any far- 
 ther service, fully convinced that she 
 would not break off her intercourse 
 with me in that dignified and decisive 
 manner which alone could save her 
 reputation, determined upon giving 
 up his vain endeavours, and departed 
 into the country, without seeking an- 
 other interview with her, and without 
 offering any farther admonition or 
 remonstrance. 
 
 Lady Orville's distress and diffi- 
 culties now became so great and press- 
 
 VOL. II. D
 
 50 G R A II A M H A :sr I LTO X . 
 
 ing, that it would have been cruelty 
 in me to' nave 'abandoned ' her'. ' Mbii- 
 crief's absence caused her disquiet, 
 but it was too ' evident that 'mine 
 would, at this mome'ht, 'hav^' given 
 her still greater pain. She praised 
 him in the highest terms ; she owned 
 he was the only man she'had'ev^Y'^fe^n, 
 
 "who entirely realized every idea she 
 
 had ever formed of matchless integrity 
 
 " and^perfect ft6i\Bi\?'; ^she believe'd 'him 
 
 capable of making the most generous 
 
 efforts, and of submitting to the se- 
 
 ^'>^re^r {)rivatim^; "bilt,^ ^^h Sai&;'%e 
 required to6 much of human nature. 
 
 ' -^His expectations were even more 
 absurd than "'ftf;^ 'j)V£?J"^e^'^,'' tlvfe' liitter 
 
 - were mereflattcry, exaggerations quite
 
 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 51 
 
 . *^ i J. 
 
 -out of nature ; the former were cer- 
 tainly rational and right in themselves, 
 b^it wholly impracticable for those 
 ,3r}vho lived in the world. 
 fjgyjThe fact was she was relieved, by 
 l^l^m departure, from the justice of his 
 |. reproofs ; and she was so fully con- 
 j>-^inced of her power over him, that 
 3, she. thought the not appearing to heed 
 V his absence, would secure his speedy 
 , , return. She felt secure that his attach- 
 ,^^nent to her was too strong to permit 
 him to abandon her in her distress ; 
 , and in the mean time the society of 
 ^Praham Hamilton ,jfji qf one wholly 
 , pew to life, too young to admonish, 
 and too ardent to repress her hopes, 
 
 d2
 
 52 GRAHAM HAMILTOX. 
 
 &C- /OTJIMAH KAHAH^ 
 
 prudence — made up for his tempo- 
 rarv absence and displeasure. , 
 
 I said all I could to warn her; but 
 unfortunately, at the same time, I 
 shewed how, much I admired her. 
 "A friend," I said, *' had a sacred 
 character^ and should be more con- 
 sidered than, a host of lovers. ^Mon- 
 crief possessed a firm character, not 
 to be trifled with. The conviction 
 that she had forsaken such a^.lojig- 
 tried friend for one who had no claim 
 upon her, had stun^^ his heart ; he was 
 more resolved than she imagined. It 
 would be a painful struo-srle, no doubt; 
 many a man would fail under it — I 
 should— >but not Moncrief." ^ 
 
 All these considerations I urged—
 
 TOT I IM AH IfAHy % 
 
 GRAHAM HAMILTOX. CJxJ 
 
 jiamsl ^ift 'i(Jl qw sbfim , fionabrria 
 but m vani. She continued ner own 
 
 peculiar course ; and as a strange ex- 
 ample of the ruling fault and ruling 
 virtue of her character, even at this 
 time, I saw her relieve the wants of a 
 starving family with the one half of the 
 
 ft ■ 
 
 last small sum which she possessed, 
 and buy a useless bauble which a 
 jeweller had left for her yispection 
 Willi the remainder. 
 "With respect to the future, she pro- 
 fessed her intention of confining her- 
 self to the most moderate allowance 
 her husband might be inclined to 
 grant her, if she were permitted to 
 
 reside alone, and be the mistress of 
 
 . I'^tToaoM.ton -Irj^t-btuof-l', 
 her own time and actions. She would. 
 
 ff h 
 consent to give up her house, her car-
 
 54 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 
 
 ;PT2ni Offt donoin'^f n.-t hrtp. rrfrrf nv/n 
 riage, her suppers, and her balls ; but 
 
 it must be done with effect ; the whole 
 world must bear witness to the sacri- 
 fice; her vanity must be completely 
 gratified, before she could bring her- 
 self to endure the humiliating change. 
 She became solely intent upon the 
 preparation of this concluding scene ; 
 and at a moment when Lord Orville's 
 affairs were the most seriously embar- 
 rassed—when her own character was 
 at stake — when her health required the 
 most prudential care, she employed 
 herself in devising ^fcfe which was to 
 exceed every other in splendour and 
 magnificence. It was not designed, 
 like Timon's last banquet, of smoke 
 and luke-warm water, to declare her
 
 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 55 
 
 . /lOTJIMAH MAHAHO 
 
 own ruin and to reproach the ingra- 
 titude of her friends— but to shew to 
 
 'i; -.'7/ o±\ ;io3rt3 fijiw 3X100 od 1^um j< 
 the world she had loved so well, that 
 
 the idol they had worshipped had been 
 
 worthy of itheir adoration. 
 
 -I9ri gfiiid biucj ulg 9ioi3cJ ^L 
 
 .9]OflJ3ffo •snftn'frfrrrrrf ^)di ninhnn ot Ha? 
 sd: f.O':jL" :;iic>jm '{itiiuf. t^iiiiiv^t 
 J 9II938 ^aibii ^ io iioi:tij'i£ 
 
 ? '^[[rviO b jrf\v Jn3fr;ofn- p tr 
 
 eBw nwo 19x1 nadw— ^J^stasm 
 
 ?i . Tff-t[s9d'i9rinf> tai^ 
 
 lifobfTsfqy ni rgdio ^i^'^^ b903X3 
 Jjda'^Lz '^ 3*^nDoSifl^£m 
 
 sioms to ^jeuyLiiii oraiT ' • 
 
 f.od ; '9iljjf bxiii
 
 56 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 
 
 >j) amiJBio bflfi allid am i»aw9ria woa 
 
 ^'bnrfofT hViBgiJodi 99iiil lo iauomB sAl 
 
 f' aidiiv/ banuDni ^^^ 
 
 > III ' >.dinom 
 
 CHAP. III. 
 
 .T? .qml ': .biB3 ylblim ad 
 
 ..JjJ;JU;ji 
 
 [,,,..-,•> fMfr ,goq 
 
 Such were the scenes in which I 
 aiTt 10 floiJiuui 
 
 was engaged, when my uncle wasg 
 taken ill. He had for some days 
 complained of uneasy feelinos. — I 
 had neglected him — I felt it — and 1 
 resolved in future to be more atten- 
 tive. , I kpewjilsOjtha^t large demands 
 upon my account had lately beeUit 
 pressing upon him from many quar-j 
 ters. I expected lijs ^^ge^-j^^^^had 
 prepared myself for it; but I had no 
 idea that my debts amounted to so
 
 GRAHAM HAMILTO^f. 57 
 
 large a sum. To my confusion he 
 now shewed me bills and claims to 
 the amount of three thousand pounds, 
 all incurred within the last few 
 months. "Are these right, Graham?" 
 he mildly said. " Impossible ! all im- 
 position and fraud 1" I exclaimed ; 
 but, as usual, u]30n exammation oi the 
 articles, I found little reason to ques- 
 tion their correctness. 
 
 He th^-r^ad the following items, 
 pausing at each with an ^' hei/ /" of en- 
 quiry as to what they could possibly' 
 t- . .- J ^ . t 
 
 mean. ""Jeweller's bin— Gold chain/ 
 
 fifty guineas! — Ring, fifty guineas! 
 Broaeli" '' "*"' '""J" S'l'^^'^H 
 
 !'. All presents, Sfr^^^^^q^^^ ^ '"^^ 
 ■■ Milliners bill-Shawr;>S«'''™""™ 
 
 D O
 
 58 GRAHAM HAMILTOJC. 
 
 ** Still a present. 
 
 ' *' Blue fox muff, one hundred gui- 
 
 :0D^ io 9voi 8iri ^aiwon^i bflB j vJl 
 neas ! 
 
 " Still a present. 
 
 " Pay them," said my uncle gravely, 
 with no other observation than his 
 slight customary gesture of shutting 
 his eyes close when he wished not to 
 perceive any thing that - displeased 
 him. He then drew a draft for the 
 sum, and desired me to leave the 
 room. 
 
 Until again admitted into Sir Mal- 
 colm's presence I suffered inexpres- 
 sible anxieiy. "Had he denied me 
 any assistance — had he uttered the se- 
 verest reproaches — I should have been 
 able to endure triom : 1 was not, how-
 
 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 5Q 
 
 -VTOlJiMAii MAHAHid CV 
 
 ever, so hardened, but that I felt 
 deeply the fault of which I. had. been 
 guilty; and knowing his love of money 
 and the habits of his life, I could not 
 but apprehend some decisive and. in- 
 exorable determination respecting me 
 from the immoveable calmness of his 
 manner. It was, nevertheless a great 
 relief to my mind to have these bills 
 discharged; and I firmly resolved to 
 be more circumspect in fyture. 
 
 Towards eight in the evening he 
 sent for me : he put his hand to his 
 head and again complained of being 
 ill, "It may be the fancy of an old 
 man," he said, " but I have taken it 
 into my head that I am about to 
 
 ■ ii7->u .-"ill i"u n'lqjl 3 a 
 
 die.',' -T- " For Heave^'s sake, if VQu 
 
 9/od ion «i V/ i ijf.jiij 'jrHi'Dns oi moB
 
 GO GRAHAM HAMILTON* 
 
 feel ill, see some one." — " See some 
 one!" he said incredulously, " hey! 
 boy, it is not for an old man of se-^ 
 venty to see any one that can work 
 miracles. It would perhaps be better 
 for you were I to live a few years 
 longer, but to what must be we must 
 submit — I am satisfied." *' Sir, you 
 make me miserable — this lowness, and 
 your exceeding and most undeserved 
 generosity." ;.jji>jiu 
 
 *' I was never gay in my youth,"' 
 said Sir Malcolm, *' as you are, Gra- 
 ham — never owre given to admire the 
 ladies, and waste my time and money 
 upon the puir fools; but I do not 
 like you the worse for it — it is 'well 
 and becoming. You are handsome;
 
 GIIAHAM HAMILTON'* 61 
 
 and young — your passions are strong. 
 Where there is much of violence in 
 the character, the heart is not apt to 
 be owre soft. You have forgotten 
 your own friends — I sometimes think, 
 nevertheless, upon poor Gertrude. — 
 She was a good modest girl, Gra- 
 ham ; lartd she is sick at heart, as I 
 understand, from your unkindness. 
 I had thought to leave her a little! 
 matter. I shall not be able to do's'tiP 
 
 now." i fii \ii^.l^l^ii tii,V; 
 
 f*' Not able, uncle ^ftfooIfiM 118 bifi^ 
 
 .."Why no, for every sixpence I have 
 
 I shall be compelled to leave to you." 
 
 hf^ To me. Sir ?" 'q s^J "^^.^ 
 
 *' Yes, to you — you require "iil^ 
 
 Her wants are few — your's, unhappily''
 
 62 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 
 
 for you, numerous. I have been the 
 means of spoiling your nature some 
 little I fear. 'Tis well I should pro- 
 vide even for the faults my indulr 
 gence has generated. I failed to think, 
 Graham, when I sent for you to town 
 to live with me, and take care of me, 
 that youth and age could nae be well 
 matched ; that the glittering gewgaws 
 which could not tempt an old miser, 
 might prove the bait and ruin of a 
 young spendthrift. But don't look 
 sorry, young one; I am not for saying 
 a harsh word to you." 
 
 "If," 1 replied, greatly agitated,"you 
 do not wish to make me truly mise- 
 rable, do say every thing you can most 
 harsh, most cruel— do, dearest uncle,
 
 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 63 
 
 for' F"'aesei¥i6- all— only, if you love 
 me, talk not of leaving to me what 
 my father, uncle Richard, and dear, 
 dear Gertrude alone deserve. You 
 will live a long while, I trust in Godl 
 a very long while ! and if you have 
 riches lo"" bequeath, leave them to 
 such as know how to use them, not 
 
 to me.'' 
 
 ^■^^^'^Why, Graham," said Sir Mal- 
 colm, " you are playing the fool 
 with me— you know, with all their 
 WfMs; I never loved any thing on 
 earth but you— Hey 1 boy, what plea- 
 sure you'll take in spending all those 
 g^ms I have passed my life in gather^ 
 ihg together! I have 'n6 child but you. 
 -iiYou have become my child. My
 
 64 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 
 
 T JIM AH MAHi 
 
 life has never been blessed ; for the 
 
 sweet noise of prattling children nevef *^ 
 
 enlivened my fireside. 1 thought the^^^ 
 
 would have bee'h' i^ ce^e ^o me ; &'d'r 
 
 never could bring myself to marry^^^ 
 
 for fear of parting with my mone^^'* 
 
 None know how lonely it is to life' 2i¥'^ 
 
 I have done, till they fall into years. 
 
 If there is something to look cheerful 
 
 on'iis; 'Something, when''"^^6 gb' iriliht!'"" 
 
 out of our houses, that attends li^/' 
 
 expects us, watches for us, be it eVetf^ 
 
 a faithful dog, '4fe''dW^ndFc'5m{)rH^f ^ 
 
 miserable; but I had nothing to love''^ 
 
 me, Graham, till I knew you; an(i 
 
 to ei^^fecH6b^%iV'.^(^h^^fer"sB^^i^8li\i^'''S"^ 
 
 ladi-*had been unkinder than evef'^ 
 
 your old uncle will be ;— so don't'^' 
 He T^d hatn'^'ft/j doum oo:t ajsw 1 ^><tnom
 
 ,>IOTJIMAH KAHAHO Kl 
 
 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 65 
 
 jriJ loi ,i.^r^. ■. -- ./an bbA sli! 
 fret, iljQy.r Itake your money; stay 
 
 with me to-night; and if I don t die, 
 (whic^l I won t, if I can help it,) I be- 
 lieye I will buy myself a new house, 
 and live like a gentleman the rest of 
 my days.", <■ -rrr-rf -FJ'nrr^ -^rtry^ 
 
 Some tones in the voice of my un- 
 cle during this conversation touched 
 me deeply : some feelings were moved 
 within me, which had lain dormant 
 for a length of time; these were 
 rendered more powerful by his ap- ^ 
 parently weak state of health during . 
 the whole of the evening ; and though 
 Lady Orville wrote me seyei'al notes, 
 express^gjthp,^9J^g,iji^h^9|:je5^^mind,^I 
 
 and the magnitude of hgg^p^grafg^.Y 
 ments, I was too much affected by all
 
 66 GRAHAM HAMILTO%. 
 
 my uncle had said to think of leaving 
 him. I read therefore to him, and 
 knowing that the only book which he 
 considered amusing was, "Gros^^.ODj, 
 the Stock Exchange,"' I began and 
 went on with it till he dropped asleep. 
 He could smile at its wit, sigh at its 
 truths, and rely upon its morality. It, 
 served him, as the Whole Duty of 
 Man serves many people, for every 
 possible state of humour, position, 
 and sensation ; and as he knew it al- 
 most by rote, it ended generally, ^ 
 upon the present occasion, by soothing 
 \\m into a deep slumber. .rrf-r^muooaH 
 
 -iJi looked on him with anxiety; and, 
 listened to hear his breathing ; until,, 
 
 observing a letter in Capt. Hamilton's
 
 GRAHAM HAMILTON. G7 
 
 hanir-writTngri/alf open ij^ori the ta- 
 ble, I snatched it up, and read to my 
 astoriishmeit; ' two pages of well- 
 deserved' ' censufe of myself, con- 
 cluding: with these words : 
 
 9^" Struck with such unexpected 
 conduct in Graham, and well aware of 
 Gertrude's extreme sensibility, I have 
 done all a father can do to wean her 
 lieart from a young m,an, who, I am 
 sure, by his present neglect of her, 
 would, upon a closer union, render her 
 completely miserable. I have even 
 gone farther ; I have endeavoured, by 
 encouraging the addresses of our very 
 worthy neighbour's son, young Mar- 
 riot, to engage her to give her hand 
 in marriage to him, as he is virtuous,
 
 68 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 
 
 ri^h, well '^teem'ea'bj^'^tj/ 'one, arid 
 likely in every respect to make her 
 happy. Do not conceive, dear bro- 
 ther, I rt?6¥flt"6 S^|:fer%6' Graham, or 
 to attempt to injure him in your opi- 
 nion ; but having witnessed the SfeJ 
 
 I > I- 
 
 cret agitation of my sWeet girl, aM 
 
 her anxiety to receive even a single 
 letter from him, I have not always 
 been able' to 'command my indigTitt- 
 tion. His neglect of her is not per-- 
 haps unnatural; but I wish, whilst 
 Yve ^j^^^'^'the 'pleyiir'e^ of his new' 
 condition, to save my Gertrude from 
 undeserved pain, and place her in^" 
 slWaMJfVfi^e^^-'^l^^ lii*^^^ at le^st 
 find the quiet and peace which, I' 
 trust, belong to her more humble lot^'
 
 m^.^tti^JKfy^^^^ must ultimately be 
 tfi^r r^3Y?(?<i t of .te piety; ,.^nd many 
 
 virtues.^pj ,9vbonoo ion oO ^"fl 
 
 , Thus it was that a few periods, read 
 by.^tealtb, informed me at once that 
 I was on the brink of losing Gertrude, 
 ajiid that already it was not impro- 
 1^, that, alienated by my neglect, 
 she might have listened to the ad- 
 dresses of another. I cursed ray own 
 folly, felt offended ^yi,t^i both Gerr, 
 trude and her father, and as soon 
 as my uncle awakened, pretended to 
 b§ indisposed myself, and pJ:9iPf^,fi4^ 
 retiring to my own apartmentj^3gg|)j.^y 
 -fl- then wrote several long vehement 
 letters to the Captain and Gertru^^^^j 
 which were no sooner ended tha^
 
 70 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 
 
 recollecting that they could not go at 
 that hour, I put them into the fire, and 
 tried to compose myself to sleep. 
 This was impossible ; and with the 
 first dawn of light I arose, and wrote 
 again. I acknowledged my errors ; 
 but said I loved Gertrude too well 
 to bear the thought of losing her. 
 This also I did not send ; for before 
 my uncle had summoned me to his 
 apartment, the following letter .frpjn 
 Gertrude herself was put into my 
 hands 3-rr-' -,5 
 
 '* It is a long time, my dearest Gra- 
 ham, since I have ventured to trouble 
 you, for the last three letters I sent are 
 still unanswered. We have lived in 
 hopes of hearing of your return. Your
 
 tjRAHAM HAMILTON. 71 
 
 dear mother has been ill — if you 
 ' \voiild write to her it would give 
 her pleasure. Should any thing in- 
 duce you to return, you will find 
 that vour flower- srarden has not been 
 neglected, and that your dog is ever 
 with me. I have read all the books 
 "f^ou desired; and in every thing, I 
 think, you will find we have attend- 
 '%d to your wishes. The time goes 
 ^^ther heavily for my dear uncle and 
 aunt, without you ; and there is a 
 secret it is my wish to communicate 
 ^*f&tiV"if I might hope that my 
 dearest and earliest friend would 
 ^^till permit me to open my heart to 
 him as before. I know not well how 
 "to write it, yet, without more words.
 
 72 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 
 
 it is best at once to state the truth. 
 My father is desirous of marrying me 
 to our neighbour, a Mr. Marriot's son. 
 I cannot obey him ; I often told you 
 1 should never marry — yet have I 
 ever considered it as a duty to obey 
 my dear father's commands. Could 
 I see my dear cousin Graham, to 
 advise with him, it would much 
 console me. I try to keep up my 
 spirits, but I have been ill. One line 
 from you would, I think, be of much 
 service to your dear parents, as well 
 as to your affectionate friend and 
 cousin, 
 
 " Gertrude Hamilton." 
 *' My father is obliged very sud- 
 denly to go to London — ah, would
 
 GUAHAM HAMILTON'. 73 
 
 you write to request that I might 
 accompany him !" 
 i " No, no," I said hastily ; " what 
 iftis the use of her coming ? — Young 
 f Marriot may marry her — it is best 
 so. I have long indeed weaned 
 my heart from her artless charms. 
 Why should 1 keep the flower wither- 
 ing on its stem for me ? I shall return 
 to my fathers house no more. Its 
 simple pleasures, its even course of 
 life, will never again suit my per- 
 verted taste. As my uncle Malcolm 
 says, my mind has learned wants 
 and desires, which will prevent its 
 finding any satisfaction or content- 
 ment in a rural and domestic life. 
 « Why then does it give me pain that 
 
 VOL. 11. £
 
 74 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 
 
 Gertrude, who would 'not^ how suit 
 me, should marry ? What is it to 
 me, that another should feel happy 
 in the possession of so inestimable 
 a treasure? Fate, which divides me 
 from her, has not alienated rayii 
 affections — let me rather rejoice that 
 she has already forgotten me. Has 
 she done so ?" i'3ii// 
 
 ^I again read her letter: " ' Yourf 
 flower-garden has not been neglect-^, 
 
 ed — your dog .' This seems 
 
 as though she loved me. Alas 1 what3 
 is it to me ? she loves me only beK) 
 cause she thinks it necessary to doat 
 upon all her family; and yet I doubt^s 
 whether the warm affections which 
 arise from the relations of private and
 
 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 75 
 
 retired life be not stronger and 
 deeper, than the turbulent passions 
 which are born and nourished in the 
 commerce of the world." 
 
 Sir Malcolm's voice aroused me 
 from these reflections. From his 
 room to my apartment there were 
 ten steps — he was walking up them 
 when I went out to meet him. " So 
 here's a fine affair," he said, holding 
 out his brothers letter; "there's 
 brother Richard trying to marry Ger- 
 trude to young Harriot. I had a hint 
 of'-it before ; but see what he says 
 to-day. The girl \von"t give her con- 
 sent without seeing you first. Graham, 
 what does this look like ? It looks like 
 what I've always thought; it looks as 
 
 E 2
 
 76 C.RAHAM HAMILTON'. 
 
 if she loved you dearly, and wished to 
 see you once more before she was se- 
 parated from you for ever." Sir Mal- 
 colm then contemplated me. " Hey, 
 poor girl, when she sees you, it wdll be 
 all over with Mr. Marriot. Why, she 
 will be here immediately. Read bro- 
 ther Richard's letter ; and come dow^i 
 to my room; for there's many accounts 
 to settle, and books to make up, and 
 business to do this week, that we 
 may afford to be idle when the Captain 
 arrives." 
 
 .. ^'.' And is he coming?" I said, in 
 an irritated tone ! for Gertrude's let- 
 ter now appeared to me a mere ar- 
 tificerr-ai>4,Al)e;5e^>va$,,spii?etUJRg,,£9f- 
 ward I thought in the father and
 
 cliTriA^r HA^nLTo>:. 77 
 
 daughter both following me in this 
 manner,'^ 'perhaps t'o6', by Sir Mal- 
 colm's direction — a stratagem, it ap- 
 peared, to recover my affections— 
 but'if MTOuld not avail. " Read, and 
 see," said Sir Malcolm, in great good 
 humour, which confirmed my sus- 
 picions ; " M'hy the girl won't be mar- 
 ried without seeing you. I'll buy 
 me a new coat, that I Avill, on the 
 occasion. They will be here in a 
 trice. We shan't have time to make 
 *■ ourselves look handsome. Hey, read 
 the letter, and see how the old boy is 
 preparing to coast it here." 1 could 
 not smile at my uncle's mirth. He 
 saw that I was melancholy, and he 
 left me.
 
 '*7S GRAHAM IIAMILTOX. 
 
 I read the letter, and gathered from 
 five pages, closely written, and crossed 
 over at each end, that the Captahi, 
 Gertrude, and perhaps the suitor 
 might very possibly set out almost 
 immediately for England ; but that 
 their journey was not as yet com- 
 pletely determined upon. Was this 
 necessary ? Ought Gertrude thus to 
 force herself into my presence? yet if 
 attachment to me actuated her, ousfht 
 I not to forgive it?— no, there was 
 an indelicacy in bringing Mr. Marriot 
 t>iE!fore"me' ei'tiier as tier acknowledged 
 bridegroom or her discarded suitor. 
 It is true I did" not merit much deli- 
 dSfc^— r^ad shewn little in my con- 
 duct to her. My hand, I felt, was
 
 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 79 
 
 \][nwQrthy of hers ; but was it neces- 
 i^js-^jthat I should , witness a scene 
 which assuredly must wound my 
 feelings ?— and, 1 should imagine, 
 hers ; for I could not but feel that I 
 was improved in mind and person, 
 since I had seen her ; and that if I 
 had attractions when Wf^.Md parted 
 from each other, those attractions 
 must now be much increased. Her 
 present suitor was a wealthy farmer, 
 and, for any thing I knew, a man of an 
 ordinary mind. When a boy he had 
 i|i;:pmised little. Why should he, now 
 that he was man, have realized more 
 than the expectations he had then 
 held out? — ^Was he to possess Ger- 
 trude;?^i Fa&nfee 4o,>e .y^i^iit^d to a
 
 80 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 
 
 girl unmatched, after all, by any that 
 I had yet seen ? 
 
 Vain were these reflections; vain 
 the ill-humour such reflections occa- 
 sioned. Gertrude's letter must be an- 
 swered ; or I should see her arrive, and 
 with her that insufferable Mr. Mar- 
 riot. What matter to relate the vari- 
 ous resolutions that came and went 
 through my mind : all ended in my 
 resolving not to answer Gertrude's 
 letter — not to accelerate or retard her 
 journey to London, but to await my 
 fate with the indifference I hoped T 
 should still be able to command. 
 
 In the mean time I could not see 
 Lady Orville ; I could not answer the 
 notes she sent me. My mmd was per-
 
 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 81 
 
 plexed, and I was still indulging a 
 hope that they might not come from 
 Scotland, when Sir Malcolm received 
 a letter from my father, saying, 
 " that Capt. Hamilton being com- 
 pelled to go to England to settle 
 some money-affairs, Gertrude had 
 intreated permission to accompany 
 him ; that young Harriot would 
 attend them ; and that they wished 
 Sir Malcolm to take lodgings for 
 them for a week." 
 
 This then was past recall, and in 
 an agitation of mind I cannot well 
 define 1 awaited their arrival. The 
 very evening before they came, when 
 they were expected every moment, 
 having walked out for the sake of 
 
 E 5
 
 82 GRAHAM HAMILTON^^ 
 
 avoiding and putting off the first 
 meeting, Lady Orville's carriage pass- 
 ed me in the street. She observed 
 me, stopped, and insisted on my ac- 
 companying her home. As soon as 
 I vv^as seated in her carriage, she 
 loaded me with reproaches for my 
 apparent neglect and ingratitude: but 
 when, upon reaching her home she 
 perceived me cold, absent, thought- 
 ful, embarrassed, she re-assumed the 
 natural kindness of her heart, and 
 gently inquired the cause of my un- 
 usual melancholy. My voice and 
 manner declared too plainly the na- 
 ture of my sorrow, and as I perceived 
 that Lady Orville was not displeased 
 'at believing herself the real cause of
 
 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 83 
 
 my agitation, I did not undeceive her. 
 Indeed she was hardly wrong in her 
 belief. 
 
 -ojShe conversed with me long— tears 
 §^4ic smiles alternately varied her 
 countenance, w^hilst she earnestly 
 communicated to me all her sorrows, 
 intentions, interests, and difficulties. 
 She displayed all her fascinations, 
 exerted all her power, and seemed to 
 be anxious again to hear from my lips 
 another declaration of admiration and 
 of love. — She half opened a drawer, 
 and shewed me a miniature of her- 
 self, which I had long implored her 
 to give me. She had promised, then 
 i;qtvaqted — I now pressed her for it 
 with more eagerness. She complied;^,!
 
 84 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 
 
 seized it ; and taking the chain from 
 her neck, she fastened it around mine. 
 I called her my Augusta — I vowed ne- 
 ver, never to leave her. " Remem- 
 ber," she said, " all I have done for 
 you : it is strange, but I feel more 
 for you, than I ever felt for any one." 
 The door opened rather suddenly ; 
 the servant withdrew confused, then 
 re-entered ; and in a hasty voice, 
 to my astonishment, announced din- 
 ner. I had certainly forgotten both 
 the hour and where I was. Lady Or- 
 ville said, " That man will be my 
 ruin. He is Lord Orville's servant, 
 and I fear his spy. He hates me. 
 Oh ! Graham, do not leave me again 
 so long, I am so miserable." I made
 
 GRAHAM H A:\riLTOX. 85 
 
 a thousand excuses, promised next 
 day to call without fail, and upon the 
 night of the ball to make a point of 
 being there early. She asked to have 
 her portrait again, but 1 refused with 
 confidence, for 1 felt secure she wish- 
 ed not what she asked. The man — 
 the gentleman in waiting, I believe 
 he was called— who had interrupted 
 us so inopportunely, looked at me 
 very earnestly and with rather a con- 
 temptuous expression, I thought, as 
 he accompanied me down stairs and 
 let me out of the house. I cared not 
 for his looks, but I had more cause 
 for anxiety on that score than at that 
 time I was aware of.
 
 86 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 
 
 iiTt,.ff->7- •-ifirfTt-T'^iD tpfR vf+nnt^ 
 
 CHAP. ly/. ^ , 
 
 Upon my return home, Sir Malcolm 
 informed me in a querulous tone of 
 disappointment, that the Captain and 
 Gertrude were not arrived. I felt 
 greatly relieved at this intelligence, 
 but the next day, about eleven o'clock 
 1 was somewhat abruptly told that 
 they were come. I hastened out from 
 the back of the house, and ran along 
 the street, in order to postpone the 
 first interview ; but a few hours after, 
 I accompanied my uncle to the lodg- 
 ings he had taken for them, to meet
 
 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 87 
 
 very reluctantly that Gertrude whom 
 I had once loved so well. Alas ! how 
 was I changed since then, and how I 
 hoped to find m her a stiffness or 
 vulgarity of manner that might dis- 
 gust me — a north-country accent — 
 an unbecoming freedom, or awkward 
 simplicity — a vacant laugh, displeas- 
 ing to one of my refinement — 'Or, at all 
 events, a want of that air of fashion, 
 that high-bred courtly manner, and 
 soft address, which I had learned to 
 consider so indispensable. But, as if 
 to plague me. Miss Clairville herself 
 had never appeared half so captivating, 
 so lovely, so seductive in air and man- 
 ner, as my Gertrude. Yes, it was 
 my Gertrude — for with the joy she
 
 88 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 
 
 felt at seeing me, tears mingled, 
 and as I clasped her to' my bosom, 
 in the first transport of meeting 
 again, the blush of eonfusiori'; 'tHe 
 smile of surprise, told— t'thoiignt'it 
 told me — how much I was still pre- 
 ferred to every other. For was it 
 not deep attachment that had tempt- 
 ed her so far from her native home in 
 search of one who had appeared un- 
 grateful and inconstant? What'Biu 
 attachment could have conquered 
 pride — offended pride — deeply humi-*' 
 liated by my cold, my cruel neglect t^* 
 What too had refined her manners, 
 her form, and rendered those cheeks 
 pale, which rosy health had once 
 
 adorned? Did she not tremble, did 
 
 l)nu I
 
 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 89 
 
 sh,e p9t weep on my bosom, as her 
 lips met mine? and did she not 
 breathe out the words, " Graham, 
 you have not then forgotten me," with 
 an accent that awoke corresponding 
 tenderness in my heart ? 
 
 My uncle Malcolm, who witnessed 
 this scene, and was better read in 
 human nature than I had sometimes 
 thought, gently withdrew her from my 
 bosom, but only to place her upon his 
 own. I asked after my father and 
 mother — my heart was full ; I wept 
 with Gertrude, y^jt^ smiled when 1/ 
 looked upon her countenance. Capt. 
 Hamilton at first received me coldly, 
 but, seeing me thus affected, he took 
 my hand and wrung it with tender-
 
 90 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 
 
 ness: — he told me that my dear pa- 
 rents were well — that they would 
 have been glad long before this to 
 have seen me — that my father had 
 desired him to give me his blessing ; 
 and then he sighed deeply /^'^tiiSk 
 paused, and looked upon Gertruae. 
 I understood him, and felt the re- 
 proach. Former scenes of home came 
 to my remembrance — my promises of 
 attachment — her innocent love ; -^ 
 and all the vain-glorious joys of the 
 world in a moment were forgotten. 
 
 Gertrude, who had at first so openly 
 discovered her real feelings, now ap- 
 peared embarrassed: — her '^yeS'wfere 
 turned towards the ground — her bo- 
 som heaved — she looked mournful.
 
 GRAHAM IIAMILTOX. 91 
 
 pale,j dejected— she was greatly al- 
 tered, I thought; but every alteration 
 had only rendered her more interest- 
 ing, more lovely. Whilst I gazed 
 
 w.^th tenderness upon her, that d d 
 
 fellow young Marriot was announced. 
 He entered, and I was at once con- 
 vinced by his manner, his approach, 
 that he considered himself sure of 
 .Gertrude's hand. He did not seem 
 even to entertain a doubt — he was 
 not the timid, the anxious lover : no 
 — he was the happy, the acknow- 
 ledged bridegroom. I looked upon 
 Gertrude, and assuring myself from 
 her coldness to him, and her timid, 
 embarrassed glance at me, that she 
 LS (Unchanged, that I alone was be-
 
 92 GR/liAM IIAAr'TfltON^! 
 
 loved, I resolved, cost it what 
 it might, frown or die ivWo Vi^bula) 
 to make known my sentiments on 
 the very moment to my uncle, and 
 to regain the woman I adored — the 
 precious prize, which 1 had so nearly 
 thrown away. What to me was Mr. 
 Marriot's happiness ? Presumptuous 
 young man ! he to possess Gertrude ! 
 Never ! and I could not but feel dis- 
 gust and indignation at his calm and 
 easy assurance. 
 
 With me to think was to act. 
 T wrote no letter — wailed for no op- 
 portunity — concealed no part of my 
 feelings — but as soon as Mr. Marriot 
 left the room, poured out my whole 
 soul to Gertrude — declared that I
 
 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 93 
 
 lived but in the hope of one day call- 
 ing her mine ; — that I would die 
 sooner than see her hand bestowed 
 upon another; — that they knew my 
 violence, and mi^ht dread the conse- 
 quence of driving me to acts of despe- 
 ration. I spoke with all the ardour of 
 a lover, with all the eagerness of in- 
 temperate and overbearing youth. I 
 menaced the destruction of my rival — 
 knelt before one uncle— grasped the 
 hand of the other — confessed that I 
 had been a truant, but vowed to hea- 
 ven I would die were 1 not heard, or 
 yvere nxy suit rejected.^^J cpi^sidered 
 Eio one's feelings — for whose could be 
 ^o deeply interested as mine? 
 : .Sir Malcolm absolutelv laughed
 
 94 GRAHAM HAMILTON". 
 
 with delight when he heard me. The 
 Captain began twenty haran^n'^^, aiM"^ 
 was always interrupted. Gertrude 
 changing from pale to red, and red t<9* 
 pale, turned alternately her eyes to 
 them and to me; and Mr. Marriot, who 
 alone was absent from the scene, was 
 now I perceived the sole obstacle to''' 
 our happiness : for who could not see 
 that Gertrude was ready, nay anxious, 
 to consent to all I proposed? " And^'^ 
 should he be an obstacle ? — away with 
 him! J will speak with him," I cried; 
 " let me settle with him—let me—" 
 The Captain at once interrupted me: ■ 
 There was no need— he would manaire 
 every thing;, he said. He would leave^^' 
 town— I should follow afterwards. No
 
 GRAHAM HAMILTON'. 95 
 
 word should be breathed at present of 
 tl^e, change m his intentions. There 
 was much delicacy, much nicety in 
 the manner of conductino- this af- 
 fair ; but Gertrude, who never had 
 yet, consented — never had yet ap- 
 proved the marriage, should finally 
 inform Mr. Harriot that she could 
 ngt agree to it. 
 
 I* I have done so before this," 
 said Gertrude; — " Oh, though Gra- 
 ham had forgotten me, think not I 
 ever had consented to marry another. 
 Mr. Marriot knows 1 did not — he 
 knows I cannot return his attach- 
 ment. My hand was, I fear, half 
 promised by my father— but my 
 heart, who can bestow? Had they
 
 06 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 
 
 over-persuaded me to it, it must have 
 killed me/' The Captain strained her 
 to his bosom. The whole party were 
 now in ecstacies, when Harriot's re- 
 entrance into the apartment in which 
 this scene had been discussed ao-ain 
 
 o 
 
 threw us into consternation. 
 
 Gertrude's manner was cold. The 
 Captain entered upon his most weaH- 
 some stories— well I remeriiberecl'them 
 again. Sir Malcolm shut his eyes, so as 
 to perceive nothing. I looked embar- 
 ral^d, and felt furious. Mr. Marriot 
 was as calm, as satisfied, as easy as 
 ever: his loud and not disagreeable 
 voice discussed public matters care- 
 lessly. He talked of the dearness of 
 provisions—said he should have no 
 
 i i-lV*
 
 GRAUAM HAMILTON. 97 
 
 objection to live a month every year 
 in London — and then, simpering, 
 asked Gertrude what her ideas were 
 on that head. She turned away. 
 My uncle, alarmed, desired me to 
 return home with him ; and so fear- 
 ful was he during the whole of that 
 day, least a quarrel should take place 
 between me and the young farmer, 
 that he never suffered me to be out of 
 his sight. 
 
 As soon as I entered my own apart- 
 ment, in the evening, the portrait of 
 Lady Orville caught my eye as it lay 
 half concealed in my unlocked desk. 
 — I coloured, and turned my eyes 
 away from it. A feeling of deep 
 shame and regret oppressed me ; but 
 
 VOL. II. F
 
 98 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 
 
 I blessed my lot that I was still free ; 
 for, oh, had I involved myself more 
 deeply — had I forgotten Moncrief's 
 advice, what now would have been 
 my feelings ? I resolved immediately 
 to restore so dangerous a gift; to 
 write a frank avowal of my attach- 
 ment to Gertrude ; to return with 
 her to Scotland ; and to renounce, 
 for the rest of my life, every folly 
 and every error. 
 
 This resolution having been made, 
 1 took up my pen to execute my in- 
 tention, when my uncle broke in up- 
 on me, and 1 had only time to con- 
 ceal the portrait, and follow him to 
 his little parlour. There I found the 
 Captain; and a grave discussion took
 
 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 99 
 
 place as to all that was to be done. 
 This conversation did not terminate 
 until a late hour, but I retired from 
 it with a spirit more calm and satis- 
 fied than of late. Tired out with two 
 wakeful nights, I slept deeply, and 
 dreamed of home and former times. 
 
 The ensuing day a note written in 
 a fair Italian hand awakened me. I 
 read it, and placed it with its fellows 
 in my desk. It no longer gave me any 
 emotion. I now thought the style 
 affected, and, as soon as I could, has- 
 tened to Gertrude. Every hour of 
 my time was engrossed by her. I 
 saw and watched her with solicitude, 
 with jealousy; and Harriot's presence 
 rendered me miserable, lor I could 
 
 f2
 
 100 GRAIiAM HAMILTON". 
 
 not Dring: my self to oeheve that a 
 man in love could look so happy as 
 he did, if he were quite without hope. 
 
 It was lyiiUciw-v^^is' tLvfeffli 
 
 the Captain's short stay, he and 
 Gertrude should see all that was curi- 
 ous and interesting in London. Of 
 course I was eager to accompany her 
 every where ; but what was provok- 
 ing, Mr. Harriot still followed, as 
 .. . . .1 ■,..,. 
 
 calm, as happy, and friendly with me 
 as before. 
 
 The Captain's affairs were now ar- 
 ranged,' and the day drew near on 
 which they were to leave London and 
 reiurn into Scotland. The evening be- 
 fore her aeparture 1 had a full and un- 
 t'eserved conversation with Gertrude.
 
 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 101 
 
 I threw myself upon her generosity, 
 gicknowledged my <e):rprs, bj^t did not 
 name Lady Orville : I did not even 
 hint that 1 had ever thought of an- 
 other,^ and Gertrude knew not how to 
 su^.pect— jealousy harboute|j^^riot^m 
 her pure heart. My presence had 
 removed her doubts ; she trusted im- 
 plicitly to my professions. 
 
 How can I have the heart to dwell 
 upon these moments— to paint her inno- 
 cent happiness, her thousand chgr^BS? 
 — With what tenderness, with what 
 
 -.TO 
 
 modest expressions of affection she 
 heard me | and oh, when she said 
 she.,lov^4 ^ me - loved . b^t ^me^^^ 
 gentle, yet how chastely pure each 
 look, each word appeared ! How deep
 
 102 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 
 
 the blush when I called her mine, and 
 pressed her to my bosom — how calm 
 that heavenly brow, which no ill pas- 
 sions ever had defaced ! 
 
 It was finally arranged that I 
 should not accompany them, but fol- 
 low them in a few days ; and that an 
 opportunity should be taken, during 
 their journey or upon their arrival, 
 of explaining the whole affair to Mar- 
 riot in such a manner as might least 
 offend his pride, or wound his feel- 
 ings. 
 
 *' Harriot will never break his 
 heart as you would," said my uncle, 
 chuckling as soon as they were gone, 
 '' that is one comfort— he will never 
 break his heart ; and the girl has
 
 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 103 
 
 never broken her promise, since she 
 never gave one. But you are a sad 
 fellow — you brought it all upon your 
 self; however, you will be wise in 
 future, I know." And thus a pro- 
 spect of happiness opened again 
 before me.
 
 104 GRAHAM HAMILTOX. 
 
 ;Ia 1 i3ni5 — ^ioa qh 
 f,om fi'/Kfl T f[ft rftn'^l 
 
 o'l^qd'i '<(iy /3 oDiJ'iJ'iOU 
 
 CHAP v^^"^*^^^ mloolijl/ 
 
 tmY ' fi^'it rf"tfT/ hnlfil 
 
 No sooner was Gertrude gone, 
 
 than I thanked my uncle warmly for; 
 
 all his kindness; and urging him to 
 
 add to it " Let me follow her instant- a 
 
 ly," I exclaimed, " let me be in Scot- 
 
 land, at my father's, before her arrival. 
 
 The Captain will travel slow, will tell i 
 , . /.OfiJ ,Y/OT(Ofn- .W;ii-. 
 
 his long stories. Sir, and, after all the 
 
 anxiety I have given her, she de- 
 serves some proof of devotion. Be-, 
 •Yf sn ,flom7/ ^nr/rv t ./on 
 
 sides, I see Harriot is a good-natured 
 
 mass of flesh and blood, who will 
 
 not take any thing ill ;. therefore, fear 
 
 o 1
 
 GRAHAM HAMILTO>r. 105 
 
 ,v:0TJlMAH MA-HAHv : 
 
 me not, — and I shall fret myself to 
 death till I have made my beloved 
 Gertrude every reparation." Sir 
 Malcolm turned aside; his eyes were 
 filled with tears. " Your heart is in 
 the right place, my boy," he said, 
 " after all;— yes, you shall go — and 
 who knows but I may go with you ? 
 I have some little matters to settle — 
 
 ^,f r^ -t :,..,_ -t.^rl Ar/^ol 
 
 the day is too far advanced to set 
 
 out now ; let us sleep upon the plan; 
 
 and it's my idea, that if you do not 
 
 change your washes to-morrow, they 
 
 shall not be thwarted because your old 
 
 uncle is approaching to his 71st year, 
 
 -,f| ,^ ,1) to too'iq o/iK*'^ advibf 
 
 — hey, lad ! ' saying wnich, he re- 
 
 turned to his papers, givmg me seve- 
 ral of them to finish, and, at the same 
 
 TO
 
 106 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 
 
 time, permission to go and secure 
 places by the mail, charging me to 
 take care to make a good bargain, and 
 not pay a penny more than the re- 
 gular fare. 
 
 With spirits elated, with my heart 
 full of Gertrude, I was too happy to 
 give pain to any one, and Lady Orville 
 having written to me repeatedly 
 during the week to intreat me at all 
 events to see her for one moment, 
 I resolved to call upon her during 
 the few remaining hours I had left, 
 to restore the portrait, to explain 
 my situation, and immediately to 
 follow my Gertrude, and make her 
 mine. I called, therefore, in Port- 
 land Place. Lady Orville was at
 
 GRAHAM HAMILTOX. 107 
 
 home ; but the servant hesitated, and 
 said she could not see me. " Are you 
 sure of it?" I replied, secure that she 
 would be glad to do so, if she knew of 
 my being- there. " Take up my name 
 at all events ; I will wait Ibr her an- 
 swer." " I dare not interrupt her." — 
 '* Interrupt her! How is Lady Or- 
 ville engaged?" " My Lord's man 
 of business is with her Ladyship." 
 The anti-room, into which I had ad- 
 vanced, was full of clamorous credi- 
 tors, surly servants, and workmen 
 who were decorating with roses and 
 lamps the pilasters of the hall. I re- 
 solved to wait the departure of the 
 lawyer, but as I was never remark- 
 able for patience, I was just walking
 
 108 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 
 
 away, when I perceived Lady Deii- 
 mont's carriage driving to the door. 
 I hastened towards it, but Lady Den- 
 mont would not look upon me. 
 
 This coldness provoked me, and the 
 whole scene revived in me the keenest 
 feelings of interest and solicitude. I 
 hurried to the next coffee-house, from 
 thence addressed to Lady Orville a 
 note couched in the most vehement 
 language, and remained hour after 
 hour, awaiting her reply in the ut- 
 most impatience and agitation. It 
 came late, and contained but these 
 
 iW^A^ -MDifii'^li^"^' i^^y I'^-^ii^ i^ com- 
 plete — I have undone myself, and, I 
 
 fear, involved you. Come to-night to 
 l}ft9 WliT^p^k^'^'^ you forgotten it Mith
 
 GRAHAM HAMILTOX. 109 
 
 all else I bade you remember ? Speak 
 to me as little as possible — I will take 
 some opportunity of explaining my- 
 self." '^^ iioqij jiijoi Jua i>i{ 
 
 She has heard, then, of my intended 
 ^marriage, I thought — and still, gene- 
 rous woman ! she wishes to see me. 
 And is this the ball, upon which she 
 had so set her heart, her final adieu 
 to the world, her last scene of splen- 
 dour and magnificence, surpassing all 
 that had preceded it — all that should 
 come after. I had faithfully promised 
 her to be there, why should I fail ? I 
 had much to say to her ; and if I could 
 '^see her''d' WofA'fe'fit before theldofe- 
 pany arrived, it would be' a satisfac- 
 tion : — to leave her in suspense, and
 
 110 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 
 
 when she is unhappy, would be un- 
 grateful. Her kindness to a stranger, 
 to a person wholly unknown, should 
 not be returned in such a manner. 
 The bearer waited for the answer. 1 
 wrote in haste nearly these words : 
 " My dearest Lady Orville — I wish 
 for a moment's interview to explain to 
 you the cause of my apparent inatten- 
 tion to your commands : I will wait 
 upon you early in the evening, in 
 hopes of seeing you before the com- 
 pany arrive, as 1 must leave town for 
 a short time to-morrow." I delivered 
 the note to the servant, and returned 
 home to dress. 
 
 When Sir Malcolm met me, and 
 heard that, instead of having taken
 
 GRAHAM HAMILTON. Ill 
 
 a place in the mail, I was going to a 
 ball, the pen dropped from his hand, 
 his paper fell from the table, and 
 he went off into such exclamations 
 and declamations, upon my incon- 
 sistency, that I thought I should 
 never be able to get away ; how- 
 ever his usual good-nature prevailed ; 
 and before I went he said, " Gra- 
 ham, your union with Gertrude I 
 have fixed my heart upon, but I 
 trust you entirely : go therefore to the 
 ball, but return as soon as you can." 
 He had detained me so long with his 
 lecture, that I was in the utmost ap- 
 prehension of being too late : I dressed 
 myself as speedily as I could, placed 
 Lady Orville's portrait and chain.
 
 112 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 
 
 which I had before taken off, around 
 my neck, and set out, swearing the 
 whole way at the hackney coachman, 
 for not breaking his anp^iji^y own neck, 
 till! arrived in Portland Place. 
 
 fi io1 ,bfjBf^ <ifid narn 
 
 ijsl ot 
 jjjd ; 9- 9/nit 
 
 ■^,i. ■nni-.lcji'u l-jj 
 
 A i>iiJ 
 ;IJ 'iifiqaob : idcjo'i i 1b90 
 
 ^ rT0rtin1?f"tn;2 hrrr? v^'^tfrn ifh 
 
 ofdoa 9fli lo £obi guoisna^ silJ rnoii 
 r:-cit?'iid^ offT .0'rfj:tf,'n nnrrnjfflto ^sgn
 
 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 113 
 
 )fH'OTR 3o n9>f^ 9d bh 
 
 «■ r iii'irr^ 
 
 CHAP. VI. 
 
 There is a time, as the wisest of 
 men has said, for all things. There 
 may be a time to weep, and a time 
 to laugh ; a time to be merry, and a 
 time to be wise ; but is there a time, 
 when the heart is breaking, to mask 
 the features with levity — and to con- 
 ceal the throbbings of despair under 
 the smile of courtesy and satisfaction ? 
 — The stoic has mastered his passions, 
 from the generous idea of the noble- 
 ness of human nature. The Christian 
 has met death, and smiled; but the
 
 114 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 
 
 cause for which he suffered was to 
 him of far more worth than his mortal 
 existence. The patriot has bled for 
 his country : but it was left for woman 
 alone, without a cause, in the mere 
 excess of vanity, to have appeared in 
 all the excess of extravagance, and all 
 the frivolity of fashion, on the very eve 
 of the ruin in which she knew herself 
 about to be lost for ever to the de- 
 lights of that world, for which she 
 had sacrificed so much. 1 could have 
 sympathized in her feelings, had love 
 impelled her; had disappointment, or 
 resentment ])rompted the display ; 
 had it been to win a new, or regain 
 an old lover ; to avert misfortune, or 
 to conciliate popularity ; but the most
 
 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 115 
 
 frivolous of her own sex surrounded 
 her ; and of mine, for the most part 
 men, who, forgetting all that is noble 
 and useful in their lot and destina- 
 tion, consumed all their day, not 
 even amidst the seductions of vice, 
 nor in the indulgence of passion, but 
 in the fopperies of dress and the foole- 
 ries of affectation. And it was for 
 such as these, (no wonder they are 
 vain) that a woman like Lady Orville 
 — a woman of superior intellect, heart, 
 feeling, taste, was making an effort 
 hardly to have been expected from a 
 devoted patriot or a Christian martyr! 
 Never was my astonishment greater 
 than when, with my heart full, and 
 my interest strongly excited, I ar-
 
 116 G R A II A M . H A.;m UTQN, 
 
 rived at this well-known mansion, 
 ^9\^^ glittering for the,Jast,,titne with a 
 brief and temporary splendour. Tbi^ 
 brilliancy of the lidits withont and 
 within, the pilasters ot^t,lp^e,l^l ^©co- 
 rated with wreaths of flowers, th^ 
 servants in splendid liveries, two 
 hussars stationed at the door, had at- 
 tracted an immense crowd of spect^j; 
 tors,, constables, linkboys, and piclf- 
 
 Vi?^i^if 'nm-jk^'^^^^^ equipage, v^^ 
 however, made way for; and I fpmid 
 i^yself, as was my intention, the fir^t 
 PSf:?" Avho^^ri^)^^^^^^^ n^jljtarj.band 
 ■v^as pla^ying as I entered ; but the 
 npisc of Bow-street officers and foot- 
 |]^endrowgg^^9^(Jjnarred,.tl^^^W9SSft(^ 
 spunds.^^g^jpaf;t^jr^,of,,desperate-lookiT
 
 ^^A^iiXW Sa^iiltox. 1 17 
 
 ing' ttien were standing sullenly with- 
 out' 'tKe^'flb^ol-' of the hall. Some of 
 their countenances I remembered : 
 where I had seen them, I knew not. 
 -^Th'ie savants, who ushered me in', 
 were busy and active. The whole 
 scene was gay beyond description. 
 '*^Splendid was Lady Orville's taste at 
 all times. There was in her something 
 of that ostentatious display, which the 
 new-made sons of trade are fond of 
 exhibiting ; but still more of the old 
 baronial pomp, which is thought due 
 to illustrious ancestry and ancient 
 clikom: She WksJfi ^DOuWdl^^^ libs- 
 pitality, of a munificence, inconsider- 
 km;'Wteiil 'and ill-bestowed, but still 
 tri^^'feaB'^'IFry ' Vhich these feft^fs
 
 118 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 
 
 sprung was noble, and is now too 
 rare. She was not only unwilling to 
 give pain, but to refuse any pleasure 
 she had it in her power to impart. 
 Nor did she seek for flaws in the cha- 
 racters of those who surrounded her, 
 in order to enjoy the petty triumph 
 of excluding them from those enter- 
 tainments, they would otherwise have 
 enjoyed. No, Lady Orville's whole 
 soul was benevolent. 
 
 Oh, how then could they bear to 
 defame her ? I never heard her breathe 
 an unkind word of another. The 
 knowledge that a human being was 
 unhappy, at once erased from her 
 miud the recollection either of enmity 
 or of error.
 
 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 119 
 
 It is unfortunately too true, and it 
 has been already exemplified in the 
 course of my narration, that a crea- 
 ture such as Lady Orville — all kind 
 and feeling, wishing well to every 
 one, sympathizing deeply with mis- 
 fortune, and anxious to relieve it, 
 may be led to commit more wrong, 
 and to cause more misery, than the 
 selfish and the depraved. Before I 
 finish the sad history, upon which my 
 imagination loves to dwell, of a being 
 as fair as nature ever created — let me 
 at least have the melancholy consola- 
 tion of holding up to others those 
 great and generous qualities, which 
 it would be well if they would imi- 
 tate, whilst they avoid her weak-
 
 120 GRAHAM HAMILTON". 
 
 nesses and faults. Let me tell them 
 that neither loveliness of person, nor 
 taste in attire, nor grace of manner, 
 nor even cultivation of mind, can 
 give them that inexpressible charm 
 which belon2:ed to Ladv Orville above 
 all others, and which sprang from the 
 heart of kindness that beat within her 
 bosom. Thence that impression of 
 sincere good-will, which at once she 
 spread around ; thence that pleasing 
 address which, easy in itself, put all 
 others at their ease ; thence that free- 
 dom from all mean and petty feelings 
 — that superiority to all vulgar con- 
 tentions. Here was no solicitude for 
 pre-eminence — here was no appre- 
 hension of being degraded by the so-
 
 GKAHAM HAMILTON'. 121 
 
 ciety of others — here was uo assumed 
 contempt — here was the calm and 
 unassuming confidence which ought 
 ever to be the characteristic of rank 
 ja^^^. fashion,^ j,).y hen this is wanting, 
 and when, on the other liand, there is 
 found every where an uneasy anxiety 
 fo^; distinction, a pining after petty 
 "advantages, a dislike of mixing with 
 the public for fear of being confounded 
 with the vulgar — when these feelings 
 and notions generally prevail, they 
 are a sure sign also of the prevalence 
 of conscious mediocrity, and of the 
 absence of all natural superiority. 
 
 Many there were who moved in 
 the same sphere with her, many 
 who committed the same errors^_^^n4 
 
 VOL. II. G
 
 122 GRAHAM HAMILTON.^ 
 
 were guilty of the same forg-etfulness 
 of serious duties;' but' where was the 
 benevolence which could not bear to 
 humiliate or mortify ? — which ibund 
 every where, and upon all occasions;- 
 a pride and a pleasure in soothingy 
 conciliating, and in making happy ? 
 Where Avas it then ? Where is it now ? 
 1 fear that in this narrow, timid, and 
 little-minded age, we have no such 
 spirit left; t luliiuBsd ^.. ^^'i— ,.8£w 
 iiiAs soon as 1 entered the apartmerits^ 
 she came forward towards me, and, 
 without one reproach, welcomed me 
 to her last fete. The musicians were 
 tuning their instruments, the servants 
 yy^Qxe lighting the lustres ; but no one 
 Was expected, not even the old ladies.
 
 GRAHAM IIAMILIOX, 123 
 
 and card-playing gentlemen, for an 
 hcMri-"'^ Lady Orville was dressed, 
 and never — never had I seen her so 
 handsome as upon that evening. She 
 always looked best when her beauti- 
 ful long hair was braided, and without 
 other ornaments than diamonds. 
 ^'^'Now let my situation at this 
 moment be imagined — let it be re- 
 membered how very young I then 
 was,— how very beautiful thie person 
 who addressed me : and then let me 
 hope for forgiveness, if, feeling that it 
 would give her pain, I broke all my 
 resolutions and did not dare inform 
 her that I was immediately" '^otAgf' to 
 be married. I faltered out something 
 about having been very particularly 
 
 G 2
 
 124 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 
 
 engaged the whole of fee^^fefi^^^^fo 
 but smiling, she bade me say nothing 
 farther, and, looking upon me, said— 
 <* I see the chain is on ; and as itwa& 
 given, Graham, by one you will possi- 
 bly see no more, promise to wear it; 
 it may save you when you are temp^ted 
 to forget yourself; it may also re- 
 mind you of one whose short ac- 
 quaintance has not, I hope, been pro- 
 ductive of ill to you. Keep it ; it is 
 perhaps imprudent in me, but I wish 
 you to remember me." — " Can I, can 
 I ev;ejci ^eed any token for that pur- 
 pose? Do you believe I shall forget, 
 
 9XiqT?.?,o'^ s ni biiB ^bsofi^^'^'f^' 
 
 o^ In>K^as' going to Bay, change ; but I 
 
 recollected Gertrude, and full of em-
 
 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 125 
 
 barrassment turned away. Lady Or- 
 villie' appeared also confused. The 
 entrance of her little son was a relief 
 tS^'l^oth. The child knew me ; I 
 ctasp^i^' KiiiT^'to'my' heaft; and the 
 tears streamed from my eyes. She 
 sa^'liow deeply I was affected, and 
 sio-hed — " It is well, Mr. Hamilton, 
 we should part ; I never behaved half 
 so-'' absurdly — however, you have 
 many other admirers:" and she en- 
 deavoured to smile, and make light 
 of what she had said, ''cnsn 
 ' We were still conyersing when an 
 antiquated Ladf j^^V^ry firi'^y ^dte§s- 
 ed, was introduced, and in a gossiping 
 tone began to apologize for being so 
 extremely early, from the fear of being
 
 126 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 
 
 iH^ a crowd, to which she added a 
 long story about her coachman : she 
 looked much at me, and I could see, 
 thought it strange that I was there 
 already. mn ^ ^jh^^c 
 
 The company now began to arrive 
 in great numbers ; and those whose 
 over-delicacy had induced them to 
 refrain from visiting the house of 
 mourning, (for such Lady Orville's had 
 been for the last ten days) now gladly 
 crowded into this palace of pleasure 
 and delight. 
 
 Lady Denmont and Miss Clairville 
 came amongst the first ; but I could 
 not help ^^zing upon one alone : for 
 the iihoughi; that t should see Lady 
 Orvillc no more, and that she felt a
 
 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 127 
 
 strong interest for me, engrossed and 
 oppressed me. ^^^j^ 
 
 Whether it was that I was feeble 
 from my. recent iUness, and out of 
 spirits I know not, but every thing on 
 that evening offended and displeased 
 me. The men seemed more extrava- 
 gant than ever, their manners affected, 
 their necks tied up till they had con- 
 strained all the ease and flexibility of 
 nature., , The wpnie^n were like, exotic 
 flowers cultured in hot-house^^ deli- 
 cate, weak, pretty-faced, and unna- 
 _^tural. Lady Orville alone was still 
 ..fresh and unfaded, full of health and 
 beauty and exuberant life, with all 
 the: charms that belong to human 
 ,'nature,,^a9^^{^|uc|i o|,^^lia^|j we ima-
 
 128 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 
 
 gine of celestial excellence. — But I am 
 
 fearful of fatiguing you with these eter- 
 
 nal descriptions; for the actual events, 
 
 however they break up and destroy 
 
 every illusion of the fancy, whether 
 
 111 life or in romance, are all you look 
 
 for. For me, a witness of this last 
 
 scene, the pidture of it still rises- be- 
 
 fore me, still dwells in my remem- 
 
 brance, and I cannot withdraw myself 
 ^ , ;.! V. '^tl,). r^nLiiK b'i^utnoa 
 
 from contemplating it. Yet let it pass. 
 J>>iu1 bar, xl{> ^i't 't\fnhiv^\<i^. aijt drrf; 
 It terminated, as all soon of late must 
 
 » ■ ■ ■ , ■ 
 
 terminate; and the ensuing hour pre- 
 -1 ,^ ^ . 'lii nO ybi.J I- i.;;jr; i 
 
 sented a scene as mournful and as 
 -X') bsiBonqB • 0((^. ,i%{\ to ■}'('/)] 
 unexpected as theevenmgs entertain- 
 ment had been brilliant.""^" <-'^'^'-" 
 
 1 he company retired late— I watch^ 
 
 "iif'lV u-'fi"'^i^^x^^^ ^''^p. f^''~»'^ 3f?v/ ^--r^d 
 ed the hats, feathers, diamonds, flow-
 
 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 129 
 
 ers» faces, fans, floating from the crowd- 
 ed staircase into the streets, — the sun 
 had already risen— all looked tarnish- 
 ed^ faded, false.," The light of the 
 morning vindicated at once the supe- 
 riority of nature, and like the touch 
 
 of the spear of Ithuriel shewed the 
 i8S\ gtflr ; . , . l 
 
 reality of things, distniguishmg youth 
 
 from age, and health from langour, 
 
 which had been somewhat mixed and 
 
 confused amidst the glare of torches 
 
 and the splendour of silk and tinsel. 
 
 if'.i'ii'iZ'- 
 
 I also prepared to retire; but first 
 
 I approached Lady Ors'ille, ^tc^^take 
 
 leave of her. She appeared ex- 
 
 tremely agitated. She seemed ir- 
 
 resolute^ S^||r^f>ed my h^jf^ 
 
 her s was cold and tremblmg : every 
 
 G 5
 
 130 GRAHAM HAHULTON". 
 
 one was gone. The servants en- 
 tered to extinguish the lights. She 
 groaned inwardly, saying, ...'^.See, 
 they come ;" and broke from me— 
 I followed her a few steps, but, 
 turning round, upon hearing a noise 
 behind me, perceived the occasion 
 of her terror : a middle-aged man 
 was remonstrating, sometimes civilly, 
 sometimes angrily, with a number of 
 others, who had forced their way into 
 the house. I too soon perceived 
 they were the Sheriff's officers. They 
 were preparing to seize beds, funii- 
 ture, solas, pictures, plate, and every 
 thing, 'f' ^ ' om o3 amca odi od lUv/ 
 ml could not leave Lady Orville at 
 such a moment — I followed her to
 
 GRAHAM HAMILTON 131 
 
 her own apartment — the door was 
 fastened within. Just heavens! J 
 thotight, she perhaps is medita- 
 ting self-destruction. What dreadful 
 meaning might not attach itself to 
 some passages in her letter ! And 
 what was the import oi farewell^ pro- 
 nounced as she had pronounced it, 
 when she parted from me. I now also 
 remembered, that as she took leave, 
 she looked upon each guest with a 
 mournful eye ; and when her mother 
 had asked her Bat-. r what hour she 
 should see her on the morrow, her 
 answer had been singular, " All hours 
 will be the same to me." Full of the 
 dreadful idea, I hastened to force the 
 door; those who were employed in
 
 132 GRAHAM HAMILTON; 
 
 taking dQj^jn.jlthgiittrniture assisted 
 me in my efforts. We broke in upon 
 her last asylum ; when, oh heavens M 
 how were.jv^^ (Struck upon.i^gpjog hftr 
 kneeling to heaven, and praying font 
 that fortitude and that resignation, 
 she so much needed !,j,ii ^.uj ^-jcnuvx^ 
 Though the light of day shone full^j 
 upon her, though the ornaments oio 
 the night were still upon her neck, 
 she did not look the less fresh and 
 beautiful. ]Vor was she offended at, 
 my entrance, but, turning upon me a 
 look so benignant that it was almost i 
 cheerful, , she bade me calm myself, 
 an^ sppkftiwj^tjJA.^^MJlityi.ty tl^Q^iiwho. 
 were employed' in their ungraciotiai 
 
 ^^"^y- jftu8 oJ f^m lol wiisd ar il
 
 GRAHAM HAMILTON"; 133 
 
 ^»i interrupted them in their task^'^ 
 and stated who I was/-'^ '!< am Sir 
 Malcolm Hamilton's heii^," I said;^"" 
 *'"'ttfyfortime will be considerable— ^^^' 
 ifi you will forbear to pursue these 
 claims, if you will trust to my solemn 
 promise, this morning I will pledge 
 all I possess, for your speedy pay- 
 ment — my uncle will, I am sure, as- 
 sisJti'' " It is in vain, Graham, to talk 
 stf^ wildly," said Lady Orville, affect-' 
 eft; 1** Lord Orville's ruin is complete^^ 
 Lam a lodger only now, and a stranger 
 ill this house ; but sigVii<bt thus, for 
 my mind is made up — I have spent 
 ted ^ many years already^^ifl^'all the 
 folly and excess' of 'thiS'M^lty of life. 
 It is better for me to suffer. Pro-
 
 134 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 
 
 sperity and flattery harden the heart. 
 These gentlemen are not mhumaii<i 
 they are only performing a hard but 
 just duty. See, at least, that if I 
 have out-done others in extrava- 
 gance, I know how to bear a reverse 
 well. There is nothing that affects 
 me in all this — only Moncrief: — 
 could I but see Moncrief before I go !" 
 ** And whither are you going??. .)**il 
 am going to my mother, to Lady Den- 
 mont assuredly. And then — and then 
 you shall see me— only for every 
 reason leave me now ; for, as it is, 
 your name, I fear, has already been 
 breathed with mine, and at this 
 period your presence might do me 
 irreparable harm."-'j '^'f fliv/ ^.
 
 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 135 
 
 jiAs she was speaking, her little 
 boyp Avhom the noise had awakened 
 in terror, was brought in to see her : 
 the nurse was in violent hysterics ; 
 the boy only called out "Dear, dear 
 Mamma." Lady Orville no longer 
 bore up— her voice choaked within 
 her — her frame trembled— she fell 
 into her attendant's arms. I caught 
 the child up — he pressed her lips : that 
 kiss revived her^ — that kiss from her 
 child. " My little darling — my fine 
 sweet boy — God bless you! — God 
 bless you !"' She said no more,, 
 but sobbed, unrestrained, the hearts 
 convulsive sob. " Oh Mariette !" she 
 said to her maid, " what a desert oufj 
 dwelling will be without this little
 
 136 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 
 
 cherub!" "Must he leave you?" I 
 
 asked. " Lord Orville sent for him 
 
 some days ago. Oh ! Mr. Hamilton, 
 m'r//^. " vod^sfli biBa ,iyilJom iBoCi ' 
 bv not comins; to me lor these ten 
 
 days past what scenes of anguish you 
 
 have escaped? Your absence has done 
 
 me a real service : I have learned tp 
 
 depend upon myself for support, and 
 
 no longer to cling to others ; I was too 
 
 much attached to— to this world and 
 
 -',' '<) 
 
 all its vanities. The justice of heaven 
 
 . ■ "-' 
 
 has seen fit to punish me — I am re- 
 signed. Tne child again embraced 
 her. "Oh! good God ! she exclaim- 
 ed, falling on her knees, and clasp- 
 I'^Jm o.t, Jqfn')Jii:: toi: ^ >nfi\ 
 
 ing him to her heart, " how 1 over- 
 
 rated my strength ! And did 1 think 
 r could part with thee, darling — and 
 
 ^llfi91^ 8BW Blifi. loob tJllJ hlfui)
 
 J/OTJIMAH UAH AS],} 081 
 
 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 137 
 
 i, *» 
 
 did a mother think she could bear 
 
 iTiffi lol ine^ 9II1V1O biod 
 
 to lose her own, her only treasure ?" 
 
 " Dear mother," said the boy, " sweet 
 
 mamma, I will be so good always." 
 jjov rigiLi «9n9-)^ Jjbiiv/ i^iiTj evin 
 
 Lady Orville -yvas unable to support 
 
 herself any longer, but gave way to 
 
 despair. 
 
 The gentleman who had spoken be- 
 
 fore, I believe Lord Orville's agent, 
 
 now entered into conversation with 
 
 the Sheriff's officers. I perceived bv 
 
 •=9T a\ 'fo: Jtftai.fq or 1(1 n33? ami 
 
 the tone of his voice, which was loud 
 
 and angry, that he was unsuccessful. 
 
 " Oh, Milman," said Lady Qcyille, 
 
 -gafib bflfi ,?. •" nllBf ^b;^ 
 
 faintly, " do not attempt to interfere, 
 
 5 //Oil " : , , . . 
 
 it is aH in vain." ^ She begged them 
 
 to leave her with me a moment. They, 
 ba.< ssat dhw haq muoo l 
 
 ciosed the door. She was greatly
 
 138 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 
 
 agitated. Beautiful as she was, she 
 threw herself at my feet, and claimed 
 my compassion : *' You are involved, 
 Mr. Hamilton," she said. ** You are 
 the cause of the severity shewn to me. 
 My mother has been informed that" 
 — she hesitated — " In short, the ma- 
 lignant, who are not satisfied with my 
 fall, are eager to blast my fame, by 
 attributing to me a guilty sentiment 
 which I trust does not exist. Yet 
 is it not strange ? — I wish you not to 
 leave me.'\ ^*/,,My uncle, in one mo- 
 ment," I said, " could pay the debts 
 your generosity, your thoughtless 
 good-nature alone have incurred ; it is 
 but as a drop of water in the ocean 
 of his riches ; his unparalleled kindness
 
 GRAHAM HAMILTON". 139 
 
 to me gives me every reason to hope."' 
 'Lady Oi-ville looked eagerly at me one 
 moment, then shook her head, and 
 said she feared nothing could be done. 
 ** It Avas to prevent this embarrass- 
 ment," she continued, " I wrote so 
 frequently to implore you to see my 
 mother and explain yourself to her ;— 
 that I might in my distress have a 
 friend who felt for me — I sent to 
 ^^du so repeatedly: for if my part 
 'in this atfair were only cleared up. 
 Lord Orville would leave me my chil- 
 dren; %'tid all would yet be well. I 
 care not what sacrifices I make — I 
 can live on the coarsest fare — I could 
 'w6rk for my children's bread, but I 
 cannot endure disgrace. Oh, Gta-
 
 140 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 
 
 ham, how different was this entertain- 
 ment from the one I had proposed to 
 myself. I had, in the vanity of my 
 heart, resolved to exhibit a scene of 
 folly it is true, but one gratifying to 
 my pride; instead of which I have 
 received nothing but humiliation. I 
 am supposed to be — I dare not, can- 
 not go on : in short, I appeared this 
 night in public to silence the most 
 cruel and false reports. You, Graham, 
 you — though heaven knows how un- 
 justly accused, are one causfe of Lofd' 
 Orville's severity. ""^^^ Ji»"^ ^a8»^*^' "i'^ 
 As she said this she looked upon 
 me with streaming eyes. *' I will save 
 ybii,^ or die,"* I' ^Scried, as 1 strained 
 her to my bosom. Scarce were the
 
 GRAHAM HAMILTON'. 141 
 
 words pronounced, when I perceived 
 that Lord Orville's agent had entered 
 — had seen me embrace her. 
 : Lady Orville sprang from me — m 
 vain; terror overcame her, and she 
 exclaimed, almost fainting, "All now 
 is over with me !" 1 was at once 
 ay\^j^e iofth^, imprudence of which I 
 had been guilty, and the steward said 
 ironically, that her Ladyship might as 
 ^^J^U,, accompany the gentleman who 
 seemed so deeply interested for her. 
 1 seized him by the throat, and thrust 
 him staggering from the room^ — then, 
 recollecting the danger of remaining 
 longer with her, I made, my way ta^ 
 the door of the apartment, amidst th^ 
 sneers aad . scoffs of the impertinent!
 
 142 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 
 
 footmen, and returned to the ante- 
 chamber to witness the cruel scene. 
 
 There I again more calmly ofFeri^d 
 to secure the immediate payment of 
 the amount the officers were authot.j 
 rized to levy. After a little conside- 
 ration, having ascertained that T really 
 was Sir Malcolm Hamilton's nephew,-' 
 they replied — that if I would give' 
 them a warrant of attortmi, they would 
 immediately desist. My joy maybe 
 imagined. 1 ahnost embraced the fel* 
 low who spoke the words, though he 
 looked,, Jike the arrantest knave of the 
 pack. I executed the instrument re- 
 quired, which an attorney, sent for 
 by the officers, prepared without the 
 
 Jilt 'iJ>'5q
 
 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 143 
 
 loss of a moment, and I then flew to 
 Sir Malcolra?3 sdi ^^'^n^iv/ c1 1- 
 
 Hope pictured to me the joy of 
 Lady Orville, when I should return 
 and say to her, ** you are relieved, at 
 all events, from every pecuniary dis- 
 tress." I paused not to reflect how my 
 interference would strengthen every 
 base suspicion already afloat. I paused 
 not even to remember how strong were 
 the prejudices of Sir Malcolm, and how 
 much cause he had, at this particular 
 moment, to be displeased with me. 
 ^'His servant was still awaiting my- 
 return home. He said, that his master 
 must on no account be disturbed ; he 
 had passed a very unquiet night, ex-' 
 pecting me. I would not hear the
 
 144 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 
 
 suggestions of prudence — I entered 
 my uncle's apartment — and in a few 
 words explained, without reserve, all 
 that had taken place. What I said 
 sufficiently awakened Sir Malcolm. 
 
 All that a distracted man could 
 urge, I urged — all that romance and 
 passion could suggest, I suggested. 
 I implored — menaced — knelt ; — and 
 as 1 spoke. Lady Orville's portrait, dis- 
 engaged by the violence of my ges- 
 tures, appeared as it hung around my 
 neck. Sir Malcolm snatched it from 
 me with indignation. He was too 
 angry to find utterance, and when 
 he recovered himself, his resolution 
 appeared so firmly taken, that every 
 shade of hope vanished from my
 
 GKAHAM HAMILTON. 145 
 
 mind. I ventured to remonstrate 
 warmly, even to menace that I would 
 never see Gertrude more. Sir Mal- 
 colm's head dropped upon his pillow 
 — my ingratitude had struck him, 
 and he remained exhausted and almost 
 insensible. His servant interfered, 
 and desired me to desist from urging 
 his master farther. " Never but once, 
 he whispered, never but once, did I, in 
 the forty years 1 have been with him, 
 see Sir Malcolm so moved, so offended 
 as now;"' and saying this, he tried to 
 draw me from the apartment ; but, 
 remembering Lady Orville's situation, 
 1 still persisted. My uncle would not 
 speak to or look upon me ; he beckon- 
 ed me to leave him — I was obliged to 
 
 VOL. II. H
 
 146 Gil A H AM J^ AMI hTON . 
 
 obey. His servant assured me I should 
 be his old master's death jif id thus 
 thwarted him : I went, and scarce 
 remember the scene that followedv' 
 
 Like a maniac I rushed through the 
 streets. The crowd in the city was 
 great: every one was hastening on- 
 ward, each engrossed with his own 
 cares, but all their cares together were 
 light in comparison with mine. I re- 
 turned to Lady Orville's house — all 
 was still there. I dared not to inquire 
 — ^I had already brought sufficient ca- 
 lamity upon that mansion. I entered 
 a coffee-house — I took up the neAvs^. 
 paper of the morning, and to add to 
 the horrors of my situation, found it 
 full of paragraphs, founded upon the
 
 GRAHAM HAmKfd'l^. 147 
 
 events of the preceding night, the 
 most injurious both to me and to Lady 
 OrvillepJi^ ifiwiij 
 
 Whilst I stared, stupified'^By' the 
 consciousness of the ruin of which I 
 had been the author, I was aroused by 
 the arrival of the Sheriff's officer to 
 whom I had given security, and who 
 had found me after a weary search. 
 He informed me that he had visited' 
 Sir Malcolm, and that he had refused 
 to interfere: that judgment had there- 
 fore been entered and execution is- 
 sued against me on the warrant of 
 attorney I had given, so that I must 
 either pay the money or become his 
 prisoner. 
 
 " To prison, then"— I cried, " or to 
 H 2
 
 148 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 
 
 death if possible !" But first I said, 
 1 must write to Gertrude, and to my 
 iather — to Lady Orville— then check- 
 ing myself. Why should I ?— My dis- 
 grace will be heard by them soon 
 
 enough, and the less they hear of me, 
 
 ' ■ ■ -^ '• -\'^ '-^ b:,fi>^ 
 
 or from me in future, the better. I 
 
 H 
 therefore declared myself ready to ac- 
 
 company the officer upon the mstant, 
 and, being desired to enter a hackney- 
 coach, was conducted to prison. 
 
 a 
 
 ■jo/f B be T 
 
 •-iijjjii ', ui 
 
 0^ is^ stK noY
 
 tSRAHAM HAMILTON. 149 
 
 iD-^rl CHAP. VIL 
 
 iiooa J 
 
 i 
 
 ** i HAVE often been in prison,' 
 
 .said Mr. M , interrupting Mr. 
 
 Hamilton, *„',so that you may spare 
 yourself the description of the scene 
 that followed : I can fully sympathise 
 with your present dilemma. Your 
 other adventures have, I acknow- 
 ledge, been in a sphere of which I 
 know nothing. Love has never given 
 me any pain ; and until I came here, 
 and wanted a housewife, I took care 
 to avoid the chains of matrimony. 
 You are yet young, Sir, and the me-
 
 ' 1 bo tfmtMli 'A M ' ■ H A U 1 LTO X. 
 
 ^tory '-(^f all these griefs will, I trust, 
 before long pass aWay. As soon as 
 
 liyou have composed yourself, let me 
 request you once more to resume 
 your narrative." is 
 
 In the prison I suffered no hard- 
 ship, nor much inconvenience; but 
 the blow was struck deep into the 
 heart. M}?^ imprudence had blasted 
 the character of an admired and i^ti 
 jyirtuous woman : the stain was in- 
 delible; every inquisitive eye had 
 already, no doubt, noticed the para- 
 graph, and every circumstance was 
 so strong that there was little hope 
 any justification would avail. By a 
 few words the young, the beautiful 
 Lady Orville's reputation was for ever
 
 X:iRAHAM HAMILTON. 151 
 
 destroyed ; no inquiry would be made 
 bv the multitude whether the report 
 were true or false — no trial would 
 ensue in which the guiltless might 
 find justification. The conscious- 
 ness of being innocent might console 
 and support her— for me, and for the 
 misery I had caused her, there was 
 no consolation. Gertrude too— and my 
 father — my poor old father, whose 
 opinions were so strict, who had ra- 
 ther have seen me dead than dis- 
 graced — who had just heard, no doubt, 
 of my intended marriage with Ger- 
 trude — who, I knew from my uncle, 
 ardently desired it— what would he 
 think when he should hear the cruel 
 intelligence?
 
 152 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 
 
 }■.,h^fr■ .;d i^tn9V9 St^dw .^^biIi 
 
 . How sli9,uld , I prove Lady Orville's 
 innocence ; how to, ,|;hgj world should 
 I attempt to prove it? Who would 
 believe me? The ready ear is open 
 to every boaster who betrays the 
 woman who confides in his honour: 
 but were I to deny the hateful calum- 
 ny, my words would be treated M^ith 
 scorn, my protestations with laughter. 
 
 There is nothino- so terrible as 
 gjijciety, without the possibility of 
 arriving- at any conclusion; nothing 
 worse than being: calumniated without 
 
 *'^ . -. , ,^ 
 
 the possibility of justification ; no 
 situation so cruel as that of entire 
 solitude, when feverish hopes, fears^ 
 and eager irritation torture the mind. 
 From scenes of such rapid vicissi-
 
 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 153 
 
 TTP.TTn/r ATT 
 
 tudes, where events had crowded 
 upon each other with such rapidity, 
 HM ' thatigfe'^to' ' loiiteHhess ancl silence 
 was insupportable ; Sir Malcolm too, 
 %hat had he not done for me ? — How 
 'l^id ^I'^'retiirn'ed' his kindneFsT' what, 
 what would he think of my shameful, 
 my inexplicable conduct? 
 
 Happily for me, to spare me the 
 agonies of such reflections, a fever 
 came upon me. The delirium was 
 violent, and it was several days bef(6re 
 youth and the natural strength of my 
 constitution prevailing, I recovered 
 my reason and recollection . At length 
 as the memory of what had taken 
 place recurred to my mind, I faintly 
 asked the person who attended me, 
 
 H 5
 
 154 G R A II AM II A JI I LTO N" . 
 
 if any one had' inquiiped forme. Not 
 .(Jjtjey.qf my former associates had 
 done so. Of all who had flattered and 
 professed, not one individual had even 
 inquired whether I was alive or dead. 
 It is seldom, in the course of years, 
 that a man who is not in want of 
 money, is in the situation of needing 
 common kindness. It is, indeed, very 
 seldom that any one, circumstanced as 
 I was, can be exposed to such danger, 
 or subjected to such disgrace, that he 
 should consider the visit of an ac- 
 quaintance a favour and an obligation; 
 but this was now mv case, and no- 
 thing could exceed my disappoint- 
 ment and mortification at finding that 
 all who had followed, flattered, and
 
 G R A II A JM II A M I LTO N . n65 
 
 caressed, had fled at the first ap- 
 pearance of difficulty — that my fol- 
 lies and faults were exaggerated — 
 that falsehoods were industriously 
 spread against me — and that every 
 error which I had committed, and 
 ilwhich had been readily pardoned be- 
 fore, was now remembered and brought 
 forward for the purpose of injuring 
 and oppressing me. 
 .1' Full of bitterness and melancholy, 
 perceiving at once the littleness of the 
 great, and the heartlessness of the 
 sentimental, I had thrown myself upon 
 my bed : 1 was still feeble and suf- 
 fering— my thoughts had returned 
 from the delusions of this vain life to 
 the contemplation of the many ad-
 
 Vantages I had abused; when sud- 
 
 and Sir Malcolm, accompanied by 
 the generous Moncrief, enteredif^^''^- 
 
 The latter '^^aH 'heard 'of ^nSy mis- 
 fortunes : he had returned hastily from 
 Scotland, upon reading the paragraphs 
 concerning Lady Orville and mVself, 
 which he fearfully, yet fervently, 
 hoped might not be true. — He had 
 tracecf mi^^to' th^ ^:)]ace ihS*vhlCh'T %as 
 confined ; he had been informed that I 
 'was "dangerously ill ; and without loss 
 of time he had souofht my iiricle, and 
 informed him of my situation. 
 
 My weakness was such that their 
 sudden pre^^fence overcame and con- 
 fused me. T looked about me, for-
 
 getting where J. jv\^as, and had some 
 jgljffic^iUy in recognizing them. "Where 
 vi$ my dear Graham?" said Sir Mal- 
 coIm,|.i».a short, sharp, querulous 
 tone, addressing himself to Moncrief. 
 ^^Y Here Sir," I rephed, in a^f^ltev- 
 ^^g tone, for I durst not look upon 
 him. ''Forgive me," said Sir Mal- 
 .mk^n " ^h' "^y ^^^^ uncle," I said, 
 |^,and offered him my hand. Sir Malcolm 
 . rpressed me to his bosom and wept.— 
 , M<iu\d not. They nc^w^ conspjed me 
 =swith the utmost kindness ; ^exhorted 
 hme to be tranquil and not to agitate 
 myself by inquiries. They continued 
 their visits and attentions for several 
 days; but I could perceive from 
 Moncriefs^^imnper that there was
 
 158 GRAHAM HAMILT0N\ 
 
 something- which pressed heavily upon 
 his mind, — something which he wish- 
 ed, yet dreaded to impart^ii''^ >) 
 At length one morning, when my 
 health was somewhat re-established, 
 " We must lose no farther time," said 
 Moncrief, firmly ; " it is not for Mr. Ha«^ 
 milton at a moment like this to yield to 
 the violence of feeling — an imperious 
 duty calls for the whole energy of his 
 character. — Graham, prepare your- 
 self "—** What, good Heavens! has 
 occurred ?" I cried eagerly, " is Lady 
 Orville" — I stopped, I checked my- 
 self, upon perceiving that my uncle 
 had shut his eyes up at that name,* 
 and recollecting myself, I inquired 
 foi' Gertrude : Sir Malcolm opened
 
 GRAHAM HAMILTOX. 159 
 
 his eyes, but it was only to shed 
 more tears, and he again pressed my 
 hand. " She is ill and feeble," he said. 
 '' 111 !" 1 cried, starting up—*' Oh, now 
 AVe shall have him in a fever again," 
 said Sir Malcolm ; but, in a com- 
 manding tone, Moncrief implored 
 me to be calm. 
 
 e^otJil^qSaa-.J Malcolm will leave the 
 room," he said, in a firm but rather 
 severe manner, '* I will inform Mr. 
 Hamilton of every thing that has 
 passed since he was taken ill." My 
 uncle said there was no need for his 
 going, he vv^ould never leave dear 
 Graham's bed. Moncrief then told 
 me, that having read, and heard 
 from strangers, the report circulated
 
 160 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 
 
 frir -rnTTnrt.TT lAAHAfi'i 
 
 against Lady Orville and me, he had 
 
 without loss of time hastened to town, 
 '^ith'aii intent either to meet mFas^ 
 fofei'Or a friend, according to my con- 
 duct; that, when arrived, he had heard, 
 first, that Lady Orville ' atfd'"Siyself 
 had eloped together ; then, that I was 
 in prison ; and, lastly, that I was 
 dead. He had seen Lady Orville*^ 
 her mother's: he was fully convinced 
 of her innocence and mine. My mis- 
 fortunes had deeply affected him, 
 and the more, as they were irreme- 
 diable ; the world had pronounced 
 Lady Orville guilty — her natn'e waF 
 blasted for ever in this world, and 
 this upon my account. " Worse than 
 thi^; still worse! aw^ks^'^^Bu,*'' coiil^f-'
 
 >rOTJIMAH M 1 Odi 
 
 GRAHAM HAMILTON, 161 
 
 Dfifi 3d ,9m DUB 9111 
 
 niied Moncrief— *' Gertrude" — " What 
 
 (^fJ^&cV I interrupted. Moncrief's 
 
 voice failed. My uncle sobbed aloud ;, 
 
 " The poor girl could not bear it,"^ 
 
 ^ajjl,^ir JVI^alcplm; ''she loved you, 
 
 Graham, as I do, with her whole heart; 
 
 -^T^not as fine London ladies love — she 
 
 ■^^ijpst expecting you, your mither 
 
 too, and poor brither Jamie, they 
 
 were a' expecting us — when a friend 
 
 — rfor it's aye a friend comes to say 
 
 what's unpleasant — a friend from 
 
 Edinburgh dropped in to tell them 
 
 what had happened, and said more, 
 
 th^t you had shot yourself upon the 
 
 discovery taking place — Graham, the 
 
 poor girl could not bear it." irf^ She 
 
 is not dead" ? I shrieked out.
 
 162 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 
 
 " She is not yet dead," said Mon- 
 crief, sternly, '* but it is difficult, in 
 such an illness as hers, to say how 
 long she may yet be permitted to lin- 
 ger on." — " To linger on," I cried, 
 *' what is her illness? — for Heaven^^ 
 sake speak. Has my conduct— oh, 
 do not torture me, say all, all, for il 
 can bear any thing now." — " She felt 
 with violence," said Moncrief — " and 
 she bore up under your cruelty with- 
 out an expression even of bitterness ; 
 but your disgrace she had not strength 
 of mind to endure, and the rumour of 
 your death oveq^owered her ; — the 
 breaking of a blood vessel " 
 
 I heard no more. Let those who 
 have caused the death of the friend
 
 OR>AHAM HAMILTOy. 163 
 
 they adored, from their rashness 
 or ill conduct, judge what I felt — 
 to paint it to others were useless — it 
 .Yfgs. , tall that can be conceived of 
 agony. I aroused myself only to 
 have my heart torn by my poor uncle, 
 who wept over me by my bed, rest- 
 ing his head upon his hands, calling 
 out to me " Graham, you are my heir 
 bf^every thing I have is yours — my 
 child, take all my money, there's nae 
 less than a million, and its a' 
 yours if you'll look up and be yoursel 
 again." 
 
 I did recover — I did get well : the 
 mind, under particular circumstances 
 can do any thing. The paralytic has 
 been known to rise from his bed, the
 
 164 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 
 
 /^OTJIMAH MAHAflO 
 
 dumb has spoken : and the fear of 
 
 losing, my Gertrude, of not once 
 
 »^vs» 'jrorrt tort j?P7/ tj ,riO .<,ta'"^i8f| 
 again seeing her— of not once again 
 
 having it in my power to tell her 
 
 ijj ^i,' 
 
 how dear she was to me, and that I 
 was not so guilty as she imagined-^- 
 aroused me, restored me. My uncle 
 discharged my debt; 1 left the pri- 
 son ; and we set out for Scotland. 
 The way to my native home seemed 
 
 . i^i.^ij 
 
 endless; and when I arrived at Edin- 
 Durgh, when I gazed again upon my 
 beloved country, there was no en- 
 thusiasm within me, no love for 
 it left. We hastened onward to 
 my father's house ; I came like the 
 prodigal son who had wasted his 
 substance in riot, and like him 1 felt 
 
 * / *" * I r ^
 
 V:OTJIWATT I) ^dl 
 
 GRAHAM HAMILTOX. 165 
 
 kj liist isrf^ i3fiG ;r'9i^oq^ md uuujf> 
 I should be received by my too kind 
 
 parents. Oh, it was not their seve- 
 
 fity I feared ; I feared alone their 
 
 tenderness, and the altered looks of 
 
 Gertrude. Alas ! what matter my 
 
 fears or my reflections ? We meet in 
 
 life the good and evil prepared for 
 
 us 'as it comes; some with more, 
 
 and some with less, submission. We 
 
 task our reason in order to determine 
 
 -fv , hMv DfiG ^gaslbfl'a 
 
 beforehand how we shall act, how 
 look, what say ; but the heart knows 
 not its„ power, and nature bursts 
 every bond and fetter when the hour 
 of trial arrives. 
 
 I arrived at mv father's srate— Sir 
 Malcolm's feeble arm supported my 
 more unsteady step. " Do not ask
 
 166 GRAHAM HAMILTO^f.^ 
 
 fqj:, ^Gertrude," I said, almost suffo- 
 cated, ** I cannot bear to see her yet ;. 
 I will first kneel before Captain Ha- 
 milton, and ask his forgivenes$^i"/ ^j{ 
 
 The maid opened the door to us4i 
 in answer to Moncrief's inquiry " Our 
 young- lady is a little better," i^hft)*^ 
 said. The words were a great relief, 
 to my heart. In a moment my father 
 came forward to meet us ; kneeling 
 I received his blessing, and whilst 
 weeping on his bosom, he repeated 
 the words " Thank God, my son is re^,; 
 stored to me." My mother came too, 
 but turned away again, she seemed 
 unable then to look ui)on me — My 
 brothers and sisters surrounded and 
 supported me. *' Father,", ."^ji}! might.,
 
 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 167 
 
 I'^^ay, " I have sinned against hfe^vdfi 
 and in thy sight, and am no more- 
 worthy to be called thy son." 
 
 In vain should I attempt tapaitit the 
 rest. None other can feel it — for 
 who is there that has been loved as 
 fondly, '^'faithfully as I was. Who 
 can tax himself with such ingratitude? 
 "Gertrude — where is she? Is she 
 better?" had been faintly pronounced"^ 
 by Sir Malcolm. I durst not name 
 h^pf' they had prepared her, they 
 said, to see me ; they led me to her. 
 
 I found her seated by my uncle 
 Richard. She looked very ill and 
 pale, and so changed, oh who could 
 bear to see it ? Not I^ — my heart was 
 not hardened — she smiled, and held
 
 168 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 
 
 her dear hand to me, as if I had 
 not been a villain ; and her eyes, 
 though streaming with tears, turned 
 away for fear of lacerating my heart. 
 Heavens, what reproaches were in 
 those acts of generous kindness I 
 How when I trembled as I approach- 
 ed her, speechless from contrition, 
 shame, despair— how did she kindly 
 bid me sit near her, and in a hollow 
 tone of voice, and faintly, as if draw- 
 ing her breath with difficulty, speak 
 of her garden. 1 cannot continue." 
 
 Here Mr. Hamilton paused, and 
 wept without controul. His stern 
 companion was moved. 
 
 " Heaven is just," continued Mr. 
 Hamilton, "and my punishment, great
 
 GRAHAM HAMILTON.' 169 
 
 as it Is, was merited. I was giveni 
 again to behold Gertrude's superio-? 
 rity. I was permitted again, once 
 asfain, to witness her charms, her 
 kindness, her disinterested sweetness, 
 even when tortured by a cruel and 
 dfedly malady. I was condemned to 
 see every beauty increase and soften 
 under the influence of approaching 
 death. Alas! I had not thought how 
 much, how faithfully, this girl was 
 capable of feeling attachment. ; 
 
 Sir Malcolm, whose thoughts no 
 sorrows could entirely draw away from 
 his money, continued to enumerate 
 to my father and uncle the stores he 
 possessed, and was resolved to settle 
 upon Gertrude and me. " Give them,' 
 
 VOL. II. I
 
 170 GRAHAM HAMItTOX. 
 
 said my father, gravely, "'to 'the 
 wretched woman whose ruin Graham 
 has caused ; let Lady Orville possess 
 the wealth ; Gertrude needs it not.*' 
 He spoke too truly, Gertrude needed 
 little here ; and her patience, her 
 fortitude, her calmness, seemed to 
 rise in proportion as her strength 
 decreased. 
 
 She rhiisfdie: ' I saw it plainly. 
 1 knew it from the first. There was 
 no'(i'ecepl:ion here — no flattery to be- 
 guile irorh day to day her surrounding 
 relations by false hopes and delusive 
 promises — phrases and circumlocution 
 were here useless All in the little 
 mansion of my father bespoke truth 
 and simplicity.
 
 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 171 
 
 It was a mournful, but a striking ex- 
 ample of Christian fortitude. I would 
 I could bring it before others in all 
 the dignity and sublimity of truth. 
 ^,r The few first days after my return 
 ^he permitted me to support her into 
 the garden, and place her upon the 
 bench for a few moments during the 
 heat of the day. She was soon un- 
 able to leave her bed— she often spoke 
 a consolatory word to her frien4|— jaid 
 she was happy ; but when she looked 
 upon me, and read in my countenance 
 the agony of my soul, tears sometimes 
 stole down her cheeks. Gertrude still 
 lived: on that remaining breath— on 
 that faint flush-that still beating, ra- 
 pid pulse, I hung in breathless anx- 
 
 1 2
 
 172 GRAHAM HAMILTOX, 
 
 iety. I watched life's decay, and 
 hoped, when there was no room for 
 hope. 
 
 The night before she died she de- 
 sired to take the sacrament. Her 
 whole family assembled to take it 
 with her. I durst not — yet I kneltj 
 though Scottish custom requires it 
 not. I knelt in token of humility of 
 despair, and I prayed even as my fa- 
 ther's broken accents ascended in fer- 
 vent prayer to heaven. How sweetly 
 calm was Gertrude's countenance, 
 when thus she heard him. Her hands 
 were folded in each other. I thought 
 too, that when he prayed for mercy 
 on the sinner, her eyes sought for me. 
 I was kneeUng by her bed— she could
 
 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 173 
 
 not see me. My heart had ceased to 
 throb — my eyes to weep. The awful 
 act of worship was over ; — every one 
 but my uncle Richard, my father, and 
 myself, withdrew. My father ap- 
 proached Gertrude, and thinking, per- 
 haps, he should see her alive no more, 
 he kissed her forehead— saying, " God 
 bless thee! dear sweet child, and 
 pardon him who caused thy suffer- 
 ings." The Captain took my hand 
 when my father said this, and Ger- 
 trude made sign to me to approach 
 her — " Grieve not, cousin Graham," 
 she said, " I am happy T'. 
 
 The heat was oppressive. The phy- 
 sician opened the window. The moon 
 shone upon the garden — I looked for a
 
 174 GRAHAM HAMILTON". 
 
 moment oii^ fc' hide my tears : — ^the 
 mild light, the fresh air seetued to re- 
 vive poor Gertrude. " AVhere is Gra- 
 ham?"' sW^ said distinctly. I strug-' 
 gled with my feelings, and approach- 
 ed her. I supported her again on her 
 pillow. Her father, and Dr. G. left 
 us, and went towards the window. I 
 pressed her lips to mine — she return- 
 ed the kiss with fervour. ** Be good 
 —be comforted," she said. Her breath 
 was short. "Be a son to my poor 
 father — fear God, cousin." She never 
 spoke one word after. A slight 
 struggle followed. I called Dr. G. 
 He took her hand to feel her pulse. 
 — " It is all over now," he said. 
 Moncrief remained with me throu2:h
 
 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 175 
 
 the trying scene ; he tore me from the 
 contemplation of its final close, and 
 when I foro-ot myself,, aiid the duties 
 of a man, his generous and firm friend-, 
 ship saved me from my own despair. 
 ...'^ should have felt certain, 'before- 
 hand, that such grief as I endured 
 would have killed me; but I was 
 vounff, and with the elasticity of 
 youth I have recovered ; but^s j| ^a 
 recovery to feel as I do ? alone, un- 
 lav^d, unloving, in. this cold world.— 
 My poor uncle Richard ! he appeared 
 calm, and professed fortitude ; but in 
 v.ain. . Human nature is but weak at 
 best, and he had no pretensions to ^ 
 character much out of the common 
 wav. " It is the will of God — his
 
 176 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 
 
 will be done," — was all he ever said. 
 No long stories — no complaints now ; 
 all was at an end : he was cut to the 
 heart at once. Others pitied him, 
 but I had no pity left for any thing. 
 I obeyed, however, Gertrude's last 
 words, and exerted myself to soothe 
 the sufferings of her father.
 
 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 177 
 
 'trri/^krrf'oo on 
 
 CHAP. VIII. 
 
 Years have now intervened since 
 these scenes of misery. I have buried 
 my father. I have outlived my mo- 
 ther and both my uncles. Sir Mal- 
 colm's death shortly followed my 
 Gertrude's. It took place somewhat 
 suddenly ; but I had the comfort of 
 arriving in London time enough to 
 see him and shew him every care. 
 He made some alterations in his will, 
 erased poor Gertrude's name, and then 
 fixed his dying eyes on me. 
 
 " Nephy Graham," he said, " do 
 I 5
 
 178 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 
 
 not leave me while there is life in me; 
 and when I am buried, have a care of 
 those undertakers, they are owre 
 given to surcharge and expend. 
 There is nae need Sir Malcolm, sae 
 well known on 'Change, and iil^'^' 
 places, for a thrifty man, should go 
 to his mither earth in muckle finer 
 claiths than these he has warn lang 
 syne. Take ye a' I possess :'* he 
 said, "sorrow has taught you now a 
 wholesome lesson : I can feel for you ; 
 for you are as lone in the world as I 
 was before I knew you." - The poor 
 old man soon after expired in my arms. 
 Before I quitted London Moncrief 
 told me that he had seen Lady Orvilld; 
 she had lost something, he said, of
 
 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 179 
 
 her beauty, but was cheerful ; for her 
 kind heart was alone engrossed by re- 
 lieving and soothing the sorrows of 
 others. True religion enlightened her 
 mind, and she felt independent of, 
 but not hostile to, a world she had 
 once loved too well. Miss Brandon 
 expressed much interest in my fate, 
 but married a young lord, who had 
 been nearly ruined by his own extra- 
 vagance, and was completely so by 
 his union with an heiress. 
 
 To divert my thoughts, by novelty 
 and change, from dwelling upon the 
 scenes I had witnessed, and the suffer- 
 ings I had endured, I quitted Europe. 
 I pronounced upon myself that sen- 
 tence of banishment so often passed
 
 180 GRAHAM HAMlLTOJsr. 
 
 on criminals, who have done less wrong 
 than I have. I hoped that the hurry 
 of embarkation, the hopes, the fears, 
 the anxieties of new countries, would 
 give peace to my heart; but the 
 moment of impulse over, I find myself 
 in a new world, with all my old griefs 
 around me. Life, after all that has 
 been said of its brevity, is very, very 
 long, and more persons find reason to 
 complain of the slowness, than of the 
 swiftness of its course. Every event 
 which happens, and every hour which 
 passes, reconciles the mind more and 
 more to the prospect of death. If a 
 man's efforts and exertions are suc- 
 cessful, he feels satisfied with having 
 attained the objects which he pro-
 
 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 181 
 
 posed to himself. If, on the contrary, 
 he fails in his favourite views, he is 
 no ways afflicted at withdrawing from 
 a world, which has nothing to offer 
 him but disappointment and regret. 
 In the one case he retires contented 
 with his own glory ; in the other he is 
 glad to escape from the scene of his 
 humiliation. 
 
 ** Pshaw!" interrupted Mr. M., 
 these are the reflections of weak- 
 ness and despondency. Do not give 
 way to them. Life is well enough to 
 those who will rouse themselves to use 
 and enjoy it. Recollect how easy it 
 is to argue as you are arguing. At 
 all periods and under all circumstan- 
 ces, in youth, in age, in health,, in
 
 182 GRAHAM HAMILTON.^ 
 
 sickness, in wealth, in poverty, we 
 may readily find reasons why we 
 should be content and even rejoiced 
 to die. There is always some trouble 
 to be released from, some danger to 
 be avoided by it." , ^q 
 
 "Ay," continued Mr. H. ''but my 
 condition is such as I have described 
 it ; and such, as far as I am sure of 
 myself, are my sentiments. I have 
 no prospects for the future— I have 
 no tie on earth — on it there can 
 be no sympathy with one like me. I 
 can no longer worship life's splendid 
 deceits as I have done ; and my heart 
 has exhausted all the visionary hopes 
 of sentiment and love. In woman, 
 even lovely woman, how can I seek
 
 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 183 
 
 for consolation? — I have destroyed 
 the best and fairest of them all. Even 
 the mournful resource of assuaging 
 my own sorrows by imparting them to 
 others is denied me. You, Sir, I 
 perceive, look upon me with con- 
 tempt. You would say, and I feel 
 it, that I have drawn all my miseries 
 upon myself, by the weakness of my 
 character; that I have trifled away 
 my hour of life in vanity; and the 
 deserved punishment of my errors 
 has fallen upon me. prrm 
 
 " I am not so severe as you imagine, 
 Sir," said Mr. M. offering his hand; 
 *' and your story has touched me, al- 
 though I never felt any thing of the 
 kind myself. Yet, remember you are
 
 184 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 
 
 but young, and that all these romantic 
 visions will pass away. Leave com- 
 plaint and vain repining — it is idle- 
 it is useless. Cast your eyes forward, 
 infuse into your character some ener- 
 gy, and be at length a man. Look 
 around you on the scene that Nature 
 presents upon this vast continent.-U- 
 The plaintain and palm shoot their 
 tall straight stems on high, the moun- 
 tains lift to the heavens their summits 
 of everlasting snow ; the rivers roll 
 down to the ocean their measureless 
 multitude of waters; brighter shine 
 the constellations in the clear skies ; 
 the condor, mounting from the high- 
 est point of the highest rock, soai^^^ 
 above the storms ; all things in these
 
 GRAHAM HAMILTON. 185 
 
 magnificent regions bear the stamp 
 of greatness ; let not man alone creep 
 with the worm in his own familiar 
 path, to be trodden upon and perish. 
 You are, you acknowledge, for the 
 first time independent ; enjoy at least 
 the^ pride, if not the pleasure, of 
 dearly-purchased freedom, that you 
 may boast you have lived one mo- 
 ment before you die." 
 ■ ) :^,* All that you have said is true," 
 replied Graham Hamilton, mournfully 
 — " and I thank you for your advice. 
 I will exert myself, I will bend my 
 mind to my circumstances — but I 
 carry with me the heavy load of self- 
 reproach, and in this world I can 
 never make reparation for the suffer-
 
 186 GRAHAM AXmi'lTON. 
 
 ings I have inflicted. Happy, most 
 happy are they to whom it is granted 
 to do so — and who, if they have 
 deeply injured one they loved, may 
 yet, by years of labour or of penanceii 
 be permitted to expiate their errors 
 and their crimes." 
 
 THE, ^Np. 
 
 LONDON : , It 
 
 .PRINTED BY S. AND U. BENTLEY, DORSET-'JTnKK'rlJ 
 
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