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 ( TM IE ) ^ ^ 
 
 ^^"^AI^BIE MINGS OF lYOlLF, 
 
 ^" — ' beJnQ (he 
 
 THE COTTAGE Olf THE €UFF. 
 
 2>^w/a^ ^ //^// A, 
 
 Cf'itntfe on the (Y/'r'/', Joems.kc . 
 
 PTTBLISffED BV & .VIRTITE. 26. IVY XANE, LCflSTUON. 
 BA.TH STREET. BRISTOL.* QTTEEN" SQUARE. LIVEiU'O OL .
 
 t 
 
 THE 
 
 FISHERS DAUGHTER, 
 
 OR THE 
 
 ManHeci'nes! of Wiolf, 
 
 AND THE 
 
 FORTUNES OF AlaFRED. 
 
 Being the seqriel to that so greatly admired and popular IVorky eniUied, 
 
 Clje Cottage on tijc mi% 
 
 OR A SEA-SIDE STORY. 
 
 BY MRS. CATHERINE G. WARD. 
 
 jtulhoress Gf—Ni/sferious Marriage — Family Portraits — Orphan L'oy-— 
 fTiduiv's Choice^The Thorn, 8fc. ^c. 
 
 " Age had not quench'd the open truth 
 
 And fiery vehemence of youth. 
 
 Forward and frolic glee was there, 
 
 The ivill to do, the soul to dare. 
 
 The sparkling glance soon blown to fire, 
 
 Of haxti/ love or headlong ire ; 
 
 His limbs were cast in manly mould. 
 
 For hard// sports and contest bold." 
 
 ilontron : 
 
 PUBLISHED BY G. VIRTUE, 
 
 ««, IVY-LANE, PATERNOSTER.ROW; BATfT-Sl'IlEET, imiSTOL; 
 AND QUEEN-SQUARE, LIVERPOOL. 
 
 1827..
 
 ^^o 
 
 /Tjmj^ 
 
 ^1 
 
 THE 
 
 FISHER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 " Poor child of danger, nursling of the storm, 
 Sad were the woes that wreck'd thy manly form j 
 Rocks, waves, and winds thy shatter'd bark delay, 
 Thy heart was sad, thy home was far away ; 
 But hope can still her moonlight vigils keep. 
 And sing to charm the spirit of the deep." 
 
 It may be recoiiectcd that at the period when Cap- 
 tain Singleton returned once more in peace and safety 
 to take possession of his favom'ite and beloved retreat, 
 ^ The Cottage on the Cliff ;' when^ after the succeeding 
 events which had marked with fearful doubts and 
 joul-torturing suspense, the heroic mind, but gentle 
 heart of the lovely Agatha, and gloomy scenes had 
 given place to a total reverse of prospects in her so 
 long adverse fortune; when the bright beaming sun of 
 happiness shone full upon her, by giving her to the 
 arms of a faithful and an adoring lover, in the person 
 of her so newly discovered cousin. Lord Montague 
 Montault •, it may be remembered that it w^as then the 
 generous intention of the Fisher Blust, to provide for 
 the fortunes of the gentle Alfred, and those also of
 
 4 THE FISHER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 the bold, aspiring, and spirited, intrepid Wolf, as soon 
 as they had finally completed their respective studies 
 at the seminary in which he had placed them, in the 
 vicinity of Cromer, a few weeks only after they had so 
 providentially escaped from the perils of the shipwreck, 
 which had laid all besides them in a watery grave. And 
 it was not long after the nuptials of the Lady Agatha 
 Braganza and Lord Montague had been solemnized 
 in the village church at Cromer, that Wolf and Alfred 
 returned to Herring Dale, the house of their protector, 
 so improved in person, and so cultivated in mind and 
 manners, that little now could be discerned of the poor 
 shipwrecked boys, who had formerly excited the pity 
 and compassionate attention of the humane and hos- 
 pitable inhabitants of Cromer, when the rough gale 
 threw them on their coast in the fearful night of the 
 storm j and to none more than to the fisher himself 
 was this alteration and improvement in his adopted 
 sons perceptible ; who, surveying them from head to 
 foot, the very moment that they alighted from the 
 chaise and crossed the threshold of Herring Dale, with 
 that look of unsophisticated nature and feeling which 
 he was at all times remarkable for, and shaking the 
 hand of each with no veiy gentle pressure, loudly vo- 
 ciferated — 
 
 " Shiver my topsails if ever 1 saw two such young 
 giants in all my born days ! why lads, thee be grown 
 out of all knowledge for certain sure." 
 
 " Except the knowledge of being known to one at 
 least, sir, who does not appear to have lost sight of us, 
 if we may judge of his kindness at the present mo- 
 ment," uttered Alfred, returning the warm pressuie
 
 THE FISHER S DAUGHTER. 5 
 
 of his protector's hand with eyes moistened with a 
 tear, (the genuine offspring of heartfelt gratitude,) 
 while his foster-brother Wolf, experienced the same 
 sensation, although he did not express it in a similar 
 way, but exclaimed — 
 
 *^ Yes sir 5 we can do any thing now to serve you, 
 we are no longer boys ; Alfred is not so delicate and 
 chicken-hearted as he used to be, and I am as stout as 
 a lion." 
 
 '' And as fierce as a turkey-cock," cried the fisher, 
 viewing the fine formed and athletic limbs of Wolf, as 
 he stood before him with unspeakable delight and sa- 
 tisfaction, while he replenished his pipe with tobacco, 
 " Well lads, be'st thee hungry ? I warrant me thee 
 canst make shift to eat a slice of roast beef, and a 
 thumping piece of plum pudding, before thee goest to 
 roost 'j but I say, lads, does not thee wonder what is 
 become of the best piece of furniture at Herring Dale ? 
 look about my lads, and see if thee dost not miss 
 something as I do now?" 
 
 It was evident both to Alfred and Wolf, that in 
 uttering these words, the fisher had some difficulty in 
 suppressing a painful, and tO him involuntary sensation, 
 and that a sigh was broke in suffocating smoke, be- 
 fore he added, " But it be all for the best, I do suppose 
 it be all for the best. Shiver my topsails ! grieving's 
 a folly, as the old song says ; but my Jess was the 
 pride of my eyes, and the comfort of my heart, and 
 thee wert both mortal fond of thy sister Jessy, wast 
 not thee, lads ?" 
 
 Neither Wolf or Alfred could immediately reply to 
 their kind protector, for but one thought actually pos-
 
 6 THB fisher's daughter. 
 
 sessed their imagination, and that thought was that 
 the lovely gentle Jessy had followed her sister Olive 
 to an untimely grave, and was no more ; for they did 
 not behold her there, who was ever wont to welcome 
 their return to Herring Dale with smiles 5 and the 
 manner of the fisher, so far from relieving them of 
 their apprehensions, greatly added to their fear that 
 he was now bereft of both bis daughters 3 and Alfred 
 with much agitation replied : — 
 
 ^* Love our sister Jessy ? ah ! sir, who was there 
 w^ho could not love her ? but I hope — I — I — I — she is 
 not — I hope dear Jessy is still the pride of your eyes, 
 and the comfort of your heart. You do not answer, 
 my dear father. Alas ! you tremble and you turn 
 pale 5 is then Jessy dead ?" 
 
 To which the fisher, with a whifF of his pipe which 
 emitted volumes of smoke, immediately replied, — 
 
 ^^ Shiver my topsails ! no, not dead, — no boy, not 
 exactly that, — but she is married — and that's one and 
 the same thing, you know ; — Jessy is married ! there- 
 fore she is dead to me, and that's flat V* 
 
 The manner of the fisher at this moment, would 
 have excited the risibility of the gravest and most 
 rigid philosopher ; for suiting the action to the word, 
 he struck his pipe against the edge of the table at 
 which he was sitting, with such determined violence, 
 that it was presently shivered into a thousand atoms ; 
 and Wolf, in spite of his utmost efforts to prevent it, 
 burst into a most immoderate fit of laughter. Not so, 
 Alfred 5 for Jessy was the subject and the cause of 
 this intemperate warmth in the bosom of a fond fa- 
 ther 3 for which, although Alfred was inclined to make
 
 THE FISHRR S DAUGHTER. 7 
 
 every reasonable and just excuse, yet he did not see 
 why the svvcct Jessy should be blamed for an act so 
 natural, so chaste, and so honourable, as marriage ; 
 and who, averting the fate of her unfortunate sister, 
 had made choice of the only step that prudence and 
 delicacy could adopt in her situation ; but to whom 
 -was Jessy married ? Alfred had never seen any young 
 man there, paying her any particular attention, since 
 the unfortunate affair of poor Olive Blust, and Leon- 
 tine Craftly ; and he was fearful of hazarding an en- 
 quiry at this moment of the fisher, who did not ap- 
 pear to be in the happiest disposition that was pos- 
 sible, from a sudden recollection of former times ; for 
 the loss of his Jessy, contrasted with the loss of Olive 
 too, although far different was the nature of the one 
 to the nature of the other, for Olive slept in the dark 
 and mouldering tomb, to which her imprudence and 
 her folly had consigned her ; but Jessy reposed in the 
 arms of a fond husband, — the just and merited reward 
 of all her gentle virtues, her exemplary piety, and her 
 filial duty to her father ; and although the fisher could 
 not reasonably confute this argument, still the loss of 
 his Jessy was a severe trial of his feelings, and of 
 course at times had not the effect of either enlivening 
 his spirits, or sweetening his temper ; in the mean 
 while, Alfred felt that his protector expected both him 
 and Wolf to say something on the subject of Jessy's 
 marriage, and he exclaimed in answer to what the 
 fisher had uttered — 
 
 " Dear sir ; for heaven's sake cherish not thoughts 
 so gloomy ; compare not marriage to death ! for if it 
 were so, who would feel anxious to taste of its sweets ?
 
 8 
 
 But may I venture to enquire who is so happy as to 
 possess the inestimable treasure of my sister Jessy's 
 heart and hand ?" 
 
 "Why Sam Russell, to be sure'/' answered the 
 fisher, whose petiilence had now evaporated with the 
 last whifF of his tobacco, " as honest a lad as ever 
 broke bread, or heaved an anchor afloat. Shiver my 
 topsails, if ever I had doubted that, I would have 
 twisted a rope*s-yarn about his neck before he should 
 have been the husband of my Jessy. I saw how mat- 
 ters stood with poor Sam, and that he was down- 
 hearted ; so one morning I just gave him a bit of a hint 
 about that villian Craftly, * TU have no shilly-shallying, 
 Sam, says I ; what ought a man to do, when he loves 
 a girl, and sees as plain as the nose on his face, that she 
 loves him too ? That's a plain question, Sam, answer 
 it.' Now it was a nimmish kind of a thing to say this 
 when Jessy was by, was'nt it ? she was standing close 
 at my elbow, with her cheeks as red as a scarlet bean- 
 flower, in full blossom. No matter, I am a rummish 
 kind of a fellow myself; you know lads ! I don't like 
 crooked paths and bye-ways, when there is one plain 
 down-right straight one for a man to steer his compass 
 by, when once he is sure of a woman's affections I — 
 So what does Sam do, but takes Jessy by the hand and 
 leads her up to me, and then the coaxing slut threw 
 both her pretty arms roimd my neck 3 and Sam let 
 the cat out of the bag, without any further preamble. 
 Shiver my topsails, what could a father do that so 
 loved his child, as I did Je^sy ? * God bless thee both,* 
 cried I, and spliced their hands together. But the 
 parson had to finish the rest of the ceremony, mind
 
 THE fisher's daughter. 9 
 
 that, though. Well, lads, Sam and Jessy were married 
 the very next morning in our pretty little village 
 church ; and there is an end of my story. Shiver my 
 topsails, when we come to matrimony, it*s time to 
 leave off, beant it now ?" 
 
 ^^ Dear Jessy 1 none more truly rejoices in her hap- 
 piness than I do," uttered Alfred, with a glistening 
 tear, soft as the dew that the zephyr shakes from the 
 leaves of roses, while Wolf, less the child of delicacy, 
 but equally that of nature, sensibility, and feeling, 
 expressed in bolder terms his regard for the lovely 
 Jessy, and his approval of her choice in Sam Russel. 
 
 " Whom I always liked better than any who visited 
 at Herring Dale," uttered he, '*^ for though he had not 
 so many fine sayings at his tongue's end as some of 
 them, yet he had a better heart, and would not have 
 been guilty of a mean or a dirty action, for the life of 
 him/' 
 
 " No, shiver my topsails if I would not take my 
 Bible oath of that," cried the fisher, highly pleased 
 with the manner in which Wolf had expressed his 
 sentiments on the merits of Mr.' Russel, which so well 
 accorded with his own, that his spirits and good hu- 
 mour now returned in full hilarity ; and the supper 
 being ready, the first dish was set on the table by poor 
 old Alice, who rather hobbled than walked, on account 
 of her increasing infirmities ; but who still retained 
 her situation as house-keeper at Herring Dale, and 
 whose services the fisher would not exchange for a 
 younger one. Although Mrs. Russel had more than 
 once hinted to her father, whenever she spent the day 
 with him, (wliich was very tVcquenfly the case,) that
 
 10 THB fisher's daughter. 
 
 the advanced age of poor old Alice rendered her unfit 
 for the management of the household affairs, to which, 
 chucking the old girl under the chin, he would hu- 
 morously exclaim, 
 
 " Shiver my topsails ! but thou hast a colt's tooth 
 yet in thy head, hast not thee. Alley?" which highly 
 offended the ancient dame, who, shaking her head, 
 always gave the retort courteous to her old master, 
 with " May be so — may be so — but if I have gotten a 
 colt's tooth in my head, I know. Master, that thou 
 hast gotten a wag's tongue in thine ; — colt's tooth, 
 forsooth ! well-a-day, I have not had a colt's tooth in 
 my head these fifty years !" 
 
 At sight of the youths, Alfred and Wolf, the poor 
 old creature testified the greatest joy at seeing them so 
 improved in looks and in stature, while they in return 
 expressed the pleasure they felt in beholding her again. 
 
 ^^ Ah ! well-a-day! but I am wearing away, my 
 dear boys," uttered the old woman, '^ going — going: 
 — down, as the saying is." — 
 
 *^ Going to a fiddlestick's end," vociferated the fisher 
 in his usual way, " thou hast been a going ever since I 
 can remember thee, and art not gone yet, my old lass ! 
 come, fill up a bumper of brandy, and drink to the 
 health of these two boys !" 
 
 ^^ Aye, marry will I, master," said Alice, " and that 
 they may do well and prosper in the next long voyage 
 they take over the high seas." 
 
 *^ Ah ! it was indeed a prosperous gale which sent 
 us hither," responded Alfred, " to share in the bless- 
 ings of kindness, friendship, and hospitality, which 
 but for that we never had known."
 
 THE fisher's daughter. 11 
 
 '^ It is a Providence, Master Alfred, that never deserts 
 those vi'ho place entire confidence in its protection, and 
 'tis a bad wind that blows good to nobody, my dear boy, 
 remember that," uttered the old Avoman, as she hobbled 
 back again to attend to her duties in the kitchen, leav- 
 ing the snug and happy party to enjoy themselves in 
 the parlour without interruption ; and to partake of 
 a meal, which, though it did not consist of refined de- 
 licacies, was sufl^iciently luxurious to those who had 
 never yet dreamt of luxuries, and therefore knew not 
 the artificial want of them. For, what is a man, if 
 his chief good and market of his time be but to sleep 
 and feed ? 
 
 ** A beast, no more,'* 
 
 saith the immortal bard : 
 
 ** Aud what is gaiety ? The innoceut is gay, 
 The lark is gay, 
 
 That dries his feathers, saturate with dew. 
 Beneath the rosy cloud, while yet the beams 
 Of day-spring overshoot his humble nest. 
 The peasant too, a witness of his song, 
 Himself a songster, is as gay as he.— 
 But save me, oh save me 
 From the gaiety of luxury." 
 
 *' Well, lads, thee shall see thy sister Jessy to-mor- 
 row," uttered the fisher, observing, that although 
 Wolf did ample justice to the roast beef and plum 
 pudding, betrayed some impatience and even chagrin, 
 the cause of which might be easily traced to its real 
 source ; for during dinner Alfred had casually en- 
 quired of his protector after the health of the Montault 
 family, and that also of Captain Singleton 5 and whe-
 
 12 THE FlSJilill's DAUCairiiR. 
 
 ther that gentleman still resided at the Cottage on the 
 Cliff? to which the fisher replied with an air of the 
 greatest indifference, in which however, it was evident 
 that pique had some share — 
 
 *^ Shiver my topsails ! if I can tell you any thing at 
 all about them, except that there was a talk some time 
 ago, that LadyLavinia was going to be married to a 
 great lord, and that was thought to be a great match 
 for her. But I never trouble my head any more about 
 such fine gentry than they do about Peter Blust, who 
 thinks himself as great a man as any of them." 
 
 A pause of some length ensued. The fisher began 
 twirling his thumbs, a habit to which he was accus- 
 tomed when any thing displeased him ; and Wolf, 
 whose fine countenance had a richer glow of a roseate 
 tint than when he had sat down, could no longer con- 
 trol his impatient anxiety to learn some intelligence 
 of his still tenderly and passionately beloved favourite, 
 the lovely lady Agatha ; and somewhat hastily pro- 
 nounced — 
 
 " And cannot you tell us any thing about our dear 
 — I mean, sir, — that I should like to know — that is, I 
 mean the" — Wolf hesitated — faultered — and coloured 
 deeply ! and the fisher immediately vociferated, 
 
 *^ Curse me, if I know what you mean — ^you have 
 made a good story of it — perhaps Alfred can help you 
 out, for, shiver my topsails, if I know head or tail of 
 what you are saying." 
 
 This not only added to the embarrassment of poor 
 Wolf, but increased his anxiety about the lady Agatha; 
 and Alfred, wishing to relieve him without offending 
 his protector, with great diffidence uttered, " I believe.
 
 THE FISHEa's DAUGHTER. 13 
 
 Stir, I can pretty nearly guess at my brother's thoughts, 
 if you will permit me to reveal them. 
 
 *^ Do so, lad,'* cried the fisher, Avho however had a 
 pretty near guess at them himself, though willing to 
 torment him a little, " do so Alfred," repeated he, and 
 almost ready to laugh, " for I love plain sailing ; it's 
 much better than tacking about, youknow, at any time." 
 
 *^ Why, sir, my brother is very naturally anxious to 
 receive some intelligence respecting the lady Agatha, 
 which is not to be wondered at when you consider 
 how highly he has been honoured with her friendship, 
 when we supposed her to be the daughter of Captain 
 Singleton ; and since her exalted birth has been known 
 to us even in the character of Lady Agatha Braganza, 
 she has not been the less amiable in those engaging 
 qualities of disposition and sweetness of manners that 
 dignified her in the plain attire, yet lovely person of 
 Agatha Singleton." 
 
 *^ And had she kept to that name, and not known 
 any other, shiver my topsails if I don't think she would 
 have been all the better for it," uttered the fisher. 
 
 " What sir," cried Wolf, forgetting all but the lovely 
 object in question, " has matrimony made so great an 
 alteration in Miss Agatha Singleton r" on which en- 
 quiry the fisher smiled. 
 
 " Now that's a pretty question," uttered he, ^' shiver 
 my topsails, if matrimony don't make some alteration 
 in a woman, I should be glad to know what does ? 
 Not that I have any fault to find so much with my once 
 dear little darling, but I don't like her husband." 
 
 Oh sir, and is it possible that any one can dislike 
 Lord Montague Montault," cried Wolf, more asto-
 
 14 THE fisher's daughter. 
 
 iiished than ever at the asperity with which this was 
 uttered by his protector. 
 
 " But I think it very possible, sir, though you may 
 not," answered the fisher angrily; " and I will tell 
 you why, to put you out of suspense, which sits so 
 troublesome on you. I was the protector of Agatha 
 Singleton when she had no other. Lord Montague 
 Montault has forgotten that, and is teaching his wife 
 to forget that too. This, sir, is what they call ingrati- 
 tude all the world over ; but if you can call it by any 
 other name, pray do, for my satisfaction.*' 
 
 Wolf was now not only astonished, but utterly con- 
 founded at a communication so unpleasing, and so 
 little expected. He could answer nothing in extenuation 
 of the conduct of Lord Montault, if the assertion of 
 his protector was really true ; and he could not doubt 
 his veracity on such an occasion ; yet what could 
 be the motives for such extraordinary conduct in 
 Lord Montault, who, before he had married his 
 lovely cousin, exhibited so many amiable traits of a 
 noble and ingenuous disposition. So generous too, 
 and exalted in his sentiments, and appearing so un- 
 conscious of his high birth, and splendid advantages 
 of fortune, that he was beloved, nay adored, by all his 
 father's tenantry on the rich domains belonging to the 
 castle of Montault, and perfectly looked upon as a 
 tutelary saint by the humble class of beings which re- 
 ceived the most liberal marks of his bounty. And 
 was it the least likely to be imagined, that the lovely 
 angel who had so greatly honoured him with her hand 
 and her heart, for which monarchs might have con- 
 tended, could have had any influence in rendering him
 
 THE fisher's DArJGHTBIl. 15 
 
 less amiable tiian he was before. Such an idea was 
 inadmissible. A connection with such a woman, and 
 one too of so sacred and tender a nature, must haVe 
 exalted a man to the most transporting tide of human 
 bliss ; but it was utterly impossible that it could ever 
 debase him. A marriage with so heavenly a creature, 
 for it was not only the person of Agatha that was so 
 femininely lovely, but that lovely person was reflected 
 in a superior, and if possible, a fairer mind, which like 
 the most transparent fountain, was pure as Dian's 
 temple. Every thought was chaste and holy ; every 
 action bespoke elegance, and every expression was 
 dignified with a becoming graceful modesty ; and in 
 the presence of her husband, on whom those gentle 
 smiles beamed ever constant and radiant with good 
 temper, he might very justly have exclaimed in the 
 beautiful language of Milton, when Adam thus ex- 
 presses his thoughts of Eve : 
 
 » ■ ■■'* Yet, when I'approach 
 Her loveliness, so absolute she seems, 
 And in herself complete, so well to know 
 Her own, that what she wills to do or say 
 Seems wisest, virtuousest, discretest, best. 
 All higher knowledge in her presence falls 
 Degraded : wisdom in discourse with her 
 Looses discountenanced, and like folly shews ; 
 Authority and reason oh her wait 
 As one intended first, not after made. 
 Occasionally; and to consummate all, ' 
 Greatness of mind, and nobleness their seat 
 Build in her loveliest, and create an awe 
 About her, as a guard angelic placed." 
 
 " And with such a woman, could mortal man ever 
 
 tQste of human woe, or know one bitter thought ? It 
 
 a^ moral impossibility," imagined Wolf, as he sat
 
 16 THE FiSilFll's DAIUiHTER. 
 
 mechanically tapping his knuckles on the table, musing 
 and sighing at what the fisher had advanced about Lord 
 Montague Montault ; and absolutely lost in profound 
 meditation, he was unconscious that both Alfred and 
 his protector, were not only observing him, but ac- 
 tually amusing themselves in watching the progressive 
 motions that he made, till suddenly he exclaimed, 
 *^ No, with Lady Agatha no man could be unhappy 
 I should think, for a moment V 
 
 At which Alfred and the fisher could no longer pre- 
 serve gravity, but both from the same involuntary im- 
 pulse (which neither could suppress) burst out into 
 repeated peals of laughter, and, which was no sooner 
 perceived by Wolf, than in the utmost confusion he 
 uttered, glancing at Alfred with some symptoms of 
 displeasure— 
 
 " I am ignorant of the cause of your mirth, Alfred, 
 as much as I am to what I have been saying, or what 
 I have been doing ; but I suppose it was something 
 very ridiculous to make you laugh so/' 
 
 Alfred now endeavoured to look grave at this very 
 serious speech of Wolf, for he had no intention of 
 either wounding his feelings, or offending him, but in 
 making this effort he happened to catch the eye of 
 Mr. Blust, who was twirling his pipe about in the 
 most whimsical manner that could be imagined ; and 
 whose merry round face was at this present moment 
 the very antidote to any thing that was gloomy or 
 melancholy; and who in answer to what Wolf had 
 said, loudly vociferated, " Yes, very ridiculous, that's 
 true enough, for TU tell thee what thou hast been doing 
 lad for this full quarter of an hour, while Alfred and
 
 Till-. FlSiIKR*S DAUGIITIVR. 17 
 
 I have been looking at thee. You have been playing 
 the devil's tattoo on the table, and the devil a one 
 could help laughing at thee, if they were the very devil 
 himself; and all about you know who. Come, that's 
 plain enough, beant it ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir, it is certainly plain English,'^ uttered 
 Wolf, suppressing what he inwardly felt, a struggling 
 sigh, sacred to the memory of the lovely Agatha, whom 
 he despaired of ever obtaining a chance of behold- 
 ing again in this w^orld's earthly space, if such was the 
 disposition of her husband. For if he thought the 
 fisher Blust, who certainly had protected her, to use 
 his own words, when she had no other, and the cap- 
 tain was su-pposed to have been drowned in the bosom 
 of the ocean ; if he thought him unworthy of her notice 
 or her acquaintance, what chance had he, a poor 
 friendless youth, without even a name to be distin- 
 guished by save that alone of Wolf, and whom the 
 fisher Blust had also protected from the frowns of a 
 merciless world ; could he hope that he would be re- 
 ceived with a more kindly reception, or be greeted 
 with more friendly smiles than his protector, the pro- 
 tector also of Agatha Singleton ? Certainly not, al- 
 though it might be admitted that the Lady Agatha 
 herself might wish to shew some of her former kind- 
 ness towards him. Yet she was not now her own 
 mistress; she was married, and her husband's will and 
 not hers, must unquestionably prevail over all other 
 rights, over all other privileges ; and it is possible that 
 Wolf in his present perplexity wished that marriage 
 had never been ordained on earth, any more than it 
 was, from all he could read or learn, in heaven. 
 
 c \ c
 
 18 THE F|[SKER';» D:..VGHTfcR. 
 
 ^^ Yet I will go to the castle of Montault/' thought 
 Wolf, and I will see the lady Agatha, if possible_, only 
 for a moment, whether it displeases her lord or not, 
 and I be discarded for ever from her presence ; yet I 
 will once more gaze on those lovely features, and feast 
 my eyes on that lovely form, which when a boy I so 
 idolized. Then will I bid her adieu for ever, till haply 
 at some distant period that gentle spirit flies to realms 
 of bliss to meet thy kindred angels, which thou so 
 greatly resembles t. Then, Lady Agatha, we may meet 
 again."" 
 
 But although these thoughts were passing in rapid 
 succession in the tortured mind of Wolf, they were 
 carefully concealed from the knowledge of his protec- 
 tor, or even from Alfred ; for the fisher in reply to the 
 short sentence which had escaped from the agitated 
 lips of Wolf, in his usual blunt manner, which he never 
 attempted to disguise on any occasion, vociferated — 
 
 " Plain English, why what the devil would you have 
 but plain English from a plain Englishman, I should 
 be glad to know, master Wolf ? D — n your foreign 
 gibberish, I say, and all your foreign gentry, who 
 when they come into this country from their outland- 
 ish parts, don't know what good manners are any more 
 than ourselves, and call us Englishmen hogs, because 
 we don't fall down upon our knees, and worship them 
 for nothing at all ; but shiver my topsails, if ever they 
 catch me at doing any such thing while [ have a bit of 
 th€ blood of an Englishman about me. I say we had 
 enough of your foreign manners when that old cat, 
 the duchess of Braganza, came to live at the Cottage 
 on the Cliff, and wanted her own grand-daughter, as
 
 THii fisher's daughter. 19 
 
 n turned out, to find a cradle on the bosom of the salt 
 seas ; and it was well for poor Agatha that she escaped 
 from the clutches of so kind a relation ; and yet when 
 she came first to Cromer, there was no mortal good 
 enough to look at her, because she was a duchess, and 
 came from Italy; but where she is gone to now, I 
 should be glad to know. Shiver my topsails, if I don't 
 think the devil thought her too bad to have a place 
 even by his warm fire-side, for she would have mur- 
 dered both the mother and the child as clean as a 
 whistle, but for that kind good man. Captain Single- 
 ton. And yet I don't see that he is thought much the 
 better for it by them fine gentry in the castle of Mon- 
 tault." 
 
 " But surely, my dear father, you do not mean to 
 class the Lady Agatha in this black and unworthy list 
 of ungrateful beings ? she could not, — she cannot be 
 insensibly forgetful of all your former kindness, when, 
 beneath your hospitable friendly roof, you gave her a 
 shelter from the storm, which was blowing with such 
 violence over her devoted head," uttered Wolf, with 
 involuntary warmth and feeling, which certainly had 
 the effect of softening the heart of the fisher. ^' Oh, 
 sir, I think not ; judge not so hardly of that angelic 
 woman. I have heard her speak of you in the solitary 
 exile to which she was driven, when forced from your 
 fostering protection, with such tender animated affec- 
 tion, and with such deep regret that she might never 
 more behold you, that tears have gushed from her 
 lovely eyes, and convulsive sighs have heaved from her 
 1 )vely bosom, — and of my sister Jessy too, how kindly 
 has she spoken. — Dear father, cease to censure the
 
 20 THE FISHF.r's i)AUGHTER. 
 
 lady Agatha^ I beseech you, I implore you, for as 
 heaven is true, and holy aiigels, I believe her true to 
 you." 
 
 *^ Why, shiver my topsails, who is saying any thing 
 against her ?" cried the fisher, greatly affected by this 
 account given him of one, whom next to his own chil- 
 dren he had loved and treated with the fondest affec- 
 tion; and cramming his pipe with more tobacco than 
 was at all necessary, he added, before he put it to his 
 mouth — 
 
 '^ Bless her little heart, I love her still ; and if she 
 wanted a protector again, and a roof to shelter her, 
 as she did when 1 took her from the Cottage on the 
 Cliff, when we all thought it was all up with poor 
 Singleton, and that he was gone clean to the bottom 
 of Davy Jones's locker,* Avhy, shiver my topsails, if 
 she should want it long from Peier Blust. That's all 
 lad, 1 can't say no more. — That's the point of the 
 compass, and you may steer it which way you will. I 
 love the pretty little soul still, though she be turned 
 out a great lady, and married to a great lord.'' 
 
 " And I love her still !" uttered Wolf, with a mourn- 
 ful and almost involuntary expression, which seemed 
 to give some uneasy sensation to his protector, for he 
 instantly exclaimed — 
 
 " Avast there, though lad : — thou must not love 
 Agatha as when thee was a boy, and the pretty little 
 soul used to pat your cheek, and call you her darling 
 Wolf; and take your part when your sister Olive (God 
 rest her soul !) was cross with you, and all that, you 
 
 * A cummon phrase used by sailors.
 
 THE fisher's daughter. 21 
 
 Know ', — but she be mamed now — and you be a great 
 strapping fellow — and — and — " filling his pipe afresh, 
 " Shiver my topsails ! the less you say of her the bet- 
 ter ; that's all. Don't be foolish^ lad — don't be fool- 
 ish \ she be married — and the grapes be sour." 
 
 The cheeks of Wolf had actually assumed a colour 
 of the brightest crimson, and his heart beat tumultu- 
 ously ; the cause of which he could not exactly define, 
 though probably pretty tolerably guessed at by the 
 fisher Blust ; but it had the effect of producing taci- 
 turnity on Wolf ever after on the subject of the lady 
 Agatha ; and that this lovely creature was now indeed 
 a married woman, and like forbidden fruit, far be- 
 yond his reach^ often painfully recurred to the recol- 
 lection w^henever his imagination wandered to the 
 happy days passed in her society beneath the roof of 
 his protector, when she also was its inmate ; and that 
 such happy days and such happy hours would never 
 again return, occasioned Wolf to heave many a sigh 
 of regret, and to shed many a bitter tear of hopeless 
 despondencyi And there were times when the gloomy 
 scenes in the old abbey recurred afresh to his me- 
 mory 3 and although they were scenes of terror and 
 scenes of a^ oe, they were preferable to what he expe- 
 rienced at the present moment of cheerless solitude 
 in the hiDuse of the fisher ; for Lady Agatha was there, 
 and her lovely presence, like the sun that lights the 
 roses, w^as the 1 ; ht that gave buoyancy to the spirits 
 of Wolf. Meanwhile, the generous intentions of Mr. 
 Blust towards his adopted sons, were fully disclosed 
 to them. 
 
 " For look ye, my boys," uttered he one evening
 
 22 THE fisher's daughter. 
 
 as they sat at supper ; " while time is gathering snow 
 fast round my temples^ summer buds are only be- 
 ginning to weave a chaplet round yours. In one word, 
 lads, I am getting old and mayhap I shall be a 
 sheer hulk before your cock-boats are ready for sail- 
 ing. I have got a few shiners left, and I want to make 
 them of service to you before I drop off the hooks. 
 Now there is Jessy provided for. 1 gave her some- 
 thing to keep the pot a boiling, though Sam did not 
 want it ; yet as I do suspect, by the look of Jessy's 
 waist, that there is a little cock-boat on the stocks, 
 so it will do for a christening. Then there is Olive, 
 poor wench, she is provided for — " [The fisher here 
 made an affecting pause ; and brushed off a hasty and 
 involuntary tear which had started to his eyes, as quick 
 as he possibly could, though not without having re- 
 course to a pipe of tobacco as the most expedient wa^r 
 of driving away so painful retrospections. And he 
 slowly pronounced] '^ and there is no doubt but the vil- 
 lain who provided her with the cold bed she now lies 
 in, has met with a provision too.'' Another pause en- 
 sued, when his countenance assumed a brighter aspect ; 
 and he addressed Alfred with, *' Well, lad, and now 1 
 must think of providing for thee and thy brother Wolf; 
 You must have a small matter to make hay while the 
 sun shines, — so lad, tell us what course thee would like 
 to follow ? and thee. Wolf, what wouldst like to be ?" 
 The question was abrupt and unexpected to both 
 the young men, and not so easy to resolve ; but their 
 protector, who could never brook delay, insisted that 
 they would be decisive, in order that he might act ac- 
 cordingly, to forward their future destination.
 
 THE fisher's daughter. 23 
 
 " €ome, shiver my topsails^ what's the use of shilly 
 shallying about the matter/' uttered he, " cannot you 
 tell whether you would like to be a soldier or a sailor, 
 — a tinker or a taylor?" 
 
 " Alfred, why don't you speak?" cried Wolf. 
 
 " I am waiting for you. Wolf," rejoined Alfred ; 
 and the fisher, out of all patience, (with which he was 
 but slenderly stocked,) loudly vociferated — 
 
 " You are waiting for a fiddlestick's end to rap about 
 your knuckles. Zounds ! you may be Jack Ketch if 
 you have a mind to it ; so you will out with it." 
 
 '^ Sir, then, with all due deference to your superior 
 judgment and your approbation, since you are so kind 
 as to leave it to my exclusive choice, I should like to 
 follow the church, and embrace the holy orders of our 
 sacred religion." 
 
 The fisher at first stared in the most profound asto- 
 nishment at this declaration made by Alfred, probably 
 because he had never expressed any wish of this kind 
 before ; and because (if we must state the truth) the 
 fisher himself was not very particularly partial to gen- 
 tlemen of the clerical profession. At length his rosy 
 face relaxed into a smile, or rather into a broad un- 
 sophisticated grin, which totally discomposed the gra- 
 vity of Alfred. 
 
 " Follow the what ?" uttered the fisher. 
 
 ^^ The established principles of the British church. 
 I have long seriously contemplated it with the most 
 profoimd attention, and it has always afforded me the 
 most secret satisfaction ; and expressed the same to 
 my brother Wolf," uttered Alfred, blushing deeply. 
 
 ^^ Yes, sir, I have often heard Alfred declare, that
 
 24 THE fisher's daughtkr. 
 
 he should like to be a parson," cried Wolf, to whirh 
 the fisher replied — 
 
 '' And, shiver my topsails, if I don't think he knows 
 which side his bread is buttered on, by making 
 the election ; for most parsons live on the fat of 
 the land, and grow as round and as jolly as bacon 
 hogs, while the farmers, on account of the heavy tithes 
 exacted upon them, will tell you that they grow lean 
 upon it. No matter, there must be parsons, as well as 
 tinkers and tailors. Every man to his calling, as the 
 saying is 3 and a parson's is a devilish good one ; for 
 if ever you catch him starving the cause, I'm a 
 Dutchman 3 he'd sooner starve his parishoners, Weil, 
 parson Alfred, here's to the first sermon you preach 
 in our village church at Cromer ; but take good care, 
 lad, not to have a clerk that speaks through his nose, 
 as old Jack Henderson did last Sabbath day, when I 
 just happened to pop my head in to hear a bit of the 
 gospel. Jack was singing out ' Amen,' as loud as he 
 could brawl ; but shiver my topsails, if it was not for 
 all the world like the grunt of my old sow ! so off I 
 marched and read the gospel at home. But don't be 
 down-hearted, lad, don't be down-hearted. Thee 
 shall be a parson, if thee likes it, after all. I'll settle 
 that point of the compass for you, my lad, so never 
 fear." 
 
 It was now Wolf's turn to speak, and the fisher 
 demanding to have an immediate answer. Wolf boldly 
 replied — 
 
 " I will be a soldier, sir, so please you ; and you 
 are willing that I should gain a name in arms.** 
 
 At which the fisher burst into such an immoderate
 
 THE fisher's daughter. 25 
 
 and hearty peal of laughter, that it was niany minutes 
 before he could bring himself to any gravity. At 
 length he vociferated — 
 
 " A parson and a soldier ! Shiver my topsails, if 
 that beant a good one ; considering all things — " 
 
 And the fisher laughed again ; but what had so par- 
 ticularly excited his risibility was not imparted to 
 Wolf or Alfred. And he proceeded to inform them, 
 that he was willing to grant both their requests in the 
 professions they had made choice of; and which (jest- 
 ing apart) he had no reason to disapprove, and that 
 he had no doubt but they would be a credit to both of 
 them ; that applications should immediately be made 
 to those personages who were most likely to forward 
 their interests ; and, as there would be no want of the 
 ready shiners to enforce it, he supposed that very 
 shortly they would be placed in situations congenial 
 to their wishes. 
 
 Having uttered these words to his adopted sons, 
 the fisher smoked his pipe and spent the remainder of 
 the evening with them around a cheerful fire-side, in 
 the utmost harmony and good humour imaginable, 
 giving them a few practical hints on their future esta- 
 blishments that were not only useful, but highly com- 
 mendable, and which, though they did not proceed 
 from a man of education, were nevertheless such plain 
 honest truths, that no man of sense or prudence would 
 have rejected or treated with contempt, let his under- 
 standing have been ever so refined, or his education 
 ever so learned. And Wolf and Alfred expressed the 
 deep sense of gratitude they cherished towards their 
 protector in a manner that reflected the highest credit 
 
 a2 D
 
 26 
 
 on the.-^ and not without a glistening tear tiaving very 
 perceptibly shone In each eye; while the.fisher, warm- 
 hearted and generous, although blunt, honest, and 
 unsophisticated, was equally affected at the strong 
 testimonials of gratitude exhibited towards him by 
 both these amiable youths. A journey was the 
 following day proposed to the house of Mr. Russel 
 and his lovely wife, which was not more than a dis- 
 tance of three miles from that of the fisher Blust, and 
 close to the banks of the water-side, which, when the 
 tide was flowing, ran into the bosom of the main 
 ocean, on which from the windows of Mr. Russel's 
 habitation, every vessel that sailed both in and out of 
 the harbour of Cromer could be distinguished with 
 the greatest perspicuity, and greatly added to the 
 otherwise enchanting prospects which surrounded it. 
 A delightful flower garden was in the front of the 
 house, shaded with the deep foliage of embowering, 
 trees ; and some lovely meadows, in which were a fine 
 stock of milch cows grazing, were stationed at the 
 back of it. The house itself, which was of red brick, 
 was neither of ancient or modern architecture, but 
 preserved a happy medium, which was between both. 
 It had certainly been considerably repaired, and con- 
 sequently improved, since Mr. Russel's marriage with 
 the daughter of Mr. Blust ; but there was nothing fine 
 about it, but like its lovely mistress bespoke an air 
 of simplicity, neatness, health, and cheerfulness 5 while 
 hospitality stood at its gate, peace reigned within its 
 quiet and sequestered walls, and Jes^y was the hap- 
 piest of wives, because she had one of the happiest of 
 husbands. They delighted in rendering each other
 
 2? 
 
 happy ; it was reflected from their own bosoms, the 
 one to the other ; and when this disposition is reci- 
 procal in married life, if aught can make a paradise 
 on earth, it is surely to be found in an union of two 
 such beings as the honest Sam Russel and the lovely 
 unaspiring humble Jessy Blust. But here we must 
 pause 5 all marriages were not so enviable as that of 
 the young fisher and his lovely bride. All are not 
 hurtless roses that exhibit their blushing leaves to the 
 sunny ray. There is a canker in the bud. There is 
 a thorn, which though hidden, will tear its kindred 
 branches asunder, and too often doom it to wither 
 and decay. 
 
 Alas ! must truth then be confessed so painful ? 
 Was the lovely Agatha less happy in her marriage than 
 her humble friend ? So amiable her heart's elected ; 
 so young, so handsome — so exalted in birth, so splen- 
 did in riches. What could be wanting then to render 
 the lady of such a man superlatively blest above all 
 other women ? Did not her noble lord love her most 
 passionately ? He adored her, if adoration to a human 
 -being might not be termed profanation. Yet with all 
 these was the lovely and amiable Agatha a miserable 
 wife. Yes, even in the arms she most loved she was 
 so. But what made her so, and which filled the whole 
 world with the most profound astonishment, was un- 
 known to the whole circle of her acquaintance -, for 
 lady Agatha herself had certainly not informed them 
 of it. She was silent ! yet beneath the dark fringes 
 of her lovely eye-lids, there sometimes stole a tear, 
 like the dew-drop on the snowy blossom of the thorn. 
 It fell in silence, but its meaning was expressive, aiiu
 
 28 THE FISHER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 it bespoke more real woe and heart-felt grief than 
 words, though ever so witty. The beggar, that is 
 dumb, you know, deserves a double pity. 
 
 CHAPITER 11. 
 
 •* Fare thee well ! and if for ever — 
 Still for ever fare thee well — 
 Even though unforgiving, nevei* 
 'Gainst thee shall my heart rebel. — 
 Would that breast were bared before thee 
 Where thy head so oft hath lain, 
 W^hile that placid sleep came o'er thee 
 Which thou ne'er canst know again : 
 Would that breast by thee glanc'd over 
 Every inmost thought could shew I 
 Then thou wouldst at last discover 
 'Twas ntt well to spurn it so." 
 
 Lord Byron. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Russcl had just sat down to partake 
 of their morning repast, unconscious of the visitants 
 who were journeying towards their quiet, peaceful, 
 and sequestered dwelling ; and never had Jessy arisen 
 in better spirits, or looked more lovely in the eyes of 
 her fond husband than on this morning, when the 
 fisher, with his adopted sons, Alfred and Wolf, pro- 
 posed to set out for the habitation of his beloved 
 daughter 5 about which, however, he had betrayed his 
 usual signs of impatience on such occasions, desiring
 
 THE fisher's DAUGHTER. 29 
 
 bis oW trusty squire David (who still retained his ser- 
 vice in the family) to saddle the horses full three 
 hours before they were wanted, or that he was ready 
 to equip himself in his best clothes, which he had 
 given orders over night to be well brushed and aired, 
 with a pair of new boots which had been hanging over 
 the door of the pantry, with a quantity of smoked 
 hams, at least three months before the present period, 
 in order, as Peter observed, that they might have a 
 good seasoning. But Peter had certainly made too 
 many libations to the brandy bottle, to rise at the early 
 hour that he expected ; and when David had brought 
 the horses out of the stable, his master was yet soundly 
 sleeping; and he knew better than to awaken him 
 witlio-ut the wind blowing from a quarter that Davy 
 was by no means partial of encountering whenever he 
 had the least chance of shunning it, not being the 
 gentlest gale that could ever blow 3 so he put the 
 horses into the stable again, and very quietly walked 
 into the kitchen, muttering all the way to himself, 
 though sufficiently loud for old Alice to hear — 
 
 *' This be always the way of old master — hurry, 
 scurry, all to no purpose 5 and worry, worry, till he do 
 put a body out of all patience. There be poor old 
 Bess, with the saddle on her back this half hour; and 
 now I be forced to take it off again, to give the poor 
 wench a feed of corn and a drop of water. A murrain 
 light on such cross-grained folks, I say. It were enough 
 to make a parson swear, to see the rigs that old 
 master be going on since Miss Jessy be married. He 
 be no more like the same than chalk is to cheese, and 
 I do wish — I do wish" — In this wish, most unfortu-
 
 30 THE fisher's daughter* 
 
 nately David got the button of his coat entangled with 
 the spinning wheel of old Alice, and threw into the 
 utmost disordei and confusion the whole economy of 
 her spinning tackle. Vain were the expostulations or 
 the assertions of the affrighted David, (for he stood a 
 little in awe of the old woman from the influence she 
 held with his master,) to prove that the fault he had 
 committed was not pre-meditated, but the effect of 
 mere accident, and that he was willing to repair it by 
 any means in his power ; for Alice, who had some- 
 what of the quality of the mule in her disposition, and 
 could never be persuaded to turn an inch from an 
 opinion after she had once adopted it, flatly contra- 
 dicted him, while she exclaimed in not the gentlest or 
 the sweetest tones imaginable — 
 I " What, ye mongrel ! do you think because that I 
 am old, I am blind and deaf too ? I warrant me I had 
 my eyes about me when I saw you put up your ugly 
 bit of a leg against my spinning wheel, and turn it 
 topsey turvey, you jackanapes, I did. Just because 
 you could not have your will of poor old master, so 
 you must needs go for to destroy my property, you 
 mischief-making hound, you !" 
 
 David's choler now began to wax as warm as the 
 old woman's by the last appellation she had bestowed 
 on him ; and, with all the national spirit of a true Nor- 
 folk lad mounting to his broad round chubby face, 
 gave the house-keeper the retort courteous, by reply- 
 ing— 
 
 " Hound ! I should be glad to know what thee do 
 mean by calling me out of my name in this unchristian 
 manner. Mistress Alice ? — but I will tell thee a bit of
 
 THB FkiHER's DAUGHTER, 31 
 
 my mind if thee dost provoke me ! — I be no more a 
 
 dog than thee beest a : you may guess the rest. 
 
 Mistress Alice, you may guess the rest. As Tm a 
 true Norfolk lad, I won't be called out of my name 
 again by never such a cross-grained ould toad, as long 
 as 1 do live/' ^j- 
 
 While David was haranguing in this no very pleas- 
 mg or conciliating strain, and thus increasing instead 
 of allaying the infuriated passion of the old woman, 
 he had, step by step, gradually retreated towards the 
 door; and at the concluding sentence, perceiving her 
 with a saucepan full of boiling water, which she had 
 just taken off the fire, actually made his escape as 
 speedily as possible, out of the back door ; and from 
 thence as speedily into the stable,' to again saddle the 
 horses, probably in the fear that the contents of the 
 saucepan would be slapp'd in his face, if he remained a 
 moment longer in the presence of the enraged house- 
 keeper ; and in this supposition honest Davy was not 
 mistaken. The *^ow/c? cross-grained toad,'* was an 
 offence which was not likely to be easily effaced from 
 hei recollection; but Alice (who had actually very 
 nearly arrived to that state which might be deemed 
 second childhood) had not only forgotten the fault 
 which Davy had so unintentionally committed, but as 
 freely pardoned it when he returned again to his place 
 by the fire-side in the kitchen, by informing him that 
 there was a bake ready in the oven,* if he had a 
 mind to a share of it for his breakfast, which was also 
 accompanied with an invitation to a dish of coffee, 
 
 • A sort of cake, usually called buttered cake, in this country.
 
 32 
 
 THE FISHER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 which she placed before him ; and as no more was 
 said by either party of the disaster which had befallen 
 the spinning wheel, good humour and tranquillity once 
 more took their peaceful and happy reign, long before 
 the fisher had awakened from his drowsy slumbers, 
 and had called lustily about him fo(^ the assistance of 
 his trusty squire, who was also his valet de chambre ; 
 for various weve the capacities in which the unsophis- 
 ticated and honest David served his worthy master. 
 Although it must be owned Mr. Blust was at times 
 as cross-grained as Alice, yet returning good hu- 
 mour and exemplary acts of kindness, which spon- 
 taneously arose from the fountain of a warm and ge- 
 nerous heart, left no impression on that of a faithful 
 serv'ant, but gratitude and eternal fidelity to the in- 
 terest of a beloved master; for in the very height of 
 the turbulence of the fisher's passion, he would fre- 
 quently turn round, and fix his inflamed eyes on the 
 broad, rosy, good natured face of Davy, and then burst 
 out into the most involuntary and immoderate fit of 
 laughter, while he exclaimed — 
 
 ^^ Shiver my topsails ! blow high, blow low, thee 
 do always stick to one point of the compass ; and that 
 be the truth of it." 
 
 To which Davy, without once relaxing from the 
 grave and quiet possession of his features, would 
 reply— 
 
 '^ Yes, master, I be a lad that do never carry false 
 colours, thee may depend upon it." Which reply so 
 generally pleased Mr. Blust, that a glass of grog was 
 the flag of truce hoisted between them, till the next 
 gale of wind happened to produce a hurricane, which
 
 THE FlSHER^S DAUQHI^R. 33 
 
 after a while subsided into a calm, as on former occa- 
 sions. Destined to pay a visit to his gentle Jessy 
 on this morning, no frown ruffled bis warm breath- 
 ing and benevolent cast of features, on which nature 
 had stamped so fair a mark of honest rusticity; for 
 it was not cunning that gave to the countenance of 
 Peter Blust the look of arch simplicity for which it 
 was so remarkable ; and it was not a knowledge of 
 the world that was either the guide or the impulse of 
 his actions. He was not versed in craft, except that 
 which had guided his hand to the helm, when he had 
 steered his adventurous bark on the bosom of the 
 ocean. Therefore, from the smile which was almost 
 generally playing on his lip, little could be guessed of 
 what was the natural temperature of his disposition or 
 the tenor of his conduct. He was to be tried and to 
 be known on a basis of a more substantial foundation. 
 
 A clear transparent fountain will most certainly re- 
 flect on its glossy and silvery surface shadows true to 
 its fair and resplendent mirror — but can it display 
 substances ? With equal truth and justice, can it pe- 
 netrate the interior part as well as represent the ex- 
 ternal ? Can it lift up the mysterious veil, and reveal 
 to us the human heart, like unto the fair shadow that 
 it reflects in its silver stream ? No ! human virtues like 
 the golden ore, lay concealed in hidden mines, till 
 they are searched for, tried, and proved ; and thus both 
 their quality and their excellence become known and 
 valued according to the intrinsic merit that they pos- 
 sess ; and of this description were the virtues, the 
 nature, the character of the fisher Blust ! But to pro- 
 ceed ; he had certainly arisen on this identical morning 
 
 b2 E
 
 34 THE fisher's daughter 
 
 ill excellent spirits and in a fine tone of humour 
 " Shiver my topsails/' had not been repated once du- 
 ring the operation of dressing, although David, who 
 was standing behind his chair, often committed many- 
 mistakes and blunders in his awkward capacity of valet 
 de chambre ; but there was some little petulance be- 
 trayed in the face of the fisher when the new boots 
 were drawing on, not being quite so easy as might be 
 expected from the length of time they had been sea- 
 soning with the smoked hams over the door of the 
 pantry j and David, from the aspect on the curved 
 brow of his master, was apprehensive that a gale was 
 c'oming on. Fortunately, however, these gloomy 
 vestages disappeared, and the sunny rays of good hu- 
 mour and smiling vivacity broke through the mist and 
 dispersed it altogether by the time that he was com- 
 pletely equipped for his journey ; and a glass of brandy 
 taken as a preventive from the effects of cold, though, 
 if the truth must be told, it was in the middle of June 
 and a lovely summer's morning as ever peeped out of 
 a heavenly azure sky. No matter, Peter was wise to 
 remedy an evil while it was yet within his power ; and 
 as folks are sometime.'^ apt to catch cold in the 
 summer season as well as the winter, the recourse to 
 the brandy may be excused. 
 
 Well, every thing was in train to expedite the jour- 
 ney to the habitation of Mr. and Mrs. Russel. The 
 liorses Avere brought to the gateway, and old Bess, 
 who knew the voice of her master, pricked up her 
 ears, and betrayed as much impatience to be on the 
 foot as he did. 
 
 Where then were Alfred and Wolf all this time ? 
 
 ..^
 
 THE fisher's daughter. 35 
 
 diy, at their toilette, and were not dressed yet, al- 
 though the fisher had vociferated for them loudly se* 
 I'cral times. Five minutes more completely exhausted 
 the patience of Peter, and " Shiver my topsails," was 
 thundered out at last with a tremendous oath at the 
 end of it, to the no small mortification of poor David, 
 who muttered, — (as he hurried to their chamber to 
 call them down,) — on meeting Wolf on the stair-case 
 with Alfred close to his heels — 
 
 " 'Tis too bad of you, young gentlemen, dang it, if 
 it beaut now. He was never in such a good humour 
 in all his days, and now he be blowing a blast under 
 the gateway louder than a boatswain's whistle, and 
 shivering his topsails like fury. I thought how it 
 would be when once he began to shiver the topsails. 
 Its all over with him then, and how you'll catch it, 
 dang it, you'll both catch it, and sweetly too, or my 
 name's not Davy." 
 
 By this time the fisher had mounted the back of his 
 Rosinante, or in other words, vaulted into the saddle 
 of old Bess, while, to make use of the phraseology of 
 honest Davy, he was actually blowing a blast that rent 
 the air with its violence ; and the first glance he got 
 of his adopted sons, who veiy quickly got on the backs 
 of their neighing steeds, was followed with — 
 
 " Shiver my topsails^ what in the devil's name do 
 you keep me here waiting while you are dandifying 
 yourselves off; and what do you look like now pray, 
 with them thingembob collars up to your ears, for all 
 the world just like stuck pigs ; and them jack-a-dandy 
 coats, that puts me in mind of strait waistcoats. Shi- 
 ver my topsails, if I had known that Billy Button the
 
 30 THE FISHERS DAUGHTER. 
 
 taylor was a going to make your new clothes after any 
 such fashion as that, I would have sous'd him in the 
 bottom of the fish pond. I tell thee what, lads, I 
 want to see you look like men, and Billy Button has 
 made you like a couple of monkeys. There's Davy 
 can't help grinning at you any more than I can ; and 
 if ever I catch Billy Button at any more such pranks 
 as these, he shall never make another coat or pair of 
 breeches for me so long as my name is Peier Blast." 
 
 Laying the lash of his whip a little briskly over 
 the ears of old Bess, the fisher galloped away, after 
 having vented the whole of his passion on Billy Button 
 the taylor, and the cut of his coats, that had made his 
 adopted sons look like what was his aversion — the 
 dandies 1 But in defence of the invectives bestowed by 
 the fisher Blust on his taylor Billy Button, we must 
 advance, that he had not done any such thing, and 
 that Alfred and Wolf no more resembled dandies than 
 Peter Blust did himself; and that the observation 
 made on the cut of their clothes, which were only 
 gentlemanly and modern, was merely made by Peter 
 as a medium to vent his passion through, as well as a 
 sort of punishment inflicted on their pride and youth- 
 ful vanity, for having kept him so long waiting ; for 
 he had no sooner got into the track that led to the 
 habitation of his beloved Jessy, than he forgot both 
 the cut of their coats, and the appellation he had be- 
 stowed on them as resembling a couple of monkeys. 
 
 Not so poor Alfred or Wolf, who had sustained a 
 pamful and mortifying trial of suppressed feelings, hard 
 to be described ; for they were indeed no longer boys, 
 *^"t both experienced the feelings of men just entering:
 
 THE FISHER b DAUGHTER. d. 
 
 into life with no natural protector that they coula 
 claim as their own, and no paternal home in which a 
 father's or a mother's smile could greet them with a 
 welcome ; and as they cantered at a slow pace behind 
 the fisher in order to recover their self-possession and 
 to compose their surprized and mortified feelings, 
 they mutually expressed the nature of their thoughts 
 and sentiments to each other. Wolf, however, had 
 too much spirit to repine, and the consoling reflection, 
 that he might one day gain by the laurels of his pro- 
 fessional career a future home to go to, very quickly 
 dissipated the gloomy presage of the present moments. 
 Not so Alfred ; his feelings were more refined and per- 
 ceptible to the delicate touches of sensibility; and 
 there was a chord in his heart that vibrated sensibly 
 to the galling reflection, that he was only a dependant 
 on the bounty of the fisher Blust, certainly far bis in- 
 ferior, though wealthy. Yet this consideration singly 
 gave him but little respect in the estimation of Alfred. 
 Nor was he blind to his defects ; one of which, though 
 bound to him by the icy fetters of obligation, he 
 could not tolerate. He was abstracted and silent 
 therefore, when Wolf suddenly aroused him from the 
 pensive meditation in which he was plunged, with the 
 exclamation of — 
 
 " What a paradise of sweets is Jessy's habitation 
 surrounded by ; look Alfred, what an enchanting pros- 
 pect of scenery is every where before us." To which 
 Alfred thoughtfully replied — 
 
 '' Paradise of sweets ! would not the term wilderness 
 of sweets, have been more appropriate, think you ? 
 ParadiKP. has nothing earthly in it ; here all is mortal
 
 38 THE fisher's daughter. 
 
 that we behold; and thouglvsweet, itis faduig; thougft 
 lovely, it is perishable." 
 
 " Well, all that 1 know," uttered Wolf; " but before 
 they do perish, is that any reason why we should not 
 enjoy them ? Were they not bestowed to be enjoyed ? 
 Useless was the gift or the blessing so given, if they 
 are not worthy of attention. But prithee, Alfred, don't 
 look so melancholy, or begin to moralize in the middle 
 of a wood." 
 
 " The middle of a wood is the fittest place for mo- 
 rality to dwell," responded Alfred, ** where would you 
 seek for it, in towns, in cities ? Alas ! with them it 
 tarries not long, where folly sends it thence, and vice 
 usurps the sway of sense, of delicacy, and of feeling." 
 
 " Tush, nonsense ; we have as much morality as 
 they had a century ago,'' cried Wolf, wishing to dis- 
 sipate the gloom that was hanging over the brow of 
 his beloved brother; and to exchange those tears 
 which yet glistened in his fine, clear, and intelligent 
 blue eyes for smiles joyous and happy. " And yet we 
 are as virtuous and as wise as our fore-fathers ; so a 
 truce to your morality, Alfred. Come, let us brighten 
 up, or the old boy will get into a passion again, and 
 call us boors, as well as monkeys." 
 
 " That he may and welcome," uttered Alfred with 
 a struggled sigh ; " but it is out of his power to make 
 us either. He is himself a boor at times ; but I for- 
 bear to make any further comment on his behaviour 
 to us this morning in the presence of his domestic, 
 who was grinning at us. Such conduct was boorish 
 enough ; but we owe him gratitude, and must bear 
 with his folly — his caprice."
 
 TUB fisher's daughter. 39 
 
 " Yet lie IS as warm-hearted a soul as ever breathed 
 for all that," uttered Wolf, " and I don't think that he 
 would tread upon a worm unless he was in a passion ; 
 and then — " 
 
 " He would trample over it, nay, crush it to death," 
 rejoined Alfred, with some asperity, ^' and then blame 
 his passion for it afterwards. This may be called 
 killing with kindness ; but it is rendering the means 
 of life insupportable ; nay, an absolute pest to society 
 while that passion lasts. I have thought that Olive 
 Blust greatly resembled her father in this one particu- 
 lar, her ungovernable passion ; but Jessy, in all the 
 other excellent points of his disposition." 
 
 " Yes, Olive certainly was in possession of the bane, 
 but she was deficient in the antidote that could charm 
 it away," rejoined Wolf; " but she sleeps in death; 
 and the faults of the departed should ever rest in 
 peace." 
 
 " True, dear Wolf, your remark is just," answered 
 Alfred, " it is impiety to rake up the ashes of the dead, 
 recount their failings, or dwell on their imperfections, 
 were they even numberless as the sands in the sea, or 
 the leaves that strew the earth in autumn. It is im- 
 piety to speak ill of them, — be their virtue only re- 
 membered." 
 
 By this time they had got close up to the side of the 
 fisher, who exclaimed with not the slightest tone of 
 displeasure in his countenance — 
 
 " Well, my dear lads, how beest thee, now that we 
 be come within a gun-shot of thy sister Jessy's snug 
 little cottage there, among the trees ? Dost not see 
 it, lads ! it's a good tightesh birth for Sam Russel,
 
 40 THE FISUER*S DAUGHTER. 
 
 beant it ? he did not do a bad day's WQrk when he 
 married a Fisher's Daughter, did he ?" 
 
 As this interrogatory was addressed more to Wolf 
 than to Alfred^ he replied — 
 
 *^ No father, it was a happy day for Mr. Russel to 
 call by so enviable a title as wife, so sweet a girl as 
 Jessy/' 
 
 Tlie fisher looked archly in the face of Wolf, who 
 had uttered this with a warmth and energy of feeling 
 which seemed involuntary, and exclaimed — 
 
 " And thee would not mind if thee had just such 
 another as my Jessy, wouldst thee, lad ?" 
 
 Wolf's face was in a flame in an instant. The 
 question was unexpected, and certainly malapropos at 
 the present moment, and he replied with some hesi- 
 tation in his manner — 
 
 '' Who, me father ! — me marry? — that is laughable !'* 
 — and Wolf affected what he did not feel, a propensity 
 to mirthful pleasantry, and laughed heartily, which 
 produced the following exclamation from Mr. Blust— • 
 
 " Why, what the devil are you laughing at ?" 
 
 *' At matrimony, father?" responded Wolf. 
 
 ^^ The devil you are," rejoined the fisher, " then I 
 can tell you that matrimony is no laughing matter, 
 but a rummish kind of a business when there are no 
 shiners to keep the wolf from the door. Then folks 
 get snappish, and love flies out of the window." 
 
 Wolf now laughed in reality, while he added to the 
 observation that his protector made, and with an al- 
 most imperceptible sigh to himself, scarcely known— 
 
 ^' That reminds me of the song that dear Miss Sin- 
 gletor. »-nT— , 1 mean, fatlier, the song that the Lady
 
 THK fisher's DAUOHTKR. 41 
 
 Agntha used to sing so enchantingly, — don't you re- 
 member ? — 
 
 ' Youug lore lived in a bumble sbed.' 
 
 Yes, I am certain you do, for no one that ever h^rd 
 dear Lady Agatha sing could ever forget it/* 
 
 " Avast there though. Master Wolf,*' uttered the 
 fisher, looking earnestly at the fine large black spark- 
 ling eyes of Wolf, whose cheeks had assumed a brighter 
 glow by the repetition of a name so dear, so thrilling 
 to his recollection ; " avast there,'* cried the fisher, 
 " thee hast heard a bit of my mind about that busi- 
 ness already, hast not thee, lad ? — but thee don't mind. 
 Shiver my topsails ! thee would like to be fishing in 
 troubled waters, after all I have said to thee about a 
 certain person that shall be nameless." 
 
 Wolf felt an indignant sensation, which his proud 
 and high spirited heart could not utterly repel, and 
 replied,— 
 
 " Good God ! sir, is it then a crime to repeat the 
 name of Lady Agatha ? is it then sacrilege to dwell 
 upon her perfections, her nameless graces, her gentle 
 virtues, — must I then be silent in her praise ? she, the 
 
 only woman that I ever but, be it so, — I will obey 
 
 you sir, and mention the Lady Agatha no more ! I 
 will be silent : — but if you, or any mortal breathing, 
 were to tell me to forget her, proudly, indignantly, 
 would I answer. No, Tear out my heart first ; when it 
 ceases to beat, and its pulsation is no more, then, and 
 only then, will Wolf forget Agatha." 
 
 The fisher, for a moment, was struck dumb with 
 astonishment. On several occasions Wolf had exhi- 
 
 €2 F
 
 •12 TME fisher's daughter. 
 
 bitcd an undaunted and vigorous manliness of cha- 
 racter, extraordinary for bis early years, when only 
 a mere boy ; when first he came beneath the roof of 
 the fisher he had evinced this admirable feature of 
 disposition, and none more highly appreciated this 
 quality in Wolf than the fisher Blust himself, who 
 hated any thing that looked delicate or feminine in 
 the male sex ; for certainly it must be admitted that 
 some gentlemen do exhibit, both in person and mind, 
 a woman's fears, and a w^oman's affectation, all of 
 which the boy Wolf was exempted from in the dis- 
 cernment of his protector. But as he grew to man- 
 hood, this energy had not decreased, and it never was 
 more apparent than at this precise moment, when the 
 name of a beloved object called it into action ; nor 
 did it fail to make an indelible impression on the mind 
 of Mr. Blust, although it occasioned a deep and heart- 
 felt regret, that the affections of this fine, intrepid, 
 and noble minded youth, were centred in an object 
 who could never return the fervent passion with 
 which her loveliness and worth had inspired his 
 youthful breast, for she was a married woman ; and 
 though it was evident that this passion was inspired 
 long before she had given her hand to Lord Montague 
 Montault, yet it was no less fatal if ever it should 
 chance to become known to her husband, who per- 
 fectly adored his young and lovely wife, and watched 
 over her, it was probable, with a too fond and jealous 
 eye ; at least such was the current report of the fa- 
 skionable recorders of fashionable times and fashion- 
 able marriages. But whether true or false, we must 
 leave for tiie Lady Agatha herself to know ; whose
 
 THE fishkr's> daughter 43 
 
 roseate lips were ever sealed in silence on a bu^oand's 
 faults, if faults in her eyes he had any ! 
 
 But to return to the party on horseback, who were 
 just before the door of Jessy's habitation ; notwith- 
 standing which, the fisher, whose fear that Wolf was 
 inspired with a dangerous, and certainly an improper 
 passion for the Lady Agatha, and who seeing the firm 
 spirit which was depicted in his countenance, and that 
 nothing but the natural manliness of his character 
 prevented him from shedding tears in declaring that 
 he never more would repeat the name of the object of 
 his adoration, could not forbear to offer him a word 
 of consolatory advice, by way of a palliative for the 
 severity of his before sharp rebuke, and exclaimed, 
 backing his horse a little from the door, that they 
 might not be overheard — 
 
 " Shiver my topsails ! dost not thee droop lad, 
 there be more women in the world than Agatha, 
 though to be sure she was the sweetest little soul that 
 ever breathed ; and to tell you a bit of a secret lad, I 
 had half a mind to have married her myself,- though I 
 were old enough to be her father." 
 
 " And had Agatha half a mind to you, sir ?" uttered 
 Wolf, reddening like scarlet at the bare supposition 
 that such an event had ever been likely to have taken 
 place, while she was under the fisher's protection. To 
 which Peter laughing replied — 
 
 " I never asked her ; though I had a mortal mind 
 to it ; but that was before she turned out to be a great 
 lady. But I say, don't ye fret, that's a good lad, don't 
 ye fret, for when thee goes a soldiering thee wilt see
 
 44 THE FISHF.a's DAUGHTER. 
 
 plenty of lasses. There's no scarcity of women folks 
 any where, thee knowest, lad." 
 
 " But I should think there was, sir," cried Wolf, 
 deeply sighing, " a prodigious scarcity of such women 
 as resemble Agatha." 
 
 The fisher could not reasonably deny the truth of 
 this assertion, and once more recommending Wolf to 
 be cautious of mentioning the Lady Agatha in the pre- 
 sence of Jessy or her husband, dashed with Old Bess 
 over a high fepce of hawthorn that skirted the way to 
 the entrance of the residence of his beloved daughter, 
 and giving a loud whistle very quickly brought both 
 her and Samuel to the gate, with an exclamation pro- 
 nounced by the lovely Jessy of— 
 
 ^^ Oh, my dear father, ten thousand welcomes !*' 
 
 " Look who I have brought along with me to see 
 you Jess," uttered the fisher, smacking his whip over 
 Wolfs shoulders, who was dismounting at the same 
 instant, and whom both Jessy and her husband cor- 
 dially received ; nor did they give Alfred a less warm 
 welcome. 
 
 ^' Dear Wolf — dear Alfred," alternately escaped from 
 the lips of the sweet Jessy, who, huiTying them into 
 the pa^rlour, ordered breakfast to be immediately pre- 
 pared, with some more substantial food than tea and 
 muffins for her dear father ; who having several times 
 kissed his darling girl, began to survey her altered 
 shape, (for Mrs. Russel evidently appeared to be in 
 that happy state in which * women wish to be who 
 love their lords,') with peculiar satisfaction, and re- 
 gardless of the presence of the young men, loudly vo* 
 cifcrated —
 
 THE fisher's daughtbr. 45 
 
 ** Shiver my topsails ! 1 be glad to see thee so 
 round and so plump my Jess ; and so I dare say be 
 Sam Russel, — beant thee, Sam ? But 1 tell thee what 
 Jess, if thee dost not bring forth a chopping boy, I 
 shall be mortally vexed, that's all; but if it be a girl — 
 shiver my topsails ! if I'll have any thing to do with 
 it, it shan't have a single bright shiner from Peter 
 Blust. Sam, come, let's see what sort of a bottle you 
 keep in your locker ?" 
 
 A bottle of excellent brandy was instantly produced 
 and set before Peter, with some pipes and tobacco, 
 with which he immediately sat dov/n without farther 
 ceremony to regale himself, leaving his daughter at 
 liberty to entertain her young visitors in what manner 
 she liked best, and to enter into the most unreserved 
 conversation together ; which was rendered extremely 
 interesting on both sides, and in which Mr. Russel 
 sometimes joined, whenever he had a moment to spare 
 from his attendance on his father-in-law, who kept 
 him in full employment with lighting of pipes, pouring 
 out glasses of brandy, filling his tobacco box, and 
 making of grog, to say nothing of being obliged to 
 give him a long and accurate account of the success 
 of the herring fishery along the coast ; in short Sam 
 had but little leisnre to pay attention to his young 
 friends and old acquintances Wolf and Alfred, who, he 
 remarked to Mr. Blust in a low voice, were prodigi- 
 ously grown and wonderfully improved. " Wolf in 
 particular," observed Mr. Russel; " I think he is the 
 finest young man I ever beheld."^ 
 
 " Yes, he is a strapper, beant he Sam ?" uttered the 
 fisher, " and what do you think he is going to be.
 
 46 THE fisher's daughter. 
 
 why, shiver my topsails ! a lobster ; and Smockface 
 (ibis elegant appellation was frequently given to Al- 
 fred, on aceount of the uncommon fairness of his 
 complexion, by his protector) is going to be a par- 
 son." 
 
 " A pni-son !" echoed Mr. Russel with involuntary 
 surprise. 
 
 ^* Yes, shiver my topsails ! a parson," repeated Pe- 
 ter, chuckling 3 " 1 say, Sam, the lad knows which side 
 to butter his bread, don*t he ?" 
 
 Mr. Russel smiled at the remark, perfectly aware 
 of its allusion. In the meanwhile, Jessy (breakfast 
 being over) proposed a walk over the beautiful plan- 
 tations which were contiguous to her pleasant, lovely, 
 and sequestered abode ; which was immediately as- 
 sented to by Wolf and Alfred, but positively declined 
 by Mr. Blust, who swore he would not budge an inch 
 to please the king. 
 
 " But you may go and welcome, lads," uttered he, 
 •* your legs are young, but my stumps are gettini< 
 cranky; no matter, they will serve me mayhap till 
 I am a sheer hulk, and then any body else may have 
 them if they please." 
 
 What was to be done ? — the fisher could not be left 
 by himself; and his son in law was (of necessity) the 
 most proper personage to stay and keep him company. 
 This point being settled, the walking party sallied 
 forth into the plantation. Jessy took an arm of each 
 of her young companions, and the most agreeable 
 chit-chat between them ensued. 
 
 " And so, dear Wolf, you are actually inclined to 
 enter into the military service," cried Jessy, ** well, 1
 
 THE fisher's daughter. 47 
 
 don't wonder at the election you have made ; indeed, 
 J always thought when you were a boy, that you would 
 be a soldier ; you were so courageous and spirited, to 
 what other youth were of the same age." 
 
 *' Ah ! dear Jessy, but I am not so courageous in 
 all things," uttered Wolf, observing that Jessy still 
 wore on her right hand a ring given her by the Lady 
 Agatha in the earliest days of their friendship, when 
 at Herring Dale, and in which was enclosed some of 
 her beautiful hair, the sight of which produced an in- 
 voluntary sigh from the heart of the devoted youth ; 
 'vhile ]\lrs. Russel, perceiving on what object his eyes 
 were fixed, though perfectly unconscious of the deep 
 passion that her lovely friend had so early inspired in 
 the heart of Wolf, whose attachment to the Lady 
 Agatha she attributed to boyish gratitude, innocently 
 exclaimed — • 
 
 " J perceive by your looking so earnestly at this 
 ring, Wolf, that you remember it was the gift of my 
 dear Agatha." 
 
 To which Wolf answered with a sigh, " Ah, Jessy, 
 those were happy days !" 
 
 " Were they," cried Jessy, " not so happy methinks 
 as the present ones; happy — how strangely you talk. 
 Wolf ! you surely cannot deem those days happy, 
 which were a source of misery both to me and Agatha 
 Singleton ; for still must I call her so, for by that name 
 I loved her best." 
 
 " And so. did f, dear Jessy !" repeated Wolf, invo- 
 luntarily, ** ah ! would to heaven she had known no 
 otter !"
 
 48 THE fisher's daughter. 
 
 Jessy now perceived the agitated look and flushed 
 cheek of Wolf, and with some surprise answered, — 
 
 " Nay, now you talk stranger still, for had she known 
 no other name but Singleton, she would never have 
 known that which nature gave her, or been restored 
 to her father^ and the Duke had yet remained ignorant 
 of the existence of his lovely daughter." 
 
 " I did not mean the name of her father," uttered 
 Wolf indignantly. 
 
 " Why what name then can you possibly mean?'* 
 inquired the now astonished Jessy, " she has but one 
 other, and that is the name of her husband. Wolf! 
 Wolf ! let me not suppose that — 
 
 " Suppose what, dear Jessy," uttered Wolf. 
 
 Alfred had walked on a few paces before, in order 
 to look at a vessel which was sailing out of the har- 
 bour, and was by this time out of the hearing of the 
 conversation of his companions. And Jessy, looking 
 full in the face of Wolf, softly murmured — 
 
 " Let me not suppose that Wolf has any objection 
 to the name of Lord Montague Montault, because he 
 is the husband of Agatha Singleton." 
 
 "Jessy you have probed me deeply," uttered the 
 agitated youth, though with a firm undaunted look, 
 and decisive voice, " yet 1 disdain to utter a falsehood; 
 had your lovely friend another name, another title, it 
 would still sound like the knell of departed happiness 
 to the ear of Wolf, as that she bears does now. Oh ! 
 Jessy, sweet, gentle Jessy, inquire no farther into this 
 mystery of my feelings, if yet a mystery it still appears 
 to you. Agatha is married ! — and Wolf— is — an iso-
 
 THE fisher's daughter. 49 
 
 iated being, banished from her heavenly smiles. The 
 Indian worships the sun's morning splendour, but 
 Wolf, miserable Wolf, dare not worship the shrine 
 which he adorer ! Oh I Jessy, Jessy !'* and to the 
 inexpressible heart-felt concern of Jessy, the agitated 
 youth, at the conclusion of these words, burst into 
 a convulsive flood of tears, which greatly relieved his 
 oppressed heart. Abhamed however of betraying this 
 weakness in the presence of a female, he apologized 
 to Jessy for thus intruding his sorrows on her gentle 
 heart. 
 
 " In which they repose as securely as in your own, 
 dear Wolf," uttered she. " Before this day you knew 
 the disposition of Jessy, and have no fear that she 
 will betray the secret of your heart.'* 
 
 They were now seated on a bench, constructed by 
 Samuel out of the trunk of an aged oak, which had 
 fallen in the plantation, and it was removed to the 
 garden for the convenience of Mrs. Russel, whenever 
 she was fatigued in pruning her plants and flowers, by 
 her affectionate and attentive husband ; and when 
 they arrived at the spot where it was, she persuaded 
 Wolf to sit down, and endeavour to recover his wonted 
 energy ; but such was the surprize that the confession 
 of Wolf had thrown her in by the avowel of his im- 
 prudent passion for the Lady Agatha, that Jessy was 
 actually in want of composure herself, though deter- 
 mined not to let this opportunity which was afforded 
 to her, by being alone with Wolf, pass without 
 giving him a necessary caution against cherishing so 
 improper an attachment for the lovely wife of Lord 
 
 a3 G
 
 50 THE fisher's daughter. 
 
 Montague Montault, and addressed him in the follow 
 ing manner: — 
 
 " Wolf, it is fortunate for you^ that the object on 
 whom you have so imprudently and rashly placed your 
 affections, is unconscious of the passion with which 
 she has inspired you.'* To which Wolf replied^ — 
 
 " It may be imprudent, but you cannot call it rash, 
 because I have loved her even when I was a boy, un- 
 conscious by what name to distinguish the sentiments 
 I felt towards her; it sprung in my heart spontane- 
 ously, and that heart has bled for her ever since. It 
 was a guiltless feeling; I cannot describe its sensation, 
 ^till it was one of the most delightful 1 had ever ex- 
 perienced. It did not deprive me of rest, for in my 
 dreams it accompanied me in the form of Agatha Sin- 
 gleton. When I read in any books that described the 
 beauty and the innocence of angels, faultless as they 
 were fair, I had Agatha Singleton immediately before 
 me. There was not either an animate object, or ina- 
 nimate one that was lovely to look upon, that did not 
 remind me of her. When 1 have smelt to the frag- 
 rance of the fresh new-blown flowers in the early 
 morning, I thought they were as sweet as Agatha 
 Singleton ; when I listened to the melody of the tune- 
 ful nightingale, I imagined it was the silver-toned 
 voice of Agatha Singleton. The moon, the stars, the 
 glorious sun, all the bright firmament of the shining 
 heavens, associated with some beautiful thought in- 
 spired by the deep glow of love, I felt for Agatha 
 Singleton ; and when at night I addressed the Deity 
 of all created universe, one gentle prayer alone re-
 
 THE fisher's daughter. 51 
 
 served, I breathed for Agatha Singleton ! Does this 
 seem like rash love, or sudden ? Oh, Jessy ! forbear 
 to call it 80. Forget Agatha Singleton ! — when, Jessy, 
 the pale characters of death shall mark this altered 
 cheek. Forget Agatha Singleton \ — teach me how 
 sweet Jessy, unless you can teach me to forget my- 
 self, for my soul's far dearer part is — Agatha Sin- 
 gleton.'' 
 
 *'The wife of Lord Montague Montault !" uttered 
 Jessy, in a tone of reprehension, though not unmoved 
 by the beautiful and impressive manner in which Wolf 
 had described his love for her accomplished friend; 
 but it was not the intention of Jessy to let Wolf see 
 how much he had affected her by it, it was her wish 
 to inspire him with different sensations ; and she re- 
 peated with peculiar and pointed expression, '^ a mar- 
 ried wife, for whom you are thus expressing such 
 passionate love, — for shame Wolf. 1 tremble at your 
 temerity — for your safety ; should such a thought be 
 breathed into the ear of a fond and doating husband, 
 it would drive him to desperation — to madness. Lord 
 Montague is already jealous of his lovely wife. Wolf 
 beware of him.'* 
 
 But the bloom which had rested only but a moment 
 before on the cheeks of the spirited Wolf, suddenly 
 changed to an ashy paleness, as he exclaimed — 
 
 '^ Lord Montague jealous of his w ife ! Of whom is 
 he jealous? For God's sake, pray, tell me!" 
 
 Jessy was alarmed at the impetuous manner of 
 Wolf, and insisted that he vi^ould be calm. 
 
 " Why, so I will, if you will tell me of whom Lord 
 Montague is jealous," uttered Wolf; *' but while 
 
 LIBRARY 
 llW.'wrocnv nr
 
 52 THE fisher's daughter. 
 
 doubt remains, I am in torture." And Jessy very 
 quickly replied — 
 
 ** He is jealous of no one eartlily object, but of all 
 who approach her. His lordship is addicted to jea- 
 lousy, the most incurable of all passions that agitate 
 the human breast.'" 
 
 " Then Agatha is miserable/' cried Wolf. '* Oh, 
 Jessy I that angelic lovely woman is doomed to per- 
 petual misery, while ever she remains a wedded wife." 
 
 Jessy was obliged to acknowledge that such was her 
 fear for the happiness of her beloved friend. 
 
 *^ Oh that marriages had never been invented," cried 
 Wolf, *' or that they were rendered binding by certain 
 restrictions. I would have every jealous husband and 
 every jealous wife kicked to the devil." 
 
 The manner and the look of Wolf as he uttered this, 
 would have made it scarcely possible to have resisted 
 laughter, if Jessy had been in a laughing mood 5 but 
 far other thoughts employed her mind, and her 
 thoughts were now engrossed by the threatening evil 
 which was impending over the head of Wolf, if he 
 continued to cherish in his elevated heart a passion 
 which would be destructive to his peace, as that which 
 he professed to feel for the Lady Agatha. Meanwhile 
 Wolf was enduring the most torturing suspense, to 
 know precisely the real state of feelings which Lady 
 Agatha was suffering, from this unhappy failing in her 
 husband, and how Jessy had arrived to this knowledge 
 of their family concerns ; for the fisher had confessed 
 that his daughter and Lady Agatha had never been on 
 terms of familiar intimacy since her marriage with 
 Samuel Russel, for reasons as before stateil, that Lord
 
 THE fisher's daughter. 53 
 
 Montague was proudly jealous of any object who had 
 known his lovely wife in her humble and dependent 
 situation, when she passed for the reputed daughter of 
 Captain Singleton, and with him only would he permit 
 her to hold any intercourse, or acknowledge any for- 
 mer acquaintance; not that his lordship's doors were 
 barred against Peter Blust, but on Jessy's marriage 
 with Mr. Russel, whose former passion for Miss Sin- 
 gleton Lord Montague had been no stranger to, he 
 peremptorily forbid his lady from ever admitting Jessy 
 and her to renew any intimacy. Astonished and pain- 
 ed by an injunction so wounding to her feelings, Aga- 
 tha wept in silence, but implicitly obeyed her husband's 
 stern commands; but these tears never flowed in the 
 presence of her lord ; while Jessy, surprised at the 
 apparent cool reception she met with at Montault 
 Castle, complained of it to her father, who, with a 
 spirit highly creditable to his feelings, never himself 
 entered the castle more, though often solicited by Lord 
 Montague so to do. 
 
 "No, shiver my topsails, if ever they catch me 
 there again," said the fir^her, after what Jessy, with 
 tears in her lovely eyes, had related to him. *^ What, 
 frown on my Jessy, that is as gentle and quiet as a 
 lamb, only because she went civilly ta enquire after 
 the health of her old acquaintance Agatha Singleton, 
 that her father took such care of, when she had nobody 
 to take care of her at all ? Why, shiver my topsails, 
 if this be the way that your great lords do pay their 
 debts of gratitude, it may serve their turn in this world, 
 but curse me if it will help them over the style in the 
 next. Turn up their noses at my Jessy ! Wounds,
 
 54 THE fisher's daughter. 
 
 but I wish I had been along-side of them, 1 would 
 have let my lord know, and his servants too, which 
 was the better man, if any of them had dared to offer 
 any affront to my Jessy." 
 
 This, and many more sentences escaped from the 
 lips of the enraged fisher, in consequence of the coolness 
 with which Mrs. Russel had been treated at the castle 
 of Montault; and he never afterwards forgave the 
 offence, or would ever enter the castle more; while 
 the lovely wife of Lord Montault mourned in silence 
 and in secret the loss of the friendship of Mr. Blust, 
 her once kind and generous protector, and the sociely 
 of her dear and gentle Jessy; and lamented that un- 
 happy failing in the disposition of her husband, which, 
 like an evil and malignant spirit, still haunted him in 
 the form of jealousy, and banished repose even from 
 the downy pillow, which was o'er canopied with smil- 
 ing love and beauty. But what was to be done after 
 marriage to remedy this evil ? The lovely Agatha was 
 unconscious of this propensity in Lord Montague Mon- 
 tault before he had her to the Hymenial altar, or most 
 certainly she would have shunned the sacrifice that 
 was preparing to shut her out from peace and happiness 
 for ever. But the impervious veil that hides the book 
 of fate, was not permitted to be withdrawn, to reveal 
 the future destiny of this angelic creature. The hidden 
 page lay concealed, when before the holy altar she re- 
 signed her lovely hand, with her virgin heart, entirely 
 to the possession of her lord, her husband, Lord Mon- 
 tague Montault. Monarchs might have contended for, 
 and owned themselves happy in such a prize ; and so 
 was Lord Montague Montault ; he was the most trans-
 
 THE fisher's daughter. 55 
 
 ported of husbandsj when, on his bridal day, he was 
 coijgratulated by all his friends, on the possession of 
 the hand of Lady Agatha Braganza; and for a while, 
 the lovely smile of his bewitching wife banished the 
 demon that so perpetually haunted his repose, from a 
 pillow crowned with love and roses. 
 
 But scarcely had the honey moon which lighted him 
 to love and to happiness in the arms of his adored 
 Agatha, — scarce had it flown, when the spirit of jealousy 
 again returned, to visit the tortured breast of her self- 
 devoted victim. 
 
 His lovely bride at first, unconscious of the approach 
 of this dark fiend, knew not by what name to call the 
 fits and starts and violent passions to which her lord 
 very shortly became subject after their marriage ; and 
 it was never more apparent than when they were vi- 
 sited by any of the gay circle of his mother's and sis- 
 ter's fashionable acquaintance, where Agatha was the 
 star of attraction ; she was followed, admired, adored — 
 the idol of universal admiration. The duke her father 
 was flattered by the praises bestowed on his lovely 
 daughter, but they were petrifying, nay horrifying, to 
 the jealous feelings of a doating husband. He grew 
 captious — by turns melancholy and passionate — se- 
 cluded himself from company — and secluded his wife 
 also in dreary solitude : the eyes of Agatha were 
 open — Lord Montague was jealous. ! Alas ! love's 
 flattering and ecstatic dream was over. Each morn 
 returned, but never more to witness returning happi- 
 ness in the lovely bosom of Braganza's daughter.
 
 THR FISHER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 CHAPTER III, 
 
 •< From far came the ancient Britons, 
 
 A gallant adveut'rous train ; 
 They hoisted their dragon banner. 
 
 And shipp'd it over the main ; 
 They voyaged with generous daring, 
 
 And spirit so light and free ; 
 They sail'd for the summer countrj-. 
 
 That's over the hazy sea. 
 
 They braved the element's anger. 
 
 The rage of water and fire» 
 The gulphs that whirl to the centre. 
 
 Volcanoes whose flames aspire ; 
 And they steer'd through storm and tempest, 
 
 Yet sung with chivalrous glee, 
 The songs of the summer country, 
 
 That's over the hazy sea." 
 
 Jessy parted with Wolf without thinking it neces- 
 sary to divulge to him by what means she had gained 
 intelligence of the secret, that the Lady Agatha 
 was rendered unhappy by her fatal marriage with 
 Lord Montague Montault, because Jessy was bound 
 by an oath never to reveal it ; not even to her father 
 was Jessy permitted to unfold the mystic sorrows 
 which lacerated the bosom of her lovely friend, for 
 mystic they seemed to all who had any acquaintance 
 with her. They could not account how a woman 
 so exalted in birth, and who moved in such earthly
 
 THE fisher's daughter. 57 
 
 splendour, could ever feel a moment's uneasiness ; but 
 this mystic veil was lifted up to the eyes of Jessy, who 
 enjoyed a private intercourse with her unhappy friend} 
 in her bosom had Agatha found means to impart her 
 secret griefs — to her bosom had Agatha reposed the 
 dread burthen which oppressed her overcharged heart. 
 
 To Jessy only had she revealed the fatal cause why 
 she was no longer happy, even with the man whom 
 she loved dearest, for he was jealous of her, with no 
 earthly cause to warrant his suspicions. Chaste as 
 holy angels was the purity of Agatha; and though ap- 
 proached with admiration, it was adulation that she 
 courted not, and homage that she had never sought 
 after. No one earthly being claimed her affections, 
 save alone her wedded lord and husband ; her father 
 indeed claimed his share in the heart of his only and 
 beloved child, but that love was filial, and to him she 
 could show it without fear. But there was another 
 object who scarcely claimed it less than the Duke 
 Braganza, and that was Captain Singleton, whose ill 
 state of health she deeply felt, (for his constitution had 
 been greatly impaired for some time.) What did not 
 Agatha owe to him ? ' Could a whole life of gratitude 
 repay him for that perilous hour when his arm was up- 
 lifted to rescue both her and her hapless unfortunate 
 mother from a watery grave ? What did she not owe 
 to him, and to him only, for the kind the tender pro- 
 tection he had afforded her through all her infant days, 
 till she approached to the state of womanhood ? Was 
 there a tie more sacred, a term too tender to be ap- 
 plied to that pure and chaste intercourse of affection 
 which had so lorg subsisted between them ? surely not. 
 
 b3 H
 
 58 THE fisher's daughter. 
 
 Holy angels had witnessed the strong attachment of 
 Agatha to her protector, who she believed was 
 the author of her being, and to whom she had ever 
 paid the filial duties of an affectionate daughter ; and 
 in the supposition that death had deprived her of him, 
 she had wept and mourned his loss with the mo&t un- 
 controlable grief and atfection. 
 
 Was it therefore likely that s^he could divest herself 
 of this affection when he was so suddenly restored to 
 her, or that because she found a father in the Duke of 
 Braganza, that she was no longer to regard the protec- 
 tor of her youthful years with the same warmth of 
 sentiment that she had formerly done^ when she ima- 
 gined herself to be his daughter. Forbid it gratitude, 
 and forbid it common decency ! And after her mar- 
 riage with Lord Montague Montault, the lovely Agatha 
 became more strongly attached to the society of her 
 foster father, and frequently passed whole days with 
 him in his beloved Cottage on the Cliff, without any 
 apparent objection being made by her husband to the 
 tender and chaste intercourse which subsisted between 
 them ; nay Lord Montague very often himself accom- 
 panied her to visit the Captain, because it was proba- 
 ble that the Captain, (save her own father,) was the 
 only personage he could bear to gaze on the charms of 
 his beautiful wife without betraying some symptoms 
 of the approach of the green-eyed monster, who, in the 
 words of the immortal bard, so often ^ mocks the meat 
 it feeds on;' and Lord Montague was certainly not 
 jealous of Captain Singleton. Of a fine summer 
 morning Lady Montault would order her carriage at 
 an early hour, and in plain and simple attire, (such as
 
 'niK fisher's daughter. b9 
 
 she used to be habited in when she was called Miss 
 Singleton,) take a ride over to the Cottage on the ClifF-; 
 at the same time that she presented some little token 
 of respect, or rather of affection for her beloved fvjstcr 
 father, such as a basket of fine choice fruit, fresh ga- 
 thered from the gardens of the Castle of Montault, 
 some lovely game, or delicious flavoured fish 5 in short, 
 there was no delicacy thought of by Agatha, that 
 she did not immediately procure and carry with hev 
 for the Captain, whenever she paid him a morning visit 
 at the Cottage on the Cliff; and on some occasions, 
 (but these were very seldom,) when she found the 
 state of his health more languid than usual, she would 
 insist on remaining his guest for the whole of the <lay, 
 and the carriage would return home without her, but 
 always accompanied with a short explanatory note to 
 her husband, informing him of the cause of her ab- 
 sence, which certainly met with no dissenting voice 
 for some length of time from Lord Montague Mon- 
 tault ; or if he felt any displeasure at the exemplary at- 
 tention shewn by Agatha to the invalid Captain, his 
 lordship was ashamed of avowing it, and therefore her 
 frequent visits to the Cottage were suffered to pass in 
 silence. In short, at the commencement they were 
 rather conducive to the happiness of Lord Montague 
 than otherwise; for at the Cottage Agatha could not be 
 seen by the gay and admiring throng that formed so 
 large a circle of his mother's fashionable acquaintance 
 in the Castle of Montault. She always went to see 
 her foster father in a plain dress, whether it was morn- 
 ing or evening, which modestly concealed rather than 
 displayed the outward graces of her lovely form j and
 
 60 THE fisher's daughter. 
 
 there she saw no one but the Captain and his an- 
 cient domestic, who acted in the capacity of cook 
 and housekeeper in the Cottage on the CHff; and these 
 for a while were consolatory reflections to the mind of 
 a jealous husband. But how long did these reflections 
 last ? Alas ! the period was fast approaching, when 
 the consolation they had afforded him was no more; 
 for the Captain's health grew worse, and his increas- 
 ing dangerous symptoms made it necessary for the vi- 
 sits of Agatha to be more frequently repeated, nor did 
 she ever return home till a late hour. On the en- 
 quiry of her lord as to the state in which she had left 
 the invalid Captain, Agatha, whose lovely eyes were 
 already swollen with weeping, once burst into a fresh 
 and involuntary flood of tears, exclaiming — 
 
 " Oh he is much worse, Montague, — indeed ^e is 
 much worse than I have yet beheld him. The hectic 
 fever which consumes his fine form, and alternately 
 pales and flushes his once animated cheek, hourly in- 
 creases, and wastes his bodily strength : yet how ener- 
 getic still are his mental faculties^how firmly and 
 mildly bears he all the infirmities with which it has 
 pleased the gracious Heaven to afflict him. Oh, were 
 it not impiety to murmur at its decrees, I could breathe 
 a fervent prayer that this bitter cup might yet pass 
 from his lips, and that many many years might be 
 spared to my dear dear foster father; but that wish is 
 vain, and that prayer is unavailing I" and fresh tears 
 fell in torrents over the lovely face of Agatha, during 
 which her husband was surveying her agitated looks 
 with the most scrutinizing, and possibly jealous atten- 
 tion, while he exclaimed after a serious pause, in
 
 THE fisher's daughter. G1 
 
 which it was evident he was endeavouring to suppress 
 some emotions he had not the language to explain — 
 
 " But although it is impiety to murmur, it does not 
 appear that you think it impiety to weep, my Agatha. 
 Your tears have flowed abundantly for Captain Single- 
 ton : — you could do no more for your father, for your 
 husband — probably — " 
 
 The whole soul of Agatha was instantly aroused by 
 this keenly cutting and unmerited reproach of her lord, 
 for on no occasion since her marriage rites had been 
 solemnized, or that she had been acknowledged as a 
 daughter of the Duke of Braganza, had she neglected 
 to perform her duty towards them, or did not mani- 
 fest the most tender proofs of her unchanging love. 
 And reproachfully she answered, — while yeta tear moist- 
 ened her lovely cheek, and she rested her snowy hand 
 ©n the shoulder of her indignant lord, while she yet 
 cast a smile of ineffable sweetness towards him, the 
 fascination of which immediately occasioned him to 
 repent of having used any harsh expression to wound 
 her feelings ; but it was too late to repair the mischief 
 he had made, or the pain he had inflicted on her gentle 
 sensitive bosom, too sensitive indeed of the intempe- 
 rate warmth of her husband, when she thus replied — 
 
 " Not shed tears for my father, nor for you, Mon- 
 tague, were either of you suffering the same fatal 
 disease as poor Captain Singleton. And is this the 
 opinion you have so ungenerously formed of your 
 Agatha ? What part of my conduct since I have been 
 your wife, or have been acknowledged as the daughter 
 of Braganza, has justified such cruel, such unjust sur-
 
 €Q THE fisher's daughter. 
 
 niises? tell me, and I shall be satisfied; but at the 
 same instant permit me to declare, that whether being 
 your wife, or the duke's daughter, I am to cherish in- 
 gratitude towards the protector of my early days, him 
 whom I knew by no other name than father, and 
 whose humanity alone preserved my mother and her 
 child from an untimely grave ; if you expect that I am 
 to desert him in the hour of sickness, when the mes- 
 senger of death is now hovering over his pillow, — Oh, 
 Montague ! can you indeed think of your Agatha so 
 unkindly? Should 1 not be the basest, the most un- 
 worthy of human beings, were 1 to quit the dying bed 
 of my foster father, and leave him to perish, without 
 one friendly hand to close his dying eyelids ? Say, 
 did he leave my mother thus ? Did he not watch by 
 that much wronged expiring sufferer, till the last spark 
 of life was flown? and to whom did she consign her 
 helpless infant ? why, even to him, but for whose care 
 I should have perished too — and you bid me desert 
 him I No, never ! command your Agatha to do all 
 but that, and she will most willingly and implicitly obey 
 your commands; but I will never desert Captain Sin- 
 gleton while ought of feeble life remains." 
 
 Shame, contrition, compunction, and remorse, were 
 visibly betrayed on the countenance of the penitent 
 husband as he listened to the melodious accents of his 
 angelic wife; her soul-speaking eloquence shone ra- 
 diently in her dark expressive eyes, and the energy 
 with which her soul was filled added a brighter glow 
 to her complexion, pale in general, but now brilliant 
 with the colour of nature's bloom. Never had she
 
 THE fisher's DAUGHTKR. 63 
 
 seemed no lovely in the eyes of her still adoring hus- 
 band, and falling nearly prostrate at her feet, he ex- 
 claimed — 
 
 *^ Agatha, dearest Agatha, forgive me! I know I 
 am culpable in thus unnecessarily and cruelly inflicting 
 pain on your gentle feelings ; but forgive me Agatha, 
 and I swear never to offend you more. Poor Single- 
 ton, my heart bleeds for him ; and though I have thus 
 hastily expressed myself, had I the wealth of worlds, 
 and that wealth could restore him, I would part with 
 it freely to be once more reinstated in the good opinion 
 of my Agatha." 
 
 " Ah, my lord ! restore yourself to your own good 
 opinion, and it will require but little of your eloquence 
 to restore you to mine,'' cried Agatha, gently attempt- 
 ing to raise his drooping head which had fallen on her 
 knee. In this situation they were suddenly sur- 
 prised by the entrance of the Marchioness his mother, 
 and Lady Lavinia his sister, and a loud and involuntary 
 burst of immoderate laughter was the result of b^th 
 ladies discovering the attitude of the newly married 
 pair, while the Marchioness somewhat sneeringly ex- 
 claimed — 
 
 '^ Well, 1 protest this is a prodigiously novel sight, 
 a bride and bridegroom, after the honey moon is quite 
 over, to be kneeling at each others feet like a fond 
 shepherd and shepherdess. Lavinia, my love, don't 
 you attempt to copy such an example for your en- 
 trance to matrimony, for you will positively be laughed 
 at when you become the bride of Lord Winstone, to 
 see you performing the part of a couple of love-sick 
 turtle doves, to the no sn^all amusement of all your
 
 64 THE fisher's daughter. 
 
 acquaintance. But pray my dear Agatha, what has 
 Montague done to offend you, that he must needs thus 
 prostrate himself at your feet to sue for pardon and 
 forgiveness ? it is really the height of absurdity to see 
 you both acting so ridiculously.'* 
 
 So saying, the Marchioness seated herself in a chair, 
 while both Lord and Lady Montague stood the further 
 test of her ladyship's ironical pleasantry; while at 
 length Agatha replied with a calm and dignified com- 
 posure, and by no means regarding the contemptuous 
 looks or manner of her mother-in-law, with whom, for 
 divers causes, she had never been a favourite. 
 
 *' I really cannot give your ladyship a very expla- 
 natory account of the scene which seems to afford 
 both you and Lady Lavinia so much amusement, 
 otherwise than by assuring you that Lord Montague 
 had certainly said something to offend me, and that he 
 chose himself the prostrate situation in which you 
 found him to solicit my forgiveness, for the absurdity 
 of , which he is alone to blame, and not me." 
 
 " Indeed, my love, and is that all ?" cried the Mar- 
 chioness, laughing. " Well, the next time that he 
 chooses to go down on his knees, pray send for an 
 artist and have his likeness taken precisely in that po- 
 sition, it will be so truly comic." 
 
 " And yet there was more of the tragic than the 
 comic muse which then inspired my feelings," uttered 
 Lord Montague with a pensive sigh, and by no means 
 either relishing his mother's sarcastic raillery, or en- 
 tering into the spirit of her uncommon propensity to 
 laughter; and perceiving him to be out of humour, 
 her ladyship immediately dropt all further explanation
 
 TH£ FISHBR^S DAUGHTER. 65 
 
 on the subject, observing that she had merely come 
 out for a morning lounge to kill ennuie, as they expect- 
 ed a large party to a late dinner, and if they were 
 not better engaged, should be glad of their company. 
 " Lord Winstone will be one of the number," added her 
 ladyship ; " and as he is now generally known to be 
 the accepted lover of your sister, I wish you Montague 
 to pay his lordship some attention." 
 
 *' And are not the attentions which he receives from 
 vou and my father quite sufficient ?" cried Lord Mon- 
 tague : ^' what need has he of mine ; or that I should 
 so sedulously court his acquaintance, who never sought 
 mine?" 
 
 *' La, brother, what a savage you are this morning!" 
 exclaimed Lady Lavinia, reddening like scarlet. " Aga- 
 tha, what is the matter with him to make him so ill- 
 natured ?" 
 
 " Ah, do tell us who has been vexing the pretty 
 dear !" uttered the Marchioness in a coaxing accent, 
 and patting his lordship's cheek with her parasol ; ** but 
 come my dear Montague to our splendid party, and we 
 will soon contrive to charm away this sombre look of 
 yours. There will be the Duke, and, as I told you be- 
 fore. Lord Winstone, and that rattlebrain his friend, 
 the handsome and elegant Sir George Cleveland, and 
 half a dozen elegant creatures besides. You remember 
 Sir George Cleveland, you know, who used to admire 
 one of old Peter Blust's daughters, Agatha, the eldest, 
 I believe, who happened to have that unfortunate af- 
 fair with the young fisher that sent the poor girl so 
 quietly to her grave : but now we talk of fishcFS, pray 
 how is poor Singleton ? He is visited by one of our 
 
 i3 I
 
 ^*6 THE FISHER*S DAUGHTER. 
 
 physicians, who told the Marquis the other day that he 
 is oi) his last legs, and dying of a consumption. Have 
 you seen the Captain lately, Agatha?" 
 
 A question more malapropos could not have been 
 demanded at the present moment, for it renewed 
 the heart-felt grief of Agatha, while it reminded her 
 of lord the pain he had so lately given to his lovely- 
 wife, who sighing deeply, replied — 
 
 '^ The intelligence which the physician communi- 
 cated to the Marquis is indeed too true, your ladyship. 
 I saw the Captain yesterday evening, and there is little 
 doubt, from the dangerous symptoms which he exhi- 
 bits, that his disease, which is a confirmed consump- 
 tion of the lungs, will shortly terminate fatally." 
 
 *VDear me, how shocking!" exclaimed Lady La- 
 vinia. " 1 liked the Captain very much, he was really 
 a very good sort of civil kind of a man, was not he 
 Mamma?" 
 
 " -Captain Singleton was, and is still a perfect gen- 
 tleman," uttered Agatha with some warmth, although 
 the eyes of her husband were fixed on her with peculiar 
 earnestness ; " a gentleman by^ birth, education, and 
 manners, and that*s a character as worthy of respect 
 as the proudest peer of the realm." 
 
 ** Yes, the old gentleman is tolerable enough," cried 
 the Marchioness : " the Marquis was highly pleased 
 with his conversation the last time he visited the cas- 
 tle, and gave orders that he should always be admitted 
 whenever he left his home. Still I always thought the 
 Captain singularly romantic in his disposition ; perhaps 
 an affair of gallantry in his youthful days had given his 
 mind this melancholy cast, which he could never af-
 
 ^7 
 
 terwards divest himself of. Was it so Agatha ? Did 
 you never hear that he was once crossed in love with a 
 lady whose affections he could never obtain ?" To 
 which Agatha replied — 
 
 " Yes, your ladyship, it was certainly no tale of fic- 
 tion, for to the lady that he so passionately loved I 
 was indebted for the instruction of my youth, and all 
 the early lessons of piety that I ever knew. It was 
 the Lady Matilda St, Clair under whose eye I was 
 educated, who was the Abbess of the Convent of the 
 Holy Sisters. Captain Singleton was attached to 
 this lovely lady before she arrived to this dignity, but 
 after her taking the holy and irrecoverable vows, they 
 were of course disunited for ever. It was the wreck 
 of the peace, of the happiness, of poor Captain Single- 
 ton, and probably has progressively brought him to the 
 state he is now reduced to." 
 
 " But was there no cause assigned for the Lady Ma- 
 tilda refusing him her hand ?" demanded the Marchio- 
 ness. *^ If she really loved him, she had a bad taste 
 to prefer the cold walls of a cloister's gloom, to the 
 arms of her warm and passionate adorer." 
 
 " And a bad heart too, I think," uttered Lord Mon- 
 tague indignantly, *' to sport or trifle with the feelings 
 of the man who loved her." 
 
 " Oh believe not that her heart was capable of such 
 inconstancy, such apostacy," exclaimed Agatha ; " but 
 she was compelled by the stern authority of her father 
 to refuse the hand of Captain Singleton, or immediately 
 wed another object that was hateful to her ; and of two 
 evils she chose the least, and prayed to take the veil ; 
 this wish was granted to her, and the lovely Lady
 
 68 THE fisher's daughter. 
 
 Matilda shut herself out from the world for ever. 
 At the decease of her unnatural parent she inherited 
 his wealthy possessions, — she presented them to 
 the holy sisterhood — and in succession became Ab- 
 bess of the Convent herself. This is all I know of her 
 history, but I can remember her well, and have often 
 pictured to myself her pale beautiful face when I have 
 looked at the paintings of angels; she was so tran- 
 scendantly fair, so mild, so serene, so heavenly, nor 
 do I doubt of her being now a cherub there.'* 
 
 " My dear creature, you will certainly make both 
 Lavinia and I most prodigiously nervous if you talk in 
 this horrifying manner," cried the Marchioness, look- 
 ing at her watch, and yawning at the same time; " I 
 protest 1 feel quite vapourish already." 
 
 " Then your ladyship had better go and try the effect 
 of the vapours in the open air," uttered Lord Monta- 
 gue, impatient for his mother to be gone, in the fear 
 of her renewing the invitation to dinner, not liking the 
 names of any of the party except the Duke Braganza; 
 but Sir George Cleveland was actually a name of terror 
 to him, for he was certainly handsome, and a gay man 
 of fashion, who admired every beautiful woman who 
 happened to come within the pale of his acquaintance; 
 nor did he much admire his friend Lord Winstone, 
 although he was shortly to lead his sister to the temple 
 of Hymen ; for both had he heard extol the beauty of 
 his Agatha when she was living under the roof of the 
 fisher, and that to Lord Montague was sufficient ground 
 for feeling prejudiced against them. 
 
 .At length the health of Captain Singleton became so 
 alarmingly precarious, that the utmost danger was ap-
 
 THE fisher's daughter. 69 
 
 prehended by his medical attendants, who had ulti- 
 mately consulted on his case, and as ultimately decided 
 that he could not long survive the fatal disease which 
 had baffled every effort of medicine. The deeply 
 afflicted Agatha's heart shrunk at this intelligence, 
 and true to the firm resolution she had adopted, never 
 quitted him, while he unconscious of the fate which 
 had been pronounced by the physicians, smiled in the 
 very height of his most acute sufferings, and during one 
 short interval from pain, flattered himself with the 
 hope of speedy recovery, instead of hourly departure 
 for that bourne, from whence no traveller returns to 
 tell his passing tale to mortal ear; and his uncon- 
 sciousness of his danger was a fresh wound to his fos- 
 ter daughter, who when he talked to her of projected 
 plans which his intelligent and energetic mind had laid 
 out for some improvement in the Cottage on the Cliff, 
 her utmost fortitude could not conceal the agonized 
 sensations she felt, when she reflected that long ere 
 these improvements were effected in his beloved cot- 
 tage, the head that suggested those plans would be 
 laid low in the dust, and the tones of that beloved 
 voice would be heard no more. 
 
 Insupportably painful was the thought ; and as her 
 snowy hand rested on his warm, feverish, and emaci- 
 ated one, tears, which she had no power of restraining, 
 fell over het beautiful face, and wetted his hand clasped 
 in hers. It seemed to occasion a momentary surprise 
 to the invalid, and being then relieved from pain, and 
 calm and collected in his mental faculties, he demand- 
 ed to know the cause of this sudden agitation. While 
 the weeping Agatha sobbed out—
 
 70 THE fisher's daughter. 
 
 " Sudden ! Oh no, my dearest father," fcr by this 
 title she yet addressed Captain Singleton, " it is not 
 sudden, I have been frequently visited by this dreadful 
 and terrible feeling — a presage, a foreboding of I know 
 not what — yet it haunts me perpetually, sleeping or 
 waking it possesses my imagination, and I cannot get 
 the better of my terrors, nor this sad fluttering at my 
 heart/' 
 
 The expressive eyes of Agatha, which would have 
 expressed every emotion of her soul, and there reveal- 
 ed the nature of the fears she had been describing, did 
 not meet those of the invalid Captain, for instantane- 
 ously Agatha turned aside from the penetrating and 
 scrutinizing glance with which he would have surveyed 
 her, for still a slight hectic colouring passed over his 
 cheek at the sight of her tears, and the manner in 
 which she had been describing her sensations ; for he 
 knew she must have powerful cause to have impelled 
 her to dwell on so melancholy a subject ; and he ex- 
 claimed — 
 
 " Terrors, my dear Agatha ! forebodings and pre- 
 sages, and prophetic fears ! What mean you, my Aga- 
 tha? you were never wont to be superstitious, and you 
 must not encourage such wild phantasies now, or talk 
 of fears that arc prophetic ; my love, it is impiety to 
 think thus. This is not the age ot prophecy ; the holy 
 Scriptures have revealed them to us, and with that 
 knowledge let us be content in silence to adore them ; 
 but to penetrate divine mysteries we cannot, and all 
 human knowledge is vain that would profanely seek to 
 know that which is forbidden to be revealed." 
 
 Agatha preserved a solemn and profound silence
 
 THE fisher's daughter. /I 
 
 while the Captain was thus speaking; it was plain he 
 had mistaken her meaning, and that he imagined the 
 terrors that she had been describing arose from some 
 doubts and fears of a religious kind, which in lier heart 
 was so pure and so simple, that she had never once 
 bewildered herself about it, but had implicitly and 
 faithfully relied on its ordinations; and not wishing 
 that the invalid should cherish such a thought of her 
 religious sentiments, after a pause, she answered him 
 with a seraphic smile — 
 
 '^ My dear father, you are under a great mistake by 
 supposing that I ever had but one unchanging thought 
 of our holy and blessed religion, or that I did not firmly 
 believe the sacred Scriptures to be connected with di- 
 vine truths. No, I entertain no such fears, no such 
 terrors as these ; it was other fears and other terrors 
 that so agonized my heart, that so fearfully possessed my 
 imagination." 
 
 Agatha sighed deeply as she uttered these words, 
 but so far from the invalid even then guessing at the 
 fatal terrors which her words and now her looks re- 
 vealed, that he immediately smiled, and glancing at 
 her lovely shape, which had lately acquired a rotundity 
 in it, which never till this moment had caught his ob- 
 servation so perceptibly, he exclaimed— 
 
 " Ah, my dear child, I now begin to perceive all the 
 terrors, presages, and forebodings that your imagination 
 has been conjuring up to alarm you so needlessly; but 
 they are perfectly ridiculous, my dear creature, and you 
 must exert every energy to arouse yourself from their 
 dangerous influence. You are in that delicate state 
 in which most young married women are, and instead
 
 72 THB FISHBR's daughter. 
 
 of being rejoiced at the approaching event of giving to 
 your husband's arms a tender pledge of your mutual 
 affection, nay very possibly a son and heir, I behold 
 you in tears, and encouraging timid fears which are 
 ultimately futile, and have no reality in them but your 
 imagination ; indeed, my Agatha, it is wrong of you, 
 and will be injurious to your health if you thus ind-ulge 
 in such groundless apprehensions." 
 
 The Lady of Lord Montague was now silent, deter- 
 mined to rather bear what she did not really merit, an 
 accusation of want of courage in her present situation, 
 than disclose to her dear foster father the nature of her 
 feelings, or the opinion of the faculty respecting his dis- 
 ease. Yet how necessary was this communication to 
 an apparently dying man, though unconscious of his 
 approaching end. 
 
 Fallacious hope, how will ye flatter, and how will ye 
 deceive I to the very last pulse of life thy airy pinions 
 flutter around us ! and it was so with Captain Single- 
 ton. Agatha could not impart to him the fatal intelli- 
 gence received from the united consultations of the 
 physicians ; she was a heroine in all but those delicate 
 touches of sensibility, vi^here one single chord broken, 
 vibrates on the heart like an electric shock, that oft in 
 earthquakes convulses the whole face of nature. She 
 could not tell the Captain that he was dying, ^nd if 
 she had, the Captain himself would have smiled at 
 her terrors ; and as there were peculiar days when he 
 felt himself considerably better, (the truest and most 
 melancholy test of this fatal disease,) and betrayed 
 more than his wonted energy of mind, Agatha suffered 
 the enchanting illusions of flattering and delusive hope
 
 THB fisher's DAUCHTfiR. fS 
 
 to steal upon her tnind^ and to imagine that yet some 
 change might unexpectedly take place for the better, 
 contraiy to the opinion of the physicians ; but why was 
 it that she had cherished this fond flattering hope? 
 Captain Singleton had for a week past been entirely 
 relieved from suffering the slightest bodily pain, and his 
 spirits were also exhilarated rather than depressed ; 
 and with this hope fluttering in her lovely bosom, Aga- 
 tha, as was now her constant custom, took a ride over 
 to the Cottage, after having informed her husband that 
 she hoped the Captain was better; on which Lord 
 Montague shook his head ; but his silence proved that 
 he did not entertain the slightest hope of his recovery. 
 
 However, over to the Cottage Agatha went. It was 
 a mild and beautiful evening, and the moon shone 
 brightly in the azure sky; it had arisen above the cliff 
 that commanded a fine and majestic prospect of the 
 white bosomed ocean that sometimes flowed gently 
 beneath it, and sometimes rolled above it, when the 
 rude tempest threatened it with stormy violence. On 
 this evening, however, it was calm and tranquil as the 
 breath of angels ; not a breeze swept over the dewy 
 leaves of the half-opening rose buds that the hand of 
 Agatha had formerly planted in the little lovely garden 
 of the Cottage on the Cliff. They had been the pride 
 of the Captain, on reflecting that it was the lovely hand 
 of Agatha which had transplanted them there; and they 
 now wafted their sweetness through the lattice of the 
 window at which the invalid was sitting, when Lady 
 Montague came to pay her evening visit to her foster 
 father. ; :He was sitting in an arm chair dose to the 
 
 a 4 K
 
 74 ' THB FISHBR'i DAUGHTER. 
 
 window, and seemed to enjoy the fresh breeze* that 
 were now beginning to blow from the ocean. 
 
 As Agatha approached him, he extended his hand 
 towards her and smiled, but it was not his usual smile^ 
 it had a meaning in it, and the heart of Agatha throb- 
 bed painfully to the warm pressure of his feverish 
 hand. 
 
 " My child," uttered he, " you have ventured out 
 late this evening, and yet I rejoice to see you once 
 more in this earthly space — to morrow we may be 
 separated." 
 
 Till this moment Agatha had not courage to look in 
 the face of the invalid, but when she did so, she there 
 beheld the vestiges of death stealing over his pale and 
 languid features. Although the lustre of his eye was 
 yet undiminished, it was like a meteor in the starry 
 hemisphere, that was too bright to be lasting ; but he 
 spoke with energy, while the fear-struck Agatha ex- 
 claimed-^ 
 
 " Separated to morrow, my dear father ! Oh talk 
 not thus ! I hope — that — " sobs interrupted the speech 
 of Agatha, and she was unable to articulate another 
 sentence. 
 
 The Captain was affected by the sensibility she be- 
 trayed — he felt for the trial her affectionate heart would 
 sustain, but he had not yet entirely lost his energy ; 
 and pressing her hand, in a firm tone of voice, though 
 frequently interrupted by difficulty of respiration, ad- 
 dressed her in the following words : — 
 
 " My child, my dear affectionate child, cease to 
 yield to your excessive grief on my account; your
 
 THE FISHKR*S DAUGHTER. 7^ 
 
 teurs affect me my dearest love — for my sake restraki 
 them." 
 
 " For your sake !" cried the sobbing Agatha; ** Oh 
 what would I not do for your sake !" 
 
 To which the Captain, as she now bent her head 
 over him, in a less firm voice replied — 
 
 *^ My dear child, you have done all you can do — 
 your duty, and you can do no more; therefore be 
 comforted, and receive the last blessing that I now 
 invoke on your beauteous head. Kiss me, Agatha. 
 Then, then be it wafted to heaven by the angel that 
 bears me hence ; one request — one dying wish — grant 
 to me." 
 
 *' Oh name it — name it — dearest father !" uttered 
 Agatha ; *' and whatever it is, I swear to heaven that 
 it shall be obeyed." 
 
 " No, my child, an oath I do not require," uttered 
 the Captain ; " should the infant of which you are 
 pregnant be born a daughter, call it Matilda, the name 
 of her that I adored ; if a son — let it be Singleton.'* 
 
 " May heaven desert me if ever I renounce this wish 
 of thine dearest father," uttered Agatha; and the in- 
 valid seemed apparently more composed. The old 
 domestic drew near to him, gave him a cordial, and 
 he seemed revived, bidding Agatha to sit close beside 
 him. 
 
 " Will you not lie down a little my dear master ?*' 
 uttered Marguritte, motioning to Lady Montault by 
 dumb but expressive signs, that she thought this 
 necessary; but the Captain waved his hand, and she 
 remained silently watching him, with great terror 
 expressed in her countenance. Meanwhile Agatha
 
 76 THH fisher's daughter. 
 
 had taken his batid^ which yhe alternatdy pressed to 
 her lips and to her heart, and a solemn silence ensued. 
 
 '- You know my dear child,'* uttered he, " that my 
 lamp of life has long been wasting, and the taper is 
 alniost out ; but think you that I was insensible to 
 it, or have not communed in spirit with my heavenly 
 Father. No; my Agatha, [ am prepared ; I have lived 
 in peace with my own heart, and I shall die in peace 
 with it, and that I could not do, had 1 not been in 
 peace with all mankind. Give me that book my 
 dearest child, that I may once more breathe a prayer 
 on it.'' 
 
 A book lay open on the table, it was a pocket vo- 
 lume of the holy Scriptures, and the invalid took it 
 from the trembling hand of Agatha, after he had inform- 
 ed her where his will and his papers were to be found 
 after his decease, in which he had made her husband. 
 Lord Montague Montault, sole executor. 
 ii: :^« You will find in my will, Agatha," uttered he, 
 " that there is a personage whom you love, that I 
 have not neglected to reward for their fidelity towards 
 you in the hour of adversity. Poor little affectionate 
 Baba, the daughter of Paulo Michello ; he has erred, 
 but his child is innocent of a father's indiscretions, and 
 Paulo has himself repented of all his former transgres- 
 sions. I will not call them crimes, because we are 
 aware who was the foul and malignant fiend, who led 
 him on to the commission of them : I will not name 
 her, for she was your grandmother, the Duchess of 
 Braganza ; and she is now gone before that awful tri- 
 bunal, at which all must appear sooner or later, to an- 
 swer for the part they have performed on this terres-
 
 THE fisher's daughter. '^f 
 
 trial globe* For the fisher's familj^, various reports 
 have been circulated, that they have met with an unge- 
 nerous reception for the hospitable treatment they have 
 shewn you, since your exaltation to greatness, and that 
 you have been married to Lord Montague Montanlt. 
 My dear child, it was a report by no means pleasing to 
 my ear, for you owed to the fisher Blust eternal grati- 
 tude, and ingratitude is a most unpardonable offence. 
 Those who treat with ingratitude the beings who have 
 served them in the hour of misfortune, will abjure the 
 very God of their existence, from whom all blessings 
 flow." 
 
 ^ "" But I have not done so, dearest father," cried the 
 how almost frantic Agatha. *' I call heaven to witness 
 that no part of my conduct towards the fisher's family 
 has ever subjected me to the charge of being ungrateful 
 to my protector ; but I was married — and — my — hus- 
 band — " Agatha paused, she could not bear to reflect 
 on her husband ; and she is no wife that does, let his 
 faults be what they may. 
 
 " Should have recollected," feebly articulated the 
 invalid, " that you had no protector but the fisher 
 Blust, when I, your then supposed father, perished, as it 
 was thought, in the ocean ; and on your recovery of 
 your paternal rights, whtn you became the acknow- 
 ledged daughter and wealthy heiress of the fortunes of 
 Braganza, should have rewarded and raised from ob- 
 scurity the humble roof which had so generously af- 
 forded you a shelter, when you had no other to shield 
 you from the attacks of a merciless and censorious 
 world. Young and beautiful, you would have been 
 marked out as the prey of the licentious and the pro-
 
 78 THB fisher's DAUGHTKR. 
 
 fligate of mankind; and your youth and innocence 
 would have afforded but little protection, had not the 
 generous unsophisticated Peter have stretched his pro- 
 tecting arm over you, took you to his dwelling, and 
 treated you like one of his own children ; while you 
 were absent, a heavy domestic misfortune had assailed 
 him, in the dishonour and consequently the death of 
 his eldest daughter ; you were forced from his house, 
 but he had no hand in the villanous transaction, your 
 own connections, however grand and exalted in birth, 
 were the sole perpetrators of this foul deed. But when 
 Lord Montague became your husband, the fisher and 
 his humble family were forgotten ; the lowly roof which 
 sheltered you, shunned and avoided like the power of 
 contagion ; and Jessy, the lovely Jessy, turned from 
 your doors by the command of your husband. Oh my 
 child, I knew that you were not amenable for this 
 fault, and have wept in agony that you had not still 
 remained in your humble station, for then you had been 
 happy; for if exalted birth and splendour of wealth is 
 to be accompanied with hardness of heart and ingrati- 
 tude towards our benefactors because they are humbly 
 born, perish that earthly grandeur, and that earthly 
 ambition."' 
 
 Agatha wept in silence this dying reproach of her 
 foster father against her high-born relatives, and more 
 than ever lamented the hour that she had known any 
 other father than Captain Singleton, any other protec- 
 tor than the fisher Blust, any other friend than the 
 gentle Jessy. 
 
 The faint moon-beams yet shed silvery light in the 
 chamber where the Captain was sittings and Margu-
 
 THH fisher's daughter. 7^ 
 
 ritte having closed the window, and gently laid his 
 head on the pillow, imagined for some time that he 
 was sleeping, and entreated Agatha to withdraw to the 
 adjoining room, where there was a sofa, and endeavour 
 to tflke some repose, as she had sent word to her lord 
 of the fatal change which had taken place in the Cap- 
 tain, and that she could not return, till probably the 
 last sad scene was over. 
 
 " Now do my dearest lady, just retire for a few mo- 
 ments,'' cried Marguritte, *' for my poor master has 
 fallen into a slumber, and you can do no good now by 
 watching at his side.*' 
 
 At length Agatha yielded to the entreaties of the old 
 woman; so perfectly exhausted was she by fatigue, 
 and worn out by mental anxiety, which, added to the 
 delicacy of her situation, rendered repose absolutely 
 necessary; and Agatha slept for some hours on the 
 sofa, notwithstanding the bustle and confusion which 
 for many successive hours had prevailed in the Cottage 
 on the Cliff; for in less than half an hour, Marguritte 
 supposing that her master was only sleeping, attempt- 
 ed to raise his head to put him a more easy position, 
 when, to her inexpressible horror and grief, she found 
 him a corpse. The physician was immediately sent 
 for, but he declared that the vital spark was fled for 
 ever, though the usual remedies were resorted to, but 
 in vain. Captain Singleton was no more, and a mes- 
 senger was immediately dispatched to Lord Montague 
 Montault, to inform him of the melancholy event ; and 
 when he arrived at the Cottage, his lady yet reposed in 
 gentle sleep on a sofa in the adjoining apartment, un-
 
 W THE fisher's daughter. 
 
 consciQus; of the sacj scene that was passing around 
 her* , ■.;;::* 'K^/ : -K,! • 
 
 :;rl/' For Heaven's- sake do not disturb Lady Montault," 
 uttered his lordship, " let us arrange these melancholy 
 duties as quietly as possible ;" and on being shewn into 
 the chamber, which contained the lifeless body of Cap- 
 taiin Singleton, he bur&t into a flood of tears. 
 
 But not long was Agatha insensible of the loss she 
 had sustained, for on opening her eyes she perceived 
 Lord Montague sitting near her, and anxiously watch- 
 ing every turn of her countenance; but she immedi- 
 ately guessed by the expression of his, that her dear 
 foster father was no more, and in frantic accents de« 
 manded, why they had not called her before life was 
 extinct. 
 
 " My dear lady, it was a moral impossibility to do 
 that," cried the old woman, " for I had covered his 
 face with a handkerchief when you left the room to lie 
 jown on the sofa, and. when I returned again to lift it 
 up, and raise the poor soul's head a Ji^tle. higher, I 
 found he was gone to a better world."?! ^.?.\\\ 
 
 .Uncontrolable was the grief of Agatha for several 
 successive hours; and with much difficulty Lord .Mon- 
 tague conveyed her home at a late hour. 
 
 The next morning she was excessively indisposed, and 
 the order of the physicians was to keep her ladyship as 
 quiet and composed as possible, being at this period in 
 the fifth month of her pregnancy ; and her lord fearful 
 of ; thje. consequence, never quitted her bedside for a 
 mioment ; in short, Lord Montague was in all but ova 
 fatal. propensity in his disposition, the most exemplary
 
 THB FISHEB's daughter. 1^ 
 
 and most affectionate of husbands. He had loved 
 Agatha in an humble station of life, comparatively to that 
 to which she was afterwards raised on being thei acknow- 
 ledged daughter of the dnke his uncle 5 and although 
 he was proud of her eyaltation, yet his love for her, 
 had she still remained the reputed daughter of Captain 
 Singleton, would have been as ardent as ever. 
 
 Much alarmed therefore by her increasing indisposi- 
 tion, he intreated the physicians to inform him if they 
 thought that any dangerous consequences might ensue 
 from the melancholy scene she had witnessed. To 
 which they replied — 
 
 " None in the least, my lord; if Lady Montault is 
 kept quiet, we pronounce that in a few days she will 
 be perfectly recovered. A little fever is at present vi- 
 sible from the effect of agitation, and that is all." 
 
 Agatha was sometime before she answered the 
 expectation of her physicians ; but her youthful con- 
 stitution, never yet impaired, got the ascendency over 
 the shock she had sustained ; and the assiduities of her 
 fond and attentive husband, very soon brought her 
 mind to a state of composure, and enabled her to tell 
 him what had been the last requests of the dying 
 Captain Singleton, with which he promised cheerfully 
 to comply, whenever it pleased Providence to give hira 
 either a son or a daughter. And in other respects, all 
 directions in his last will and testament were punctually 
 attended to by Lord Montague, which was thought 
 necessary before the funeral obsequies ihould be per- 
 formed. 
 
 Accordingly a day was appointed for all persons 
 concerned in it^ and whose names were expiessly 
 
 64 L
 
 82 THE fisher's daughter. 
 
 mentioned in the will of the deceased, to meet at Mon- 
 tault House, in order that it might be read in the pre- 
 sence of those to whom Captain Singleton had bequeath- 
 ed the most liberal proofs of his friendship, and 
 testimonials of his warm and unchangeable affection. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 f Here rests his head upon the lap of earth, 
 
 A man to fortune and to fame unknown ; 
 Fair science frown'd not on his humble birth. 
 
 But melancholy mark'd him for her own. 
 
 Large was his bounty, and bis soul sincere, 
 And heaven did a recompence as largely send ; 
 
 He gave to misery, (all he had,) a tear ; 
 He gained from heaven, (twas all he wished,) a friend." 
 
 Gray, 
 
 Thb death of Captain Singleton, though expected 
 by some of the inhabitants of Cromer who were ac- 
 customed to be admitted to his presence during the 
 long and painful stages of his protracted illness, ex- 
 cited, notwithstanding, a deep and almost universal 
 sympathy the very moment that it became generally 
 known, for never was a man more respected, or so 
 deservedly lamented by those to whom he was known; 
 (for it is not always that a man is known by outward
 
 THE fisher's pacghtbr. 8S 
 
 actions,) bat both the principles and the character of 
 the Captain had been established and held in venera- 
 tion ; nor were the more humble and poorer classes of 
 people in the neighbouring villages without a starting 
 tear and a sorrowing sigh, when the bell of the church 
 at Cromer tolled out heavily the sad and melancholy 
 tidings that poor Captain Singleton was indeed num- 
 bered with the dead. For to the poor he had been uni- 
 formly kind ; and whenever his bounty had been soli- 
 cited by any of the parishioners, his mite was always 
 cheerfully bestowed. The several tradesmen too with 
 whom he transacted business, had found him equitably 
 just in his dealings, and conscientiously punctual in his 
 payments. By some of the fastidious and illiberal 
 minded he had been thought proud, (for to what errors 
 are not prejudiced persons prone ?) because it was cer- 
 tainly true that he secluded himself from their society, 
 and lived alone and retired in the Cottage on the Cliff; 
 but surely pride was the least distinguishing feature in 
 the character of the Captain ; for when on his solitary 
 rambles on the beach, he might encounter the poor 
 fishermen, or their wives, or their children, he would 
 stop and give them the time of the day, and very fre- 
 quently this salutation was accompanied by some tri- 
 fling mark of his liberality ; if this was pride, then how 
 strangely had they miscalled urbanity, humanity, and 
 feeling. 
 
 It is true, however, that he had avoided all inter- 
 course with the wealthy families, who for a short season 
 only visited the coast, because, though wealthy, they 
 were sometimes dangerous and improper connections, 
 mere summer files that sail with the stream of fashion^
 
 84 THE riSHER*S DAUGHTBR. 
 
 light, inconstant, and fickle, as the changing wind, or 
 the colours of the rainbow 5 and with such personages 
 Captain Singleton was determined to hold no commu- 
 nication, or tender them any friendship, for to them— 
 
 ** Ah, what was friendship but a name, 
 
 A charm that lulls to sleep, 
 A shade that follows wealth and fame. 
 
 And leaves the wretch to weep/* 
 
 No, Captain Singleton sought for dearer ties, ana 
 more sacred and congenial affections; in the bosom 
 of retiring shades he did not feel solitary, for his books 
 were his faithful, though silent companions ; he could 
 there converse with men, without being approached 
 by their insidious smiles, betrayed by their treacherous 
 arts, or tempted by their worldly sophistry to leave 
 bis calm and sequestered abode, to mix with the busy 
 haunts of mankind. And for lighter pleasures wanted 
 he amusement? or food for contemplation? or sub- 
 jects for reflection ? Seated on the high cliff, had he 
 not the wide expanse of ocean rolling beneath his feet, 
 and the bright shining firmament of the vaulted hea- 
 vens moving splendidly above him ? The glorious 
 planet that lighted all the world, did it not also shed 
 its light for him ? And when he warmed him in the 
 sunny beams, did he not feel the potent influence of 
 its cheering and enlivening ray? At sober evening 
 too, came not the moon in silvery mantle clad to visit 
 him with peace, and aid his calm and pious medita- 
 tions, uninterrupted only but by the lonely bird that 
 pours her melody on night's pensive eve ? And if to a 
 mind so harmonized these were pleasures and these 
 delights that he could not find in gayer scenes, where
 
 THE fisher's daughter. JSS 
 
 artificial'ones are but substituted in their stead ; if Cap- 
 tain Singleton preferred these to earthly splendour and 
 earthly wishes, why should he not have enjoyed them, 
 and repose without rancour or without envy on the 
 tranquil blessings they afforded him ? for they were 
 certainly those of which neither rancour or envy could 
 ever deprive him. The Cottage on the Cliff was his 
 own, and he could live there in despite of the world's 
 frowning or envious aspect towards him ; and he did 
 live there till he died, and was called to inherit (it 
 would be impiety to doubt it !) far greater enjoyments, 
 and more substantial pleasures than can ever be ex- 
 pected in a terrestrial state of existence. 
 
 And thus far let us dismiss the melancholy subject. 
 Captain Singleton had paid the debt to nature, and the 
 most lasting monument of his worth was engraven in 
 the excellent moral character he had left behind him, 
 of far more consequence than the sculptor could ever 
 display in polished marble, or the poet's energy impart 
 in tributary praise to the departed remains that lay 
 mouldering beneath it. Vain impotence of man's de- 
 ceptive art, that would oft by empty pageantry of 
 shew, and unavailing flow of funeral verse, attempt to 
 eulogize what the departed spirit does not require from 
 their aid, and which cannot pierce their ear, though 
 they were the strains of a Byron or Sir Walter Scott, 
 the former of whom now lies as insensible to the fire 
 of poetic lays, as were the cold remains of Captain 
 
 Singleton in the humble Cottage on the Cliff.* 
 
 ■ . . I ————»■» 
 
 * The author here alludes to the recent death of Lord Byron, that 
 most admired and accomplished poet, whose loss all poets feel, and 
 all authors mourn.
 
 M TUB fisher's daughter. 
 
 But to proceed. At an early hour after the notice 
 had been given^ assembled the different personages 
 expressly mentioned in the last will and testament of 
 the deceased Captain Singleton, at the mansion of 
 Lord Montague Montault, (at least the male person- 
 ages, for none of the females were desired to attend 5) 
 but on the will being opened in the presence of official 
 witnesses by Lord Montague Montault, who was left 
 sole executor to the said will, the name of the 
 fisher Blust appeared the first on the list. Mr. Blust 
 teing desired to attend on the occasion, he pre- 
 sented himself before the company he found there as- 
 sembled, with as little ceremony as if he was going 
 before the mast of a ship, seating himself in the first 
 chair he could find, and declaring that he must haul in 
 his wind, and steer to only one point of the compass, 
 before he could speak one word on the melancholy 
 subject on which he had attended. 
 .i.**But shiver my topsails," added he, 'Mf ever I 
 wanted a single stiver of Captain Singleton for all I 
 have done for him :" (wholly regardless of the risibility 
 he had excited in those present, who were well ac- 
 quainted with the whimsicalities of his character, and 
 who enjoyed more real pleasure from hearing Peter 
 address Lord. Montague Montault in his plain unsophis- 
 ticated language, than in all the entertainment they re- 
 ceived in this magnificent mansion.) *' What I did 
 was to please myself,*' continued Peter, "and not 
 Captain Singleton, with respect to certain persons that 
 shall be nameless 5 but I say, my lord, have you got a 
 ^PP of something to wet one's whistle ? after all this 
 puffing and blowing over these confounded clifFs, a
 
 THE fisher's daughter. ^J 
 
 man is apt to be a little thirsty. Besides, you knowyil 
 am come upon a comicalish sort of a business, for^ do 
 ye see, I liked Captain Singleton mortally, for be was 
 always a man of his word ; blow high, blow low^ he 
 always steered to one point of the compass, and that 
 was honour and integrity, and that is the best chart 
 a man can go by, do ye see my lord, if he was to live 
 for a thousand years; so what the Captain said one 
 day, he never unsaid the next, and I can't help finding 
 my eyes a little swimmey, when I know that he is gone 
 to his long home, and has not left the fellow of him 
 behind him. 1 say, my lord, I sha'nt say nothing to 
 hurt you ; I should be sorry, after you have married 
 the nicest little trim-built vessel that ever swam on the 
 salt sea ocean. Nevertheless, I shall tell you a bit of 
 my mind before we part ; I don't care for the king, when 
 I have done that which is right and creditable to my 
 feelings ; and the king could do no more, God bless 
 him." 
 
 Many persons who knew Peter, were nearly con- 
 vulsed with laughter at the ho\d, yet firm and consci- 
 entious manner in which he had addressed Lord Mon- 
 tague Montault; but none blamed him for his teme- 
 rity, after the well-known fatherly protection he had 
 given to Lady Montault when she was only the reputed 
 daughter of Captain Singleton, then supposed to be 
 lost in the bosom of the ocean ; but it was impossible 
 to describe the mortifying sensations of Lord Monta- 
 gue Montault during this harangue of Peter Blust, in 
 the presence of so many respectable personages from 
 the town of Cromer; and all he feared was, that
 
 ^ THB FISHER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 he would advance, if offended, some arguments 
 not very favourable to the memory of the late Dowa- 
 ger Duchess of Braganza, his grandmother, with whose 
 history Peter was too well acquainted, as well as with 
 all her nefarious transactions with Paulo Michello, 
 which were not generally known, and by which means 
 the whole of his domestic concerns would become 
 exposed; his lordship therefore was compelled to 
 make a virtue of necessity, by offering every palliation 
 in his power to induce Peter to hold his tongue, 
 and immediately invited him into an adjoining apart- 
 ment, where he set before him his favourite beverage, 
 grog, and a plentiful supply of pipes and tobacco, bid- 
 ding him to regale himself, till his presence should be 
 required to hear the will of the deceased Captain Sin- 
 gleton read over; and fortunately for Lord Montague, 
 his father, the Marquis of Montault, at that moment 
 opportunely arrived, of whom Peter was particularly 
 fond; and seeing him enter, he exclaimed, filling up a 
 glass to the very brim— 
 
 " Here's to you my lord, and may you make a bet- 
 ter man than your father has done before you, which, 
 shiver my topsails, if ever 1 think you will do in your 
 born days, though you are the husband of Agatha 
 Singleton/' 
 
 " What my old shipmate and brother in exile," 
 exclaimed the Marquis, extending his hand to Peter 
 at the same moment, after receiving a hint from his 
 son that Peter required some management—" Why 
 Peter Blust, how dost thee weather the gale my boy ? 
 Yet thee looketh strong and hearty, like an old oak in
 
 THE fisher's daughter. 69 
 
 the forest, after all the rough tempests that have as- 
 sailed thee, my boy." To which Peter very quaintly 
 replied — 
 
 '' Like an old devil in the forest, my lord, for 1 have 
 been more like that than an old oak I do promise thee, 
 since I have lost my Jessy and my Olive, a fish swim- 
 ming in troubled waters, my lord, and now your lord- 
 ship do rightly understand me;^if not, ask your own 
 heart that do rightly know the feelings of a father.'* 
 
 The amiable Marquis was certainly at no loss to de- 
 fine the expression of poor Peter's feelings, and most 
 heartily sympathized in them, (for he had not beheld 
 him since the unhappy catastrophe of his eldest daugh- 
 ter,) but by no means wishing him to yield to gloomy 
 retrospections, he filled out another bumper, and drank 
 to the health and future prosperity of the fisher, with- 
 out making any comment on the melancholy subject 
 he had alluded to, in the dishonour and subsequent 
 death of his daughter, which probably had not been so 
 fresh in the recollection of fisher Blust, but for the 
 melancholy occasion on which he had that morning 
 been summoned to the mansion of Lord Montague 
 Montault, which was, namely, the death of Captain 
 Singleton ; and Peter having very feelingly apostro- 
 phized to his memory, in a full glass of brandy, ex- 
 claimed — 
 
 " But it is no matter, my lord, every man must go 
 when his time comes, and that is the truth of it, whe- 
 ther he likes it or not, death stands upon no ceremo- 
 nies. There is no court martial in the business, and 
 no judging by majority, whether he is to whip off the 
 hooks or not, is there my lord ?" 
 «4 M
 
 $0 THE fisher's daughter. 
 
 " No, you are right there, friend Peter,*' uttered the 
 Marquis, with by no means an ironical expression of a 
 truth, which the gravest and the wisest philosopher 
 could not controvert ; " the commander-in-chief in 
 this case is absolute, and when he gives the mandate, 
 none dare to disobey its immediate and imperative call. 
 Poor Singleton, I was much affectf d with the intelli- 
 gence of his death ; he was both a gentleman and a 
 scholar." 
 
 " And a Christian, and that is better than all be- 
 sides," reiterated Peter, with bis usual warmth and 
 impetuojiity of character. " What's your scholarship 
 and your fine learning, I should be glad to know, if a 
 man docs not bear an upright heart about him? But 
 as to the Captain, 1 do believe there was not a better 
 man breathing; and when I know that a man has 
 done his duty that we see before us lying a corpse, 
 shiver my topsails if J don't think it every man's duty 
 that is living to speak well of him." 
 
 At this precise moment Lord Montague appeared to 
 inform Mr. Blust that his presence was required, as 
 being a party concerned in the will of the deceased 
 Captain Singleton. 
 
 At which Peter in much better spirits and humour 
 than when he first encountered Lord Montague, ex- 
 claimed — 
 
 ** But I wont go without your father, mind that, so 
 come along my lord ; for if I should be after commit- 
 ting some blunders with them ould queer looking law- 
 yers, seeing I be a man of no great parts of learning, 
 and all that, why your lordship mayhap may put me 
 to rights again."
 
 THE FISU£r's DAUGHTER. ^ 
 
 With these words Peter actually linked his arm with 
 that of the Marquis of Montault, before he was awarf 
 of his intention ', and in this situation, to the no small 
 surprise, as well as the amusement of all present, en- 
 tered the ante-chamber where all the witnesses were 
 assembled ; and the will being opened upon the table, 
 and the Marquis and his companion being accommo- 
 dated with seats, Mr. Willowby, the solicitor of Lord 
 Montague Montault, began to read it aloud in the fol- 
 lowing words :— to which the witnesses thi^re pre- 
 sent listened with the most serious and profound at- 
 tention, Peter Blust offering no interruption, but quietl)f 
 supplying himself every now and then with a fresh 
 quid of tobacco. Mr. VVillowby then began as fol- 
 lows ;— 
 
 The mil. 
 
 " I, Henry Charles Singleton, do declare and cer- 
 tify, that this being my last will and testament, I give 
 and bequeath to my dear and respected friend, Mr. 
 Peter Blust, of Herring Dale, Cromer, the sum of one 
 thousand pounds, to be paid in sterling monies, in 
 consideration of the friendly services he hath tendered 
 towards me, and also for his fatherly care and protection 
 of the supposed Agatha Singleton, then my reputed 
 daughter, but now the wife of Lord Montague Mon- 
 tault, my whole and sole executor. And 1 bequeath 
 to the sole heir and surviving daughter of the said 
 Peter Blust, and wife of Samuel Russel, firiher of the 
 Bank-side, Jessy, the sum of one thousand pounds 
 of sterling monies. Furthermore I bequeath to the 
 two youths, named Alfred and Wolf, under the pro-
 
 92 iHE fisher's daughter. 
 
 tection of the said Peter Blust, at the time of my sup- 
 posed death, on the night of the tempest, the sums of 
 five hundred pounds each of sterling monies, when 
 they shall arrive at the age of twenty-one years. 
 
 '* I furthermore bequeath to my most tenderly be- 
 loved foster child. Lady Agatha Montault, daughter of 
 his Grace the Duke of Braganza, and wife of Lord 
 Montague Montault, my miniature picture set in dia- 
 monds, and that also of the Lady Matilda St. Clare, 
 which I now wear next my heart. Also to the said 
 Lady Agatha, my beloved foster daughter, I give and 
 bequeath the Cottage on the Cliff, with all the furni- 
 ture, plate, linen, china, conveniences, and appurte- 
 nances thereunto belonging. To Beda Michello, 
 daughter of Paulo Michello, I give and bequeath, in 
 consideration of her faithful attachment to her mis- 
 tress, the sum of five hundred pounds, to be paid in 
 sterling monies when she shall attain her twenty-first 
 year, or altering her condition sooner, the Lady Aga- 
 tha may, if she thinks proper, bestow it on the object she 
 makes choice of in wedlock. To Alice, housekeeper 
 and servant of Mr. Peter Blust, I give and bequeath 
 the sum of twenty pounds, to be paid in sterling mo- 
 nies ; and to his servant, David Holdfast, I bequeath 
 the like sum. To Claribelle, waiting gentlewoman in 
 the establishment of the Lady Agatha Montault, I be- 
 queath the sum of fifty pounds; and to my house- 
 keeper Marguritte, in the Cottage on the Cliff, I be- 
 queath the sum of forty pounds ; and for the residue 
 of my monies that may not be expended at the time 
 of my decease, 1 give and bequeath them to the church 
 at Cromer, for the benefit of the Orphan Charity School
 
 THE fisher's daughter. 93 
 
 to which I subscribed. And this I declare and certify 
 to be my last will and testament, signed and sealed in 
 the presence of witnesses. 
 
 " Henry Charles Singleton,*' 
 
 Notwithstanding the utmost precaution and necessary 
 hints given by the Marquis of Montault to the fisher 
 to preserve silence during the time that the will was 
 being read by the solicitor, Peter made a hole in his 
 manners, by several times interrupting the reader; but 
 when Mr. Willoughby came to that part wherein his 
 old housekeeper, and even his trusty David was men- 
 tioned, he could no longer contain his lively and un- 
 bounded demonstrations of gratitude and joy ; and in 
 despite of the exhortations of the Marquis, or the 
 grave looks of the gentlemen of the green bag, he 
 loudly vociferated, to the no small amusement of many 
 there present — 
 
 " Why, shiver my topsails, if Davy will know where 
 to drive his anchor a peak when he knows he has got- 
 ten the sum of twenty pounds ; and as for the old girl, 
 s>he wont know whether she stands on her head or her 
 heels. But I say, my lord, isn't this a mortal kind 
 action for a man to do on his death bed, to help a 
 couple of honest souls with a tightish bit of money, 
 that couldn't help themselves ? and if the soul of Cap- 
 tain Singleton is not gone aloft for the making of such 
 a will as this, why, I think my lord, there's many ob- 
 liged to sheer off below, that's all. God bless him, 
 and may his remains"— 
 
 " Pray Mr. Blust, I entreat you to be quiet till the 
 good company is dispersed," uttered Lord Montague,
 
 94 TUB FISH£r's daughter. 
 
 extremely hurt at the constant interruptions which 
 Peter had made, and the risibility he had excited on so 
 solemn an occasion. But to his lordship's entreaties, 
 Peter, with the utmost nonchalence, replied — 
 
 *' They may disperse and be . No, shiver 
 
 my topsails if I am going to swear neither over the will 
 of Captain Singleton ; but I tell you what, my lord> 
 I will speak my mind if you were the king of England, 
 and 1 do say, that though the Captain remembered 
 ^me things, that you have quite forgotten them ; and 
 that when I took Agatha Singleton under my roof, and 
 became a father to her in the hour of distress, I did 
 not expect that when you married her, my own child 
 would have been turned from your doors. No, my 
 lord, I did not expect any such thing, and I told you 
 that I would tell you a bit of my mind before we part- 
 ed, and so I have, so good morning to you;" and Peter 
 immediately arose, flourishing his hat in his hand in 
 the most whimsical manner that was possible, while 
 reiterated but concealed bursts of laughter prevailed 
 ^mong his surrounding friends ; for Peter Blust had no 
 enemies, every body liked him, for he was not only 
 rich, but he was generous ; and in the room here as- 
 sembled, many, (least suspected,) had been indebted to 
 the overflowing of Peter's purse. Of course they were 
 silent when he cast this reproach on the character of 
 the noble lord ; and many there were who knew full 
 well that he deserved it. 
 
 Peter, however, after having uttered all that his hearc 
 dictated, very quickly made his exit, telling his lord- 
 ship that he need be in no hurry tc pay Jessy or him 
 the two thousand pounds. "No, were it twenty, my
 
 THE fisher's daughter^ 95 
 
 lord," cried Peter, when he had retreated nearly to the 
 door. ** My Jessy does not want a thousand pounds 
 more than her father does, though God bless the Cap- 
 tain for thinking of her; yet my girl does not want 
 twenty thousand pounds if she chose to ask me for it, 
 though she was not deemed a proper companion for 
 Miss Agatha Singleton after your lordship married 
 her." 
 
 The blood of Lord Montague now mounted to his 
 cheek, and he most indignantly exclaimed — 
 
 ^* What do you mean Mr. Blust by this unprovoked 
 insolence, and by calling Lady Montault so repeatedly 
 Agatha Singleton? Sir, she never was Agatha Sin^ 
 gleton, and therefore that title does not belong to 
 her." 
 
 " Shiver my topsails then if I think she has changed 
 it for a better in becoming your lordship's wife," cried 
 the undaunted Peter ; " for you have made her turn 
 her back on her old friends, and that's no credit to 
 your lordship if you were the king of England." 
 
 And with this complimentary speech Peter departed, 
 leaving Lord Montague so enraged, or rather inflamed 
 by passion, that he could hardly recover his self-pos- 
 session to bid farewell to his friends whom he had in- 
 vited to his house to be witnesses on this melancholy 
 occasion, Peter's reproaches stung him to the heart, 
 because he felt conscious that he had deserved them, 
 and even his noble father reproved him for the ingrati- 
 tude he had shown to the fisher's family since his mar- 
 riage with his lovely cousin ; and no sooner had the 
 party who had assembled there withdrawn themselves.
 
 96 THB fisher's daughter. 
 
 than the Marquis, highly dissatiBfied with the conduct 
 of his son, exclaimed — 
 
 " Montague, you have been properly rebuked by the 
 fisher Blust, and though I am your lather, I certainly 
 will not espouse your cause when I conceive that you 
 are acting improperly; you should have softened ra- 
 ther than have irritated the feelings of such a man, 
 who is evidently piqued with the cool reception you 
 have^ lately given to his family." 
 
 " And do you imagine, my lord," uttered Lord Mon- 
 tague indignantly, " that I am going tamely to endure 
 the impertinence of such a boor, or that I should 
 condescend to apologize to him for what manner I 
 choose to conduct the establishment of my family? 
 You cannot imagine that I will ever sanction the vi- 
 sits of Mrs. Russel to Lady Montault, when it is well 
 known that her husband once had the audacity to pay 
 his addresses to my Agatha." 
 
 '' Well, and suppose he did," uttered the Marquis, 
 *' there is no great danger of his paying his addresses 
 to her now, I should presume; besides he was rejected 
 by Agatha, who, being single then, was liable to be 
 addressed by any man, in whose breast she might have 
 inspired affection ; nor do I see any disgrace attached, 
 much less any blame to be attributed to Mr. Russel, 
 for making an honourable offer of his hand to an 
 object whom he then considered to be his equal. It 
 was paying the then supposed Miss Singleton the high- 
 est mark of respect that man can shew to woman; 
 and I have no doubt that Agatha herself considered it 
 80, though she did not think proper to accept of him.
 
 THB fisher's daughter. 0/ 
 
 But admitting this circumstance, it is not a sufficient 
 plea for the disrespect, nay absolute contempt you 
 have shewn to the daughter of Mr. Blust, by not per- 
 mitting your wife to renew her former intimacy with 
 her. Mrs. Russel was certainly one of the most unex- 
 ceptionable young women I ever beheld 5 as a compa- 
 nion for one of her own sex, a more lovely and inno- 
 cent young creature there never was." 
 
 " That I acknowledge, my lord,'* cried Lord Mon- 
 tague, half yielding to the arguments of his noble fa- 
 ther ; " and had the sweet Jessy still retained the 
 name of Blust, that is, had she not married Mr. Russel, 
 I should always have most cordially received her at 
 Montault House." 
 
 " So you are to treat the poor girl with rudeness, ' 
 and her father with contempt," reiterated the Marquis, 
 " because she has married a deserving, honest, and in- 
 dustrious young fellow, who makes her an excellent 
 husband, besides inflicting a pang on the heart of your 
 own wife, by being thought guilty of ingratitude to- 
 wards those who were her former friends and protec- 
 tors ? Montague, Montague, I am ashamed of you I*' 
 and the Marquis immediately arose to depart, and 
 w^ould certainly have quitted Montault House, under 
 the impression of displeasure with his son, had not 
 that son, deeply hurt by the reproaches of his noble 
 father, and overwhelmed with a sense of shame, that 
 he but too well merited them, endeavoured, by every 
 palliative in his power, to excuse the want of propriety 
 with which the Marquis had taxed him, declaring that 
 he would in future atone for it to the family of the 
 fisher, and endeavour to reconcile himself to the of- 
 
 fl 5 N
 
 9g THE fisher's daughter. 
 
 fended Jessy as soon as the funeral obsequies of Cap- 
 tain Singleton were over, and the agitation which the 
 event had produced on the mind of his gentle Agatha 
 had subsided ; but that in her present state he was 
 almost fearful of holding any long or particular conver- 
 sation with her himself, apprehensive of occasioning 
 the slightest return of her indisposition. 
 
 *^ Ah, poor girl ! there is not a doubt but she has 
 suffered greatly in beholding the sufferings of an ob- 
 ject who possessed such strong claims on her gratitude 
 and affection,*' uttered the Marquis, " which on the 
 part of poor Singleton was as mutual and sincere, an in- 
 contestable proof of which he has evinced towards her 
 to the last moment of his fleeting existence ; what no- 
 bleness of character, what sensibility of heart, has he 
 not exhibited by the bequests he has so generously 
 bestowed on the fisher's family ; and what a compli- 
 ment to Agatha, thus gratefully to remember, and me- 
 ritoriously to reward her benefactors, for their kind- 
 ness to the then supposed distressed orphan daughter of 
 the deceased Captain Singleton. Worthy, excellent 
 man, may his spirit now be receiving the ultimate 
 return for the performance of kind and benevolent ac- 
 tions !" The Marquis closed this affecting apostro- 
 phe to the memory of the lamented Singleton, by 
 suggesting to him the most proper arrangements for 
 the funeral obsequies to be performed, and who were 
 the most proper personages to attend on this melan- 
 choly occasion. 
 
 "Of course the fisher Blust, and the youths Alfred 
 and Wolf, and even Mr. Russel must necessarily be 
 invited," uttered the Marquis*
 
 THE fisher's daughter. (S9 
 
 ** Mr. Russel?" demanded his lordship, reddening 
 like scarlet, " Is that necessary, my lord ?*' To which 
 the Marquis immediately replied — 
 
 *^ You might as well ask. Is the presence of the fisher 
 Blust or any part of his family necessary ? to whom 
 the deceased has bequeathed so considerable a part of 
 his property, saving that which belongs to Agatha; 
 and does not Mr. Russel now form a very principal 
 member of the fisher's family, by becoming the 
 husband of the fisher's daughter ? and being so, would 
 it not be indelicate, nay pointedly insulting, to exclude 
 him from the number of the funeral guests ?" 
 
 Lord Montague, again ashamed of feeling a sensation 
 he ought immediately to have dismissed on so solemn 
 an occasion, admitted the propriety of the observation 
 of his noble father, with respect to Mr. Russel ; and ac- 
 cordingly the ensuing morning, cards of invitation to 
 the funeral of Captain Singleton were immediately 
 issued out from the Cottage on the Cliff, in which the 
 most respectable personages in the town of Cromer, 
 who had any transaction of business with the deceased, 
 were desired to attend, also Mr. Peter Blust, his son- 
 in-law Mr. Samuel Russel, and Wolf and Alfred, the 
 adopted sons of the fisher, received due notice of the 
 day for the interment of the remains of their departed 
 friend. 
 
 Mr. Blust, as having known the deceased under pe- 
 culiar circumstances when first he came a stranger to 
 the coast, the Marquis (to whom Lord Montague had 
 deputed the sole management on this solemn occa- 
 sion) considered the most proper personage to follow 
 as a chief mourner with Lord Montague Montault^ as
 
 too THE fisher'? daughter. 
 
 being the husband of the Lady Agatha, formerly the 
 foster daughter of the deceased Captain Singleton ; and 
 this circumstance being well known to the inhabitants 
 of Cromer, it was a necessary point of duty for Lord 
 Montague to follow as chief mourner with Mr. Blust, 
 whether his lordship thought it derogatory or not. 
 Next were to follow the two youths, Wolf and Alfred, 
 from the supposed similarity of their fate to that of 
 Captain Singleton on the night of the tempest. Next 
 were to follow Mr. Samuel Russel and the worthy Dr. 
 Lessington, who had been for succeeding months the 
 chief medical attendant of the deceased, and on whose 
 skill he had implicitly relied, from the first approaches 
 of that fatal disease which had terminated his exist- 
 ence, more than to the physicians who had occasion- 
 ally been called in ; but Dr. Lessington, though one of 
 the most clever men in his profession, had proved, as 
 on a former occasion with the unfortunate daughter of 
 Mr. Blust, that human means cannot preserve life, 
 when he, the universal Disposer and Giver of it, thinks 
 proper to take it away. Next followed some of the 
 most respectable and principal inhabitants of the town 
 of Cromer. The Duke of Braganza, and the Marquis 
 of Montault, followed in their respective carriages, all 
 hung with black; and to these, several carriages fol- 
 lowed, out of respect to the illustrious family of the 
 Montaults, but who had first begged permission of the 
 Marquis that they might be present on the solemn oc- 
 casion : the whole of which, when drawn up before the 
 doors of the Cottage on the Cliff on the day of the fu- 
 neral, presented a spectacle truly grand, but yet so- 
 lemnly affecting to those who had any knowledge of
 
 THE fisher's daughter. 101 
 
 the deceased Captain Singleton, and to tuose who 
 knew him not, such a spectacle could not be beheld 
 without feeling or sensibility ; and a general sentiment 
 of universal sympathy prevailed in those who witnessed 
 it, and who were yet unconscious of how shortly might 
 be the day, or how shortly might be the hour destined 
 for them also to pay the debt to nature, and to be what 
 the departed now was, a mere lump of lifeless and in- 
 animate clay, unconscious of the ceremony or lamen- 
 tation which was now passing around him. 
 
 At length the mourners being all. assembled at the 
 Cottage on the Cliff at an early hour, by order of the 
 Marquis of IMontault, who received them all at the en- 
 trance, with that urbanity of manners and good breed- 
 ing which always distinguishes the true born EngHsh 
 nobleman, and of which he never divests himself, even 
 to the most lowly or humble born, who are not truly 
 vulgar or illiterate. And the moment that he beheld 
 Peter Blust, with his son-in-law, and the two youths, 
 Alfred and Wolf, he extended his hand towards them, 
 and invited them into the parlour, where all the fune- 
 ral party were assembled, among whom was Dr. Les- 
 sington, who arose on the entrance of the fisher and 
 his two adopted sons. 
 
 " My dear Blust," cried the worthy doctor, " though 
 we meet here on at solemn occasion, yet I am happy to 
 see you.'* 
 
 But the feelings of poor Peter were wholly over- 
 come, and he no sooner glanced at the full-length 
 picture of Captain Singleton which was suspended 
 over the mantle piece, than he burst into a flood of 
 tears, and sobbed audibly. The remembrance of for-
 
 103 THE FISHER*S DAUGHTER, 
 
 nier scenes was renewed, and bis ill-fated daughter 
 Olive arose to his recollection with many a heart-felt 
 pang. 
 
 *' Excuse rae, gentlemen," uttered he, addressing 
 the numerous company that was there assembled, 
 some of whom very deeply sympathized in the feel- 
 ings of the h(5nest fisher; " I don*t mean to come 
 here to make a fool of myself, or to make a fool of 
 any body else ; but look on these two boys, they were 
 shipwrecked on this very coast, on the night that I 
 thought the Captain had also lost his life in the rough 
 temi:)est. I took them, poor rogues, because they had 
 nobody else to be a father to them ; but that was not 
 the worst of it. There was another that wanted a fa- 
 Jher too, it was Agatha Singleton ; and I came to this 
 cottage, and found the dear girl weeping over the loss 
 of that worthy man there, hanging over the fire place. 
 Gentlemen, I did what a father ought to do :" and 
 Peter sobbed audibly. 
 
 " There was no doubt of it, Mr. Blust, there was no 
 doubt of it," cried the whole party, at once moved by 
 the sensibility which the fisher so affectingly exhibited, 
 and perfectly convinced of the integrity of his princi- 
 ples towards the then supposed unfortunate daughter 
 of Captain Singleton. 
 
 '^ Pray compose yourself," cried Dr. Lessington, 
 and grasped the hand of Peter, with whom he pos- 
 sessed unbounded influence. *^ No one that knows 
 you can once doubt of your fidelity towards that wor- 
 thy man or his reputed daughter, to whom you have 
 discharged the duty of a father. But, njy dear Peter, 
 pray endeavour to moderate the excess of your feelings
 
 THB fisher's daughter. 103 
 
 here in the presence of strangers ; consider, my dear 
 fellow, how inconceivably distressing it must be to the 
 feelings of those noble personages who are met to per- 
 form the last melancholy duties to the remains of poor 
 Singleton, and pray collect yourself." 
 
 As this was uttered in a low voice to Peter Blust, it 
 appeared to have some weight upon his feelings, for 
 taking the arm of Dr. Lessington, he suffered him to 
 lead him into an adjoining apartment, where, having 
 swallowed a glass of brandy, he became more tranquil, 
 and faithfully promised that he would not speak ano- 
 ther sentence during the whole of the solemn cere- 
 mony. 
 
 " But I can't go into that room again where the Cap- 
 tain is hanging over the fire place, if you were to make 
 a lord of me," uttered Peter, " for there I used to see 
 Agatha sitting with her father, and looking like an 
 angel. I say, Lessington, I don't know whether she 
 looks like an angel now she is married to a great 
 lord 5 but shiver my topsails, if lords have the power 
 of making people turn their backs on old friends, why 
 the devil may take such lords for Peter Blust, say I." 
 
 " Well, but dear Peter," rejoined the worthy doctor, 
 determined to bring him into some sort of order before 
 his presence was required at the awful ceremony which 
 was about to take place, "you are not to consider what 
 was the state of affairs with Miss Singleton when you 
 protected her as the daughter of Captain Singleton, 
 you are to consider, my dear fellow, what she is now, 
 and must assuredly pay respect to those personages so 
 nearly contiected to her by the ties of nature, her fa- 
 Cher and hei* bui^bmid j tbe former, hia Grace the Duke
 
 104 TiiK fisher's daughter. 
 
 of Braganza ; the latter, the son of the most noble 
 Marquis of Montault, Lord Montague Montault ; and 
 though I will own that the elevation of your lovely 
 foster child was as sudden as unexpected, yet to her, 
 perhaps, it has been productive of innumerable sor- 
 rows. Look at her sufferings in the old abbey, and at 
 the torturing suspense in which she was then kept, till 
 the elucidation of all the mysteries of her birth were 
 fairly revealed to her^ and then not by him she most 
 loved and venerated, and most respected, and hailed 
 in the sacred character of father. But these mysteries 
 were revealed to her in the character of him she most 
 abhorred, and whom she considered in the light of 
 a robber, and the purloiner of her property, till he 
 himself had confessed that he was not so ; and as Paulo 
 Michello addressed her, revealing to her the secrets of 
 her birth, and unexampled treachery of her grand- 
 mother (the Duchess of Braganza) towards her, it was 
 not likely that the mind of Lady Agatha should be in 
 that state of composure when she left the old Abbey, 
 as to forget the former scenes she had encountered 
 there, and therefore the greatest excuses might be 
 formed for any apparent neglect which might hereafter 
 appear in her conduct, as the daughter of the Duke of 
 Braganza, and so shortly becoming afterwards the wife 
 of Lord Montague Montault. Dear Peter, consider all 
 these things, and have some compassion towards the 
 feelings of those who, summoned on this awful occa- 
 sion, wish to pay the last duties to the remains of Cap- 
 tain Singleton." 
 
 This exhortation of the worthy doctor seemed to 
 have due weight on the mind of the fisher Blust, and
 
 THE fisher's daughter. 105 
 
 he preserved the utmost decorum while the awful 
 ceremony was preparing before the door of the Cot- 
 tage on the Cliff. 
 
 The hearse which was to convey the beloved body 
 to the place of interment, being drawn up to the door. 
 Lady Montault had passionately expressed a wish to 
 her husband to see the corpse of her beloved foster 
 father before he was consigned to his last peaceful 
 home, and Lord Montague had communicated this 
 vt'ish of his adored wife to his father, who exclaimed — 
 
 " If she wishes it, why should you deny it to her. 
 It is very natural 3 and though it is a dreadful sight 
 for her to witness in her present situation, yet the 
 consequences may be worse if you refuse her solicita- 
 tion ; let Agatha therefore be brought early in the 
 carriage, before the funeral party have assembled here, 
 but let her not remain a moment beneath this roof 
 after her wishes are complied with.'* 
 
 Accordingly Lady Montault arrived, and, weak as 
 her indisposition had already rendered her, appeared 
 collected and firm, when the Marquis conducted her 
 to the apartment which contained the remains of Cap- 
 tain Singleton. 
 
 " Remove the lid of the coffin that I may behold 
 hi>» face," uttered her ladyship, in a commanding tone 
 to Marguritte, who feared that the sight of the corpse 
 would, in her ladyship's delicate state, operate too 
 powerfully on her feelings ; but in this idea, not only 
 Marguritte, but every one else were mistaken^ for Aga- 
 tha advancing slowly towards the bier, impressed a 
 fervent kiss upon the clay cold cheekj and falling on 
 ber knees at the foot of the coffin, murmured a prayer, 
 
 b5 o
 
 10$ THE fisher's daughter. 
 
 the words of which reached no mortal ear. Then 
 iuii]ing to her husband and the Marquis, who had 
 conducted her hither, told them that she was now 
 ready to depart again. 
 
 She was instantly conveyed to her carriage; her 
 companion on this melancholy occasion having only 
 been Beda, whose sobs as they quitted the Cottage on 
 the Cliff were audibly heard. 
 
 '' Now then let us not lose a moment," cried the 
 Marquis ; *^ all is ready. Let the body be immedi- 
 ately conveyed to the hearse ;" and the mournful cere- 
 mony immediately commenced. 
 
 Thousands of spectators had assembled at the doors 
 of the Cottage on the Cliff, and they were the poor and 
 the unfortunate who had been relieved by the bounty 
 of Captain Singleton ; and the Marquis could not de- 
 prive them of this last earthly gratification, (if such it 
 qould be called,) in witnessing the last ceremony per- 
 formed over the remains of their benefactor. 
 
 " Let them remain,'* cried the Marquis, *^ but let 
 them preserve order :" and the coffin being deposited 
 in the hearse, richly caparisoned with plumes of fea- 
 thers, the mourning coaches, which were five in num- 
 ber, drew up, and received the mourners. The two 
 youths Alfred and Wolf, with handkerchiefs to their 
 eyes, exhibiting by their heart-felt grief and loveliness 
 of youth, a most interesting figure in the funeral pro- 
 cession. 
 
 At length they moved slowly and cautiously down 
 the cliff, the whole of the funeral cavalcade; and when 
 they reached the entrance of the town of Cromer, all 
 windows were up, and the church-yard filled up with
 
 THE FISHER*S DAUGHTER. 107 
 
 iimumerable spectators to witness the awful ceremony. 
 At a little distance only was the grave of the unfortunate 
 Olive Blust ; the fisher's eye caught the spot and the 
 name of his beloved child ; and when the funeral service 
 was performing, and the body of Captain Singleton 
 being committed to the earth, nature operated too 
 powerfully on the feelings of an agonized father; he 
 sobbed aloud, and unable to support himself, sunk 
 'nto the outstretched arms of Dr. Lessington, who 
 mmediately conducted him from a scene so replete 
 with oainful retrospection to his anguished feelings. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 ** Oh ! my young master, your graces 
 
 Serve you but as your enemies j 
 
 They are sanctified and holy traitors to you. 
 
 Oh ! what a base world is this. 
 
 When what is lovely 
 
 Envenoms bim that bears it." Shakespeare. 
 
 Dr. Lessington endeavoured by every consoling 
 means in his power, to lessen the severe shock which 
 the feelings of Mr. Blust had sustained at sight of the 
 mouldering heap of dust which contained all that now 
 was visible of the remains of his lovely and unfortu-
 
 103 THE FISHER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 iiate cniia. It was not far removed from that to which 
 Captain Singleton was consigned as his last peaceful 
 home; and the inscription of" Sacred to the Memory 
 of Olive Blust/' very soon became perceptible to the 
 eyes of an agonized father, in whose feelings, compunc- 
 tion as well as affection had alternately predominated ; 
 and it was not till the mournful procession slowly de- 
 parted from the place of burial, that the fisher had 
 perfectly recovered his composure, so as to be able to 
 join the funeral guests which had again assembled at 
 the Cottage on the Cliff, where, after partaking of some 
 slight refreshment, they took their departure to their 
 respective habitations. The Duke of Braganza, and 
 the Marquis of Montault, had been particularly affect- 
 ed at the situation of Mr. Blust, and the unsophisti- 
 cated feeling and sensibility he had betrayed; while the 
 conduct of the two youths, Alfred and Wolf, towards 
 their protector, had excited universal praise and sym- 
 pathy; and before the Duke took his leave on this 
 mournful occasion, he shook hands with each of them, 
 intimating to Mr. Blust, that he felt interested in the 
 welfare of his adopted sons so greatly, that it was his 
 wish to afford them every assistance in his power, in 
 whatsoever profession of life they were going to pur- 
 sue ; and he made the enquii-y with seeming anxiety 
 of Dr. Lessington, if he knew what arrangements Mr. 
 Blust had made for the future establishment of the 
 shipwrecked boys. 
 
 ^* As certainly he does not mean that now they are 
 
 ripening into maturity,'* nttered his Grace, " that they 
 
 should pass their lives in a state of inactivity. They 
 
 • now of an age to do something for themselves.
 
 THE fisher's daughter. 109 
 
 without being a burden on the worthy man, who has 
 so generously discharged his duty towards them.'* To 
 which Dr. Lessington replied — 
 
 " I am not fully acquainted, your Grace, with Mr. 
 Blust's intentions respecting the youths, but I have 
 heard him declare what were the inclinations of the 
 boys themselves. Wolf, who is the most spirited, 
 and by far the most animated of the two, has disco- 
 vered a strong propensity in his disposition to embrace 
 a military profession. The other, Alfred, of softer ha- 
 bits, and a more grave and sedentary turn of mind, is 
 disposed for the church." 
 
 *' I am happy to hear it,*' returned his Grace ; " for 
 it strikes me forcibly that I can serve both their turns 
 without injuring the interests of either. I will speak 
 to Mr. Rhist at a more seasonable opportunity, and 
 will instantly commence my operations with the two 
 boys, the elder of whom I think the finest looking 
 youth that I ever beheld ; if I mistake not, he it was 
 who was the companion of my daughter in the ruins 
 of the old abbey, when the hand of treachery stole her 
 from the protecting roof of fisher Biust." 
 
 " Yes, your Grace," replied Dr. Lessington, *^ it was 
 indeed the young Wolf that accompanied the innocent 
 lamb to the unnatural sacrifice they were about to pre- 
 pare for her, and who remained with her through all 
 the perils of her adventurous fate when she was be- 
 trayed into the power of the pirates ; and I believe that 
 the Lady Agatha on this account feels greatly inter- 
 ested in the fortunes of the youth." 
 
 The Duke Braganza, after a thoughtful pause, ex- 
 claimed, as if endeavouring to recollect many circum-
 
 110 THB FISHERS DAUGHTER. 
 
 stances that might be associated with his present 
 thoughts and wishes — 
 
 "You are right in that conclusion. Sir; I have heard 
 my daughter often speak of the intrepid courage and 
 noble disposition of this brave boy on the evening she 
 was spirited away by the ruffians on the Cliff, and wish 
 that his fortunes were provided for. I now more per- 
 fectly remember all that my Agatha said to me on that 
 subject soon after her marriage with Montague Mon- 
 tault, and it shall be ordered so. Wolf shall be pro- 
 vided for, and so shall Alfred. We are ail brought up 
 with a view of entering the busy world, and it matters 
 not whether we acquire fame as scholars, churchmen, 
 or soldiers, provided that fame be purchased with ho- 
 nor, and gained by industry and integrity; whether in 
 foreign climes it is so obtained, or decked with honors in 
 the high courts of European palaces, the influence on 
 the aspiring imagination of youth is still the same, and 
 the excitement lasts for ever." 
 
 *' Your Grace's observation is most certainly true," 
 rejoined the doctor ; " and I predict from what I have 
 seen in the youth Wolf, that he is not only qualified to 
 take an active part in life, but is most materially form- 
 ed to make a shining character therein." 
 
 " I will then soon put him to the test, to prove the 
 qualities you speak of so highly," cried his Grace, 
 " and beg you will intimate to the fisher Blust my in- 
 tention to serve his adopted sons, by making use of all 
 my interest for the accomplishment of their wishes. 
 He may, if he pleases, call at Montault Castle so early 
 as to-morrow, when we will confer on this subject 
 more fully. I will then examine the boys as to what
 
 THE fisher's daughter. Ill 
 
 have been their respective branches of education, and 
 if 1 find them qualified for the professions they have 
 made choice of, will immediately interest myself to 
 procure them situations adequate to their merits." 
 
 Tiie Duke now ascended the steps of his carriage, 
 and the doctor bowing with the most profound respect, 
 rt immediately drove from the Cottage on the Cliflf, 
 followed by that of the Marquis of Montaultj after 
 which the funeral guests slouMy departed, and the 
 fisher still absorbed by melancholy reflections, was at 
 length prevailed on, by the united entreaties of his son- 
 in-law, Mr. Russcl, and the worthy Dr. Lessington, to 
 pass the remainder of the day with his daughter Jessy, 
 whose presence alone was likely to remove the cloud 
 of sorrow which still hung heavily on his furrowed 
 cheek; and of course i\Ir. Russcl most cordially in- 
 vited Dr. Lessington to join his father-in-law on this 
 occasion. 
 
 " Will you do us that favour, Doctor ?" exclaimed 
 bonest Sam. '^ I am a man of no compliment, but I 
 shall be proud of your company, and my Jessy will be 
 happy to see you." To which the doctor jocosely re- 
 plied — 
 
 " I know she will, my good fellow, and that is the 
 very reason why I accept of your invitation." 
 
 There is an ingenuous and spontaneous feeling in 
 undisguised friendship and hospitality, that requires 
 uo ceremony or outward form ; in short, it will not 
 admit of either when it is really of the genuine kind, 
 for kindred hearts very soon discover each other, and 
 establish a reciprocal regard that does not change ; and 
 which neither sails down with the stream of fashion.
 
 112 THK fisher's daughter. 
 
 or alters its steady course when the gales of adversity 
 are keenly blowing around the unsheltered head of the 
 unfortunate; and the youths Alfred and Wolf, knew 
 that they needed no invitation from the fisher Blust to 
 accompany him to the house of Mr. Russel, where they 
 always met with the most cordial reception from the 
 kind and affectionate Jessy, and where they were never 
 treated with a warmer welcome than the day they had 
 followed the remains of the lamented Captain Single- 
 ton to his last peaceful abode. 
 
 But it was not till Jessy had bestowed the fondest 
 caresses on her beloved father, that he appeared to re- 
 cover his usual temperature of disposition; but when he 
 had partaken abundantly of his favourite beverage, 
 with a plentiful supply of pipes and tobacco, he began 
 to converse with his accustomed jocularity of humour, 
 and shiver his topsails ; for it must be observed, that 
 however offensive to the ears of delicacy or refinement 
 a seaman's phraseology may be, that " shiver my 
 topsails" was as natural to Peter Blust, as that which 
 often proceeds from more polished lips or wiser heads, 
 and certainly more crafty hearts ; and that it was much 
 better for Peter to make use of the language of a sea- 
 man, than to utter oaths or imprecations of a blasphe- 
 mous nature, which even the votaries of fashion so 
 improperly use and make choice of in preference to 
 any other. 
 
 We are sorry therefore we cannot teach our Peter 
 better manners, though we are certain that we cannot 
 give him a better heart, being well persuaded that he 
 will continue to shiver his topsails in despite of the 
 utmost arguments that can be adduced, to say that so
 
 THB FISHER f DAUGHTEll. 118 
 
 constant a repetition of a seaman's phrase is offensive 
 to the delicacy of a lady's ear; but, admitting it to be 
 so, what can be done with so perverse a creature as 
 fisher Blust ? We might as well bid the ocean cease 
 to flow, or the winds to blow in obedience to our com- 
 mands ; in fact it was his natural element, and he could 
 not live out of it, any more than fi^h out of the bosom 
 of the waves. But to proceed. 
 
 When Peter had began to wax a little mellow from 
 the effects of the excellent dinner his Jessy had set 
 before him, and two or three supplies of some strong 
 grog, or in other words, cold brandy and water made 
 into punch, which Mrs. Russel knew vvell how to ac- 
 commodate to the taste of her father, he evinced his 
 usual signs of jocularity, making the doctor and his son- 
 in-law laugh heartily at some of his whimsical jokes, 
 which, to say the truth, were none of them very re- 
 markable for delicacy or refinement ; but as Jessy was 
 not present, and his adopted sons had also retired with 
 her to take a walk in the garden before tea, they were 
 admissible, though the doctor had often occasion to re- 
 mind him, " that the glass was beginning to circulate 
 somewhat too freely, and that a headache on the fol- 
 lowing morning, from its potent influence, might be a 
 disagreeable companion. "Besides, friend Blust," added 
 the doctor, with great good humour, and gently push- 
 ing the bottle to the opposite side of the table to that 
 on which the fisher was sitting, " you will have some 
 business to transact to-morrow at the Castle of Mon- 
 tault, with no less a personage than his Grace the Duke 
 of Braganza." 
 
 At which Peter, taking the pipe from his mouih, and 
 c5 p
 
 1 14 THE PrSRfiR S DAUGHTMft. 
 
 giving the doctor a sagacious and significant nod, vocU 
 ferated in no very gentle accent — 
 
 " The devil I shall I Who told you so, friend Les- 
 sington ?" 
 
 " His Grace was himself my informant/* uttered the 
 doctor." 
 
 " Well, so he may be," cried Peter; " I can't say 
 any thing as tp the matter of that, but shiver my top- 
 sails if he has not told you the most confounded lie 
 that ever a man did in all his born days; and Duke or 
 no Duke, I would tell him so as soon as look at him. 
 Go to the Castle after they have turned my Jessy away 
 from it ; no, curse me if ever they catch me there again. 
 I say doctor, do you take me for a nincumpoop ?" 
 
 To which the doctor, who found he would have some 
 difficulty in removing the prejudice he had formerly 
 conceived against those who had offered the slightest 
 disrespect to his daughter, very coolly replied — 
 
 *' No, but I take you for a man, Peter, who when 
 good fortune throws something in his way, would in- 
 deed he a nincompoop if ever he slighted her favours. 
 The goddess is so fickle minded, that she is not every 
 day to be found in a good hu-mour, to be plain with 
 you." The doctor paused and mended his draught, or 
 rather replenished his glass with some more punch ; 
 and the fisher, who had not patience for one of the 
 cardinal virtues in his disposition, loudly vociferated— 
 
 ^^ Plain — well doctor, that's what 1 like, plain sail- 
 ing and plain speaking is my way, and I wish you to 
 speak plain enough for me to understand you. What 
 do you mean by saying that I am to go to-morrow to 
 the Castle of Montault ? What to do ? for curse me
 
 THK fisher's daughter. 115 
 
 if I would not run a hundred miles from it. 1 don't 
 like any such fine gentry that don't know what it 
 is to remember ' the bridge that carried them safe 
 over ;' that's the point of the compass you know friend 
 Lessington, and shiver my topsails if I don't stick to it 
 till I am a sheer hulk, and gone aloft. What do you 
 want me to go to the Castle for ? J should be glad to 
 know. " 
 
 *' I will answer that question when you have resolved 
 mine," cried the doctor. " You wish to provide for 
 the two boys you have so kindly taken under your 
 protection, do not you?'' To which Peter, out of all 
 patience with the doctor, exclaimed — 
 
 *' Why who the devil doubts it ? Shiver my topsails, 
 beant I going to make one a parson and the other a 
 soldier, as soon as ever I can find a birth for them ?" 
 
 " True, friend Peter," cried the doctor, smiling at 
 his impetuosity; " there is no one doubting of your 
 kind intentions towards them. The man who performs 
 a generous action without interest or reward, can never 
 be suspected of want of integrity and the purest prin- 
 ciples of Christianity towards his fellow creatures. 1 
 must now, however, come to the point in question, 
 without further discussion on the subject." At which 
 Peter, again interrupting the doctor, reiterated — 
 
 " Do if you please doctor, come to the point di- 
 rectly, for curse me if you have not been tacking about 
 this half hour, and nobody can tell what port you are 
 steering for." 
 
 ^* A moment's patience," uttered the doctor calmly, 
 *' and 1 will endeavour to explain myself to your satis- 
 faetion. The Duke Braganza was highly pleased this
 
 116 THE fisher's daughter. 
 
 morning with the conduct as well as the appearance of 
 the two boys, Alfred and Wolf." 
 
 " And who the devil cares whether he was pleased 
 or not," answered Peter. " What has the Duke to do 
 with my boys ?" 
 
 " But you have no objection to his Grace having 
 something to do with them, if by any influence he pos- 
 sesses he can forward their interest, and aid your kind 
 intentions in setting them forward in life/' uttered the 
 doctor. 
 
 Instantly the storm which was gathering fast on the 
 brow of the fisher dispersed, and a smile like a sun- 
 beam irradiated his whole countenance, while he ex- 
 claimed — 
 
 ^' What did the Duke say he would speak up for the 
 poor lads ? Did he though, doctor ?" 
 
 " He not only said it," replied Dr. Lessington, " but 
 I am certain he intends to offer them every assistance 
 in his power. I informed his Grace of the choice they 
 have each of them made, and his reply was, ' I must 
 have some conversation with Mr. Blust on the subject; 
 tell him to come to the Castle, and enquire for me to- 
 morrow morning.' " 
 
 Peter was not only abashed, but was silent; even his 
 pipe had forgot its office, and after a pause of some 
 length, he sighed deeply, murmured, but not distinctly, 
 the name of Agatha Singleton, and exclaimed — 
 
 " Well, that was kind of the Duke; shiver my top- 
 sails, every man \vh(i stretches forth his hand to help a 
 fatherless child through the rough waves, and brings 
 him into safe moorings, has a heart about him, let him 
 be Duke or no Duke. God bless him. I say he shell
 
 THB fisher's daughter. 117 
 
 have the prayers of Peter Blust as long as i can heave 
 the anchor apeak ; and though I don^t vastly like going 
 to the Castle, by reason of my lady turning up her nose 
 at n)y Jessy, yet for the sake of the poor boys, I won't 
 rip up old grievances, it would be wrong you know, 
 doctor." 
 
 ' Absurdly ^o, in my humble opinion/' uttered the 
 doctor. " King Charles's rules were excellent ones, 
 and no man should forget them when he is going to 
 aid the cause of the unfortunate. Forget and forgive, 
 friend Peter, should be the universal sentiment betwixt 
 man and man ; and I will say this of you, that no man 
 is apt to do this more than yourself." 
 
 " Yes, but I am a devilish long while before I can 
 argue the topic with myself though," cried Peter, again 
 resuming his pipe, and breaking out into his usual 
 strain of jocular humour, to the highest possible satis- 
 faction of the worthy doctor. " Come, shiver my top- 
 sails, here's to King Charles's rules for ever," added he 
 filling out a bumper. 
 
 This sentiment being drank most cordially, and a 
 summons to tea immediately following, they adjourned 
 to the apartment in which the lovely Jessy and her 
 young companions were sitting, after they had taken a 
 delightful walk over the plantations ; and where, during 
 the course of an uninterrupted conversation. Wolf 
 • ould not resist an enquiry of Jessy after the health 
 and the happiness of the Lady Agatha ; to which Jessy, 
 with a half suppressed sigh, and averted looks from the 
 anxious ardent ones of Wolf, replied — 
 
 " You ask me, dear Wolf, what 1 really do not 
 know."
 
 118 THB fisher's daughter. 
 
 " How !" uttered he, in the most profound astonish 
 ment, and his heart throbbing violently, ** not kno 
 how Lady Agatha is? Can it be possible Jessy, and 
 living so near her?" 
 
 " It is no less possible than true, I can assure you 
 Wolf," cried Jessy ; and sighing yet more deeply at 
 many tender recollections which were associated with 
 the idea of her beloved friend, she added with consi- 
 derable emotion, " I entreated you once before, when 
 you were talking of the Lady Agatha, to spare me any 
 questions relative to her, especially those which I find 
 it utterly impossible to resolve. I must now for the 
 Vist time Wolf repeat my earnest request, that you 
 i«ik me no more questions concerning the Lady Aga- 
 Hia. f see her not, nor yet do I correspond with her, 
 now then should I know the state of her health or her 
 circumstances, unless 1 possessed the art of divina- 
 tion?" 
 
 *' 1 have not heard you speak so coldly of the friend 
 your heart once so dearly loved Jessy," uttered Wolf, 
 both pained and mortified. " Never till this moment 
 have your lips pronounced the name of Agatha with 
 apathy. Has she then fallen from the esteem of her 
 beloved Jessy? no, I will not admit the unhallowed 
 thought ; she could not fall from your esteem, or that 
 of mortals, she was too pure and faultless a being; she 
 was angelic, as much in her mind as in her lovely per- 
 son ; she may have offended Jessy, but she could never 
 Bink in her opinion, that I am confident j yet — ytt-^I 
 long to know" — 
 
 Wolf had unconsciously taken the hand of Jessy, 
 who had linked her arm in his as they ascended, a little
 
 THE FISHER^ DAUGHTER, 119 
 
 green mount, around which she had planted a variety 
 of flowers of the most choice collection, and he trem- 
 bled so excessively during this conversation concerning 
 the Lady Agatha, that she almost repented having ut- 
 tered so decidedly her opinion on the subject ; soften- 
 ing her voice therefore as much as possible from the 
 tone of asperity it had assumed, she exclaimed — 
 
 '' Dear Wolf, how deeply I regret that you compel 
 me to adopt a style so foreign to my heart, as that of 
 severity towards you, but indeed, indeed, 1 must not 
 suffer you to cherish in your breast a passion that will 
 destroy its repose. Hopeless, utterly hopeless — crimi- 
 nal too; yes Woif, it is criminal now for you to pro- 
 fess an attachment for the Lady Agatha more than 
 grati?;ade or friendship warrants ; she is now a wife. 
 Wolf, and will shortly be a mother ; her husband, Lord 
 Montague Montault, has an infirmity of disposition, 
 the most unhappy for himself, and most unfortunate 
 for bis lovely wife. Vou are no stranger to that infir* 
 mity, for I have told you of it; it is jealousy, that hated^ 
 that dreaded, that implacable and relentless enemy t^ 
 all domestic joys, and the very grave, it may be term* 
 ed, as surely as it is the end of all connubial peace and 
 happiness.*' 
 
 " Jealousy, where no cause can be assigned for its 
 impression, is madness, infatuation, and folly's ex- 
 tremest point," uttered Wolf; *"' or rather the scorpion 
 of the mind, whose venomous sting having once been 
 instilled into it, poisons it for ever." 
 
 " It is too fatal and incontestible a truth," answered 
 Jessy, " for the happinesa of my poor Agatha j but let
 
 120 riijK MSHRIIS jDAUCiHTB 
 
 as now drop the subject, and you endeavour to think 
 no more of it, and to remember Lady Agatha only in 
 the character of the wife of Lord Montague Montault, 
 not as the reputed daughter of Captain Singleton/* 
 
 Wolf sighed deeply, and pressing the hand of Jessy, 
 promised that he would fulfil her request, although he 
 acknowledged that the task would be attended with 
 immeasurable difficulty. 
 
 "Then there is a greater triumph in overcoming it," 
 cried Jessy ; " but hush, here comes my father and 
 Dr. Lessington towards us ; my husband too, and Al- 
 fred following. I sent him with a summons to bring 
 them all to tea, which is now ready in the blue par- 
 lour." 
 
 And immediately the fisher came within hail of Jessy, 
 as he termed it, he vociferated — 
 
 " Come Jess, give us some catlap,* (this was the ele- 
 gant term which Peter always applied to the tea table,) 
 " and let me be jogging home with the boys, before I 
 get a little top heavy, for you must know that I v/ant 
 to argufy the topic with them a bit about my going to- 
 morrow morning to the Castle to speak to the Duke, 
 as he is so kind as to say he'll do something for the 
 lads, to set them a going in the world. I shan*t say 
 nothing more about my lady, though, shiver my top- 
 sails, it will be a hard matter to make me forget her 
 turning up her ladyship's nose at my Jessy; but v/e 
 must forgive old grievances.** 
 
 "And bury animosities father,*' observed Jessy, with 
 her usual sweetness. '^ i could forgive my enemies, 
 had their actions been ever so unkind; and surely we
 
 THE FISHKr's DAUGHTKR. ]'2| 
 
 would not shew less lenity towards those we call our 
 friends. And so the Duke is really interested for AU 
 fred and Wolf? How I rejoice to hear it!" 
 
 ^ " And how somebody else will rejoice to hear it, 
 though it may not be quite so satisfactory to the feel- 
 ings of the rest of the noble family," cried Sam Rus- 
 scl, winking very significantly to his father-in-law, 
 who immediately joined him in a hearty laugh, which 
 the fisher, whether it was seasonable or not season- 
 able, always indulged himself with whenever occasion 
 called it forth ; at the same time, (and having now 
 seated himself without further ceremony next to Jessy 
 at the tea-table in the blue room, to which they had all 
 adjourned,) exclaiming in his usual' high key-^ 
 
 " Yes, my lady won't turn up her nose for nothing 
 now, will she Sam ? Shiver my topsails, what will my 
 lady say when she sees Alfred in a parson's gown, and 
 Wolf with a red coat on his back." 
 
 '^ f don't know what my lady will say," cried Dr. 
 Lessington, " but I know that I shall say, God bless 
 the Duke, with every vein in my heart; nor have I th^ 
 smallest doubt, but that one day he will be the leading 
 »tar of the boy's fortunes," And so it proved — the 
 doctor had predicted rightly : for the ensuing morning 
 the fisher at an early hour went mounted on his fa- 
 vourite Rosinante to the Castle of Montault, where, 
 sending in his name, he was very quickly ushered into 
 the presence of his Grace the Duke of Braganza, who 
 had given previous instructions to his attendants to 
 admit Mr. Blust the very instant that he should an« 
 nounce bis name ; and so he was, when a conversation 
 immediately commenced, somewhat rather awkwardly 
 
 a 6 Q
 
 J22 THB fishbr's daughter. 
 
 on the part of Peter, respecting the establishment of 
 his adopted sons. 
 
 " I have interest both for the army and the church, 
 Mr. Blust/' uttered the Duke, " and will use my en- 
 deavours to forward it as soon as possible in favour of 
 your two adopted sons, whom I must confer with pri- 
 vately if you please. Have you brought them with 
 you ?" 
 
 To which Peter replied, after being seated, and tak- 
 ing a glass of wine at the pressing invitation of his 
 Grace, though he would much sooner have preferred 
 brandy— 
 
 " No, my Lord, I did not choose to take that liberty. 
 I brought them no farther than the brow of the hill, 
 where I left them at the sign of the Trumpeter, in the 
 care of one Shelty Macawenson, who has kept that 
 sign for these ten years, seeing that he had the good 
 fortune to marry the landlord's daughter who kept the 
 house before him ; but the old boy popt off the hooks, 
 and Shelty popt into his place, because he happened 
 to please the fancy of Miss Dolly Macshiners, who was 
 a bit of an old maid, and had lost her market when 
 Shelty married ; but shiver my topsails if I think she 
 was any maid at all. No matter, it was not for Shelty 
 to slight a good offer; so he bundled into matrimony 
 before one could say Jack Robinson, and has kept the 
 sign of the Trumpeter ever since : and there*s where I 
 left the lads, till I made bold to come and speak to 
 your honor, by your honor's commands to one Dr. 
 Lessington, a worthy man, your honor, as ever broke 
 the bread of life. He has had many bright shiners of 
 me, and I never grudged to pay the doctor his bills.
 
 THK fisher's paughter. 23 
 
 because I know that he did not want to fleece me; so 
 says I, Doctor^ if ever you want a guinea, don't be 
 ashamed of asking Peter Blust to lend you one; and I 
 never say that to any man your honor, that I don't 
 think has principle and honesty enough to return again 
 whenever he has an opportunity." 
 
 " And there I applaud your discrimination," uttered 
 the Duke, highly delighted with the unsophisticated 
 manner of Peter. " A man is a fool to render assist- 
 ance to the unworthy and the profligate, who only 
 laugh at him for his credulity, and he loses his money 
 in the bargain : but come, Mr. Blust, let us to the bu- 
 siness which brought you here. The elder of the 
 youths whom you have adopted appears to be pos- 
 sessed of requisites well suited to the profession he 
 has made choice of; a bold, enterprising, and intrepid 
 spirit, with courage to defend his rights, and those also 
 of his sovereign and his country, with modesty to con- 
 ceal his qualifications, which do but the more conspi- 
 cuously make them shine forth, and with redoubled 
 lustre, well suited to the soldier of war and fortune ; and 
 such I am of opinion your young Wolf appears to be to 
 all intents and purposes. He will never be one of your 
 feather-bed soldiers, and therefore I promise in a very 
 short time to give him the appointment of a cadet in 
 the East India service, without the least trouble or in- 
 convenience to you Mr. Blust, since on that occasion I 
 will furnish the young adventurer with all that may be 
 necessary for his expedition, and give him necessary 
 instructions besides, that when he is promoted, which is 
 not unlikely to be the case, he may know how to conduct 
 himself with propriety, which should always distinguish
 
 124 THE FISHER*S DAUGHTER. 
 
 the UittCiJers of a British officer, a brave soldier, an 
 honourable man, and a humane Christian. Now as to 
 the younger youth, whose name I think is Alfred ?'* 
 
 " Yes, your Grace," answered Peter, '' a comely lad, 
 and as quiet as a church mouse; and that mayhap may 
 be one reason why he do like to become o^je of the 
 fraternity." 
 
 The Duke smiled, but made no comment on Peter's 
 broad, and by no means very delicate, observation | ajt 
 length, after a pause, his Grace exclaimed — 
 
 '^ Well, if his disposition and his habits a,re so retir- 
 ed and so peaceable, I do not see that he can make 
 choice of a profession so likely to conduce to his h^- 
 piness and his comforts, for the church affords many 
 that all men do not enjoy in the busier scenes of life. 
 ]t is, however, one that if not supported with dignity, 
 had better not be supported at all; for the slightest 
 deviation of propriety in its holy calling, will be re- 
 membered with severity, pointed at with the finger of 
 scorn, and marked with the most indelible disgrace 
 and infamy. It is a bright station, but the least cloud 
 passing over it will dim its lustre and sully its purity. 
 It is not confident abilities, or a brillaiicy of genius 
 that will support it, without the aid of other requisites 
 to establish its order amongst men. Genius that would 
 help the poet, the artist, or the musician, would here be 
 of small avail, were not the moral virtues of the charac- 
 ter strictly maintained, and its rectitude faithfully pre- 
 served. A preacher of the holy gospel must have no 
 adventitious aid to set him off, he must shine from his 
 own light, and must not attempt to borrow it fronj 
 others. Precept will not alone do in the pulpit, there.
 
 THB BSHBR's daughter. 125 
 
 must be ^ex^mple as well, or the sacred calling of the 
 preacher will be little attended to, much less will he 
 be respected by his parishioners; when once he has 
 failed in his own duties, he must not attempt to teach 
 them to others/* 
 
 ** No, certainly not, your honor," vociferated Peter, 
 to whom the former part of his Grace's speech was the 
 same as if he had been talking Algebra to him ; '* its of 
 no use whatever for a parson to put on a black gown 
 and a thingumbob under his chin, when he's only a 
 wolf in a sheep's clothing, and telling us that we shall 
 all go to the devil, if we don't mind what he says to 
 us, when he is shewing us the way to the black looking 
 gentleman himself all the while." 
 
 " Your remark is just," answered the Duke, " hut 
 ■we will suppose that of this description of admonishers 
 the proportion is very small, and that young Alfred 
 will never add to the number. He is apparently a 
 iyoung man of mild and gentle temperature of disposi* 
 tion, with a pleasing deportment; he is therefore very 
 properly suited for the situation, which it is possible 
 that he may one day eminently adorn, and which does 
 not require that spirit of hardihood that Wolf so forci- 
 bly displays, and so strikingly exhibits in all his ac- 
 tions. It will be necessary however for Alfred to go 
 to a college, preparatory to the study of professional 
 duties. I will undertake to place him in one of emi- 
 nciioe, without your incurring any additional expense, 
 and thus pave the way to future fortune and to future 
 feme. Send for the youths, and I will have some con- 
 versation with them on the subject of the different
 
 126 THB fishbr's daughtbr, 
 
 professions they have made choice of; in the mean 
 time Mr. Blust, I beg you will take more substantial 
 refreshment than merely a glass of wine and a biscuit. 
 I breakfast late — you dine early — custom and habit is 
 second nature. Suppose then Mr. Blust you step into 
 the adjoining apartment, and some of our good folks 
 will spread before you some refreshment of which yon 
 would choose to partake before you go to the said 
 Trumpeter for your adopted sons?" 
 
 This proposal was accepted with great satisfaction 
 on the part of Peter, who having arisen at an unusually 
 early hour that morning in order to be in time for his 
 Grace, began to feel the cravings of an appetite which 
 had never been satiated with luxurious meals, and there- 
 fore he was always ready to enjoy them ; and though 
 he might have gone to dine at Shelty*s with no coarse 
 or ordinary fare placed before him, yet somehow or 
 other he preferred accepting of the Duke's cordial in- 
 vitation at the Castle, convinced that on this occasion 
 he would be treated with every mark of respect and 
 civility by those very domestics who had before treated 
 him so contemptuously. But they dared not now act 
 contrary to the commands of their illustrious lord ; and 
 Peter, who longed to be revenged of their former rude- 
 ness towards him, accepted of his Grace's invitation, 
 not more out of triumph, than the hope of being able 
 to retaliate, by shewing them of how much consequence 
 he was now considered in the estimation of their lord, 
 and he exclaimed — 
 
 " Why, 1 thank your honor, I believe I could take 
 a morsel of something if it was just ready ; for being
 
 THE fisher's pAUGHTFR. 127 
 
 up. at sun-rise, together with the good smartish ride 
 the boys and 1 have bad over the clitfs, I can't say but 
 I find myself a little peekish." 
 
 The bell was immediately rung by his Grace, who in 
 an authoritative tone of voice when the domestic ap- 
 peared, desired " that Mr. Blust might instantly be con- 
 ducted into the banquet room and provided with re- 
 freshments; and inform the Marquis my brother that 
 I wish to speak with him in the library whenever he 
 has leisure to attend me there,*' added his Grace, on 
 which the attendant bowed, and opening the door of a 
 splendid and spacious saloon in which the family usu- 
 ally dined, conducted Mr. Blust to a smaller, but not 
 less splendid one adjoining it, where there was a table 
 and cloth spread, with four covers and napkins, for the 
 reception apparently of four persons ; and Peter hav- 
 ing taken a chair, began very coolly to fan his face with 
 liis imm.ense large old-fashioned hat, during the time 
 that the attendant was busying himself in arranging 
 the glasses, &c. on the side-board, where there was a 
 sumptuous display of plate, both in gold and silver, 
 rvith the ducal coronet and the arms of the Braganza 
 family engraved on it. 
 
 The very look of Peter, without the fanning of his 
 face with his hat, would have been sufficient to have 
 excited the risibility of the attendant, had he dared to 
 have indulged it at the expense of the fisher, whom he 
 had seen once before at the Castle, on the night that 
 the Marchioness had given so cool a reception to Jessy; 
 and the tremendous passion that Peter exhibited in 
 tonsequence of it, was a memorandum he had left be- 
 nind him, not easily to be effaced from their recollet-
 
 j'i8 THE mshhh's DAur.nrER 
 
 tion ; and on Peter's complaining^ of the excessive snU 
 triness of the weather, the attendant very courteously 
 replied — 
 
 " Vastly warm indeed Mr. Blust, quite a Bengal day 
 in England, but there's plenty of ways to keep one's 
 self cool ; for instance, there's cool air in the veranda, 
 where there's nothing but flowers of the most charm- 
 ing fragrance, and trees imported from all parts of the 
 world to sit under; then, Mr. Blust, there is another 
 convenience in this splendid mansion, plenty of cool 
 water, which, after dinner, we find very refreshing ; a 
 luxury, I assure you Mr. Blust, to us gentlemen ser- 
 vants who drink wine till we loath the very sight of it; 
 cool water is then, you know Mr. Blust, a very de- 
 sirable commodity." 
 
 Peter who had listened in the most profound asto- 
 nishment at the loquacity of the supercilious and cox- 
 comical fellow, and who probably had heard nothing, 
 hut that he drank wine until he loathed it ; and not 
 having once removed his eyes from the broad star€i 
 with which he surveyed him, now vociferated, with 
 very little regard to the fine feelings of his compa- 
 nion — 
 
 " Cool water ! shiver my topsails, if you was a ser- 
 vant of mine, gentleman or no gentleman, I'd let you 
 sfee whether you should take the liberty of drinking my 
 wine till you could not bear the sight of it, and then 
 want Water to giVe you a cooling. V6 cool you with a 
 vengeance if I had you at Herring Dale ; by gobes you 
 would not want cooling for a month to come after I' 
 had once given you a gObd decking head and ears in 
 my h^rrthg poilH; liHhk your master's wind till you
 
 THB fisher's daughter. 129 
 
 are sick of it I why, confound your impudence, I say, 
 there's many a man that toils day and night for a mor- 
 sel of bread, and who labours by the sweat of his 
 brow, that is thankful if he can smoke his pipe over a 
 glass of small beer, while such fellows as you are loll- 
 ing asleep in arm chairs, and getting drunk at the ex- 
 pense of your master's cellar, and making free with his 
 wine, to entertain your acquaintances with ; but I sup- 
 pose it be the fashion to serve fine folks in this roguish 
 way, but if it be, more shame for them that do give it 
 encouragement, that be all." 
 
 At this precise moment the personages who were to 
 dine in this room, and at this table, made their appear- 
 ance, and which consisted of three, Peter with the 
 housekeeper making the fifth ; and who, being ap- 
 prised of his having been ordered some refreshments 
 by commands of his Grace the Duke of Braganza, very 
 pertinaceously, as the dinner was brought in, invited 
 him to take a seat at the table, her companions being 
 merely the gentleman of the Marquis of Montault, and 
 the young lady, notwithstanding the costliness and ele- 
 gance of her attire, was only the waiting gentlewoman 
 of Lady Lavinia. The second gentleman who made one 
 of this dinner party was grey headed, and sat at the 
 head of the table, as seeming to have a higher autho- 
 rity than the rest; and his manners were certainly 
 much in his favour, for he seemed to know his capa- 
 city as well as his distance, even before such a man as 
 Peter Blust, who had penetration and sagacity enough 
 to discover that it would not do for servants, howevei 
 exalted or principal they may be in their department 
 or respective capacities, to assume the consequence 
 
 66 R
 
 130 THB fisher's daughter. 
 
 and the authority of their masters, who if they are 
 really men of rank, education, and feeling, will always 
 betray the most distinguishing and indisputable mark 
 of it, that of never permitting their domestics to insult 
 their inferiors, or treat with contempt the feelings of 
 the unfortunate. 
 
 No man will suffer this who is a gentleman of exalted 
 rank, refined education, or urbanity of disposition ; 
 if he does, he is unworthy of being styled such, and 
 twenty times more unworthy of the good gifts which 
 fortune has bestowed, for it is then evidently clear that 
 he does not know bow to make a proper use of them. 
 
 But to return to the dinner party : snug and com- 
 fortable enough, if the smiles of good humour had 
 been as excellently preserved as the luxury of appetite 
 nad been consulted on the occasion, for it certainly 
 consisted of a rich and elegant repast of no less than 
 two separate courses, and both wine and fruit crowned 
 the order of the table ; and it would have been a query 
 to know which had the best dinner this day at the 
 Castle of Montault,— the Duke, or his gentleman ; the 
 Lady, or the lady's gentlewoman. At all events the 
 dinner was excellent, and Peter having a most excel- 
 lent appetite, sat down to enjoy it, the old man at the 
 head of the table being particularly courteous and civil 
 towards him. Peter feasted sumptuously, although 
 eyed with no very pleasing aspect by Mrs. Tartlet the 
 housekeeper, who was a prodigious favourite of the 
 Marchioness, high too in her confidence, and therefore 
 in impudence to all about her, that she either imagined 
 had not the spirit to defend themselves, or wanted the 
 power to exert it. The helpless, the friendless, or
 
 THH fisher's daughter. 131 
 
 those bound in the icy fetters of obligation, these 
 were completely under the avaricious power of Mrs. 
 Tartlet, as well as the lash of her censorious and ve- 
 iionied tongue. She had also been in the good graces 
 of the late Duchess of Braganza, whose diabolical pro- 
 ceedings with her daughter-in-law, and her subsequent 
 treachery to entrap her grandchild with Paulo Michello, 
 was also fully known to this most worthy and delecta- 
 cle housekeeper, who received many a rich present for 
 watching the quiet and peaceful Inhabitants of Herring 
 Dale, when the beauteous daughter and -heiress of Bra- 
 ganza slept beneath its roof; and also the actions of her 
 young master, Lord Montague, when he had fallen so 
 desperately in love with the charms of his lovely cousin, 
 though he did not know her then in any other character 
 •than as the orphan daughter of the supposed deceased 
 Captain Singleton. And though at the death of the 
 Duchess all w^as disclosed, and the lovely Agatha re- 
 stored to all her natural, and so long usurped paternal 
 rights, yet Mrs. Tartlet could never bear the sight of 
 the lovely bride of the young lord ; and while her su- 
 perior beauty and her superior virtue awed, she, like 
 the serpent of old, viewed the beauteous pair in their 
 garden of connubial bliss with an envious and mali- 
 cious eye, and any little tale she could carry to her 
 mistress after Agatha had become the wife of her son, 
 Mrs. Tartlet was not slow to convey to the prejudice 
 or the disadvantage of Lady Agatha Montague Mon- 
 tault, while to the lovely object of her envy she 
 ever assumed an air of the most cringing and fawning 
 hypocrisy; so that the unconscious Agatha always 
 received her with the most cordial smiles of condes-
 
 132 THE fisher's daughtbr. 
 
 cension and affability, protesting to her lord, that s!ie 
 thought Mrs. Tartlet a very good sort of a woman, to 
 which his lordship, half jest and half earnest, would 
 reply— 
 
 " I don't know much of her ; she has been in my 
 mother's service many years, even before my sister 
 Lavinia was born, and is, I believe, no greater favourite 
 with the Marchioness than my sister ; but of a truth I 
 do not like the woman, and I cannot tell the reason 
 why ; but when I see her, she always reminds me of the 
 sketch of private life from the pen of the late lamented 
 Lord Byron ; heaven grant that at no future period I 
 may find her answering this description !" Lord and 
 Lady Montague were in the library when this conversa- 
 tion passed between them on the subject of the house- 
 keeper, and taking down a volume of this inspired and 
 elegant poet's works from one of the shelves, he read 
 aloud the following lines, to which his beauteous bride 
 listened with the most curious and profound attention:
 
 IHR PISHER*S DAUGHTER. 133 
 
 ..w xliR VI. 
 
 ** For neither man nor angels can digcern 
 
 Hypocrisy, the only evil that walks 
 
 Invisible, except to God alone, 
 
 By his permissive will, through heaven and earth , 
 
 And oft, though wisdom wake, suspicioa sleeps 
 
 At wisdom's gate, and to simplicity 
 
 Resigns her charge, while goodness thinks no ill 
 
 Where no ill seems." MiLTOK. 
 
 ** Born in the garret, in the kitchen bred. 
 
 Promoted thence to deck her mistress' heaa ; 
 
 Next — for some gracious service unexpress'd, 
 
 And from its wages only to be guess'd — 
 
 Raised from the toilet to the table, — where 
 
 Her wondering betters wait behind her chair, 
 
 With eye unmoved, and forehead unabash'd 
 
 She dines from off the plate she lately wash'd. 
 
 Quick with the tale, and ready with the lie— 
 
 The genial confidante, and general spy—. 
 
 Who could, ye gods I her next employment guess— 
 
 An only infant's earliest governess 1 
 
 She taught the child to read, and taught so well, 
 
 That she herself, by teaching, learn'd to spell. 
 
 An adept next in penmanship she grows. 
 
 As many a nameless slander deftly shows. 
 
 Skill'd by a touch to deepen scandal's tints. 
 
 With all the kind mendacity of hints. 
 
 While mingling truth with falsehood — sneers with smi.c»» 
 
 A thread of candour with a web of wiles j
 
 134 THE FISHER*S DAUGHTER. 
 
 A plain blunt show of briefly spoken seeming 
 
 To hide her bloodless heart's soul-harden'd scheming ; 
 
 A lip of lies, a face form'd to conceal ; 
 
 And, without feeling, mock, at all who feel : 
 
 With a vile mask, the Gorgon would disown ; 
 
 A cheek of parchment — and an eye of stone. 
 
 The female dog-star of her little sky, 
 
 Where all beneath her influence droop or die. 
 
 Oh ! wretch without a tear— without a thought. 
 Save joy above the ruin thou hast wrought— 
 The time shall come, nor long remote, when thou 
 Shalt feel far more than thou inflictest now ; 
 Feel for thy vile self-loving self in vain, 
 And turn thee howling in unpitied pain. 
 May the strong curse of crush'd affections light 
 Back on thy bosom with reflected blight I 
 And make thee in thy leprosy of mind 
 As loathsome to thyself as to mankind ! 
 Till all thy self-thoughts curdle into hate. 
 Black — as thy will for others would create : 
 Till thy hard heart be calcined into dust. 
 And thy soul welter in its hideous crust. 
 Oh, may thy grave be sleepless as the bed,— 
 The widow'd couch of fire, that thou hast spread ! 
 Then, when thou fain would'st weary heaven with prayei. 
 Look on thine earthly victim — and despair 1" 
 
 " There, my love," exclaimed Lord Montague, look- 
 ing with intent and earnest gaze on the surprized and 
 almost horror struck countenance of his beauteous 
 wife, who had listened with amazement to this very 
 flattering and warm eulogium pronounced on the me- 
 rits of Mrs. Tartlet ; " what think you of this portrait 
 for the confidential housekeeper of my mother, her 
 favourite cabinet counsellor, Mrs. Deborah Tartlet? 
 Lord Byron knew well how to estimate their value ; 
 would that the Marchioness knew as well how to draw 
 inferences from the same poisonous contagion that her 
 Abigail is now infusing in the bosom of Lady Lavinia,
 
 THB fisher's DAUGHETR, 135 
 
 my young sister, over whose mind this sybil has sue h 
 unbounded sway ! but she cannot see it ; no, no, my 
 Agatha, my mother is actually so blinded by her par- 
 tiality for the watchful Argus in her family, that I be- 
 lieve were attesting angels called from heaven to prove 
 her apostate faith towards her, she would be slow in 
 giving credit to their assertion." 
 
 Lady Montault expressed her utmost astonishment, 
 and upon this strong testimony of her husband of the 
 merits and qualifications of the sagacious housekeeper, 
 was ever after very cautious how she advanced on any 
 further intimacy with, or encouraged the visits of Mrs. 
 Tartlet, which had been very frequently made after the 
 death of Captain Singleton, under the semblance of 
 consolatory friendship, and the most humiliating marks 
 of respect, which Agatha could not then deem to be a 
 species of the blackest hypocrisy and the grossest de- 
 ception towards her. Her health and spirits being, at 
 the irreparable loss she had sustained in her early friend 
 and protector, so extremely languid and delicate, that, 
 added to her also critical situation, made it impossible 
 to conceive that any mortal breathing under heaven's 
 canopy could own so much depravity, as to visit her 
 abode, like the good Samaritan, to pour oil upon her 
 wounds, only to pierce her more deeply to the heart ; 
 in short, Agatha received the visits of her mother-in- 
 law's housekeeper, during the confinement of her in- 
 disposition, with that open ingenuousness of character, 
 and noble generosity of disposition, which so particu- 
 larly distinguished her deportment, and so invariably 
 guided the impulse of all her actions. And Mrs. Tartlet 
 was very frequently at the residence of Lady Montague,
 
 ^{56 IHB FISHERS DAUGHTER. 
 
 without the knowledge of her lord, on whose elegant 
 establishment, and splendid acquisition of fortune, with 
 all the glittering prospects that awaited it, she gazed 
 and sickened with envy, and like an ill weed that grows 
 beside a beauteous rose, she spread her leaves as far 
 as she could extend, in hopes to blight and crush the 
 blooming flower in all its lovely sweetness. Nor was 
 the prospect of the Lady Agatha giving birth to a son 
 and heir in the Braganza family likely to evaporate the 
 spleen that overflowed on the gall of this foul, envious, 
 and malignant sybil ; and she beheld the preparations 
 that were making for the approaching birth of the little 
 stranger, (whether male or female,) with a sentiment 
 which might have reposed in the bosom of a fiend, 
 not in that of any who bare the semblance of woman. 
 She never had liked Lord Montague, even when he 
 was a boy, for the best of all possible reasons, that he 
 bad ever disliked her, because she had occasionally been 
 the cause of dissension with him and his mother ; she 
 now most treacherously cherished the deadliest hatred 
 towards him, and heartily wished and prayed, that 
 in his expectations of a forthcoming heir, he might 
 be defeated, and that the infant of Agatha might perish 
 in an untimely birth, and never be destined to behold 
 the light. Of these pious charitable wishes, however, 
 most unhappily for the beauteous bride of Montault, 
 she was profoundly ignorant, and consequently admit- 
 ted her visits, as being those of friendship and con- 
 dolence, and with the sanction of her family ; but 
 after the foregoing conversation had taken place with 
 her lord and her, Agatha, from the most prudential 
 motives that were possible, began to evince a more
 
 THE FlSHEU*a DAUGHTEK. 13/ 
 
 distant reserve towards Mrs. Tartlet than formerly, 
 which was soon perceived by the Argus eye of the 
 artful housekeeper, and of course not only communi- 
 cated to, but commented on by the Marchioness and 
 Lady Lavinia, and greatly excited the indignation of 
 both ladies, at any apparent slight or offence offered to 
 their favourite Abigail. 
 
 " Oh ! my brother perfectly makes an idiot of his 
 pretty little wife," uttered Lady Lavinia, with an en- 
 vious turn of her under lip, which is no advantage to 
 female beauty, even if she could boast of the charms of 
 a Medician Vacuus, '' by telling every body that she 
 is a paragon of perfection." 
 
 '* Which they must have extreme penetration to dis- 
 cover," cried the Marchioness, with no less an envious 
 sneer than her accomplished daughter. *^ She is nei- 
 ther too wise nor too pretty, for all the fuss that Mon- 
 tague makes about her; in short, but for the name, 
 slie has nothing of the Braganza family in her compo- 
 sition." 
 
 *' Except the having of a little of the Braganza blood 
 in her veins," observed Mrs. Tartlet, and smiled con- 
 teniptuously, in imitation of her august lady; *' but Lord 
 bless me, she has no more of the air of a lady of high 
 birth or fashion, no more the look of your ladyship, or 
 my Lady Lavinia, than a sow's ear to a silken purse, 
 hut that you know my lady is all owing to her bringing 
 up. What a bringing up she has had, mercy on me, 
 for the daughter of a Duke !" 
 
 " 'Tis most delectable. You are prodigiously right 
 there, Tartlet," uttered the Marchioness in proud dis- 
 dain. " First, among a set of fat ghostly friars, and 
 
 j6 s
 
 138 THE fisher's daughter. 
 
 a parcel of old stiff formal nuns, who have taught her 
 to be as stiff and as formal as themselves. Next she 
 was transplanted to the care of Captain Singleton, the 
 most strange and amphibious animal in existence, who 
 taught the girl to be as strange and as eccentric a being 
 as himself, living on the top of that frightful odious 
 cliff, the very look of which is enough to give one a fit 
 of the vapours and the blue devils. Thirdly, when this 
 said Captain thought proper to disappear, for reasons 
 best known to himself, and left Miss Agatha, whom 
 he had made as romantic and as sentimental as a pupil 
 of a convent well could be, in the character of his or- 
 phan daughter, she was obliged to take her next quar- 
 ters beneath the roof of that sea monster Peter Blust, 
 and there her education v/as completed. Then she 
 Avas shi[)ped over to the — " 
 
 Here her ladyship was seized with a violent fit of 
 coughing, whether by design or accident we cannot 
 tell. There was h^omething however in the last place 
 of destination appointed for Agatha that stuck in her 
 ladyship's delicate throat, and she could not get it out 
 for the life of her, till Lady Lavinia helped her out, 
 and pronounced — 
 
 " Shipped her over to the ruins of the old abbey 
 you mean mamma, but that you know was the fault of 
 grandmamma, so we must say nothing about that, only 
 that its a great pity, though Agatha is really found out 
 to be a relation of ours, that my brother did not hap- 
 pen to take a fancy to one more becoming his high 
 birth and station ; for do you know that Agatha has 
 been living with such a set of barbarians, sea por- 
 poises, and wood demons, that positively she is a very
 
 THB fisher's daughter, 139 
 
 Viifir sort of a personnge to move in the first style of 
 rank and fashion, for she has positively no more pride 
 than a dairy maid or a (isherman's daughter." 
 
 " True, my love, and will never look iiko any thing 
 better when my Lavinia is by her side, ah hough she is 
 the Duke's daughter," answered the INlarchioness, with 
 increased irony; but more is the misfortune that the 
 son of the Duchess of Broganza should have contami- 
 nated himself with so low a connection, as the mother of 
 Agatha, who was nothing better than a beggar suj)[)orted 
 by her country; and yet it was so to happen that my 
 silly boy was to be caught in the same snare, and 
 marry the daughter of this very same low bred crea- 
 ture, this Agatha Delcrnsa." 
 
 *' But I have heard my grandmother sa\ that she uas 
 excessively beautiful," resumed Lady Lavinia. 
 
 " Yes, probably there was something in that," re- 
 torted the Marchioness, " and that was the only excuse 
 that Orlando had to make to his mother for the rash 
 and imprudent steps he had taken, in bringirjg this 
 creature into tlie family, and making her a Duchess, 
 who was better far to be his laundry maid; and cer- 
 tainly I do» not wonder that her Grace was so deeply 
 mortified when she heard of the degrading comiection, 
 and the clandestine marriage that her only son (at that 
 period) had made with the low bred Florentine; and 
 that to prevent further disgrace on the ancient and il- 
 lustrious house of Braganza, she should have been 
 provoked to take measures that — that — that" — 
 
 Another fit of coughing seized the Marchioness in 
 the very middle of her speech, and the obliging Mrs.
 
 140 THE fisher's daughter. 
 
 Tartlet, the accommodating housekeeper, took her 
 ladyship up with the short sentence of — 
 
 *• That could not be accommodated to her Grace's 
 satisfaction/' uttered she, with the most unblushing 
 look and air of affrontery, well knowing that the mur- 
 der of the infant granddaughter of the Duchess of Bra- 
 ganza was the circumstance which the Marchioness 
 here alluded to; and by no means either shocked or 
 dismayed by the recollection of so horrible a transaction, 
 bhe boldly went on in making observations on that dis- 
 gusting personage, (who had descended to the grave 
 with infamy and disgrace for ever entailed on her an- 
 cestors, by her brutal and unnatural conduct towards 
 the lovely and unfortunate Delcrusa,) in the presence 
 of the young Lady Lavinia, without once receiving the 
 glightest censure or rej)roach from her lad}', as a check 
 to lier licentious tongue; but who, on the contrary, 
 suffered her to proceed in ridiculing the conduct of the 
 wife of her lord, the Lady Montague Montault ; and 
 burst into a most violent fit of laughter, when she ex- 
 claimed — 
 
 '* Well, I protest that Montague is prodigiously ab 
 surd to indulge his pretty moppet in all herl&hildish ana 
 ridiculous follies, as if he had not made himself ridicu- 
 lous enough before he married her; and so he is really 
 going to put his whole establishment into deep mourn 
 ing for the death of Captain Singleton." 
 
 *' No, you don't say so, Tartlet, do you ?" cried 
 Lady Lavinia, echoing the loud unfeeling laugh of the 
 Marchioness, while Mrs. Tartlet replied to her interro- 
 gatory in the following manner !—
 
 THE fisher's daughter. 141 
 
 " But I do say so your ladyship, and they are now 
 all in deep mourning at this present moment, coachman, 
 footman, butler, groom, Lady Agatha's wotnan, house- 
 keeper, laundry maid, aye down to the very scuiliun — 
 all have got a hit of black on.'* 
 
 " And I suppose we shall have the little one, when 
 it comes, arrayed in a suit of sable," uttered the Mar- 
 chioness, "in compliment to Captain Singleton. Poor 
 Montague, what a dotard thou art made of for this 
 silly whining romantic girl ; I wonder she don't per- 
 suade him to put the Cottage on the Cliff in mourning 
 to commemorate the memory of her dear papa Sin- 
 gleton." 
 
 "And the cat and the kittens," echoed Mrs. Tartlet, 
 and another loud laugh proclain)ed the triumph of the 
 pleasantry and wit of the accomn)odating housekeeper, 
 in which the Marchioness and Lady Lavinia most in- 
 decorously joined ; and from that moment, the lovely, 
 unconscious, and assuredly most unoffending ol)ject of 
 their ungenerous and unmerited sarcasm, became also 
 the object of their jealousy, envy, and suspicion. Every 
 action was closely watched ; every word, every look 
 niisrepreselfced ; every transaction, the most trivia!, con- 
 veyed to Montault Castle by this lynx-eyed grinialkin. 
 
 It was precisely at the very period that the Duke 
 became interested in the fortunes and fate of the 
 youths Alfred and Wolf, that Mrs. Tartlet had began 
 her operations to undermine the happiness, and de- 
 stroy the repose of one of the most blest and 
 happiest of married pairs 5 for no sooner did the Lady 
 Montague Montault learn from the lips of her father 
 of the destination of Peter Blust's adopted sons, that
 
 142 rHB fisher's daughtbr. 
 
 Alfred was to be bred for the church, and her favourite 
 Wolf for the army, (whom she had not once seen since 
 she had quitted the old abbey,) than she expressed the 
 iiost rapturous sentiments of unaffected joy, Lord 
 Montague then being present, when clasping her 
 lovely hands over her snowy breast, and with a look 
 of the most energetic and eloquent sweetness, she ex- 
 claimed — 
 
 " Oh, my dearest father ! how happy you have made 
 vour Agatha by this most pleasing intelligence. I have 
 often in secret ruminated on the fate of these beloved 
 youths, and wished that they could be placed in situa- 
 tions that would nevjgr degrade their rising talent ; dear 
 Wolf will now obtain the wish of his heart. Poor fellow ! 
 bow. often have 1 heard him declare how ardently he 
 longed to embrace a military profession ; and as 1 
 gazed oil the fine intrepid couiitenance of this noble 
 hoy, when 1 have marked the expression of his brilliant 
 dark beaming eye, his fine arch brow, his high forehead, 
 and his athletic well proportioned limbs, I have heaved 
 a sigh of regret, that 1 had no influence in promoting the 
 inferesl of this boy, and that his fine intrepid spirit 
 should be doomed to a life of obscurity {(9 the want 
 of some kindly hand to bring that promise forth. My 
 prayer is heard for the poor friendless boy, it has as- 
 cended to heaven, and my father, my dear father, is 
 permitted to be the guardian spirit who will watch 
 over the w^anderings of poor Wolf.'* 
 
 " And aid the fortunes of Alfred. I will also do 
 that," uttered his Grace, ** though I will own that 
 your young favourite evinces a superior display of ta- 
 lent to his foster brother; in short, I think Wolf 
 
 4
 
 THB FlSliER S DAUGHTER. l43 
 
 one of the fitiest youths 1 ever remember to have seen, 
 either in this couiUry or any other. What say you, 
 Montague? did you ever see such tine proportioned 
 limbs as the fellow has got? He is a giant, and yet so 
 admirably formed, that there is more of elegance than 
 grossness in his figure." 
 
 " He has an eye like an eagle too, has not he fa- 
 ther ?" utterred her ladyship; ^^ so piercing, and yet so 
 full of sensibility." 
 
 His Grace saw no reason why he should dissent from 
 the opinion of his lovely daughter; and on Lord Mon- 
 tague coldly observing that he could see nothing re- 
 markable in Lady Montague's Danish prodigy, his 
 Grace expressed some surprise, and more warmly 
 than ever expatiated on the perfections he had disco- 
 vered in him ; adding with a sort of waggery in his 
 manner of addressing his half offended, but more truly 
 his half jealous son-in-law — 
 
 *' If you cannot see that the boy is what I have de- 
 scribed, by Jove nephew you must perforce be blind or 
 ifjsensible to merit altogether, which 1 never discovered 
 in you before; however, I will n(^t argue the point with 
 you now, \^t let the boys alone, till some revolving 
 years have passed over their heads ; perhaps Alfred 
 may be a bishop, and Wolf may be a general, but, 
 hark ye nephew, I would forfeit my diadem were I an 
 emperor, that Wolf would arrive to his exaltation first. 
 1 shall say no more, time will unfold." 
 
 The entrance of company to the apartment prevent- 
 ed tlie reply of Lord Montague Montault, and which, 
 though it would not have been in the shape of a llat 
 contradiction to his father-in-law, would have been
 
 144 THE fisher's DAUCJHTKR. 
 
 such, as totally to disavow that he at all coincided in 
 his Grace's opiniorr on the merits of young Wolf; and 
 strange to say, that the tenor of this morning's conver- 
 sation for ever rooted a most unnatural, and certainly 
 a most unmanly prejudice in the mind of Lord Monta- 
 gue against the favourite, now both of his uncle and 
 his lovely wife; and as from trifles, as light as the very 
 air that fans the summer rose, arise causes most se- 
 rious, and big with impending fate, so this trifling con- 
 versation for ever coloured the fate of poor Wolf, and 
 made him an object of dislike, nay even of aversion, as 
 he was often the object of envy, to Lord Montague 
 Montault. But from himself, if possible. Lord Monta- 
 gue wished to conceal from whence had arisen so un- 
 generous a prejudice against an innocent and unoffend- 
 ing youth, for of no atom of offence had Wolf been 
 guilty towards him, except that of being a favourite 
 with his lovely wife, and that he was avowedly also a 
 favourite with his father-in-law the Duke, who, no 
 friend to prejudice himself, would not encourage it in 
 another; and far less in him whose liberal education 
 and exalted rank ought to set an example to the weak 
 minded, rather than promote propenj^ities ^cry way so 
 injurious to the love and charily of his fellow crea- 
 tures. 
 
 Was then jealousy the cause of his dislike to Wolf? 
 a kindling blush mounted to the cheek of Lord Mon- 
 tague at the bare suggestion of so unmanly a thought; 
 jealous of a poor friendless boy, merely because con- 
 necting circumstances had rendered him an object of 
 compassion to his amiable wife, who on the night of 
 the tempest was equally the object of compassion to
 
 THE fisher's daughter. 145 
 
 the fii.her Blust, when in the solitary Cottage on the 
 Cliff she had been left in the supposed character of an 
 orphan, wholly destitute of friends and protection. 
 Was it not natural fnr Agatha to sympathize with her 
 fellow sufferers in the same hour of nii.^fortune and 
 calamity — two shipwrecked youths who shared the 
 same protector, and were sheltered beneath the same 
 roof with her? Could purity itself assign any impro- 
 priety on her part^ in the anxious solicitude she had 
 expressed for the welfare of these two youths ? And 
 what had she uttered to her father of Wolf, that angels 
 might not have heard and approved ? 
 
 Was it the beautiful energy of her manner, or the 
 lovely expression of her soul-speaking eloquent coun- 
 tenance, which gave her the look of a celestial 
 saint, that could give rise to that foul demon of jea- 
 lousy in a husband's breast — he to Avhom she had 
 given her virgin band and her virgin heart with her 
 own free will and voluntary consent? Long before 
 she could call that passion by its name had she loved 
 Lord Montague. When under the humble roof of the 
 honest fisherman. Lord Montague had assailed her in 
 several shapes, to inform her of the ardent passion 
 with which she had inspired him, she had by every 
 means in her power endeavoured to suppress that pas- 
 sion and avoid his pursuit. Yet when after a conti- 
 nued series of persecution and cruelty, even from her 
 own relations, she had been treacherously betrayed, 
 and at last, by miraculous providence, had been pre- 
 served from sharing the fate of her unfortunate mother; 
 and when fully restored to her natural rights, as the 
 daughter and acknowledged heiress of the illustrious 
 
 a 7 T
 
 146 THE fisher's daughter. 
 
 house of Braganza, the maiden modesty which so pe- 
 culiarly distinguished her, forbade her to declare her 
 attachment to her then unknown cousin, till in the 
 person of Lord Montague Montault he solicited the 
 hand of the daughter of the Duke of Braganza, whom 
 before he so ardently loved as the daughter of Captain 
 Singleton, and she accepted him. The hand, and the 
 heart, and the beautiful person, for which monarchs 
 would have sighed, she bestowed, with her own free 
 will, on her cousin, Lord Montague Montault, because 
 she felt well convinced that he had been in the posses- 
 sion of her affections long before she even dared to 
 acknowledge that passion to herself. 
 
 And was the firm affection of such -a woman to be 
 doubted ? Could a thought be even suspected of her 
 chaste and honourable love towards him, even while 
 she yet bore in her bosom the then unborn fruits of their 
 marriage and their love ? Oh woman I if indeed thy 
 name be frail, how much more frail are the beings, 
 who endeavour by every art, by every cruelty in their 
 power to make us so ? Answer us that, ye sage phi- 
 losophers, and ye rigid moralists ! Resolve the question 
 if you can, why such a pure spotless being as the lovely 
 heroine of these pages should, even while in the arms 
 of her husband, and that husband her heart's first 
 elected, while in that lovely bosom she bore the most 
 ample testimony of her love towards him, she could be 
 suspected of breathing a thought unworthy of a wife or 
 a mother ? Surely the demon of jealousy has power 
 to undermine the happiness of its victim, if that vie • 
 tim is not in itself frail. Angels were not purer, love- 
 lier, holier, than the wife of Lord Montague Montault ;
 
 THK FISHEKS DAUGHTER. 14? 
 
 jet {!)r her compasision for a poor friendless boy, that 
 virtue was to be suspected, and by that husband whom 
 she adored, ere yet she had given to his arn)s the first 
 pledge of mutual love, and chaste honourable affection. 
 Lord Montague was jealous of his wife^ and though he 
 dared not openly confess so dishonourable and degrad- 
 ing a thought^ yet the object of this jealousy was the 
 innocent and unoffending youth Wolf, nameless in all 
 besides. But this passion was cherished only in secret 
 by Lord Montague ; and so far was Lady Agatha from 
 guessing at the real cause of her lord's sudden fits of 
 abstraction and melancholy in which he now frequently 
 habituated himself, that she often sent Wolf, who was 
 now, as also Alfred, on an intimate footing with her 
 father's family, and thereby had free intercourse with 
 her, to console him, often taking long walks with Wolf 
 and Alfred herself, and thus innocently renewing the 
 days she had passed with them under the roof of the 
 fisher Blust, without one unchaste thought in her lovely 
 bosom, one wish impure to injure the affections of her 
 dear lord. But not so blind or inexcusable was his 
 Grace the Duke of Braganza; he very soon discovered 
 that Wolf, the favourite of his lovely daughter, was by 
 no means that of his nephew, who although he greatly 
 surpassed Alfred in the progress of his studies, never 
 received, on the slightest occasion, the approbation of 
 Lord Montague. In the mean while the enraptured 
 youth, daiLy and hourly in the presence of the object 
 he secretly adored, drank in this growing and fatal pas- 
 sion, intoxicating and deep draughts of love ; if he saw 
 her but one fleeting moment in the day, he was satis- 
 fied, but when by any chance he heard that the Lady
 
 148 THB fisher's daughter. 
 
 Agatha was indisposed, he was wretched beyond de- 
 scription, and often retired to his chan:iber, there in 
 secret to pour out his heart's anguish, which though 
 he concealed from all mortal eyes beside, he could not 
 effectually hide from Alfred, who perceived this fatal 
 attachment of his foster brother with the most poig- 
 nant sensations of regret, and most impatiently longed 
 for the period when his absence would become neces- 
 sary, and he would he far removed from the presence 
 of an object so fatally dangerous to his repose. For by 
 the Duke's express desire, both Wolf and Alfred were 
 taken under his immediate protection ; and ever since 
 their course of studies had commenced for the distinct 
 professions in which they were about to be engaged, 
 they occupied apartments at the residence of Lord 
 Montague Montault ; a request which, for divers rea- 
 sons, his lordship could not possibly deny to his father- 
 in-law, the Castle of Montault, at which his Grace had 
 the most splendid apartments wholly appropriated 
 to his use, being too public for the private tuition of 
 the youths, for whom masters were engaged of every 
 description ; and as the elegant mansion in which Lord 
 Montague resided was presented to his lovely wife by 
 her father on her marriage with his nephew. Lord 
 Montague interfered as little as possible with what ar- 
 rangements his lady chose to make in it. 
 
 The noble display of magnificent gifts which the 
 Duke had given to his adored child, were indeed wor- 
 thy of the heiress of Braganza. The household furni- 
 ture was splendid beyond description ; the plate, jew- 
 els, and pamtings, were magnificent: and although her 
 son was in the entire possession of all this treasure.
 
 THE fisher's daughter. 149 
 
 the Marchioness could not divest herself of some en- 
 vious sensations, when she beheld the lovely Agatha at 
 the head of so superb an establishment, and so princely 
 a fortune. The poisonous weed rankled in her heart, 
 and it would seem, by the yellow hue which tinged her 
 ladyship*s complexion, that it had also mixed with the 
 gall that filled every vein there. Nor was Lady Lavinia 
 far short from experiencing similar sensations to those 
 which alternately agitated the bosom of her haughty mo- 
 ther ; and each succeeding visit that she made to Violet 
 Vale, (which was the name given to this beautiful and 
 romantic seat of Lord and Lady Montague Montault,) 
 was accompanied with fresh sources of mortification, 
 and a more fixed dislike to her lovely and accomplish- 
 ed sister-in-law, whose various perfections, both of 
 mind and person, were so transcendently above her.' 
 Vain were her efforts to imitate her, and ineffectual all 
 her art to conceal her vexation, when the superb equi- 
 page and magnificent wardrobe of the daughter of Bra- 
 gaiiza met her eye. Though at her marriage with 
 her brother, Agatha had displayed the most unexam- 
 pled generosity towards the Marchioness and Lady La- 
 vinia, by presenting them with the most sumptuous 
 gifts, it was not sufficient to shield her against the ran- 
 corous and malignant frowns of envy, in which the 
 Marchioness encouraged her daughter to the extremest 
 point; and there was not a day that some supposed 
 defection was not discovered by this amiable pair, in 
 their young and lovely relative, over which, however, 
 the veil of hypocrisy was so completely and impervi- 
 ously thrown, that it could not be discerned by the 
 nicest eye of discrimination ; on the contrary, the most
 
 150 THE USHUR's daughter. 
 
 specious art and imposing flattery was called iii to hide 
 the real seiUinient of the heart ; and though not a ray 
 of genial sunshine warmed its frozen current to friend- 
 ship or to love for the beauteous daughter of Braganza, 
 yet she thought it such, with that openness of can- 
 dour, and lovely ingenuousness of disposition, which, 
 from the earliest dawn of infancy, had always marked 
 her character. It was the natural bias of her mind to 
 be sincere, because she always thought others so, and 
 with the most unsuspecting confidence, she received 
 the visits of her mother and sister-in-law at her elegant 
 and magnificent mansion, always shewing the Marchio- 
 ness the most delicate and aflfectionate attentions, and 
 paying her the compliment of consulting her taste and 
 opinion on every occasion ; not that either the Mar- 
 chioness or Lady Lavinia Montault were congenial to 
 the feelicgs of Agatha ; they were too fashionably bred, 
 and their system of conduct very dissimilar to her 
 own, as well as the style in which she had been edu- 
 cated ; but these were observations that she never suf- 
 fered to pass her lips, and were rather tolerated by 
 Agatha than severely censured. The one was the mo- 
 ther of her husband, the other his sister, and these 
 ties were sacred. She adored her husband, and loving 
 him, she endeavoured by every means in her power tc 
 please and gratify his relatives; but the Marquis she 
 really loved, for he seemed but a counterpart of her 
 beloved Montague. He had all those points of charac- 
 ter, and mild and generous propensities of disposition, 
 that she so greatly admired in her husband ; besides, 
 he was the very image of him in person, (saving the 
 disparity of their age,) and that was another ostensible
 
 THE fisher's daughter. 151 
 
 reason why Agatha was so passionately fond of her 
 father-in-law ; who also was as passionately fond of her, 
 and frequently, in some little family jars, would hold 
 up the daughter of Braganza as an example worthy of 
 imitation, always repeating to Lady Lavinia, whenever 
 her conduct was perverse and undutiful towards him, 
 the following expressions : — 
 
 " Look at your cousin, the Lady Agatha IMontault; 
 she is a treasure to her father, and a mine of wealth to 
 her husband, and a blessing to all around her. Oh 
 my Lavinia I why do you not study more minutely the 
 character of your brother's lovely wife, and imitate the 
 excellent example she sets before you ?'* 
 
 To which, with a most contemptuous smile, and a 
 sly insidious look at the Marchioness, who was seated 
 at work when this conversation took place between 
 the father and the daughter, Lavinia replied thus — 
 
 " Lord, papa I me study the character of my bro- 
 ther's wife ? Not I indeed, for she is not in my 
 style." 
 
 " She is not indeed," uttered the Marquis dryly. 
 " The resemblanee between Lady Agatha and Lady 
 Lavinia Montault, is certainly not at present of the 
 most striking nature." 
 
 ^* Well, that's not strange papa," uttered the now 
 mortified and indignant young lady, " for Agatha has 
 black eyes, and mine are blue ones -, besides, her com- 
 plexion is so dark, and — " 
 
 Lady Lavinia paused a little, puzzled somewhat to 
 find a fault, where a face was so perfectly faultless as 
 that of her beautiful cousin's 5 but the good natured
 
 152 THE fisher's daughter. 
 
 Marchioness very quickly assisted her, and scornfully 
 exclaimed — 
 
 *' And yours is so trausceudantly fair, my love ! Kvery 
 one must see tiiat who is not absolutely blind; but 
 perhaps the Marquis chooses to veil his eyes to the 
 beauties of his own daughter, that he may have more 
 leisure to discover those uncommon perfections of the 
 Lady Agatha Montault, whose character he is so de- 
 sirous of your imitating; but pray my love attend to 
 your own, and never think of studying the airs and 
 graces of one who has been studied by all the butcher's 
 and baker's wives and daughters in the parish, when 
 she appeared in the character of Miss Agatha Sin- 
 gleton." 
 
 Lady Lavinia giggled at this uncommon witticism of 
 her mother, but dared not laugh full in the face of her 
 father ; she had recourse to a rose, therefore, which she 
 pulled out of one of the vases, and placing it before her 
 more roseate lips, she continued to indulge in her pro- 
 pensity to laughter, till the Marquis, darting a reprov- 
 ing glance at his lady, exclaimed — 
 
 " And if your ladyship was to teach your daughter a 
 little of the propriety of conduct of some of the butch- 
 er's wives and daughters in this respectable parish, it 
 would be doing her an essential service, for she would 
 then know what the duty and the affection of a child 
 is to her parents, of which it is my deep regret to say 
 she is utterly ignorant." 
 
 The exit of the Marquis immediately succeeded the 
 close of his speech, and the ladies were left together, to 
 make what comments they pleased on the unusual
 
 THE fisher's daughter. i53 
 
 severity which had marked its expression. Lady La- 
 vinia no longer in a mood for laughter, was the first 
 to break out with the following exclamation : — 
 
 ^' Lord, mamma, how insuflferably rude and cross 
 papa is !" 
 
 ** Yes, tolerably well for that," replied her ladyship \ 
 '* but it is always a case in point, when he has been 
 paying a morning visit at Violet Vale, to see his pretty 
 sly demure sentimental pet. Lady Agatha Montault, he 
 always returns in an ill humour, and treats us in this 
 barbarous manner." 
 
 " And making his odious comparisons," retorted the 
 highly offended young lady. " I protest, mamma, that 
 it has given me a fit of the vapours. Don't I look 
 pale, mamma?" 
 
 ** No, my love, as beautiful as ever," uttered the 
 Marchioness, *^ notwithstanding your father's barba- 
 rous lecture 5 but we will give him the retort cour- 
 teous, my Lavinia. I'll teach him better manners the 
 next time we meet, and he puts you on a level with 
 your monkish cousin. He shall see no more of us for 
 this week, for we will have such racketing. There's a 
 brilliant party to night at Lady Easy's — another to- 
 morrow night at Lady Runnagate's — the next at the 
 old Duchess of Fathingale's — then the following with 
 the grand rout at the Countess of Wildfire's — a concert 
 at Colonel Popingay's — cards at Miss Beddy Periw^in-' 
 kle's. That's on a Sunday— delightful !" 
 
 '^ Charming, n)amma 1" cried Lady Lavinia, now 
 perfectly restored to her vivacity. *' Then on Mon- 
 day-" 
 
 '^ We wind up our revels, by going to the review in 
 b7 t
 
 i*>4 iMii Klj5iM:i*S i:>AlJGidi £lv» 
 
 a barouche and four," vociferated the Marchioness 
 Make your father mad — kill him with vapours for a 
 month to come — make him kneel at my feet for a 
 whole hour together, till I bring him to repentance, to 
 good humour, to joy, and to love. Oh my dear Lavinia ! 
 these are joys tiiat none but women of fashion ever 
 knew. But for the cottage wife, and the cottage 
 beauty — " 
 
 "And my brother's wife! Montague's wife! Oh 
 she is exactly one of your cottage beauties!" retorted 
 the young lady, glad of the opportunity which her mo- 
 ther had afforded her, of depreciating, by any means, 
 the perfections of an object so eminently her superior. 
 
 " Yes, certainly Agatha comes under the denomina- 
 tion of that quiet, civil, well behaved sort of beings," 
 uttered the Marchioness, " who is no more fit for her 
 exalted station, than I aii ^o be an old apple woman 
 at the corner of St. James », out we must not say so, 
 you know Lavinia, not for the world ; it would not be 
 policy, you know, to despise the qualifications of tn ^ 
 Duke*s daughter, and your brother's wife. We must 
 beware of that, and think what we please in private, 
 but we must not let the public know such thoughts. 
 Do you understand, Lavinia? The Duke is still im- 
 mensely rich, though he has acted so liberally to- 
 wards his daughter ; and to offend his daughter would 
 be to offend him. You perceive lie is very tenacious 
 of what is spoken of her, and perfectly idolizes the 
 sweet saint, because I suppose she reminds him of his 
 fair Florentine; but I think that Orlando cnerishes a 
 strong attachment towards your father, and if we pay 
 court to his daughter, whom he has so amply provided
 
 155 
 
 for, he will do something for you. Your father cannot 
 give you much, Lavinia, and if you don't match with a 
 wealthy lord, your portion will be but small. There is a 
 necessity therefore, you know my love, of keeping well 
 with your brother and his saintly wife, in order that 
 your own fortunes may be promoted. Offend not 
 Agatha, therefore, for she is the darling both of her 
 father and her husband. Montague does not think 
 there is her equal in existence, and you see that the 
 Marquis your father entertains the same opinion of her 
 extraordinary perfections. Now, my love, though I 
 would willingly wage war with your father for this 
 partiality towards his son's pretty idol, yet it were not 
 wise for me to do so, and it would offend your brother. 
 Montague is extravagantly fond of his wife, and though 
 I am his mother, he would not excuse even me for 
 evincing any dislike towards her. Let us be cautious 
 then, my dear Lavinia," cried the wily Marchioness, 
 *^ how we play our cards with the folks at Violet Vale. 
 A little flattery sometimes does good, says the immor- 
 tal bard, and truly I am of his opinion. There is 
 nothing like it to help one on in a voyage of interest 
 through the affairs of this world, and few there are 
 that can be found wholly to resist its power, or repel 
 its secret and irresistible influence." 
 
 " But, dear mamma, Agatha does not like flattery," 
 cried Lady Lavinia. *^ I have often told her how beau- 
 tiful she is, and that whatever dress she puts on is 
 becoming to her, when it looks ill on every other 
 person. And what do you think was her reply to me? 
 * My dear Lavinia, you are aiming at compliments
 
 156 THE fisher's daughter. 
 
 which 1 truly despise. I never allow your brother to 
 pay me a complimenc at the expense of his sincerity; 
 I was never vain of personal attractions, Lavinia, be- 
 cause I have always considered them as perishable as 
 the flower, which is blooming in the morning, and at 
 evening we behold it withering on a blighted stalk, 
 with all its beauty and its fragrance fled.' " 
 
 " Whining, romantic, and sentimental fool," ut- 
 tered the Marchioness, " she will infect thee with 
 her sickly fears, my Lavinia ; for in spite of all grave 
 sages say, as the Poet Laureat said last year in his 
 complimentary lines to a royal personage—^ 
 
 * Beauty, beauty, ever wins the day/ * 
 
 And Lady Lavinia most heartily subscribing to her 
 dear mamma's opinion in this particular, they retired 
 to their respective dressing rooans, to consult on the 
 important business of the toile*
 
 TUB fisher's DAUGHT£R. 15/ 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 «* Beneath the tilow'ry shrubs 
 
 A snake disclosed its crested front. 
 
 And spit its venom forth ; 
 
 But hurtless I escaped 
 
 The intended vengeance." Dr. Mookb. 
 
 Thb resolution of the Marchioness, with respect to 
 the arrangements which she had formed for herself 
 and daughter. Lady Lavinia, for the ensuing week, was 
 not to be shaken; she was not one of those ladies, 
 when she had set her mind on any favourite project, 
 that was to be drawn aside by any overruling principle 
 save her own, and that was, never to allow of any op- 
 posing argument from the lips of her husband ; and 
 she always carried her point, as the torrent goes, with 
 the tide, but with the spirit of a termagant. The 
 Marchioness, it must be observed, also possessed the 
 power of a Circe over the affections of her kind, in- 
 dulgent, and peaceably disposed lord ; for his was the 
 mild temperature of a soft serene Italian summer sky, 
 while that of his lady resembled the ocean when agi- 
 tated by tempests and by storms, to which a calm never 
 succeeded, till the accomplishment of all her designs 
 were fulfilled, and her every wish gratified. And it was
 
 158 THE fisher's daughter. 
 
 certainly her ladyship's intention most religiously to 
 perform her promise made to her daughter, as she laid 
 out the pleasures of the week to her delighted imagi- 
 nation ; and as she sat in her bourdoir with Lady La- 
 vinia, consulting on the most becoming colours that 
 would suit with their complexions, a little difference 
 of opinion arose on the subject of feathers, flowers, 
 trimmings, ornaments, and the general rage and order 
 of the fashionable day; and certainly, to do ample 
 credit to the taste of the Marchioness, she made choice 
 of a dress quite to the full as youthful as her daughter, 
 which occasioned a remark somewhat malapropos to 
 the feelings of beautiful mamma, for Lady Lavinia ex- 
 claimed — 
 
 Lord, mammal why this pink crape dress is a frock 
 with a tucker ! it is made exactly like mine. Won't 
 people stare, mamma ? not but you have a most elegant 
 shape, and a fine formed neck and shoulders, but this 
 dress is so very young — young enough for me. Will it 
 not be remarked, as being remarkably ow/r/e at your age, 
 mamma, and I am not yet eighteen ? not but what, as 
 I said before, you are an uncommon fine woman for 
 your age, mamma." 
 
 Now age being a memorandum that most ladies have 
 an objection to be very particularly reminded of, and 
 besides, as the Marchioness was, as her daughter had 
 said, an uncommon fine woman for her age, (which 
 was certainly approaching very rapidly to the mark of 
 forty,) yet it was a truth which she did not care to be 
 jevealed, and she coloured deeply through no inconsi- 
 derable quantity of Parisian rouge, which was just 
 freshly laid on her otherwise pale and yellow cheek;
 
 THE fisher's daughter. 159 
 
 and reproving her daughter with a look which might 
 have frozen the genial current of the warmest soul, 
 had any warmth of sensibility ever mantled there, 
 she haughtily draw up her head, and indignantly ex- 
 claimed : — 
 
 " It is excessively rude of you child, to make any 
 comments on any person's looks or age, or dictate to 
 them as to what they choose to wear, be it ever so ri- 
 diculous or absurd ; every body has an undoubted 
 right to consult their own taste and judgment with 
 respect to dress. My age, indeed ! it is nothing, al- 
 though 1 have such a full grown daughter always 
 flaunting at my side; and it is having such a full 
 blown rose as you that makes people suppose that I 
 am at least ten years older thcin what I really am ; 
 though it is well known that Lady Wintertop, when 
 I married the Marquis your father, remembers me 
 quite a child." 
 
 *' Yes, mamma, but Lady Wintertop is so very, very 
 old ; that is not to be wondered at,'' cried Lady Lavinia, 
 with great simplicity. " Dear me, I dare say that she 
 is eighty, and you, mamma, must be — let me see — 
 what a nice calculation 1 can make — " and she was 
 proceeding to add up the sum total, when her lady- 
 ship, out of all patience with the pertinacious loqua- 
 city of her youthful daughter, angrilv interrupted her 
 with — 
 
 '^ I think if you was to calculate on the prodigious 
 lateness of the hour, it would be a subject more in 
 point, Lady Lavinia;" and looking at her diamond 
 repeater which was lying on a cabinet, she immedi- 
 ately arose and rang the bell for her woman to attend.
 
 160 THE fisher's daughter. 
 
 adding, (and happy to put a finale to a conversation 
 which so deeply mortified her personal vanity,) ^' T 
 protest, if Flounce does not dispatch the business of 
 the toilet very speedily, we shall not have sufficient 
 time to dress before dinner, and most unfortunately, 
 the Duke dines with us to day; we cannot consistently 
 get olF from skting d-own to table in a dishabille, or 
 make an excuse for retiring earlier than usual. Or- 
 lando is so strange and extraordinary an animal, that 
 he might conceive himself treated with too little cere- 
 m<)ny, though dining at the table of his brother, were 
 we not to go through all the forms of etiquette usual on 
 such occasions ; as I observed before, he is a queer 
 eccentric animal, but it would be highly impolitic to 
 offend him." To which Lady Lavinia replied — 
 
 '^ And were it not so, indeed mamma, I should be 
 extremely sorry to offend the Duke my uncle; there 
 is something so noble and so generous in all that he 
 says and does, even when he knits his brows — and I 
 have seen him frown terribly, yet in a moment how 
 suddenly that frown has disappeared, and a sn/ile of 
 the most radiant sweetness illumined every bright and 
 intelligent feature. Ah, if indeed he is an animal, he 
 only resembles the lion, methinks, in the nobleness of 
 his look and his nature." 
 
 *' Yes, his Grace has been exceedingly handsome," 
 uttered the Marchioness ; " he had a great resem- 
 blance of his mother, the late Duchess of Braganza, 
 who at one period of the British court, was reckoned 
 one of the most beautiful females whose presence 
 adorned it. Yes, Orlando, in the bloom of his. man- 
 hood, when he sacrificed himself in marriage with that
 
 THE FISHKR's daughter. l&l 
 
 Florentine baby of a girl, Agatha Delcrusa, had cer- 
 tainly all the fine contour of face and expression, that 
 Your grandmother, the Duchess, must have had in the 
 tlower of her beauty." 
 
 " Lord, mamma, I protest that I could never see the 
 snghlcst resemblance between them," cried Lady La- 
 vmia, '' except when his Grace frowns so terribly, and 
 puts himself into such tremendous passions, as he did 
 with Carlo his black servant the other morning, for 
 tjeglecting to carry a message to Violet Vale, to enquire 
 after the health of his daughter. My gracious, how he 
 did storm and rave at him, and how poor Carlo shook 
 ana treaibled, as my uncle perfectly thundered out — 
 • ]\eglect my daughter! better you forget your duty to 
 \ne, sir, than be unmindful of her who forms the dear- 
 est part of my existence. My child, my Agatha I the 
 neiress of the illustrious house of Braganza.' But his 
 frown and grandmamma's frown were so different, 
 mamma, that I could not see the slightest resemblance 
 of the expression you speak of. No, indeed, it was 
 m(^ve like my cousin Agatha's when she frowns, which 
 is very seldom ; but when she does, she looks so like 
 his Grace — his fine dark piercing eyes, and the very 
 ♦^'irn of his sarcastic and scornful lip; for, beautiful 
 as I think Montague's wife is, 1 have often seen her 
 look very scornful, even at my brother, have not you 
 mamma?" 
 
 The Marchioness, to whom this discourse was be- 
 ginning to have a tendency to ruffle the sweetness of 
 her temper, now pettishly pronounced — 
 
 '' I wish child you would attend more to my looks, 
 which are now all anxiety, and impatiently wish you 
 
 c7 *
 
 162 THE fisher's daughter. 
 
 to make your exit as speedily as possible, in order that 
 you may be dressed in time for dinner. Come, here i 
 Flounce, and positively I will not suffer you to talk to me 
 any longer ; you have vapoured me to death already 
 with recounting the nameless graces and innumerable 
 perfections of your monkish cousin. Odds my life, am I 
 to hear nothing from morning to night rung in my 
 ears but praises of your brother's wife ? I vow child, 
 you have caught the contagion from the lips of your 
 father; I shall have my whole establishment infected 
 with it by and bye, all, I think, but Tartlet, and she, 
 sagacious woman, knows better than to greet her mis- 
 tress's ear with no sweeter sound than the praise of 
 my son's pretty mopsey. Let me hear no more of such 
 dull stuff, I desire you, Lavinia, but go to your dress- 
 ing room, and make yourself as lovely as possible, in 
 order to attract the attention of the Duke towards vou. 
 Put on the white dress you wore the other evenmgd 
 Lady Tannington's ball, and weave your hair w'lta 
 simple flowers. This is the taste of your uncle Or- 
 lando; he has an aversion to the grand and the esfra- 
 vaganze of fashion and splendour ; he should have been 
 a cottage swain, and his daughter a shepherdess; sweet 
 souls, they would then have been superlatively blest, 
 and moving in their proper element. But come, go 
 darling, and do as I command you.'* 
 
 The darling instinctively obeyed, (for, to say truth 
 the Lady Lavinia was not yet out of leading strings, ana 
 was a little afraid of her beautiful mamma, for so she 
 *ilways called her,) yet lingered a moment, and asket! 
 for a kiss of beautiful mamma before they parted. 
 
 ** There, go naughty girL I can't abide ye," ut«€re<;
 
 THE fisher's daughter. 163 
 
 the Marchioness, kissing the blooming cheek of ner 
 daughter, with as much sensibility or natural affection 
 glowing in her bosom for her child (for Lord Ivlow^a- 
 gue had been her favourite) as if she had press<^d tne 
 leaves of a red cabbage, instead of the roseate lip? that 
 invited her touch from the youthful Lady Lavinia, wno 
 in a coaxing attitude pronounced, as she closed tfie 
 door of the boudoir after her, and looking at Flounce 
 with an expression half jest and half earnest, though 
 certainly such as the waiting gentlewoman could 
 scarcely resist — 
 
 " The pink crape frock, with the lace tucker, Mrs. 
 Flounce, pray let beautiful mamma wear no other it 
 will have such a fine effect. The whole of the shoul- 
 ders will be nearly bare; beautiful mamma has proai- 
 gious fine shoulders, and the pink frock will be an aa- 
 mirable exposition, will not it Mrs. Flounce?" 
 
 " Yes, your ladyship, pink is exceedingly becommg 
 the complexion, it sets off a blush so well," answered 
 the waiting gentlewoman, who having sidled and 
 sidled till she had fairly got round to the back of trie 
 Marchioness's chair, stood almost unable to stifle an 
 immoderate propensity to laughter, which the sight of 
 the pink frock had so involuntarily produced; not for 
 a moment supposing that, vain as her lady was. sne 
 could carry her personal vanity to such absurditv, as 
 to make choice of an habiliment so highly preposte- 
 rous for her mature season of life, and which was cer- 
 tainly a more appropriate dress for Lady Lavinia, e\^,i 
 if she had been many years younger than what she was 
 now. A silence of some minutes ensued between 
 the Marchioness and her Abigail, after the departure
 
 1G4 THE fisher's daughter. 
 
 of Lavinia from the boudoir of beautiful mammftj 
 and Flounce, who had stifled her propensity to down- 
 right laughter with no inconsiderable difficulty, was 
 not the first to break the ice, although the first to begin 
 the necessary duties of the toilet; and well acquainted 
 with the violent disposition of her lady, she waited for 
 her orders in silence and submission, and knew, with- 
 out making many researches into the mysteries of La- 
 vater, that her countenance looked more like the pre- 
 sage of a storm, than the smooth transparent surface 
 of a silver lake ; and she broke out into the following 
 exclamation, soon after the presence of her daughter 
 was no longer any restraint on her feelings — 
 
 " What the devil, Flounce, do you mean by fidget- 
 ing at the back of my chair ? What are you after 
 Pug ?" To which Flounce made the following quamt 
 reply— 
 
 " I am after combing your flaxen wig my lady, I 
 mean your a la Venus wig, the last you got from Paris, 
 with them long thingembobs that's hanging to the tail 
 of it; flaxen to shew off pink, and bright auburn to 
 shew off blue, and black to shew off white. I learned 
 all this by heart, when the young man that came a 
 courting to me lived with Mr. Finefit, the hair dresser, 
 that lives in the Burlington Arcade ; and then I learnt 
 to shew off busts, that is, you know, my lady, the 
 breasts and neck, to the best possible advantage, whe- 
 ther black, brown, or fair, when I lived two doors 
 from the Opera House, at the masquerade warehouse 
 in Panton Street, Leicester Square, where beauty is to 
 be bought and sold every hour in the twenty-four,, on 
 the most reasonable terms. Lank my lady, you have
 
 THE fishbr's daughter. 1(55 
 
 no idea of what lessons I had to take when first I came 
 up to town to learn to be a lady's maid ; and though I 
 do say it, that should not say it, there was not a girl 
 more cute than I was at learning of my business, not 
 in all the country round. I was as sharp as a needle, 
 my lady, as the saying is, so I got on, and I got on, 
 and I saved, and I saved, till smack I got a place with 
 some of the high quality, till it was my good fortune 
 to find favour in your ladyship's sight, after the death 
 of poor Lady Whitewash. Dear soul, I thought she 
 would never hold out much longer, after that last bak- 
 ing and japanning of her beautiful face and neck 5 she 
 was pretty nigh sixty when she tried the experiment, 
 which, as I am a living soul, made her look as young 
 and as blooming as my Lady Lavinia; but, lauk a 
 mercy, it did not last long, for she died six weeks af- 
 terwards, the most awful and dreadful spectacle my 
 eyes ever witnessed in all my born days, for she was 
 as black as a coal, my lady ; so says I to myself, when 
 I see her put into the coffin, all over shining with gold, 
 and a beautiful white satin pillow under her poor 
 death's head; so says I, if this be coming of the 
 being ground young again, the devil may fetch ah the 
 whitewashes for me; for true as your alive, my lady, 
 my good old lady lost her life by the operation, as they 
 call it, that had been performed on her." 
 
 " To say nothing of the folly and absurdity wnich 
 induced her to adopt so rash an expedient," uttered 
 the Marchioness, scarcely able to suppress risibility at 
 the plain unsophisticated manner in which Flounce 
 had described the disastrous fate of her mistress, and a 
 little dismayed at the fatal consequences which ac-
 
 166 THE fisher's daughter. 
 
 company such iiioidinate gratification of personal 
 vanity ; and conceiving that, all things considered, and 
 as the Duke was to make one of the dinner party 
 that day at her table, that some observations might be 
 made on the pink frock with the lace tucker, she coun- 
 termanded the order, and desired her Abigail to lay 
 her out a dress of a more matronly costume, and 
 which, though it had not the art of exhibiting her bare 
 shoulders, exceedingly became her fine proportion- 
 ed figure ; and with the addition of an elegant head- 
 dress, she was content thus to go down and receive 
 her illustrious visitor. 
 
 Thus was an ignorant and simple domestic the means 
 of saving superior rank and refined education from the 
 censure, nay even the ridicule of all her acquaintances; 
 nay, perhaps, from even the reproaches of her hus- 
 band, which it is probable, after the departure ot 
 his guests, she would necessarily have been exposed 
 to. Thus are sweets even to be extracted from 
 noisome weeds that we think worthless, and omy 
 view with contempt ;- because there is not a doubt, 
 notwithstanding the sarcastic remark of her daughter, 
 that the Marchioness would still have appeared in the 
 pink frock, but for the little useful anecdote which the 
 unconscious Abigail had related so sin)ply of the disas- 
 trous fate of Lady Whitewash. 
 
 A magnificent dinner, crowned with every luxury 
 that the season afforded, awaited the arrival of his 
 Grace the Duke of Braganza, who, when he got out of 
 the carriage, and saluted his brother the Marquis and 
 his fashionable lady, never appeared in higher spirits, 
 or in more excellent humour. In the mean while.
 
 THE FISHEU'S DAUGHTER. 167 
 
 every seducing art that the Marchioness was complete 
 mistress of, was employed to render this condescending 
 brotherly visit of his Grace worthy of the favour con- 
 ferred on her husband 3 nor were the most seemingly 
 anxious enquiries after the health of dear Lady Agatha 
 forgotten by this most artful, yet to all outward ap- 
 pearance, most amiable and fascinating of women. 
 
 " I have seen my dear child only this morning,'^ ut- 
 tered his Grace, ^' and, 1 thank your ladyship, am 
 happy to say that she is charmingly well, notwith- 
 standing the presages which young married w^omen 
 always feel in a certain delicate situation.'' 
 
 " Which, thank heaven, does not last for ever, that's 
 one comfort for our dear little Agatha," uttered her 
 ladyship, and smiled enchantingly 3 in short, in the eyes 
 of the Duke, his sister-in-law never appeared to greater 
 advantage J but there was evidently a forced restniint 
 on the feelings of the Marquis, his brother, to join in 
 the mirthful pleasantry of his lady, though it passed 
 unnoticed by his Grace. On the name of Lord 
 Winstone being announced the whole party sat down 
 to dinner, when the attentions of the latter gentleman 
 were certainly exclusively devoted to the beautiful La- 
 vinia, whom he had seen several times before, with 
 eyes of the most passionate admiration, though kept 
 within bounds of the most delicate propriety ; and her 
 ladyship certainly succeeded this day in obtaining a 
 complete conquest over his heart, though unconscious 
 to himself that her ascendancy was so powerful. Hand- 
 some, elegant, rich, accomplished, and possessed of 
 the most unblemished principles. Lord Winstone was 
 a desirable match for a daughter of the first peer of
 
 168 THE fisher's daughter. 
 
 the realm, but particularly so to Lady Lavinia Mon- 
 Ault, Avhose portion was so inconsiderable, and as her 
 mother had informed her, that if she did not marry 
 well, she could derive but little portion of wealth from 
 ner father. 
 
 The moment therefore that she perceived she had 
 made a favourable impression on the heart of Lord 
 Winstone, she encouraged his advances as far as ever 
 she was able, consistent with maiden modesty; but on 
 this day that Lord Winstone became the guest of the 
 Marquis of Montault, his attentions to his lovely daugh- 
 ter were so delicate, yet so strongly manifested the 
 sentiments she had inspired him with, that no one 
 being present could doubt of their nature. In short, the 
 instructions which her mother had given her, with re- 
 spect to this noble lord on a former occasion, when he 
 danced with her at Lady Tannington's Ball, had never 
 been forgotten by the youthful Lavinia, who never ap- 
 peared to greater advantage than she did in the eyes 
 of her lover at her father's table ; for the simple ele- 
 gance of her dress was far more becoming than when- 
 ever he had beheld it so sumptuously adorned in the 
 fashionable and splendid parties where they had first 
 met; there was also a bewitching reserve in Lady 
 Lavinia, which certainly adds to maiden loveliness, 
 but can never diminish tlie charm of beauty, and 
 which, to men of refined delicacy and sentiment, 
 ^is a thousand times more engaging than the most bril- 
 liant vivacity, or the most lively or piercing wit; but 
 ihe truth was, that Lady Lavinia was abashed by the 
 :^resence of the Duke and her father, and therefore 
 •i'onversed but little with Lord Winstone, who it ap-
 
 fHE fisher's daughter. 1(K» 
 
 pcared liked her the better for this very timidity which 
 she affected, for certainly it was not naturally a feature 
 ill her character. 
 
 After dinner some interesting conversation ensued, 
 animated on the part of his Grace, grave on that of his 
 brother, elegant, lively, and spirited on that of Lord 
 Winstone, and most fascinating on that of the Mar- 
 chioness. 
 
 " I protest that I am absolutely half inclined to quar- 
 rel with my son, for not joining our snug little party to 
 day, your Grace," uttered her ladyship; "and I will 
 make him do penance every day next week for it." 
 
 This remark produced a polite enquiry from Lord 
 Winstone, after the health of Lord and Lady Montague 
 Montault. It may be remembered in a former part of 
 this history, that Lord Winstone, in company with his 
 friend Sir George Cleveland, had once accidentally en- 
 countered Agatha with Olive and Jessy Blust, one 
 evening on returning from a visit to Margaret Crafty ; 
 and that both these gentlemen having indulged too 
 freely in the juice of the grape, had alarmed the young 
 ladies by the effect of their gallantry ; but to the then 
 supposed Miss Singleton, by whose charms he was 
 particularly attracted. Lord Winstone had thought 
 proper to offer the most ample apology. This circum- 
 stance had often occurred to his lordship's recollection 
 whenever the name of Agatha was introduced, and he 
 did not mention her now without betraying some em- 
 barrassment, and a slight tinge of colour mounting to 
 his cheek, the cause of which not being known to any 
 of the party, it passed unnoticed. 
 
 But there was another cause for the roseate tint oh *he
 
 ]"/(} THE FISHKR's PAUGHTEK. 
 
 cheek of Lord Winstone, if the truth must iic(;ds be told, 
 (and it is certainly not our intention to conceal the truth 
 in any part of this history from our readers,) and that 
 was Connected with Agatha, when he beheld her in the 
 character of the orphan daughter of Captain Singleton. 
 Her uncommon elegance of person and manner, 
 with the marked and decisive tone of energy in which 
 she commanded him and his inebriated young friend, 
 Sir George Cleveland, to desist from presuming to 
 offer them the slightest indecorum that could trans- 
 gress the bounds of propriety, with the bewitching 
 beauty of her countenance, and the modest dignity 
 which, at the same instant, veiled all those transcend- 
 ant charms, even from the bold familiar glance of the 
 presuming vStranger, had altogether so sudden an effect 
 on the charmed senses of Lord Winstone, that when 
 he arrived at his own habitation, and had completely 
 lost sight of the charming phantom which possessed his 
 imagination, it was difficult to ascertain which his 
 lordship was most intoxicated by, love or wine; at 
 least that love which may be called passion, for what 
 is love but a passion flower? and which beauty, when 
 it dazzles the eye, inspires at the first ecstatic glance of. 
 But how was this beauty to be come at ? or was she 
 come-at-able at all ? that was the question, but who was 
 to resolve it? She was living under the roof of the 
 fisher Blust, was the daughter of a Captain Singleton, 
 who resided at the Cottage on the Cliff, but had lately 
 been lost on the night of the tempest which had wreck- 
 ed so many vessels on the coast. Well then, Agatha 
 was now the orphan daughter of this Captain Single- 
 ton ; but who was this Captain Singleton ? Nobody
 
 IRE fisher's daughter. 171 
 
 could answer that question ; he was a recluse, avoidiug 
 the sight, and shunning the converse of every human 
 being, save alone his beautiful companion, his lovely 
 daughter, whose angelic looks were the admiration of 
 every one who beheld her. Well, this lovely creature 
 was living under the roof of the fisher Blust, who had 
 afforded her an asylum in his house ever since she had 
 the misfortune to be bereft of her father. Here was 
 an obstacle at once thrown in the way of all invaders. 
 The eye of licentiousness might gaze on beauty from 
 without the doors of Peter Blust, but dared not cross 
 his threshold. The ways of Peter were pretty well 
 known to all who lived in the neighbourhood of Cro- 
 mer, and few there were that did not also know that 
 when Peter made use of any arguments, finding him- 
 self aggressed, that they were always knock-me-down 
 ones, so that he seldom met with an opponent who 
 had courage enough to contend with him. 
 
 Lord Winstone having learned all these particulars 
 from the grand chart of universal knowledge in a 
 country town, a circulating library, retired to his mag- 
 nificent mansion, surrounded by the most splendid 
 luxury, in absolute despair of ever being able to ac- 
 complish his desire, and that was, to behold the beau- 
 tiful daughter of this Captain Singleton again ; for to 
 enter the house of Peter Blust under any pretence 
 whatever, where there were so many young and lovely 
 females in it, Lord Winstone knew would be a moral 
 impossibility ; for suspecting the motive, Peter would 
 use very little ceremony in slapping the door in his 
 face, and would much rather give entrance to a pack 
 of blood hounds than to anv lord in the countrv. Yet
 
 172 THE FISHKR's DAIJGHTEK. 
 
 to feast his eyes daily on such beauty, to sit at the same 
 table with her, to gaze on her charming, energetic, and 
 soul-speaking countenance, or to listen to the sound of 
 her voice, which was melody itself, — these were joys 
 reserved for Peter Blust and not for him; — and 
 Lord Winstone, in the midst of love's soft emotion, 
 or rather commotion, cursed his stars that he was not 
 an old fisherman instead'of a peer of the realm ; for he 
 believed that Miss Singleton, with her present protec- 
 tor by her side, was neither come-at-able for him or any 
 one else, and that, like the Hesperian fruit, she was 
 guarded by a dragon, too formidable to suffer any one 
 to invade his territories, or permit her being approach- 
 ed with impunity. Lord Winstone feared therefore 
 that he must give up the chase, or seek it through any 
 other channel, than having Peter for a pilot to steer him 
 on his voyage thither. 
 
 Give up the chase ! are you then going to make Lord 
 Winstone a fox hunter in the wilds of love ? Lord Win- 
 stone, of whom fame has spoken so highly — a professed 
 and practised libertine? for shame Mrs. Authoress. 
 
 No shame at all, gentle reader, for the authoress is 
 not going to make Lord Winstone any such thing ; she 
 would blush to see his name enrolled among the list of 
 the licentiates of the present fashionable day, and must 
 positively exculpate both him and herself from the 
 charge. 
 
 Lord Winstone had not formed the remotest notion 
 of what kind of sentiment he felt for Agatha, the feel- 
 ing at present being only admiration, or if passion, '}%" 
 was, to use the phraseology of a most celebrated and 
 admired author;, " a passion so transiently caught, that
 
 I UK fjshi:k's baugutkr. J73 
 
 it played round his heait with the flitteriog radiance 
 of a wintry sunbeam flashing against an icicle, which 
 brightened it for a moment^ but could not melt it;'* 
 and perhaps Lord Winstone's passion for the beautiful 
 Agatha is described by a metaphor of the same ad- 
 mired writer^ " that the pleasure of the lover is like the 
 hunter in the chase, where the brightest beauty loses 
 balf its merit, as the fairest flower its perfume, when 
 the willing hand can reach it too easily. There must 
 be danger, there must be difficulty; and as the course 
 of ardent affection never does run smooth, it is because 
 without some intervening obstacle, that which is called 
 the romantic passion of love in its high poetical cha- 
 racter, can hardly have an existence, any more than 
 there can be a current in a river, without the stream 
 bemg narrowed by steep banks, or checked by opposing 
 rocks." 
 
 And these were the motives which secretly guided 
 the first impulse of inclination in the breast of Lord 
 Winslone for the lovely protegee of the fisher Blust. 
 There was pleasure in the chase, because ihcrc was 
 difficulty attached to it, or there had been no pleasure 
 at all in the pursuit. When, hov^ever, the report of 
 Miss Singleton's extraordinary flight from the house of 
 her protector reached the ear of Lord Winstone, it oc- 
 casioned him a momentary sensation of regret, mor- 
 tification, and disappointment ; for he attributed the 
 so sudden disappearance of this lovely young creature, 
 to no other than the njachinations of some favoured 
 and accepted lover; and he then reproached himself 
 for not having made some advances to obtain so fair a 
 prize, which was now completely beyond his reach.
 
 174 THE fisher's daughter. 
 
 And pray had this honourable lord any honourable 
 Hitentions towards Miss Singleton^ that he was so 
 desirous of seeking her acquaintance? What sort of 
 proposals had he to make to her ? That we cantj«)t pre- 
 cisely tell, gentle reader, for who are to know njeu's 
 hearts till they are fairly tried ? But is it possible 
 to suppose, that when he beheld such extiaordinary 
 beauty united with such extraordinary worth and 
 sweetness, such a character as Lord Winstone would 
 have been insensible to their value, or that he would 
 not have made Miss Singleton an offer as highly 
 creditable to himself as it would have been honour- 
 able to her ? And one only proposal can ever meet a 
 woman of honour or delicacy : need we repeat it? — it 
 is marriage, in which all holy and sacred ties should be 
 concentred, and made firm and lasting by eternal love, 
 both here and hereafter ; and only death should ever 
 dissolve that holy tie and that holy partnership. 
 Where a union of hearts should be sanctioned by 
 a union of hands, it is the only compliment that man 
 can pay to the woman that he truly loves ; and all pas- 
 feion^else is fading and perishable as the flower. 
 
 Not that we are so rigid or so alltctedly fastidious 
 to suppose that love does not exist without this mar- 
 riage tie. We know that it can, and perhaps faith- 
 fully ; but marriage is woman's best protector. Man 
 does not require it, but the helplessness of woma 
 does ; and where true love is, marriage, if possible, 
 should immediately follow ; giving woman respect in 
 the eyes of the world, and no man can love a woman 
 truly if he does not wish to see her respected. 
 
 When, however, after the long absence of Miss Sin-
 
 FHE fisher's DAUGHTKR. IJl* 
 
 gletoii, which could hi no way be uccouiitecl for by the 
 inhabitants of Cromer, the connecting circumstances 
 which attended her sudden flight from the abode of the 
 fisher Blust, being involved in complete mystery ; when 
 the cloud of obscurity was dispersed which so long had 
 concealed this bright jewel from the eyes of an admiring 
 world ; when in all her native lustre she burst on their 
 astonished sight as the acknowledged daughter and 
 rightful heiress of the Duke of Braganza ; the congra- 
 tulations she received were loud and fervent; when not 
 a stain sullied the transcendant purity of her character, 
 .he whole town of Cromer was in a blaze ; and w^hcn 
 as the bride of Lord Montague Montault, she soon ap- 
 peared receiving and dispensing blessings on all around 
 her ; the tongue of envy was silenced, and slander, 
 like a snake, slunk to its beastly hiding place, fearful 
 of again showing its crested front, to escape being 
 crushed to atoms. 
 
 And none more than Lord Winstone hailed the re- 
 turn and the victory of the lovely wanderer, though 
 abashed by the reflections which, in disappointed pas- 
 sion and jealousy, he had cast upon her; for at her 
 flight he certainly suspected young Lord Montague 
 for having some share in it ; and often, when they met, 
 rallied him on his passion for the fair fugitive, which 
 Lord Montague not only positively denied, but also 
 that very passion with w4iich the beautiful Agatha had 
 so long deeply inspired him ; and at a public dinner at 
 Sir George Cleveland's, some high words arose be- 
 tween these two honourable lords on the subject of 
 ••^iss Singleton. Lord Winstone, as the circling
 
 176 THB fisher's daughter. 
 
 glass went round, exclaiming with a sarcastic expres 
 sion, more pointed than occasion warranted — 
 
 " Here's to the recluse of the silver lake, alias the 
 Montague Cottage Beauty.'* 
 
 " Or the Veiled Nun," vociferated Sir George, en- 
 joying the repartee of his friend, and laughing with 
 immoderate warmth. " In either of these characters 
 we hail her as the nymph divine who has pierced the 
 heart of a young Montague, and made him invulner- 
 able to the charms of all beauty, save alone the charms 
 of Agatha Singleton. For gad though, Montague, it 
 was too bad not to let Winstone and I have a peep at 
 your divinity before you took her to her hiding-place, 
 like a young rabbit out of a warren, for your own pri- 
 vate picking. Oh Montague, sly dog ! and a most ex 
 cellent poacher at your time of life." 
 
 A loud peal of laughter was now directed in full ar- 
 tillery against the evidently embarrassed Lord Monta- 
 gue ; and, colouring deeply, he protested utter igno- 
 rance of the flight of Miss Singleton from the house of 
 the fisher Blust, or whither that flight had been direc- 
 ed, or by what means effected. " On my soul, on my 
 honor as a man, I know nothing of the transaction," 
 uttered his lordship. 
 
 " That won't do Montague," cried Sir George, who 
 by this time had drank pretty deeply of the flowing bowl, 
 " it is all a hum. You know more about the beauty 
 of the Cliff than you dare confess, because you are well 
 aware that you would get finely hoaxed for it, and that 
 the old fisherman would play the devil with you for 
 taking away his girl from him.**
 
 niE fisher's daughter. 177 
 
 Another loud laugh prevailed at the expense of Lord 
 Montague, who, equally warm with wine as well as his 
 companions, and stung to the quick by being accused 
 of any dishonourable transaction against the happinests 
 and character of an object, whom he felt, in spite of 
 appearances, that he still pa-ssionately adored, itjdig- 
 nantly exclaimed, while he darted a look expressive of 
 his wounded feelings at Sir George Clevelatid — 
 
 ," Your insinuation is false, Sir George, with respect 
 to what you are pleased so presumptuously to assert, 
 that I know any thing relative to the sudden disap- 
 pearance of Mis^. Singleton from the house of Mr. 
 Blust. f again repeat that f am utterly ignorant both 
 as to the circumstance of her flight or the place of her 
 concealment; and that whether you credit my veracity 
 or not Sir George, is a matter of the most perfect in • 
 difference to me/* 
 
 " Umph — hem — haw!" cried Sir George, helping 
 himself to another glass of claret, and pushing the 
 bottle over to his friend Lord Winstone, who finding 
 that Lord Montague was really offended, and feeling 
 that he had certainly been as much an aggressor as Sir 
 George, who had only seconded his sarcastic observa- 
 tions, endeavoured to appease the irritability of the 
 young lord, still, however, playfully sporting with the 
 object of their sarcastic pleasantry. 
 
 " Why Montague, you are as many fathoms deep in 
 love, as ever shepherd was with a wood nymph of the 
 valley," uttered he; " but to quarrel about a girl after 
 the folly she has been guilty of is preposterous. For 
 gad, I should not think such a woman worth a fea- 
 ther, who is so lightly minded." 
 
 6 8 ' z
 
 17^ '•'•Ili FISIJKR S DAUGHJEK. 
 
 '• Lightly minded, my lord?" uttered Lord Mon- 
 tague fiercely. '* And do j^u call Agatha lightly 
 minded ?" To which, with equal warmth. Lord Wii> 
 stoue replied — 
 
 ** Yes, most decidedly. Lord Montague; but if your 
 lordship can find a more ap[)r()priate term for such ex- 
 cessive impropriety, and so gro-^s a departure from all 
 female delicacy, you are certainly at liberty to do so; 
 but thoughts are free; every body has a right to think 
 what they please of the conduct of Miss Singleton^ 
 and so shall L'* 
 
 " Ditto !" vociferated Sir George. " We are not 
 ti)ngue-tied, though it is clear one of the present com- 
 pany is heart-tied. Here's a breeze about a runaway 
 girl, that 1 would not give a bunch of nettles for. 
 Curse me if I would not fall in love with one of the 
 old fisherman's daughters rather than this sentimental 
 demure-looking piece of still life. I always compared 
 her to Pigmallion's statue, rat me if I did not. I shall 
 ever remember the scornful smile that played on her 
 lip, when Winstone wanted to snatch a hasty kiss of 
 the coy lady. But I never knew a piece of ice that did 
 not melt, and so will Agatha Singleton." 
 
 This sarcasm was not to be borne, or tolerated with 
 human patience : and Lord Montague immediately 
 arose from the table, addressing Sir George in the fol- 
 lowing manner, and with an expression that proved 
 that no apology would temper the deep wound he had 
 given to his feelings. 
 
 " Sir George Cleveland, J quit your house, and 
 that for ever, with no wish that our former intimacy 
 bhould be renewed. The manner in which you have
 
 THE FISHKR's daughter. 179 
 
 spoken of a helpless and unprotected female, naakes 
 you unworthy of the friendship of your own sex, if 
 you have no compassion for the other, who, whether she 
 be the frail beins^ you describe or not, is still a woman ; 
 and it is unmanly of you to sport with the feelings of 
 the unfortunate. The character of Miss Singleton, Sir, is 
 still unimpeached. There is not one individual that can 
 prove an aspersion on her reputation, nor will I believe 
 her to be otherwise than the pure faultless angel that I 
 take her for, and am confident that I shall find her so, 
 should chance ever bless me with her presence again. 
 The mystery of her flight and concealment is for the 
 present involved in darkness. But why should suspi- 
 cion follow the steps of the sweet wanderer ? Or why 
 should that scorpion slander uplift its forked head, to 
 crush a lovely flower, that every man should feel it his 
 duly to protect from the pitiless storm ? Shame on 
 you gentlemen, for cherishing sentiments so discredit- 
 able to your feelings. If she has fled voluntarily from 
 the house of her protector, she has a motive for so 
 doing, and we ought to know what that motive is be- 
 fore we judge of the act. Mark that Sir George, and 
 eternally I bid you farewell. A time may come, and 
 in the jjresence of Agatha Singleton, when you may 
 blush for this day's conversation, and repent of your 
 hasty aiid ungenerous conclusions. Remember, Sir, 
 that woman's reputation in the hands of her own 
 sex may be treated with ungentleness : envy and jea- 
 lousy sometimes produce the cause : but in that of 
 men it should ever be held sacred, as the purest at- 
 mosphere that breathes from the face of heaven ; and 
 he is worse than a savage who exposes it to the ani-
 
 loo VHE fisher's daughter. 
 
 mad versions and invsults of a censorious, ill-judging, 
 and merciless world, or feels a pride in bimsting of its 
 downfall." 
 
 Prom this day Sir George Cleveland and Lord Mon- 
 tague never met on terms of friendship or amity again; 
 nor was Lord Winstone for a considerable length of 
 time reinstated in the good graces of his young friend, 
 although it is very certain that he made the most am- 
 ple apology that one man of nice honor and delicate 
 feeling could make to another under existing circum- 
 stances, and which Lord Montague could do no other- 
 wise, as a gentleman, than accept of; but the cordial 
 smile of warm, generous, and disinterested friendship, 
 which was always seen to play round the lip of young 
 Montague whenever he suddenly or accidentally en- 
 countered Lord Winstone, was no longer there; and 
 the name of Agatha Singleton would instantly cover 
 his lordship's face with blushes of confusion, while to 
 the memory of Lord Montague, it would ever recal the 
 deep and bitter taunts which were cast on the spotless 
 character of the woman he adored, the day he dined at 
 Sir George Cleveland's. 
 
 It was no wonder then, that after the exaltation of 
 this lovely creature from obscurity, to such high birth 
 and splendid riches, the daughter of the Duke, and the 
 bride of Lord Montague Montault, (whose sister, the 
 Lady Lavinia, was now the object of his lordship's 
 most ardent afFection,) that he felt inconceivably 
 abashed in the presence of her noble relatives ; and 
 that the name of Agatha was never mentioned by Lord 
 Winstone, without the consciousness of having once 
 limed the shafts of ridicule, and bitter sneer of irony
 
 THK FISHHR's daughter. 181 
 
 against an object, whose superior loveliness of person 
 could only be rivalled by charms still more transcend- 
 antly beautiful, and those were the charms of a gene- 
 rous heart, a pure imagination, and an elegant mind. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 *< Oh that I were an Indiai) wild, 
 
 On whom the star of freedom smiled, 
 
 I'd be a fond idolater, 
 
 And worship that dear brilliant star. 
 
 Whene'er I chose, as:ain I'd change. 
 
 Where'er I pleased, in freedom range; 
 
 Uubiass'd, merry, blest, and free. 
 
 Beneath thy star, dear liberty 1" PritcHaiio. 
 
 When the hand of time is tipped with roseate 
 fingers, the leaden w^eight is removed that pressed them 
 down, and it passes over our heads as swiftly as the 
 transient colours of the rainbow ; the winged moments 
 fly as if by magic, and no one stays to count the 
 passing hours which they compose. 
 
 So passed the day at the Castle of Montault, the day 
 that was destined to behold Lady Lavinia in the entire 
 possession of the heart of Lord Winstone ; nor were 
 the accomplishments she displayed soon after dinner.
 
 ]82 THE FISliEll's UAUGHThR. 
 
 by a most finished peiformaiice on the harp, necessary 
 to complete her conquest over his affections, for he 
 would have loved her had she never played at all. 
 
 " Love's a Tyrant," had been requested by his Grace 
 the Duke ol Braganza, and *'Ali Perdona/' from Mo- 
 zart's Italian Opera, by Lord Winstone; and Lady La- 
 vinia executed both airs, though very different in their 
 composition, with the most inimitable grace and expres- 
 sion, displaying the most enchanting style of elegance 
 and science, and receiving the most rapturous plaudits 
 from her delighted auditors, who had listened to her 
 with the most profound attention. 
 
 Of course all engagements were postponed for that 
 evening, and many succeeding ones, for the wily Mar- 
 chioness had now fresh game in view, with respect to 
 the establishment of her daughter, which absorbed 
 every faculty, and engrossed the whole of her most 
 serious contemplations. Lord Winstone was now a 
 constant visitor at the Castle of Montault; and al- 
 though he had not declared himself the lover of Lady 
 Lavinia, it was very obvious, from bis delicate atten- 
 tions towards her, that he would shortly tender her 
 proposals of the most honourable kind ; and the pleas- 
 ing anticipations of so advantageous a marriage, with 
 the splendid and glittering prospects that awaited it, 
 were reflections so delightful to the imagination, both 
 of the mother and the daughter, that they could talk 
 of nothing else, think of nothing else, dream of nothing 
 else, but what charming dresses would be made for the 
 important occasion, what superb liveries, what dazzling 
 equipage, and above all what a handsome settlement 
 would be made on her; in short, it was the perpetual
 
 THE FISHKr's daughter. 18*i 
 
 theme of their conversaCion by night and by clay, — the 
 preparations, and the delightful hustle and confusion 
 that Montault Castle would be thrown in by the wed- 
 ding, which the Marchioness was actually as highly 
 delighted and transported with the thoughts of, as the 
 youthful Lavinia. But as a mother, it never once occur- 
 red to the Marchioness to ask her child if her heart felt 
 any interest in a man who would in all probability be- 
 come her husband, or whether she preferred him to all 
 others she had yet seen in the world's earthly space ? 
 
 Yes, the Marchioness, in the brilliant airy phantoms 
 that swam across her imagination, and the circle she 
 had drawn around her, of the pleasures, the pomp, the 
 magnificent drawing rooms of crowded nobility that 
 awaited the marriage of her daughter with this accom- 
 plished nobleman, had entirely forgotten what were the 
 essential points that form the happiness of a marriage 
 life ; that it was necessary for those who enter into an 
 union so sacred and so lasting, to consider that the 
 colour of their whole future destiny depends upon it ; 
 that it is mysteriously interwoven with the charm or the 
 care of our existence ; and that to form an alliance 
 under auspices where fortune only leads the way to the 
 temple of Hymen, vtrill never be productive of that hap- 
 piness which ought always to be the accompaniment 
 of the conjugal state, where mutual esteem, and an 
 intimate knowledge of disposition and of character are 
 absolutely requisite, as much as a suitable proportion 
 of parties in rank and fortune, in taste and pursuits. 
 
 But these essential points had never once entered 
 the imagination of either the mother or the daughter; 
 the latter indeed thought Lord Winstone a handsome
 
 184 lilt: FisiiKii'b j>AUGmi'R. 
 
 man, and the former knew that he was a rich one ; 
 and these points were essential enough for them. Tiady 
 Lavinia was at that age when ivoman's heart is sus- 
 ceptible only of light impressions, which vanity only 
 creates ; and her mind was not capable of judging 
 systematically, whether she should or should not be 
 happy in a marriage state with Lord Winstone. She 
 did not consider the man so much as the blandishments 
 of fortune that he possessed, and the splendour he 
 would exalt her to when she should become his wife. 
 Her mother had never told her that any thing more 
 was necessary, and she herself did not believe there 
 was. Such is the basis, we are sorry to observe, on 
 which are formed alliances of the present fashionable 
 day ; and few women of fashion ever look or think 
 beyond it. 
 
 But while things were precisely in this state at the 
 Castle of Montault, they were of a more serious com- 
 plexion at the residence of Lord Montague Montault, 
 for the Duke received a note, and the Marchionc^ss 
 another from her son, intreating that they would im- 
 mediately attend the summons, in consequence of the 
 sudden indisposition of his lovely wife. They were 
 both couched in a style which bespoke the distraction 
 of a doating and agonized husband, who feared to lose 
 the dearest treasure he possessed in existence ; and his 
 Grace, with feelings no less affected, rushed into the 
 dressing room of the Marchioness, who had then Lord 
 Montague's letter in her hand, while she exclaimed — 
 
 " 1 will order the carriage immediately : but let me 
 persuade your Grace to dismiss these unnecessary ap- 
 prehensions respecting the situation of Lady Agatha •
 
 THK fisher's daughter. 1S5 
 
 there is nothing to occasion you so much alarm as 
 you may imagine." 
 
 " Nothing to alarm me, when I am told that my 
 child is ill, and in danger, and by her husband?" ut- 
 tered his Grace, pacing the room in the most frantic 
 agony. "God of heaven I Nothing to alarm me? 
 Had your ladyship not been a mother, you niight have 
 asked me that question ; and had I not been a father, 
 I might have answered it, but that question is perfectly 
 unanswerable at the present moment." 
 
 " Nay, my dear Duke, I did not mean to infer that 
 you should not be concerned at the indisposition of 
 Lady Agatha; every one must be concerned for the 
 dear creature, although the cause of her illness is so 
 common to those in her critical situation, and I have 
 not the least doubt but it is a presage of an event to 
 which we are all looking with the greatest anxiety; and 
 you will find that I am right in my conjecture, and that 
 Montague has frightened us all unnecessarily; but 
 come, your Grace, the carriage is at the door I per- 
 ceive, we will therefore lose no time in parleying about 
 the matter." 
 
 Nor did they, for the Duke handed her ladyship into 
 it, and it immediately drove off; and on their arrival 
 at Lord Montague Montault's, what was their surprize 
 and astonishment to hear from the lips of a now joyful 
 and transported husband, that the dangerous crisis was 
 now over with his adored wife, who only an hour 
 before they arrived had given birth to a son, and with 
 its lovely mother was likely to do well. 
 
 " Heaven be praised my dear Montague," uttered 
 his Grace ; " my child, my blessed child is preserved 
 
 €S A A
 
 186 THE FISHER S DAUGHTBK. 
 
 ti) us;" and unable lo utter another sentence, the 
 Duke was so overpowered as to burst into a flood of 
 tears, which greatly relieved his full heart, while her 
 ladyship exclaimed — 
 
 ** I am prodigiously glad, that is I am really prodi- 
 giously happy, my dear Montague, that your fears have 
 so terminated ; but it was nothing more than what I 
 expected, and what I exactly predicted, was it not, your 
 Grace ? I said that a little stranger would confic into 
 court very shortly, and so it has you see 5 a boy too, a 
 son and heir ; what delightful news for the Marquis ! I 
 give you joy your Grace ; your daughter has made you 
 ft grandfather." 
 
 To which his Grace, whose feelings were now tran- 
 quilized, as well as being transported, immediately re- 
 plied— 
 
 " 1 return your ladyship the compliment, with equal 
 warmth, for your son has also made you a grand- 
 mother ; so let us shake hands, for they are certainly 
 titles of which neither of us have any reason to be 
 ashamed." 
 
 The Marchioness coloured deeply in spite of her 
 usual colouring of rouge, for it was very perceptible 
 that her looks betrayed no small share of vexation at 
 the retort courteous which his Grace had given her, 
 and that she did not think the title he had bestowed 
 was quite so complimentary as he imagined, and that 
 she would have dispensed with it altogether had it been 
 possible. Policy however recommended her ladyship 
 to adopt a very different style of behaviour, and to ap- 
 pear (if she really was not so) delighted with the birth 
 of the infant son of the Lady Agatha, and to join in
 
 THE FJSHKR's daughter. 187 
 
 the rapturous congratulations that such an event had 
 produced in the Braganza family; a son not only hav- 
 ing been wished for by Lord Montague, but by his 
 father the Marquis, in order that the Braganza estates 
 and princely inheritance might descend to the heirs of 
 his family, if any should be born of the Duke's daugh- 
 ter ; but as mortality was confined to no sex or age, 
 but was the general lot of all, it might be possible that 
 Lord Montague (although he hoped that event was far 
 distant) might be the first to be summoned to that 
 bourne, from whence no traveller ever returns ; and if 
 there were no children, it was very likely that the Lady 
 Agatha would enter a second time into a matrimonial 
 connection ; so beauteous and fascinating a creature 
 would have many admirers to succeed his son, and en- 
 deavour to gain an interest in her heart and secure her 
 affections ; and that if indeed such an event happened, 
 the Braganza estates would descend to the children of 
 the second marriage. These were the reflections of 
 the Marquis, till the alteration in the lovely shape of 
 the Lady Agatha became too apparent to be mistaken 
 in the cause of its increasing size, and which the Mar- 
 quis no sooner perceived, than he was transported be- 
 yond the power of expression, all his fears and appre- 
 hensions subsiding, and only hoping that the child of 
 his beloved Montague might prove a boy. His prayer 
 was granted ; and when the Marchioness, who had 
 staid a few minutes in the bed chamber of her daugh- 
 ter-in-law, and beheld also her newly born little grand- 
 son sleeping at the side of its beauteous mother, who, 
 though languid, addressed the Marchioness in a voice, 
 which had more of a seraph in it than of earthly being, —
 
 188 THE fisher's daughter. 
 
 when 8bc desired the nurse to gently remove the in 
 fant, and hold it up to the Marchioness, that she might 
 imprint a kiss on its little forehead, where the likeness 
 of its father was so peculiarly striking, as to make it 
 seem but a lesser image of himself, — a small touch (»f 
 nature made the Marchioness bend over its lovely form, 
 and give the kiss that nature so strongly and powerfully 
 demanded of its grandmother; and it was pressed for 
 a moment in her arms, while she exclaimed to its 
 nurse — 
 
 "Out upon the little urchin, I protest he has become 
 boisterous already ; look how he has discomposed the 
 lace handkerchief on my bosom." 
 
 " But what does your ladyship think of my sweet 
 boy ?" faintly, yet in a tone of rapture, demanded the 
 Lady Agatha, as she gazed on the face of the lovely 
 innocent when the nurse again laid it beside her. 
 " Has he not the very look, although so yoong, of my 
 dear Montague?" 
 
 " Yes, I protest 1 think so my dear," uttered the 
 Marchioness ; " he is prodigiously like his father, 
 though he has got such dark sparkling eyes ; but the 
 rest of his pretty face is certainly Montague's. But I 
 shall fatigue you my love, for you now require neces- 
 sary repose, so farewell for the present. I shall bring 
 Lavinia to see the bantling to-morrow, and shall report 
 to the Marquis an account of his little grandson, of 
 whom I have no doubt but he will be particularly 
 proud." 
 
 With these words, the kindest she had ever yet 
 uttered to her daughter-in-law, the Marchioness de- 
 parted, paying a few compliments to Lord Montague
 
 THE fisher's daughtkr. 189 
 
 on the beauty of his son and heir, as she stepped Intt 
 her carriage alone, for the Duke staid to pass the re« 
 n)ainder of the day in the society of Lord Montague 
 for his Grace protested that he should not be able to 
 leave the house, without being permitted to take a peep 
 at the treasure which had that day been produced to 
 the house of Braganza. 
 
 " Permit you, uncle ?" exclaimed Lord Montague, as 
 soon as the carriage of the Marchioness was fairly out 
 of sight; " and do you require permission of me to 
 approach your own child ? 1 have not yet seen my 
 Agatha since she has made me the most transported of 
 all human beings, and you know not how 1 long to 
 behold my child." 
 
 " Your first-born! ah, I do not doubt it!" uttered 
 the Duke, deeply sighing. ** I have a pretty good guess, 
 Montague, of what your present sensations now are, 
 for they were once mine. Alas ! how bitterly have I 
 mourned over the deprivation of those sensations which 
 ought to have been mine in their fullest perfection. 
 My cruel, my vindictive, my ambitious mother, robbed 
 me of all, save her whom destiny has preserved. My 
 Agatha, my lost angel Agatha, became her victim. 
 Fool that I was to leave her in her power ; and she 
 would also have robbed me of this only treasure which 
 heaven had spared, but for the intervention of Al- 
 mighty Providence, which would not suffer wicked 
 deeds to go unpunished or to succeed ; yet this wo- 
 man was my mother. Gads, this woman was a mo- 
 ther—my mother 1— she to whom 1 owe my being. 
 Merciful and eternal Father of all created universe, 
 pardon her crimes, for they were of a magnitude tha
 
 9(* THK fisher's DAUGHTBR. 
 
 V dare not think of, and she died without repentance ; 
 res, Montague, she died without repentance. Heaven 
 pardon her guilty soul ; and may the lovely angel she 
 lent to au untimely grave, plead for her at the throne 
 of mercy." 
 
 " Yet heaven has been just to its faithful votaries, my 
 dearest uncle," uttered Lord Montague, considerably 
 afTected by the recollection of all the wrongs that his 
 •grandmother had inflicted on the revered beiug before 
 him ; and that had her machinations but prevailed, 
 lis adored Agatha would not have called him at this 
 moment husband. 
 
 Still there was a delicacy in speaking of the deceased 
 Duchess, who, with all her faults, had been most pas- 
 sionately fond of him, which was most admirable in 
 Lord Montague, and which the Duke thought so nobly 
 of, that he felt it his duty to desist from so painful and 
 ^eart-wounding a subject, as that of dwelling on the 
 »*rimes of a relative who had long since been called to 
 account for her numerous transgressions. 
 
 At length the wished-for moment arrived, when 
 the Duke was summoned to the bed-side of the Lady 
 Agatha by her own particular desire, as also Lord Mon- 
 tague; but this was only on a promise given to the 
 principal nurse, who had the care of Lady Montault, 
 that they would not hold much converse with her lady, 
 who was not able to bear it ; and this promise was ri- 
 gidly performed by both of the parties, who were ad- 
 mitted on tip-toe into the apartment; and after one 
 look at the mother and the beautiful babe that lay be- 
 side her, they crept out as softly as they crept in. 
 
 *' She is in a sweet sleep, and so, please you gen-
 
 THK KISHKR's DAUGHrKR. 191 
 
 tleajeii, must not be disturbed," uttered the old nurse; 
 and as she was commaudiiig officer there at present, 
 her orders were peremptorily obeyed ; but the sensa- 
 tions of Lord Montague could not be controlled; he 
 wept with joy at the first glance of his new-born son. 
 Nor were the feelings of the Duke of Braganza less 
 sensible of an event so joyous ; and it was an unusually 
 late hour when he returned to Montault Castle, deter- 
 mined that the ensuing day should be devoted to the 
 most public rejoicings and benefactions to the poorest 
 inhabitants in Cromer and the neighbouring villages, 
 to commemorate the birth of the heir of Braganza and 
 Montault. 
 
 Alfred and VVolf had not yet been removed from the 
 house of their protector, in consequence of the situa- 
 tion of the Lady Agatha, but they were in the habit of 
 going to Violet Vale every morning, to receive instruc- 
 tions from the several masters who had been engaged 
 to attend them, and it was surprising the progress that 
 each of the youths had made in their studies. 
 
 The meeting between the Lady Agatha, and her two 
 companions in misfortune and adversity, had been re- 
 spectfully silent and impressive, and on the part of Wolf 
 embarrassed and confused ; and on asking after her lady- 
 ship's health since their long separation, his voice be- 
 came less firm than it was before, a deep crimson flushed 
 his cheeks, and instead of meeting the cordial and afFec- 
 uonate glance of her whom he once called his pretty 
 and adored sister, his fine intelligent dark piercing eyes 
 were cast on the ground, as if he dared not encounter 
 those heavenly features, at which he had so often gazed 
 with the most unbounded transport and delight ; while
 
 192 THE Fli:UER*S DAUGHTKR. 
 
 Agathn, perfectly unconscious of the sensations she 
 had inspired in the breast of the youth, or the cause of 
 his excessive timidity in her presence, exclaimed, with 
 a smile of the most fascinating sweetness, and at the 
 same moment that she extended her lovely hand to- 
 wards him — 
 
 " Why Wolf, you were not thus wont to shun the 
 looks or the smiles of your sister Agatha, or be so dis- 
 tant in your manners towards her ; and wherefore this 
 reserve, this silent bashful timidity? think you because 
 I have found a new father and am married, that there 
 is a crime in approaching me ? think not so hardly of 
 my father or my dear lord, as to imagine they wish me 
 to shew a different aspect to my old friends, or thai I 
 would treat them with coldness, merely because I have 
 now the advantages of fortune, and move in a sphere 
 of splendid affluence. No, Wolf, you do me mjusticc 
 if you suppose so. My fortune may change, my heart 
 never will." 
 
 Astonished and confounded by a rece[)tion so flat- 
 tering, sentiments so noble and ingenuous, and man- 
 ners so fascinatingly beautiful, poor Wolf blushed a 
 yet deeper red ; and not daring to press the lovely hand 
 that still rested in his own, attempted to say something 
 in justification of his feelings, but made a very awk- 
 ward hand of it, till Alfred (who had a pretty good 
 guess at the nature of his feelings) helped him out, by 
 observing that both Wolf and himself had learned better 
 manners since she had beheld them at the house of the 
 fisher Blust; and being total strangers to her ladyship's 
 splendid connections, considered her no longer the 
 being they had once approached with the familiarity
 
 THE FISHER S DAUGHTER. 193 
 
 of a beloved foster feistor, because she was now so 
 raised above them in the exalted sphere iii which she 
 moved, that were either the Duke of Braganza or Lord 
 Montague present, they n:jight deem such attention aii 
 Wolf and himself had been accustomed to pay her at 
 Herring Dale, intrusive and presumptuous. Nay, in 
 the critical situation in which they now stood with 
 respect to his Grace, he might accuse them of bold- 
 ness, in presuming to address her ladyship in a familiar 
 mannei. 
 
 Alfred m trying to make matters better had certainly 
 made them worse, for he had by no means explained 
 himself to the satisfaction of his lovely auditor ; who, 
 surprised that Wolf had not been able to explain the 
 nature of his own feelings, and perceiving that he yet 
 looked more deeply embarrassed tlmn before, turned 
 towards him, and in a serious tone, while her dark- 
 piercing eyes seemed to have shot electric fire through 
 his whole frame, she exclaimed — 
 
 '* And are those your sentiments Wolf? am I no 
 longer your sister ? and do you fear to approach me in 
 that character, because my father or my husband may 
 deem you guilty of presumption ? Fie — fie young man, 
 to think so hardly, so meanly of them ; they are above 
 such prejudices, and I would despise myself for th^ 
 unw^orthy thought, were I to cherish pride because m^ 
 station were exalted and my fortunes splendid. Hencr 
 with that sombre shade of melancholy then, brave in 
 trepid boy, that so little suits thy martial brow, and 
 thy high towering spirit ; and be assured, if you know 
 It not dear Wolf and Alfred, that Agatha, although the 
 
 a 9 BB
 
 194 THE FISHER S DAUGHTKR. 
 
 wife of Lord Montague Montault, and the daughter oi 
 the Duke Braganza, will take no shame in owning you 
 for her brothers still. On the night when the rough 
 tempest threw you poor shipwrecked boys upon our 
 coast, I gave to each of you a hand of Agatha Single- 
 ton, for 1 deemed myself an orphan too ; and from that 
 very hour a fech'ng sprung in my heart spontaneously, 
 for nature gave it birth, and heaven and all holy angels 
 sanctioned it. It was the sister's love I felt for you, 
 Wolf, when the rough waves made us co-partners 
 in sorrow, and in the dark threatening hour of human 
 ills. Nor felt I less for you dear Alfred ; but Wolf was 
 with me m a deeper trial still. The mouldering ruins 
 of the old abbey now bear witness to our mutual suf- 
 ferings and our mutual grief; for me you bore it man- 
 fully at your tender age; I never saw mortal courage 
 burn with greater ardour, and for that, brave boy, you 
 evermore will be dear to the heart of Agatha.'' 
 
 *' Uh lady, speak not so kindly ; methinks I'd far 
 better have you chide me, for then 1 should not hear 
 the music of your voice float so sweetly on my ear as 
 now it does ; so thrilling, as it would seem that angels 
 gave it breath and sweetness. Would I had died lady, 
 when I was with you in the ruins of the old abbey, and 
 you were Agatha Singleton, for then you would have 
 pitied me. But I pray you pardon me, gentle Lady 
 Agatha, that the thoughts of past times have made me 
 talk so strangely." 
 
 *^ And wildly too, 1 think boy," uttered the con- 
 founded Agatha^ and with a slight suffusion of colour 
 mounting to her delicate cheek. '' You tnust suppress
 
 THE F1SHER*S DAUGHTER. l^ 
 
 such thoughts that make you such a fond enthusiast. 
 Why didst thou wish to die in the ruins of the abbey^' 
 pray — for pity's sake ?" '}t05id riail fioJ 
 
 ** No, for yours lady,'^ would have murmured the lips 
 of Wolf, had he dared to have given utterance to such 
 a sentence; and Alfred fearing that the important se- 
 cret which his soul so laboured with, would in another 
 unguarded moment escape him, and for ever consign 
 him to disgrace and misery, as well as eventually ruin 
 their fortunes, he very quickly hurried him out of the 
 presence of the Lady Agatha, on the pretence of re- 
 minding him of an engagement with one of their mas- 
 ters in translating the foreign languages : and for this 
 time the danger that Alfred so apprehended was pre- 
 vented. But no sooner had this amiable youth retired 
 with the companion of his heart to his own apartment, 
 than he reproached him with the imprudent manner 
 in which he had spoken to the Lady Agatha. 
 
 " Have you taken leave of your senses, brother Wolf," 
 uttered he, " that you are guilty of such preposterous 
 folly, as to disclose so fearlessly the passion you feel 
 for the Lady Agatha, who, if she knows it not now, 
 (and I hope the evil is averted,) will at some future 
 period both condemn and despise you for it, if you 
 address her in such impassioned language as you did 
 just now? She cannot be blind or insensible to the 
 cause ; and can you think that she who is all purity, 
 all delicacy, will bear you in her presence when she 
 knows you love her? Think you that she will ever 
 sanction such immoral sentiments to be breathed in her 
 chaste ear, and not punish your presumptuous folly, by 
 for ever banishing you from her presence ? The ho-
 
 196 THK FISHER S DAUGHTKK. 
 
 noured Duke too, wuu.d she not inform him of it? 
 Her husband too! There indeed 1 must pause on the 
 enormity of your crime, and shudder at the conse- 
 quences of it, if you continue to cherish a passion so 
 disgraceful to yourself, and so insulting to her. For 
 heaven's sake dear brother, run not into such foul, 
 such unnatural error; it is sacrilege to love that wo- 
 man who is the wife of another ; it is breaking, it is 
 trampling over all laws both human and divine, and 
 you ought to exert every faculty, every nerve that 
 reason claims, to counteract and prevent the influence 
 of so fatal, so dangerous a passion." 
 
 " Well, Sir," cried Wolf, who had listened to the re- 
 proaches of Alfred with more temper than he thought 
 himself master of, — *' Well, Sir, admitting all you 
 have said to proceed from a motive of brotherly affec- 
 tion—" 
 
 '^ I call attesting angels to witness that it proceeds 
 from no other," repeated Alfred, with great warmth 
 and energy; *' and that my own personal happiness, 
 my own personal interest, is entirely out of the ques- 
 tion, although by pursuance of the crime 1 have stated, 
 both our fortunes would be ruined for ever. Dear 
 Wolf be not angry, for I must speak plainly, or speak 
 not truly, and you well know that I value truth above 
 all other things." 
 
 " Well, you have spoken plain enough," cried Wolf, 
 with a firm undaunted tone of voice, " yet there is not 
 one word of truth in all you have been saying, except 
 that I love the Lady Agatha ; but that my loving her be 
 a crime in the sight of heaven or of man, I will deny, or 
 that she was another's when she innocently gave birth
 
 THE fisher's daughter. 19/ 
 
 to that chaste pjisbiou, which burns so fervently, and 
 with such holy fire, that angels might hght the torch 
 and fan the flame, without a thought unhallowed or 
 impure j if you call this a crime, why be it so; but in 
 my estimation it is a virtue, for it is virtuous to love 
 that which seemeth heavenly and virtuous too, like 
 unto the Lady Agatha. Besides, if it be a crime to 
 love, why has nature been so unkind, to plant in the 
 breast of her creatures that which is sinful both for the 
 body and the soul ?—tell me that Alfred. Our first 
 father in the garden of Eden wanted this passion to 
 make him enjoy the blessiugs of all created universe, 
 and he could not be happy without it, so God gave him 
 a beauteous creature in the semblance of woman ; and 
 if it were sinful to love her, or to feel that spontaneous 
 feehng for her which certainly might be called the first 
 origin of love, why gave God this creature unto him ? 
 Thus far I have proved that it is not sinful to love, 
 since it was the gift of heaven unto man." 
 
 " Wolf," uttered Alfred, after a serious pause, '- I 
 cannot resolve that question consistently, because it is 
 far removed from the case in point. There were no 
 others living in created space when these two beings 
 were formed for each other ; but had there been ano- 
 ther Adam and another Eve, would it not have been 
 sinful for the one to have lt>ved the second Eve, and the 
 first Eve to have loved the second Adam ? Unless thou 
 canst resolve me that question, I will not answer 
 thine." 
 
 '^ Because you cannot Alfred," retorted Wolf; " so 
 thou mayest as well be silent and hold thy tongfue, for. 
 thou mayest preach to eternity before thou canst turn
 
 198 THE fisher's daughter. 
 
 the present days into tliosc of the old time of Adam 
 and Eve. The world has since that period undergone 
 a systematic revolution, which it is not in the power 
 of the wisest sage, or the most profound philosopher 
 to expound the changes of." 
 
 " Yet you will acknowledge that some part of my 
 argument is just, and that it is sinful to love a woman 
 when that u^oman is in the possession of another," 
 uttered Alfred. To which Wolf replied — 
 
 " No, I say it is not sinful to love the vv^oman ; it is 
 only sinful when you attempt to gain the possession of 
 her through unworthy or dishonourable means ; and 
 there lieth the sinful part, not the loving of her, be- 
 cause the feeling, as I said before, being implanted in 
 our nature, it is spontaneous, and cannot be resisted ; 
 and while purity is the ofTspring of that passion, make 
 it sinful if you can ; and this is the passion, this the 
 love I bear towards the Lady Agatha; with life only 
 can it end, for it is the only charm that binds me to 
 existence, and one day Alfred you may feel the influ- 
 ence of that charm as much as I do now." 
 
 '^ But not for the same object," cried Alfred ; " not 
 for the same object. Heaven forbid that I should ever 
 sigh for a forbidden woman, or that I should ever covet 
 another man's wife." 
 
 " I do not covet her, although I love her as the light 
 of heaven, or the shining stars that bespangle the fir- 
 mament," vociferated Wolf; *' the breath of morn 
 that sheds its soft dews on the fragrant flowers, or the 
 vun that lights the roses, I love not more than the Lady 
 Agatha ; but what of that, doth the loving her make 
 me sinful, or that I should forget the honor of virtue
 
 THE FISHERS DAUGHTER. 199 
 
 whi.e I worship its sacred shrine? No, Alfred,, 4 
 swear by the immortal Gods that — " 
 
 " Hold my brother, there is but one God, why swear- 
 est thou by many?" uttered Alfred, in a tone so im- 
 pressive, that Wolf, restrained in his vehement expres- 
 sion, looked for a moment awed by the reflection that 
 it conveyed, and he felt that the argument of his bro- 
 ther was just. He could acknowledge but one eter- 
 nal Being, who ruled supreme both in heaven and on 
 earth ; and a pause of some length ensued : at last 
 Wolf clearing his voice, for he had been considerably 
 agitated during this conversation, resumed his dis- 
 course, by declaring, that the passion he felt for the 
 Lady Agatha he would evermore be silent on. 
 
 " And endeavour to subdue it by every means in 
 your power, will not you my brother?" uttered Alfred, 
 clasping his hands with a fervency, and uplifting his 
 mild blue eyes to heaven, with an expression that 
 evinced far more than language could express, the de- 
 gree of interest he felt in the happiness and welfare of the 
 being before him. " Yes, 1 know that you will, while 
 my unceasing prayer shall be offered up to that throne of 
 mercy, which ever listens to the supplication of its faith- 
 ful votaries, that your endeavours to subdue the weak- 
 ness of your heart may be successful; then shall I clasp 
 my brother to my beating heart, whose every pulse 
 throbs with anxiety but for his future happiness, and 
 say that he has made an effort worthy of himself; and 
 the smiles of approving conscience, like a pure 
 unsullied fountain, will reflect a virtuous action that 
 will translate him to the skies." 
 
 " Alfred, your superior good sense has gained a vie-
 
 200 THE fishrh's daughter. 
 
 tory, which I owe more to yon than to any boasted 
 resolution of my own/' uttered Wolf, his eyes glisten- 
 ing with a tear, full of genuine affection for his brother. 
 " Never shall the Lady Agatha know the dominion she 
 holds over my heart, and never shall that heart be be- 
 trayed again into any weakness in her presence ; never 
 to mortal will I divulge the secret, to my brother only 
 revealed." 
 
 " I am satisfied my dear brciher that you will keep 
 this promise to me sacred/' cried Alfred, clasping Wolf 
 in a fraternal embrace. '' Soon we may part, but in 
 absence I know that Wolf will never forget this day's 
 conversation with his Alfred; and that although distant 
 climes may separate us, yet they will never divide our 
 hearts. The rough seas did not divide us ; the high 
 Heaven gave us to each others arms ; and though the 
 billotvs curled around us, the loud thunder roared, and 
 the vivid lightning flashed between us, yet in safety we 
 landed on the coast, where the guiding star of over- 
 ruling Providence directed us to find protectors, and t(? 
 find friends ; and O may that leading star still guide 
 us, dear Wolf, that we may glide through our voyage 
 in life, as unalloyed with care as we pass it now, with 
 hearts as pure, and with peaceful days so blest, that 
 hereafter we may find that peace which passeth all 
 understanding, in the communion of saints, and the 
 joys that reign above all earthly space, all earthly gran- 
 deur, all earthly ambition.'' 
 
 Suffice it to say, that from this day Wolf became a 
 disciple of his brother Alfred, who, though young 
 enough for a Telemachus, possessed the wisdom of a 
 Mentor, and acted in such a capacity to his brother
 
 THK fisher's daughter. 201 
 
 Wolf; and by this beautiful interchange of thought 
 and sentiment with each other, they improved every 
 hour in the progress of their studies, and were acknow- 
 ledged by their tutors to be two of the most promising 
 young men that were ever known, for the short period 
 they had been placed under their care ; but their talents 
 were, according to their disposition, very opposite, that 
 of Alfred being of the most grave and sent'^ntious kind, 
 while that of Wolf was lively, bold, and spirited ; he 
 had also a great propensity to literature, and actually 
 produced some clever specimens of poetic genius, 
 which were concealed for a length of time from the 
 knowledge of his tutor, till Alfred smuggled one of his 
 compositions : and it so astonished his tutor, that the 
 very next mornirg he determined to submit it to the 
 inspection of the DuKe. declaring that his pupil was 
 likely to make no smaller figure as a poet, than to shine 
 in military exploits ; at which the Duke smiled, while 
 he exclaimed — 
 
 " Then he is likely to have two beggarly professions 
 at once ; for it is very certain that no gold grows on the 
 soldier's laurels, and it is proverbial that none was ever 
 found to grow on the poet's laurels. Any thing but a 
 poet, good Laurence, make the boy ; for if he takes to 
 quill-driving he will be good for nothing ; do not en- 
 courage this propensity 1 beg of you." 
 
 *' So please your Grace, it was by mere accident that 
 1 discovered it at all," replied the tutor; " it was Mr. , 
 Alfred who stole this specimen of his poetic muse, and 
 Mr. Wolf is quite unconscious of the depredation 
 which hia brother has so cunningly made upon him ; 
 b9 cc
 
 202 THE fisher's daughter. 
 
 hut, believe me, it is no mean one, and well worthy of 
 your attention." 
 
 ** Let me have a peep at it," uttered his Grace, smil- 
 ing, and putting on his spectacles; and the tutor im- 
 mediately placed in the Duke's hands the following 
 lines, which the young inspired poet had entitled The 
 Star of Liberty ; and his Grace, who in his youthful 
 days had been an enthusiast of poetic talents, whether 
 humble or exalted, began to read it aloud. 
 
 " O that I were an Indian wild. 
 On whom the star of freedom smiled, 
 I'd be a fond idolater, 
 And worship that dear brilliant star. 
 At ease beneath the plantain shade 
 rd fondle with my tawny maid, 
 To her I'd sing, and she to me. 
 The song of love and liberty. 
 
 We'd wander through the sunny vaies. 
 Shun scorching heats, or stormy gales ; 
 Pleasantness where'er it be, 
 Alone should tempt my love and me. 
 The nations miscall'd civilized 
 We'd shun, as serpent haunts despised ; 
 Unbiass'd, merry, blest, and free, 
 Beneath thy star, dear liberty. 
 
 Though custom's slave define us rude. 
 The sea, the woods, should render food ; 
 Our tent we'd raise where breezes hail. 
 Should tempt our steps, the woody vale. 
 Whene'er we chose, again we'd cban^. 
 Where'er we pleased in freedom range; 
 Kind, ardent, and serene we'd be. 
 And sing of love and liberty. 
 
 And we would snatch the fearful joy. 
 That elevated souls can buoy ; 
 E'en when sublimity's proud reigu 
 Is in the sky or on the main.
 
 903 
 
 Though Nature's feeble train retire, 
 We'd in the awful hour admire, 
 While still our fondest glance should be 
 Bent on thy star, sweet liberty. 
 
 Our seat by deaf'ning cataract, 
 
 We'd mark the thunderbolt in act. 
 
 The quaking earth, the whirlwind's sweeft 
 
 The wild convulsions of the deep ; 
 
 And tempest's yells, whence seem as hurl'd 
 
 A fiat forth, to blast the world, 
 
 That shuddering shrink ; poor atoms, we 
 
 The while would bless thee, liberty. 
 
 And we would have our winter cot. 
 And we would have our summer grot. 
 Where taste and fancy should combine. 
 Flowers bloom, and beauty shine, 
 Rivers run, and wild birds sing, 
 Forest creatures dart and spring ; 
 A second Eden all should be, 
 Beneath thy star, blest liberty 
 
 No heartless master's eye should awe. 
 
 And impose the despot law ; 
 
 The thought ambitious neither then. 
 
 Should prompt to slave our brother men 
 
 No wasting toil for niggard pay. 
 
 Or purse-proud's frown to curse our day i 
 
 Such hell on earth could never be. 
 
 Where beamed thy star, loved liber^. 
 
 What though unblest by bloated priest 
 The God of all should bless our feast ; 
 What though no scoundrel lawyer plan 
 P.'sputes and hate 'tween man and man } 
 Without the legal tyger's aid. 
 We'd sit us fearless in the shade. 
 Of tythes, of fees, of taxes free ; 
 All health, we'd bless thee, liberty. 
 
 What though no doctor wigg'd and w sc 
 Vending jargon, poison, lies. 
 Insults us with his cold concern. 
 Yet one would for the other yearn,
 
 90i THE fisher's daughter. 
 
 With true affection's tenderest smart. 
 Play lover, nurse, and doctor's part. 
 While temperance chief our leech should he, 
 And hallow'd star of liberty. 
 
 Yes, and on the flowery sod, 
 
 We'd bend the knee, the heart to God; 
 
 Glistening tears on g;lo\ving cheek. 
 
 Our grateful-hearted love should speak. 
 
 Yes, wild inspirations glow. 
 
 The ©ye should bright, the breast shcuLl the e. 
 
 All soul in adoration, we 
 
 'Vould bless the God of liberty. 
 
 () yes, and with warm hearts as true 
 As Nature's children ever knew ; 
 The earth our altar, and the sky 
 The dome of Nature's temple high. 
 Our garb, the robe of innocence^ 
 Our incense, groans for past offence ; 
 From superstition's gloom yet free. 
 As heaven's light of liberty. 
 
 O that I were an Indian free, 
 The savage son of liberty. 
 Far from Europe's sons of blood, 
 The homicidal viper broo 1, 
 Where men are as utensils made. 
 Mere tools of art; where war's a trade* 
 Religion craft ; where best is lie, 
 ^Vho stabs the heart of liberty. 
 
 Yes, blessed are the simple tribe. 
 Custom's cant who ne'er imbibe. 
 Right against wrong their only rule, 
 And Nature's dictates all their school ; 
 With friendship every breast endued. 
 For mutual offices of good ; 
 O with that mild fraternity, 
 Ttvere bliss to live at liberty." Wolf. 
 
 No sooner had the Duke finished the perusal of 
 Wolf's poetiral bantling, than he bestowed the meiHl
 
 THE fisher's daughter. 205 
 
 so justly due to the brilliant genius which, in this fine 
 noble-spirited youth, began hourly to expand, with 
 more beauty, energy, and sweetness ; and his Grace 
 almost breathed a wish that he had not made choice of 
 II life so adventurous and uncertain as that of a soldier 
 of fortune, lest the toils, perils, and hardships to which 
 he would be necessarily exposed, might, like an unkindly 
 frost, throw a blight upon so fair and prowiising a blos- 
 som, and doom it to wither, and eventually to perish, 
 before it could arrive to the fullest perfection. And he 
 exclaimed — 
 
 ^^ Well, Lawrence, I see you are waiting with no 
 small impatience and anxiety to hear me pronounce 
 judgment on your young poet; but I shall do no such 
 thing 1 assure you Lawrence, so you will certainly be 
 disappointed in your expectations, for J don't want the 
 boy to be a poet, when he is going to enlist under the 
 banners of Mars ; but if we encourage him in this pro- 
 pensity to scribbling, we shall shortly have him enlist- 
 ing under the banners of Venus. Write poetry — write 
 love ! — a youth of his age ! they are much the same 
 thing, and you know that Lawrence, you don't want 
 to find out that secret at this time of day 3 so no more 
 poetical bantlings from the pecranium of your young 
 Wolf, 1 beseech you, as I don't intend to look at them, 
 because I don't choose to sanction them ; and as it may 
 be probable that I cannot look at them without prais- 
 ing them, I give you my word that 1 shall decline 
 looking at them at all." 
 
 The disappointed tutor looked excessively chagrined 
 to hear the Duke njake so determined a resolution, for 
 he not unly admired this poetic talent in his young fa-
 
 206 THE fishkr's daughter. 
 
 vourite, but could sec no ostensible reason that his 
 Grace could give, why it should not meet with encou- 
 ragement and approbation. He had given one reason, 
 but that, in the estimation of the tutor, was absurdly 
 ridiculous, for his pupil had discovered no traits as yet 
 of the tender passion about him ; and he resolved to 
 tell his Grqoe so plainly, and that he also thought poe- 
 try and love by no means on a parallel with each 
 other. 
 
 " You were talking of poetry and love being similar 
 things, so please your Grace," (uttered the tutor, fixing 
 his large go^^gle black eyes on the Duke with a wide 
 stare, which but for decency's sake would have ex- 
 cited the risibility of his Grace ; for with a very lean 
 and spare figure, Wolf's tutor, although a learned, and 
 unquestionably a very pleasing man, resenrjbled a pair 
 of tongs ; for bis head and his wig were of the largest 
 dimensions, and his body and limbs of the most dimi- 
 nutive size :) '^ but you must pardon me, if for once I 
 have the temerity to dissent from your Grace's opi- 
 nion, by venturing to declare that a man may be an ex- 
 cellent poet, without having ever felt the influence of 
 the belle passion. I for instance, your Grace, never 
 was in love in the whole course of my existence, con- 
 sequently should never encourage it in my pupil." 
 
 To which his Grace smilingly replied, for he had a 
 great respect for the little learned man — 
 
 *^ And how the devil Lawrence should you have the 
 sagacity to discover a passion that you never felt, and, 
 by your own confession, are altogether in.scnsible of? 
 You cannot tell it by outward semblance; love reigns 
 in the heart, and is never so glaringly perceptible as
 
 THE fishkr's daughter. 207 
 
 when it seeks concealment. Now, in that casc^ your 
 pupil may be twenty fathoms deep in love, without the 
 possibility of your being a wit the wiser for it. 1 do 
 not say that he is. Heaven forbid the boy should have 
 the euodition of love upon nim, as Rosalind says in the 
 play ; but you cannot warrant him heart-whole for 
 the life of you, for the lines he has written in his Star 
 of Liberty betoken some signs and symptoms, which it 
 were far bcter he had not expressed ; they are inflamma- 
 tory ; they breathe of love, although I grant that the 
 subject is heroic." 
 
 " And worthy of the heart that sent them to his 
 head," exclaimed his tutor; "in short, your Grace, 
 Mr. Wolf is an extraordinary genius at his age ; and 
 though you now object to his being a poet, yet 1 dare 
 be sworn that at some future period you may yet ac- 
 knowledge that the poet will be worthy of the man." 
 
 The tutor was growing warm in the zealous regard 
 he felt for his pupil, and the admiration of his talent, 
 and it was a zeal with wbi( h his Grace could not be 
 ofTended ; and slipping into his hand a liberal dona- 
 tion, they parted severally, equally impressed with a 
 favourable opin'.on of the rising perfections of tie 
 young Wolf/'
 
 208 THE FISHER S DAUGHTKR 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 « We'll never part again ! O we have years, 
 
 Ueliciotis years of happiness to come ! 
 
 Then let the sweet anticipation 
 
 Of all those budding joys, cheat the lone hours, 
 
 And shrink tliem into minutes. 
 
 I must not have a cloud upon that brow ; 
 
 Those eyes should always beam with sunny light, 
 
 A tear obscures their lustre, and each drop 
 
 That falls for me, inflicts a thousand wounds. 
 
 By Heaven 1 have no eyes for any charms save thine. 
 
 No sense but of thy beauty ; 
 
 1 cannot wish thy love less delicate. 
 
 But didst thou ne'er repent the precious gift 
 
 My pleadings won, nor e'er regret the vow 
 
 Which gave thee to my arms ?" 
 
 We certainly frequently go astray and betray oar- 
 selves into error without knowing it; wisdom snews 
 us the road, but the heart has a bad memory, foi 
 strength or weakness of the mind are in truth but the 
 good or bad organization of the brain, for we are more 
 capricious than fortune; still we find in our progress 
 through life, that happiness is in the mind, not in the 
 object, and that we desire what we like, not what others 
 approve, and that our disposition or caprice gives every 
 thing its value. Now so little had the tutor dreamt of 
 his voung pupil being under the subordination of that
 
 THE fi6h«r's daughter. 209 
 
 tymiinic passion, which, though gentle, holds its do- 
 mitiion over the charmed senses vvith such unbounded 
 sway, that like the torrent which rushes down a moun- 
 tainous bank, and carries with impetuous force and head- 
 long fury all that would impede its progress to its des- 
 tined goal, that he had never enquired into the abstracted 
 tits of melancholy which of late had certainly plunged 
 Wolf into the most profound reveries. He had never 
 observed (though his brother Alfred had) those kind- 
 ling blushes which sometimes mounted to his cheek, 
 and as suddenly paled his complexion on the mention 
 of a certain object. Alfred could tell the cause of his 
 brother's warm-breathed sighs, if a certain lovely form 
 by chance came by the windows of the apartment 
 which was consecrated to their studies, and which, 
 opening on a fine pleasure ground and beautiful exten- 
 sive plantation, was frequently visited by the company, 
 who were in the habit of being invited to Violet Vale -, , 
 and often Lord Montague Montault and his beauteous 
 Lady could be seen from the windows of this apartment;, 
 strolling together through the lovely and romantic 
 shades of the plantation ; Lady Agatha leaning on 
 his arm, while his lordship seemed in earnest contem- 
 plation of her beautiful features. It was then that the 
 blood of Wolf would rush to his face in crimson hues, 
 his heart beat tumultuously, and his eyes float in liquid 
 moisture ; and he would suddenly quit the room, on 
 pretence of a violent pressure on his brain, or spasm in 
 his side, the source of which wTre by no means unde- 
 finable to Alfred, although completely unintelligible to 
 Mr. Mark Lawrence, who never having been even in his 
 youthful days (and he had now advanced to that season 
 c 9 D D
 
 210 THE fisher's daughter. 
 
 when the heyday of the blood is over) susceptible of 
 
 the power of the little blind deity who rules over 
 
 hearts, was quite incapable of judging of those external 
 
 symptoms with which patients languishing under the 
 
 disease are generally affected ; for he had often de- 
 
 ;larcd in some of his jocular fits, (when he sat down to 
 
 Jinncr with the young gentlemen, in company with 
 
 Doctor Syntax, who was a poor but clever son of 
 
 genius, engaged by his Grace the Duke of Braganza 
 
 o superintend, though not exactly serving in the 
 
 capacity of tutor, on the studies of Alfred,) that he 
 
 would much rather encounter a mad dog, than a 
 
 voman, towards whom he always felt a most invincible 
 
 dislikce 
 
 " You don't say so Mr. Lawrence," cried the Doctor, 
 staring with the most profound astonishment on the 
 little learned man, and looking incredulously at him at 
 the same moment. 
 
 " But I do say so Doctor Syntax," exclaimed the 
 tutor ; " and I will maintain my opinion, that a 
 woman is one of the most mischievous animals in crea- 
 tion, and that they do more mischief than any animal 
 in creation. I never saw but one that I could at all 
 tolerate, and that is only since I became an inmate in 
 this noble mansion.'* 
 
 " Oh there is little doubt of where your allusion 
 points," uttered the Doctor, " she is indeed a nonpa- 
 reil of a woman, the ne plus ultra of all that 
 a man could wish for or desire. In form a Venus, in 
 wisdom a Pallas, in dignity a Juno, and in chastity a 
 Diana ; in short, the lady of Lord Montague Montault 
 is altogether (taking the tout ensemble of the bewitch-
 
 THE fisher's daughter. 21 I 
 
 itjg graces that adorn lier beautiful person, and the 
 charms of her more perfect and accomplished mind) 
 an angel on earth, and that is going as high as mortal 
 praise can reach." 
 
 " And much higher than you ought; excuse me doc- 
 tor," uttered the tutor; " for although the Lady Aga- 
 tha far exceeds the race of that frail and trifling sex, 
 yet I hold it profanation to call her angel." 
 
 '^ The expression was merely metaphorical. Sir," 
 cried the doctor, '^ and there is no profanity in giving 
 beings that seem heavenly in virtue angelic titles, 
 any more than it is wicked to call those devils or de- 
 mons whose actions are devilish, and whose principles 
 are demoniac." 
 
 It was during this conversation between the learned 
 men that Wolf betrayed the most restless agitation, 
 while his complexion varied alternately from red to 
 pale, from the very moment that the Lady Agatha be- 
 came the theme of discourse, and which at last was 
 so perceptible to the eyes of the tutor, that, looking at 
 him with some involuntary surprise, he exclaimed — 
 
 " Bless me Mr. Wolf, how you change colour; there 
 is nothing of indisposition I hope that occasions it." 
 
 To which Wolf, in the utmost confusion, and endea- 
 vouring to recover his self-possession, replied — 
 
 "None in the le-ast; L never enjoyed better health 
 than I do at this present moment, I thank you Sir." 
 
 " And yet your countenance contradicts your asser- 
 tion Mr. Wolf," uttered the tutor. 
 
 " No matter, Sir, f am perfectly well I assure you,' 
 cried Wolf, a little petulantly; " nor is the counte- 
 nance always au index of internal feelings."
 
 212 THE fisher's daughter. 
 
 *' Oh bless my soul, to be sure it is not/' uttered 
 the tutor, " for if it were, many a rogue would be 
 taken for an honest man, that would turn out to be 
 the most infernal rascal in existence. No — no, Mr. 
 Wolf, your observation is right, most incontestibly 
 right in this particular; the human countenance is the 
 most deceptive thing in nature." 
 
 The cloth was now removed, and some wine and 
 fruit placed on the table; of the former the young 
 gentlemen partook but moderately, it being a luxury 
 intended more to gratify the taste of the tutors than 
 an indulgence for the pupils; but the health of the 
 noble fauiily of Braganza and Montault being drank in 
 a full bumper by Doctor Syntax, both Wolf and Alfred 
 most heartily joined, and good humour and harmony 
 were restored for the remainder of the evening. 
 
 Still they were not yet removed from the house of 
 their protector at Herring Dale, who often made many 
 enquiries of his adopted sons after the health of the 
 Lady Agatha, and of the reception they met with at 
 Violet Vale. ** And pray lads, be you happier than you 
 were nine months ago in the house of Peter Blust, when 
 Jessy and Olive were frisking about for all the world 
 like two young lambs by your side, and that dear little 
 angel, when she was Agatha Singleton, used to sit 
 down to the harpsichord, and play over the thingum- 
 bobs with her pretty little white taper fingers of a 
 winter's evening, till she used to gladden all around 
 her? and then her voice, which was sweeter than a 
 lark's or a nightingale's— do you remember lads how it 
 used to charm us ? But there — she is gone now, so 
 its no use to think of it, she must tune her pipes to a
 
 THE fisher's daughter 213 
 
 different song now ; and if it was not for that affkir of 
 affronting my Jessy, I'd just go and take a peep at her 
 pretty face. Do she look as smiling and as good na- 
 tured as ever though, lads ?" 
 
 No response was made by Wolf to these interroga- 
 tories of his protector, except that a deep sigh issued 
 from his over-charged heart, as if it would break to 
 bursting, which reaching the ear of the fisher Blust, as 
 well as the glance he caught of the melancholy expres- 
 sion which stole over his features, he exclaimed — 
 
 ^' Why, shiver my topsails lad, the sooner thee be- 
 come a fighting man and go to the wars, the better; 
 and a nod's as good as a wink to a blind horse. Why 
 thee be all manner of the colours of the rainbow, 
 only just because I axed a few questions about our 
 dear little Agatha Singleton, and I see thou canst not 
 stand it. You're clean gone as a whistle with love for 
 another man's wife, and I be ashamed of thee. I be 
 quite ashamed of thee; thee hast no business to han- 
 ker after another man's goods, as the saying is." 
 
 The climax of poor Wolf's mortification was now 
 complete; and totally unable to answer one word in 
 justification of the charge which had been imputed to 
 him by his protector, he threw a supplicating look to- 
 wards Alfred, who instantly broke the ice for him by 
 exclaiming — 
 
 " Indeed, Sir, you wrong my brother Wolf by such 
 a supposition." 
 
 " Yes, indeed you do Sir," now tremulously faulter- 
 ed out Wolf. " I call heaven to witness that I never 
 once harboured a thought injurious to the purity of that 
 angelic woman, or discreditable to myself."
 
 *Jii THE fisher's daughter, 
 
 " You may call heaven or the other place as loud as 
 can bawl, and as long as you please, master Wolf,"' 
 said Peter; ''but when you tell me that you don't 
 love Montague's wife, you may as well tell it to the 
 marines, for that cock won't fight with an old sailor. 
 T say you are ten fathoms deep in something, call it 
 what you please ; and as for you, master Alfred, you 
 had better hold your tongue and say nothing about it, 
 for shiver my topsails if you don't make bad worse. 
 But come lad, don't be cast down, for nobody will be 
 the wiser, if you don't let the cat out of the bag your- 
 self. So I'll give you a bit of advice, and perhaps you 
 may give it a turn over in your mind when you come 
 to argufy the topic by yourself; and that is, never to 
 hanker after forbidden fruit; remember it was the first 
 bitter fruit to man that he ever tasted of, and we have 
 had the flavour of it in our mouths ever since. I shall 
 say no more, because I see that it do grieve thee, lad." 
 
 " Grieve me. Sir!" uttered Wolf, at once recover- 
 ing that intrepidity of look, which iti earlier days had 
 so remarkably distinguished him. '' Yes, Sir, better 
 you had stabbed me to the heart, than wound me so 
 deeply by your ungenerous suspicions, which you shall 
 never have occasion to re^^eat to me again; for from 
 this hour I never will mention the name of Lady Agatha. 
 I never have, to my knowledge, with impropriety ; and 
 as to my coveting the treasure that is in the possession 
 of another, may I be eternally deserted of Providence, 
 if ever so base a thought found an entrance to my 
 breast. No, Sir, I will send up to Heaven an oath 
 ere this night's sleep seal my eyes, and I will keep that 
 oath sacred ; whatever of good or evil /nay betide the
 
 THE fisher's daughter. 215 
 
 fate of Wolf, he will never live disgraced in the opi- 
 nion of his protector, whom more than life he values. 
 Forgive this involuntary warmth, Sir, but you have 
 drawn from me the bitterest tear I ever shed ; it has 
 fallen, but with it I rise; it vvill be the leading star of 
 my fortune, and in all the wanderings of Wolf, he will 
 remember the charmed talisman that accompanied the 
 reproach that I merited not, and that I will not merit 
 long, for I would perish ere I would be the evil thing 
 you think me." 
 
 '.' Forgive you ?*' uttered the fisher, whose asperity 
 was now exchanged for the most glowing admiration, 
 for the nobleness of sentiment and character that this 
 fine spirited youth had displayed, and whose petulance 
 was now completely subdued. "Forgive you? shiver 
 my topsails if ever I shall forgive Peter Blust for the 
 uncivil words he said to thee just now, as long as he 
 do breathe. But I say lad, it were all for the best, thee 
 do know that, and there were no one by to hear it 
 but thy brother Alfred. I do love thee boy with every 
 vein in my heart ; and if thee be'st crost in love, there 
 be no helping it, and yet it do grieve me sadly; and 
 shiver my topsails, if thee had married Agatha instead 
 of the great lord she has gotten spliced to now, 1 do 
 believe she would have been all the happier for it, and 
 that's a sinful thing to say too ; and if ever I open my 
 mouth as wide again upon this topic, my name's not 
 Peter Blust." 
 
 " I marry Agatha ?" uttered Wolf, striking his hand 
 with a sort of convulsive emotion against his forehead, 
 and instantly rising from his chair. " O, Sir ! after this 
 conversation, can you, or ought you to torment me with
 
 klO THE FISHER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 faither animadversions on the subject? Sparc me a 
 farther trial of my feelings, in pity spare me, for I fee! 
 my he*art and brain could bear no longer." 
 
 Wolf burst into an agony of tear^, and now leaning 
 over the back of Alfred's chair, sobbed audibly, to the 
 inexpressible concern of both parties, who endeavoured 
 by every means in their power to soothe and tranquil- 
 lize his agitated feelings ; and the fisher, feeling that 
 he had been the ostensible cause of occasioning so 
 much commotion in the mind of this generous and 
 amiable youth, actually condescended to apologize- for 
 the pain he had so unintentionally inflicted, and swore 
 a tremendous oath that he would never do it again. 
 
 The fisher kept his word. Wolf returned nightly to 
 Herring Dale, but not a sentence was pronounced in 
 the hearing of Wolf on the subject of Lady Agatha 
 Montault, till the loud ringing of bells in Cromer and 
 its vicinity, announced the birth of a son and heir to 
 ^he Braganza family ; and then Peter called for his fa- 
 vourite cordial, when Wolf and Alfred returned in the 
 evening of the same day, and filling out a full bumper, 
 ^riank long life and prosperity to the little stranger, 
 exclaiming — 
 
 '^ Well, 1 be glad to hear of it with all my heart and 
 soul, imd that it be all safe over With" — Here Peter, 
 screwing his eyes in an oblique direction towards 
 Wolf, who sat in an abstracted posture beside of Al- 
 fred, made a full stop, and passing the glass to Alfred, 
 Vociferated^ 
 
 " Come, here's to my Jessy, and a chopping boy 
 when it do come. Shiver my topsails, if I wont make 
 the grog fly on that day, my name ben*t Pt tcr. Come
 
 THE fisher's daughter. 217 
 
 lads, a christeniDg, and a merry one 3 and a health to 
 all good lasses, great or small, in the parish of Cromer. 
 Wilt not drink it lads ?" 
 
 " Most certainly, Sir," cried Alfred ; " who could 
 resist an invitation so cordial, and a toast so well ap- 
 plied ? and I am sure my brother Wolf will heartily 
 join, that our dear sister Jessy may shortly experience 
 the happiness that the Lady Agatha did this morning, 
 in presenting to the arms of a fond husband a son and 
 heir, to inherit the virtues of a happy family." 
 
 " Aye do thee lad, do thee lad," cried the fisher, 
 highly delighted that Alfred had asked of Wolf what 
 he felt ashamed, after certain stipulations had passed 
 between them, of doing himself; and with a smile of 
 genuine good humour, he added ; *' it will do my heart 
 good to see thee cosey and comfortable, so do thee 
 drink Jessy's health, and all the rest of it, wilt thee 
 now ?" 
 
 Wolf instantly understood the meaning of his pro- 
 tector, and whatever sacrifice he made to his own feel- 
 ings, he determined to gratify his, and immediately 
 drank Alfred's toast, with the best grace a man could 
 assume whose heart was writhing under the pangs of 
 hopeless and unconquerable passion; but it appeared 
 so genuine to the unsophisticated Peter, that he could 
 not help ejaculating, though inwardly to himself, 
 ** Thank God, thee be a man again ; and the evil 
 spirit that did rule thee be clean gone out of thy 
 heart for ever." The remaining hours w ere passed by 
 them in the utmost harmony and peace, each retir- 
 ing to their respective chambers satisfied with the part 
 they had that night performed, which, like a gtntlc 
 a 10 EE
 
 218 THE fisher's daughter. 
 
 opiate, soon had the desired effect of closing their eyes 
 in balmy sleep ; and if Wolf was not happy, he prayed 
 to be so, and that the object on whom his soul hung 
 with dotage, might, in the tender claim which nature 
 had given her, in addition to that of wife, enjoy the 
 blessings of a fond and happy mother; and that her 
 sweet innocent might, when the opening bud should 
 ripen into maturity, be ever sensible of the cherished 
 care bestowed on it by the lovely and accomplished 
 author of its being. 
 
 In the mean while, time flew with roseate wings 
 over the families of Montault and Braganza. Lord 
 Montague felt in the birth of his son, an augmentation 
 of the happiness which he before enjoyed with his 
 lovely wife, who after six weeks confinement, received 
 the congratulations of all her friends at a splendid 
 party at her own magnificent mansion, given by her 
 lord, to commemorate the happy event which had 
 taken place in his family ; and at which the Duke of 
 Braganza, the Marquis and Marchioness of Montault, 
 were present ; also Lady Lavinia, who was now on the 
 eve of being the bride of Lord Winstone ; for in com- 
 pliment to his sister, Lord Montague could not with 
 propriety omit his lordship's name in the cards of in- 
 vitation which were issued out on this spleildid occa- 
 sion, and Lord Winstone was one of the visitors ever 
 after at Violet Vale. 
 
 As to Agatha herself, on the day she received her 
 friends, she appeared so delicately lovely, that her 
 beauty was rather considerably improved than dimi- 
 nished by her recent confinement; while the fascinat- 
 ing expression of her countenance, which was always
 
 THE FiSHER's DAUGHlLil. 219 
 
 animated with sweetness and the most exquisite sen- 
 sibility, was so touchingly beautiful, when she gave 
 her hand to her lord, and he led her into the drawing- 
 room, as she courtesied gracefully on receiving the 
 compliments and congratulations of all his numerous 
 friends, that it was not possible, even for the most 
 rancorous envy, not to have admired her. 
 
 Arrayed in vestments of the purest white, and with 
 a cap of the finest lace, through which a profusion of 
 dark brown glossy hair was only partially concealed 
 — never had she looked so transcendantly lovely; and 
 when Lord Winstone approached her, it was certain 
 that he could not suppress an involuntary feeling of 
 something that bordered on envy, that Lord Montague 
 was in possession of such a woman, for whom, at a 
 distant period, he himself had sighed ; and he ex- 
 claimed — 
 
 ^' Though last not least, consider me Lady Agatha 
 amongst the number of your husband's friends, who 
 rejoice in congratulating you on the happy event for 
 which we are this day assembled at his lordship's 
 hospitable mansion. May long succeeding years of 
 happiness unequalled crown the sweet boy; and may 
 his name ever reflect a lustre on the house of Braganza 
 and Montault." 
 
 As this was uttered in a loud key, it met the ear 
 of the Duke, who was at that moment gazing on the 
 face of his beloved child with an unspeakable delight, 
 which none but the raptures of a father ever knew, who 
 could boast of the possession of such a daughter; and 
 be exclaimed, close at the elbow of Lord Winstone — 
 
 " Thank you my lord, thar-k you, for the .united
 
 220 THE fisher's daughter. 
 
 compliments you have bestowed, both on my daughter 
 and her father ; and I hope the period is not very far 
 distant, when we shall both have occasion to congra- 
 tulate your lordship on the same happy event, and 
 when the heir of Winstone will be added to the family 
 group." 
 
 His lordship bowed gracefully to the Duke's com- 
 pliment, and the cheeks of Lady Lavinia were tinged 
 with a slight blush, as she drew near to her lovely sis- 
 ter-in-law, and took her station by her side, whisper- 
 ing in her ear — 
 
 " Heavens, Agatha ! how could you think of disguis- 
 ing yourself in that frightful odious cap, and that clumsy 
 lace ruff, which completely hides the form of your shoul- 
 ders ? But that robe is pretty, and would be vastly 
 becoming without the ruff, and yet you look better 
 than before your confinement. But surely you do not 
 intend to nurse your little boy yourself? No, it would 
 be barbarous to spoil that pretty neck ; and its a hun- 
 dred to one whether Montague will suffer you to do 
 any such thing.*' To which Agatha gravely replied — 
 
 " And do you imagine Lady Lavinia, that I think it 
 necessary to ask your brother's permission how I am 
 to nurse my child ? or that from ridiculous vanity, or 
 absurdity of fashion, I am to withhold the nourishment 
 which nature ever intended for a mother to give to her 
 infant? No, in all things else I would be subservient 
 to the will of my husband ; but in this particular I 
 will be guided wholly by my own inclinations.'* 
 
 *^ Well I don't intend to do any thing of the kind 
 myself when I am married," retorted her ladyship. 
 I would never consent to spoil my shape for a little
 
 THE FISHER*S DAUGHTER. 221 
 
 brat that would never thank me for it, when it no 
 longer wanted my assistance/' 
 
 " My dear, you will certainly think differently when 
 you are a mother yourself,'* uttered Agatha; " and till 
 then I cannot enter into any discussion with you on the 
 subject, nor have we time ; for some more of your bro- 
 ther's guests are arrived, and they will think it strange 
 if I do not pay my respects to them." 
 
 Now it is certain that Lord Winstone not being far 
 distant, had overheard every syllable of the conversa- 
 tion that had passed between Lady Lavinia and her 
 lovely cousin ; and the contrast in the sentiment of each 
 was not very advantageous to his bride elect, while he 
 felt the most glowing admiration for the wife of the so 
 greatly envied Lord Montague; but his intimacy had 
 gone too far with the daughter of the Marquis, for a 
 man of honour to retract the proposals he had already 
 made her ; but unfortunately, she had given his lord- 
 ship a necessary hint of her disposition, which other- 
 wise he had never known, and he determined to be 
 guided by it hereafter when the holy knot was tied, 
 and to prevent, by a husband's authority, her lady- 
 ship's intended charitable plans towards his offspring 
 and her own. It was many weeks before Lady Agatha 
 was able to take her accustomed walks in the beautiful 
 gardens and plantations that surrounded Violet Vale ; 
 so anxious and attentive was she to discharge her ma- 
 ternal duties to her infant ; for although a careful 
 nurse was provided, yet she steadily adhered to her 
 former resolution of suckling it herself, at which Lord 
 Montague expressed some slight objection, which was 
 counterbalanced by the persuasive arguments and be-
 
 222 J'HE FISIIEU S DAUGHTUK. 
 
 witching eloquence of his lovely wife; wh») tenderly 
 reproaching him, while she yet held her sweet babe in 
 her arms, exclaimed — 
 
 " Oh my Lord, and can you indeed wish me to relin- 
 quish the sweetest task imaginable to a fond mother's 
 heart? Look in the face of my smiling innocent, and 
 tell me whether you think it does not deserve some 
 sacrifices to bo made for its helpless sake, some plea- 
 sures given up ? For what would pleasures avail me, 
 were I to behold my cherub droop and sicken for want 
 of the nutriment which nature has so kindly provided 
 for it in a mother's breast ? And what mother must 
 she be who, being supplied with the means, would 
 deny it to her tender offspring? Oh my Montague, 
 believe me not so cruel, or so unjust! in all other 
 things command me, but in this allow me to govern 
 myself." 
 
 " My best, my dearest love," uttered Lord Monta- 
 gue, gazing with unutterable fondness on his beauteous 
 wife, and clasping both her and his infant son with fer- 
 vour to his breast ; " and think you I would teach 
 you to neglect your child, or that I do not cherish it 
 for thy sake as dearly as its own ? I had other fears — 
 fears for thee my gentle love; your health, more pre- 
 cious to me than life itself, might be injured by this 
 duty to our sweet babe. I had no other motive in 
 dissuading you from your purpose, save alone anxiety 
 for thee." 
 
 Lady Agatha, however, in reply to her fond lord, found 
 arguments sufficiently powerful to convince him that 
 her health could never be impaired by a system so 
 natural, and so delightfully sweet; and the young Or-
 
 niK fisher's daughter. 223 
 
 lando (for he was named after the Duke, at the parti- 
 cular request of Lord Montague) continued hourly to 
 increase in strength and beauty. The freshness of the 
 rose was in his healthy looks, and his exquisitely fine 
 formed features were moulded hke those of his beau- 
 teous mother, so that the boy might have been a sub- 
 ject for the statuary before he was six months old; 
 being so lively and animated, he required less of his 
 mother's attention than if he had been of a sickly con- 
 stitution ; and for whole hours would his Grace dandle 
 him in his arms, from thence he would be handed to 
 his father, then to the Marquis ; and sometimes when 
 the Marchioness condescended to pay her daughter-in- 
 law a morning visit with Lady Lavinia, they would each 
 take the little pet in their arms, and bestow the high- 
 est encomiums on his improving growth and beauty. 
 
 " Well, I protest the boy will be an absolute giant," 
 uttered her ladyship, returning him to the arms of his 
 nurse ; •* his limbs are perfectly athletic already.*' 
 
 '' Indeed he is quite a little monster," observed Lady 
 Lavinia, " and yet so prodigiously handsome, that I 
 protest I almos: envy Agatha for having so sweet a 
 creature." 
 
 '* That is a great compliment after you have cahed 
 him a monster," uttered Agatha, and smiled; "but 
 whatever he may be, it is not his personal qualifica- 
 tions that I shall ever be particularly anxious about, 
 provided his mind reflects a mirror that I can always 
 look at without blushing." 
 
 " Now that is so exactly like you," uttered Lady 
 Lavinia, suppressing a sort of a half ironical smile, but 
 not daring immediately to level it at her lovelv sister-
 
 224 THE fisher's daughter. 
 
 in-law; '^ you are so senteotious and so precise if 
 one happens to say any thing in jest to you, that one 
 never knows how to please you." 
 
 " And you are not going to please those who choose 
 to take offence so easily, my love," uttered the Mar- 
 chioness, perceiving that Agatha by no means relished 
 the coarse observations which Lady Lavinia had made 
 on her sweet boy. " It is prodigiously strange indeed 
 if you, as the sister of Lord Montague Montault, may 
 not presume to pass a harmless joke on your little 
 nephew, without being called to account for it. How- 
 ever, as Lady Agatha is so extremely tenacious, she 
 will not be troubled in future with any more of our 
 visits at Violet Vale, since the presence of her mother 
 and sister-in-law are so disagreeable to her." 
 
 And without giving Agatha a moment's time to reply 
 to her injurious and insulting speech, the Marchioness 
 instantly arose, telling Lady Lavinia to follow her, and 
 whisked out of the apartment so suddenly, that the 
 coachman, who had got off his box during the time 
 that the carriage was waiting at the door, had hardly 
 time to reseat himself, or the footman to put down the 
 steps for his ladies to get into it. The imperious 
 and haughty tone in which her ladyship desired that 
 they would instantly proceed to Montault Castle, very 
 clearly proved to her domestics that her ladyship was 
 not at this precise moment in the sweetest of all possi- 
 ble of tempers ; which, however, was not made appa- 
 rent to either the Marquis or the Duke, who, since the 
 birth of his little grandson, passed the greatest part of 
 his time in the society of his beloved daughter, whose 
 retired habits and domestic virtues in the bosom of her
 
 THE FISH5R S DAUGHTER. 
 
 family, rendered hera far moredesirable companion than 
 the gay Marchioness and her fashionable daughter 5 yec 
 with his brother the Marquis he very frequently spent 
 the day, for his Grace was passionately attached to this 
 quiet, peaceable, and excellent man, between whom 
 and his iady there was not the slightest congeniality of 
 taste, sentiment, or feeling ; but most unfortunately for 
 the Marquis, he did not make this discovery till it was 
 too late, and that he had made the beautiful Lady 
 Lavinia Mortimer the Marchioness of Montault. If 
 she did not please her husband, however, she was a 
 great favourite with her mother-in-law, the Duchess 
 of Braganza, for she was capable of all the art and 
 finesse that was requisite to form a complete woman 
 of the world, with a certain fascination, which rendered 
 it no difficult matter to please those on whom she 
 chose to exert its bewitching power; and none were so 
 susceptible of this fascination as those she intended 
 to deceive. These were points so much in her 
 favour in the estimation of the Duchess, that she often 
 protested, that if her son had married any other woman 
 than Lady Lavinia Mortimer, she would never either 
 have forgiven him, or have been able to have endured 
 his wife in her presence ; but that Lady Lavinia was 
 exactly to her wish, and a female after her own heart. 
 It was no wonder therefore that her Grace continued 
 so much abroad, and was always to be found in the 
 society of the Marquis and his lady ; and that when 
 Lord Montague was born, she was so passionately 
 attached to her little grandson. The chief aim of her 
 ambition was to make him the heir of his uncle the 
 Duke of Bragunza, then an exile, self-banished, cheer- 
 
 li) IF
 
 226 THE fisher's dajghter. 
 
 less, and solitary in a far d. slant land, mourning 
 over the supposed untimely death of his beauteous 
 wife and infant daughter ; but who, by the machina- 
 tions of the wily Duchess, and that agent of mischief, 
 Paulo Michello, were immured in the walls of the 
 old abbey, — the one dead, — the other living. Yes, the 
 mother slept beneath its mouldering walls in death ; 
 her gentle suffering persecuted spirit had reached its 
 native skies, and was at rest and peace with kindred 
 angels there. But the child remained ; the heiress of 
 Braganza was living; by the destination of Almighty 
 Providence she yet survived the cruel fate of her un- 
 fortunate mother, and while her illustrious father wept 
 the loss of his infant daughter, as well as of his lovely 
 and adored Agatha Delcrusa, that daughter was mira- 
 culously preserved, and virtuously protected ; she was 
 permitted by heaven to live to crush the malice, defeat 
 the purpose, and revenge the cruelty of her mother's 
 vindictive enemies ; a living instrument to prove the 
 inefficacy of all mortal power, when opposed to the 
 unerring one of Him whose eaglet eye, as it glances 
 downwards on the creatures formed of his own hand, 
 can pierce adamantine rocks, or search into the deep 
 recesses of ocean's boundless and immeasurable depths. 
 And what wore the sensations of this guilty murderous 
 woman, when she found that it was so ! What awfol 
 and ti emend )us agitations shook her fragile form, and 
 penetrated 1 er intnost soul ! and what fears crept 
 through her -hilly veins at the appro^,ch of death, that 
 king of ter, 3rs, iitider the conviction tliat she lifcd 
 sinned agaii jt heav^en, and despaired of that me<cy 
 which so oft she frd refused to give to auother! And
 
 THE fisher's daughter. 22/ 
 
 was there no repentance ? None in the grave ; and to 
 that grave she was very auicklv descending, and none 
 had the power to snatch her from it. Her disorder, 
 which was of the inflammatory kind, every mstant 
 gained strength, and at length her brain became be- 
 wildered. She raved of the lost angel her cruelty had 
 laid low in the dust; more frantically she called on 
 Paulo Michello to save the inlant daughter of her be- 
 loved Orlando ; then, as if fancying that she stood on the 
 sea- beat shore, and on the cliff* where the fatal deed 
 was accomplished, she would more loudly exclaim to 
 Paulo to stop the boat, to throw Agatha into the sea, 
 but to save the infant. Thus were the crimes of the 
 Duchess of Braganza known even to the attendants that 
 surrounded her bed of death, and shuddered at; for she 
 never ceased to rave of those crimes in the hearing of 
 her domestics till the delirium subsided ; and then she 
 expired, an awful spectacle to those to whom she had 
 confessed her crimes, and a terrible example of the 
 effects of violent and vindictive passions and remorse- 
 less prejudice, when carried to an ungovernable excess, 
 and cherished by the hateful sentiments of pride, am- 
 bition, and jealousy. 
 
 And although the amiable Marquis, who was in no 
 way accountable for his mother's transgressions, and 
 over whose frailties he wished to cast the veil of obli- 
 vion, and had ever shed a silent tear, took every pre- 
 caution that prudence and delicacy could suggest, by 
 informing her domestics that her wild ravings were 
 merely the effects of the contagious disorder with 
 which she had been so suddenly seized ; yet they 
 were not to be so blinded, although the motive was so
 
 228 THE FISHER-S DAUGHTER. 
 
 praise-worthy in her son. She had spoken loudly of 
 the Duke of Braganza's young and lovely wife, Agatha 
 Delcrusa, and of his infant daughter, and accused her- 
 self, in conjunction with one Paulo Michello, of having 
 destroyed both the mother and the child ; and some of 
 her long attached vassals, who had been in her Grace's 
 service a considerable number of years, were so shock- 
 ed at the confession she had made, and at the magni- 
 tude of her guilt, that they immediately begged to be 
 dismissed, the Marquis wishing to retain them for di- 
 vers reasons. But to this proposal, however generous 
 of the Marquis, none of them would listen, but silently 
 withdrew ; and a short time after the interment of the 
 Duchess, they were finally discharged, according to 
 their earnest requests. 
 
 But rumour! who can stop the tongue of rumour? 
 Bid the ocean cease to flow, or the winds to blow 
 roughly, and they will obey you as readily as rumour 
 stop its loud bawling. There is a brass trumpet 
 always near when scandal or defamation goes abroad, 
 very unlike to that with which fame sounds a victory ; 
 and this brass trumpet was pretty well blown about 
 the neighbourhood of Cromer and its vicimty, soon 
 after the domestics of the Duchess of Braganza nad 
 quitted the Cottage on the Cliff; and soon the sKy- 
 rocket burst forth, and proclaimed to the astonished 
 inhabitants, that Miss Agatha Singleton, who was sup- 
 posed to be the daughter of the unfortunate Captain 
 that was drowned on the night of the tempest, was no 
 other ihan the heiress of the Duke ot Braganza, and 
 consequently the granddaughter of the Oucness whom 
 she had intended to destroy with its mother; ana con-
 
 THE fishhr's daughter. 229 
 
 tessed tnat she had done so if her stratagems had not 
 tailed, and the completion of her wicked plans proved' 
 abortive. No sooner therefore did Agatha make her 
 appearance again among them with her foster father. 
 Captain Singleton, than the loudest acclamations and 
 rejoicings in Cromer prevailed. 
 
 Admired before, when considered only as the daugh- 
 ter of the recluse that lived in the Cottage on the Cliff, 
 and pitied when she afterwards became his orphan, she 
 was now perfectly idolized as the wife of Lord Monta- 
 gue Montault. Thousands of spectators crowded to 
 the doors of the church on the morning that her nup- 
 tials were solemnized, and poor and rich showered 
 down blessings on her beauteous head, while her 
 bounty extended to all. Nor was her lord slow in 
 following her example; meat, bread, and clothing were 
 distributed unsparingly to all who languished in sick- 
 ness, or were pining in want, and they blessed the 
 hour that such an angel of charity had come among 
 them. 
 
 But the Marchioness of Montault had never been a 
 favourite, and she was thought less of, owing to some 
 reporl/ which had formerly prevailed of her ladyship 
 having been pvir'- to some secret negociations whicii 
 had been carried on by the Dowager Duchess ot Bra- 
 ganza } and there was not a doubt but the report was 
 not wholly without foundation, though stifled in its 
 birth by the re-appearance of Agatha and her foster 
 father, Captain Singleton. There was danger therefore 
 of endeavouring to tarnish the bright excelience of 
 such an angel of purity, and we will uot pronounce 
 her to be so base or devoid of feelmg, as to intunate
 
 2o0 itlli FlSHliK'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 thiit she exactly wished it ; for Agatha was^ the wife nf 
 her son,, and that son was still the darling of ber heart, 
 his sister, the Lady Lavinia, always being a secondary 
 consideration with beautiful mamma. 
 
 But beautiful mamma cared more for herself than she 
 did for any other earthly being. Ambition, pride, and 
 personal vanity, were the leading features of her cha- 
 racter ; and she heeded not what sacrifices she made to 
 her darling shrine, what hearts she tortured, what feel- 
 ings she mortified, or what happiness she deprived her 
 fellow creatures of, so that she could make oblations 
 to this god of her idolatry. 
 
 The magnificence of her daughter-in-law, and the 
 admiration which constantly followed her steps, eithei 
 in private or in public, made her to writhe under 
 the smart of envy's bitterest spite; and but for 
 the presence of the Duke, she would have made a 
 fearful attack on the repose of Agatha, had she dared 
 to have put her operations in artillery against her; but 
 the Duke being present was an obstacle which at pre- 
 sent was an iasurmountable barrier to her malignant 
 wishes. 
 
 Her lynx-eyed jealousy had watched with no small 
 assiduity to find a speck in Agatha since she had be- 
 come the wife of her son, but in vain ; only more 
 bright, as she breathed her baneful look on the mirror, 
 did it appear ; but though she could discover no speck 
 in this transparent mirror which reflected the virtues 
 of Agatha, she had searched, and she had found it in 
 her son, and that speck was jealousy, which after the 
 birth of his son began to break imperceptibiy forth 
 on many occasions.
 
 231 
 
 He was jealous of the admiration which his lovely 
 wife excited from every individual who approached 
 her; and while it afforded an opportunity of gratify- 
 ing her revenge on her daughter-in-law, it gave to the 
 object of it, when she first discovered it, pangs of the 
 most inexpressible agony; and this fault in her son 
 the Marchioness determined to work upon, by means 
 the most diabolical and cruel that ever entered the 
 imagination of a jealous and envious woman; and so 
 secret were her silent approaches to undermine the 
 peace of this celestial angel, that she of all others the 
 least suspected her malignant designs. It was neces- 
 sary therefore to keep on terms with her, and not only 
 on terms, but to appear her warmest friend, and most 
 zealous admirer. Of course her visits to Violet Vale 
 were now more frequent, and her haughty demeanour to 
 her daughter-in-law changed for one of the most fasci- 
 nating gentleness. 
 
 But the spirit who guided her in this demoniac 
 scheme was the prying Mrs. Tartlet, who had lately 
 had the sagacity to discover what nobody else could, 
 that the young Lord Orlando favoured greatly of the 
 young gentleman who was so great a favourite of Lady 
 Montault's; that he was absolutely exactly made like 
 young Mr. Wolf; and that she had never called lately 
 at Violet Vale, but he was sitting with her ladyship, 
 nursing and bestowing the fondest caresses on the 
 young Lord Orlando ; and that the child absolutely 
 held out its little arms to him, and cried after him as 
 naturally as if he was its own father. 
 
 At this moment the Marchioness was indolently re- 
 clining on an elegant cttoman, with her eyes half shut,
 
 233 THE fisher's daughter. 
 
 while Lady Lavinia was reading to beautiful mamma, 
 in order to keep her from a fit of the vapours, Pope's 
 Abe\ard and Eloise, which she had selected from the 
 library in preference to all others, because, as she ob- 
 served to beautiful mamma, that the subject was so 
 funny ; and beautiful mamma had encouraged the idea 
 by laughing at the observation. Her ladyship had 
 just arrived at the passage where Eloise, in one of the 
 tender epistles to her favourite Abelard, thus ex- 
 Dresses herself: — 
 
 " How oft when prest to marriage have I said. 
 Curse on all laws but those which love has made ; 
 Not Cajsar's empress would I prove, 
 No, make me mistress to the man I love." 
 
 Lady Lavinia paused and blushed at the immorality 
 of such a thought; at length she exclaimed — 
 
 "Is that right mamma?" 
 
 To which her ladyship, half jest, but certainly more 
 than the other half in earnest, replied — 
 
 " I cannot precisely tell my love, whether it is right 
 or not ; but it is prodigiously the rage, and Pope was 
 by no nieans an immoral man, therefore we may set it 
 down £foo(J.> as Berifwit says, in the farce of the Wea- 
 thercock; 'good, till it can be proved bad.* Go on 
 child." 
 
 But tne child did not go on, for at this very precise 
 moment the favourite Abigail appeared, big with the 
 imDo»'tant discovery she had made ; and Abelard and 
 his Eloise was thrown aside, to listen to her pleasing 
 communications. 
 
 After rhe first speech, the Marchioness stretched her 
 neck from the ottoman, ana opened her eyes a little
 
 THE fishhr's daughter. 233 
 
 wider ; nay, in fact, she began greedily to devour up 
 the discourse of Mrs. Tartlet ; but not as the gentle 
 Desdemona did Othello's, for less gentle thoughts 
 possessed her envious mind, and she exclaimed — 
 
 "Young Mr. who?" To which Lady Lavinia in- 
 stantly replied — 
 
 " Why law ma, why who but that savage boy they 
 call Wolf, that comes from some foreign outlandish 
 part, and that the Duke was saying the other day was 
 grown such a prodigiously fine young man, almost six 
 feet high, and has turned out to be such an extraordi- 
 nary genius : and papa said so too. His name is Wolf, 
 and he was a great favourite of Agatha's when she 
 was living in the house of the fisher Blust. I have 
 seen her colour so when the wild boy was mentioned." 
 
 " Prodigious ♦" uttered her ladyship, now thoroughly 
 aroused from her torpor by this unexpected intelli- 
 gence, and with a most malicious smile. 
 
 *' Monstracious, I think, my lady," responded Mrs, 
 Tartlet. 
 
 " It is very funny and comical mamma, to see Wolf 
 nursing little Orlando,*' cried Lady Lavinia, sneeringly. 
 
 " Out of pure love to the infant," uttered the Mar- 
 chioness 
 
 '' Or rather to the infant's mamma," observed the 
 housekeeper. 
 
 A summons to the tea table prevented the continv 
 ance of this amusing conversation, and it was suspend 
 ed till some future opportunity. 
 
 c 10 GG
 
 234 THE fisher'« daughter. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 The captive ^vho in exile wears 
 
 The lonely hours away, 
 Makes hope the soother of his fear*. 
 
 Companion of his way. 
 
 For while he drags the length'ning chain, 
 
 Or tugs the labouring oar, 
 Still hope will bid him not complain. 
 
 Nor distant joys deplore. 
 
 But captive love is doom'd to feel 
 
 An exile mure severe ; 
 No hope can soothe, nor time can heal, 
 
 The bosom of despair. 
 
 The exile may by chance return 
 
 To freedom once again ; 
 But captive love must ever mourn, 
 
 And learn to hug the chain. The Author. 
 
 A PROMPTITUDE to bellcve ill of others without 
 examinationjTs certainly an effect of pride and indo- 
 lence ; for pride would find the guilt, but indolence 
 would not seek for it. We object to judges in our 
 most trifling interests and pursuits, and yet are willing 
 that our reputation and glory should depend on the 
 determination of men w^ho are adverse to us, through 
 jealousy, prejudice, or ignorance : to gain their decision 
 in our favour, we often risk our repose, and even life 
 itself; nor have we penetration enough to discover all
 
 THE fisher's daughter. 235 
 
 the mischief that they do, because we like to divine the 
 motives of others, but conceal our own. 
 
 The whole time that the Marchioness and Lady 
 Lavinia had to themselves on the remainder of this even- 
 ing, was employed in conversing on the important 
 discovery that the penetrating and Argus eyes of Mrs. 
 Tartlet had made respecting the young Wolf and Lady 
 Agatha Montault; and the Duke being absent at the 
 tea table, the Marchioness took an opportunity of en- 
 quiring of her husband if his son's house had been con- 
 verted into a study for the young gentlemen whom his 
 Grace was so solicitous about, and whether they were 
 likely to be provided for. *' For I must own,*' added 
 her ladyship, with a most invidious sneer, well calcu- 
 lated to impress on the minds of all those who beheld 
 it, what were her own severe animadversions on the sub- 
 ject ; " I must own my Lord Marquis, that it appears 
 to me a somewhat extraordinary propensity in his Grace, 
 that he should fix upon no other place of residence for 
 the progress of their studies, than to make Montague's 
 house a school-room for a couple of young fellows that 
 nobody knows any thing at all about, further than they 
 were picked out of the sea, and afterwards kept on 
 charity by the fisher Blust, who I dare say was heartily 
 glad to get rid of his unprofitable bargains, who may 
 be bastards for aught we know; and I must own that 
 the Duke is going a step far beyond the boundary of pro- 
 priety, by having these young strapping fellows brought 
 into the house of my son, who has so young and pretty 
 a wife as the Lady Agatha, who puts them on such 
 equality with her. For my own part, I think it an 
 extremely indecorous thing ; I don't know what you
 
 236 THB fmher's daughter. 
 
 think Marquis, or how you^ who visit Violet Vale so 
 frequently, can tolerate such proceedings. Much more 
 prodigiously am I surprized at Montague, who is ac- 
 tually so tenacious, not to say jealous, of all who ap- 
 proach his divini' • I should think indeed that the 
 wife of Lord Montague Montault had, or ought to have, 
 too delicate a sense of propriety, now she is married 
 to your son, to allow any of her former favourites to 
 visit her just whenever they like, and that hernurser)^ 
 ought to be saved from the approach of young fellows 
 who presume to intrude themselves there at. all 
 seasons and hours, under pretence of bestowing c^, 
 resses on the young Lord Orlando. I protest I- am 
 quite shocked to hear that the young wild savage boy. 
 Wolf, is absolutely the nurse of our little grandson, a,s 
 much so as if he were the father 5 and that Lady Agatha 
 permits such extraordinary liberties to be taken with 
 ber child, is to me a wonder, considering that she is a 
 female of such uncommon delicacy and refinement. 
 You would think it very strange my Lord Marquis, if, 
 when your daughter is married to Lord Winstone, and 
 should become a mother, she should find no nurs^ 
 more suitable for her infant than a young fellow who 
 has been kept upon charity. 
 
 " Law, mamma, do you think I should be guilty of 
 such a thing ?" cried Lady Lavinia, simpering ; '^ I 
 vow I should expire at the thoughts of such vulgarity." 
 
 "Vulgarity, my dear," uttered the Marchioness, and 
 nighly provoked at the calm settled composure which 
 had taken possession of the features of the Marquis, and 
 the easy air of nonchalence he assumed during the whole 
 time of her eloquent harangue. " Vulgarity is too mild
 
 237 
 
 a term for such gross and monstrous indecency, which 
 so far from shocking the feelings of your father, which 
 I expected that it would do, actually appears to give 
 him the most pleasurable sensations. I might as well 
 attempt to stop the flow and ebb of the tide, as to 
 persuade him that your brother's pretty idol, and his 
 own, can do any wrong." 
 
 " That you may indeed, and with as much chance 
 of success," at length uttered the Marquis, with a grave 
 and shocked expression, which plainly indicated his 
 utter disgust of the illiberal sentiments of his lady, at 
 whom he looked reproachfully, but as one more pained 
 than irritated, while he added — " Persuade me that 
 Agatha can act with the impropriety you have describ- 
 ed, and I will give your ladyship credit for more elo- 
 quence than you are mistress of at the present moment. 
 I bid you beware. Marchioness, how you make use of 
 her name with impunity, or utter aught against her 
 that is not perfectly correct. She is the daughter of 
 Braganza, and I must remind your ladyship that he is 
 my brother. What you would insinuate, you ought to 
 blush at as a wife and a mother, and much more so in 
 the presence of your child. God of my fathers! is not 
 innocence, and the most unsullied purity of heart and 
 modesty of manners to be secure from detraction, or 
 the slanderous reports of some idle gossip's tale ? Must 
 a female, the most chaste, exemplary^ and virtuous, I 
 believe in existence, be accused of impropriety, merely 
 because her infant is caressed by her friends, and those 
 too of the most humble and unoffending kind ? Wolf 
 caress and fondle the young Lord Orlando? Yes, 
 Marchioness, I know that he does, for I have seen him
 
 238 THE fisher's daughter. 
 
 do it, and his example has been immediately followed 
 by Lord Winstone, and half a dozen others that I could 
 mention besides, who happened to be visiting at Violet 
 Vale. They have all taken the infant in their arms, 
 and bestowed on it innumerable caresses; and you 
 might with equal justice tax Lady Agatha with impro- 
 priety, in permitting those personages to approach her 
 child, as young Wolf, whom I never yet saw in the 
 nursery, although I am constantly there myself, and 
 must have seen him if there had been any truth in your 
 ladyship's observation. I never saw him in any part 
 of the house but once, except in those apartments 
 which are appropriated to the several masters who are 
 engaged to inspect the studies of the young men, with 
 which your ladyship can have nothing to do ; and I 
 must suggest to you silence on the subject for the fu- 
 ture. It is the pleasure of his Grace that these two 
 poor unfriended youths should be provided for, (and it 
 is a most noble benefaction, and one that reflects im- 
 mortal honour on my brother ;) and if he chooses to ex- 
 pend thousands on this charitable undertaking, it ought 
 not to be a matter of concern to you, Marchioness, for 
 those thousands are his own, and he has an undoubted 
 right to do what he pleases with them. And with re- 
 spect to the unwarrantable liberty which you say he is 
 taking with Montague's house, for heaven's sake Mar- 
 chioness, recollect yourself, and remember whose mo- 
 ney it was that purchased that house, and gave it to 
 Montague, with a fortune of nearly one hundred thou- 
 sand pounds to his daughter when she became the 
 wife of your son. And can you complain or talk of 
 liberties, because one or two solitary rooms, which
 
 THE FISHER S DAUGHTER. 239 
 
 were wholly unoccupied betore the arrival of Alfred 
 and Wolf, are now, by order of his Grace, con- 
 verted into a study, for the use of the tutors and their 
 pupils ? Is this what your ladyship calls converting 
 your son's house into a school-room ? I am really, 
 Marchioness, not only prodigiously surprised, but pro- 
 digiously ashamed of your cherishing sentiments so 
 disgraceful to yourself, and so insulting to my brother 5 
 and I furthermore request, that never in my hearing 
 such sentiments may again be uttered." 
 
 With these words the Marquis instantly arose from 
 his seat and quitted the room, leaving the Marchioness 
 not in the most pleasant of all possible situations for 
 a mother to be exposed to in the presence of her 
 daughter; for the feelings of the Marchioness not 
 having their usual play for violence or contention, (for 
 what the Marquis had uttered was in the mildest tone 
 that was possible,) were so completely mortified, hum- 
 bled, and abashed, that unable to stifle or conquer her 
 sensations, she burst into a most violent hysteric flood 
 of tears, which so surprised, or rather frightened Lady 
 Lavinia, that she rang the bell for Flounce to bring 
 beautiful mamma some sal volatile, which she applied 
 immediately to her ladyship's nose; and in a short time 
 she recovered and dismissed her attendant, wishing to 
 have some conversation with her daughter before she 
 retired to her chamber. No sooner was Flounce 
 absent, than her ladyship began to shower down tor- 
 rents of abuse on the Marquis for his severity towards 
 her, in which she had no very great diflficulty in 
 making Lady Lavinia join, whose envy towards her 
 lovely cousin was now more powerfully excited than
 
 240 THE fisher's DAUCtHTBRo 
 
 ever, because the Marquis had said that he had seen 
 Lord Winstone bestowing the fondest caresses on the 
 little Orlando, in compliment, of course, not to the 
 child, but its beauteous mother; and Lady Lavinia 
 disliked Agatha and her infant too. 
 
 " 1 wish the brat was dead, so 1 do," uttered her 
 ladyship, biting her lips with vexation, " then there 
 would not be such a mighty fuss made about it by 
 every one who goes to Violet Vale. 1 wonder for my 
 part that Lord Winstone can admire such little stupir 
 things as babies before they are a twelvemonth old." 
 
 ** Oh my dear, it is not the child, but probably the 
 mother who is the magnet of attraction to all the vi- 
 sitors that have lately frequented the house of your 
 brother with such unblushing effrontery ; but if Lord 
 Winstone is so constant in his devotions at a certair 
 shrine, I shrall certainly give Montague a hint of it, and 
 of the young Wolf into the bargain. Let your father 
 say what he pleases of the angelic purity of the pretty 
 saint, the pretty saint is not going to monopolize the 
 attentions of every male visitor we have, married oi 
 single, I can assure her; and as to Lord Winstone, ii 
 he were a lover of mine, Lavinia, he should not have a 
 kind look, or a civil word front' me, for this' month to 
 come, rd teach him to be paying morning visits at 
 Violet Vale, and complimenting young mothers on 
 their infants, when he ought to be at the Castle oJ 
 Montault,- paying his respects to his intended bride. 
 Yes, cny dear, you certainly ought to mortify him j 
 there*^ nothing like treating men as slaves^ it's the 
 only way to get them to obey us, instead of our obey ^ 
 ine: tiiem. I never obeyed your father in all my lift,
 
 tHB fisher's daughter. 241 
 
 if I h&d, where had been my power ? No j rio, tny 
 Lavinia, ever While you live govern your husband 5 fdt 
 as Roxalatia says, in that charming farce of the Sultan, 
 ' Men, indeed ! men were born for no other purpose 
 under heaven but to amuse us ; and he who succeeds 
 best, perfectly answers the end of his creation,' " 
 
 " La, ma, how funny and how comical, if that is 
 true,*' cried Lady Lavinia, now laughing immoderately, 
 in spite of her vexation. " Well, I should like to mor- 
 tify the wretch a little, I protest, to see how he will 
 behave after it. But, beautiful mamma, don't you 
 think there is some danger in trying the experiment ? 
 before marriage you know its a ticklish point to play 
 with the heart of a man ! Three weeks after I should 
 not care how much f vexed or tormented him ; but if f 
 was to play the tyrant with him, now that all things 
 are coming so nicely to a conclusion, perhaps he would 
 fly off, and I should lose both a lover and a husband 
 into the bargain. Then 1 should be laughed at ; and 
 who could bear to be laughed at when one was just 
 going to be married ?" 
 
 " Why there is some truth in your observation, my 
 love," uttered the Marchioness, " so we will both play 
 our cards with better management, than to let either 
 the lover or the husband slip out of your hand, we 
 have him fast enough in cupid's chains, and the fetters 
 of Hymen are now forging for him with all inmginable 
 dispatch. There will be no harm, however, in tying 
 his wings a little faster before he is put into his cage 
 for life, so you shall flirt with somebody at Tanning- 
 ton's rout next Tuesday. I know that Winstone will 
 be there, for I heard the old Duchess give him a very 
 
 « 11 H H
 
 24U THE fisher's daughter. 
 
 pressing invitation, probably in the suppositior. that he 
 will be induced to play deep, and she will have a chance 
 to pidgeon him. I should not mind his losing a few 
 hundreds there, if I thought that my Lavinia would 
 succeed in fixing her chains more firmly round his 
 heart. There is the elegant Dashall to be there ; he is 
 a thousand tinves handsomer than your lover, thaugh 
 not half so rich ; and he is a general admirer, and never 
 having any serious designs on the heart of a woman, 
 is admirably calculated for a nrale coquet; and one can 
 flirt with the handsome captain, without much danger 
 of having one's heart besieged into the bargain. He 
 shall be the man, and not knowing your engagements 
 with Lord Winstone, will imagine that you are caught 
 by his attractions. Keep up the spirit of flirtation as 
 far as you can with propriety, and you will make Win- 
 stone as mad as a March hare." 
 
 '* Oh delightful! beautiful mamma, I applaud your 
 design, and if I was as certain that execution would 
 follow, I should not much mind playing the game you 
 recommend me to do," uttered her ladyship, most 
 immoderately laughing. " I am only afraid that" — 
 Lady Lavinia crimsoned deeply, and paused ; — a pause 
 instantly filled up by beautiful mamma exclaiming — 
 " Afraid of what, you little simpleton ?" 
 " That I should make myself as mad as a March 
 hare," uttered Lady Laviuia, with a shade of sensibility 
 passing slightly over her countenance ; " if by this game 
 of flirtation I should lose the hand and the heart of Lord 
 Winstone, that would be giving up the substance for 
 ihe shadow to all intents and purposes, beautiful 
 mamma,"
 
 THB FISHER S DAUGHTER, 243 
 
 The Marchioness was astonished at the profundity 
 of her daugfhter's wisdom, and probably thinking that 
 experiments so dangerous might as \vell be let alone, 
 and that there was a chance at least of hazarding the 
 displeasure, if not losing the affections of Lord Win- 
 stone, by a game, which was neither very honourable 
 or delicate for a young lady to play, who was just on 
 the point of marriage ; it was agreed to be laid aside 
 till beautiful mamma could ingeniously contrive to in- 
 vent a newer game from her lively and brilliant imagi- 
 nation, of a less dangerous complexion 3 and beautiful 
 mamma kissing the cheek of her daughter, bade her 
 good night. 
 
 Lady Lavinia hastened to the dressing-room, de- 
 termined upon finishing Abelard and Bloise, before 
 she consigned her lovely form to the arms of Mor- 
 pheus; and so she did, not very highly gratified or 
 pleased with the denouncement of the tragical history 
 of these so fatally attached, constant, but unfortunate 
 lovers : and in her first dream, in which it was proba- 
 ble that Lord Winstone had some share, we will gently 
 draw the curtains around the sleeping maid, and take 
 our magic lantern in our hand, to light us to the habi 
 tation of Lord and Lady Montague Montault. 
 
 That bed may surely be called a bed of roses, where 
 connubial joys reside unembittered by one thorn that 
 can destroy its sweets ; where peace is the down of the 
 pillow, and we sleep on the bosom of love. So slept, 
 in the beautiful sequestered and romantic shades of 
 Violet Vale, this then transcendantly happy and de- 
 lighted pair Not more happy slept our first parents
 
 9^ -yn^ V^her's pauqhtbr. 
 
 in their love-tvaHsported bower in the gar<ien of Edpn, 
 ^ innocence was theirs, and smiling beauty. 
 
 Each thought, whether of joy or of pensive sadness, 
 was to each other known, and quickly imparted to each 
 other's breast. Full of mutual confidence, they knew 
 go change, and none they wished to know, nor eBvied: 
 <>thers, for they were happy in themselves. A beau- 
 teous pledge of tender love crowned the joys of 
 Hymenial happiness in their lovely boy. 
 
 Jim<^ Mont^ue wais happy before, but now he wa* 
 *, father, be was bappier still. The Lady Agatha was 
 happy too; but since she had become a mother, her 
 affection to her husband had become more sacredy 
 m^re. refined, for to the heart of woman there is no- 
 thing more endearing than a child ; it is the universal; 
 tie that binds the heart of woman to man, and he who. 
 disregards; these sacred ties, is unworthy of the blessing; 
 that wo m an bes tows . 
 
 Unconscious of the observations that had been made, 
 or her partiality to the poor unfriended boy, who, in 
 the hour of adversity she had been accustomed to look; 
 upon as her brother, and who had, through a coinci-. 
 dence of circumstances, been the partner of her mis- 
 fortunes and her obscurity, Agatha never dreamt that; 
 when her beloved father was doing all he could to pro- 
 mote the interest o^ those unfriended youths, that her 
 reputation was to be made the price of this generosity 
 i;|, the Duke of Braganza, or that her admitting Wqlfi 
 to bestow a kiss on her lovely child, was to be consi^ 
 (Jered as passing the bounds of propriety in a ch^s>t^ 
 and virtiiou^i ft^qi^le.
 
 What could be suspected when, after dinner, the 
 lovely infant was brought in, and all who were present 
 caressed the child, and Wolf amongst the number? 
 And if the child had taken an uncommon propensity 
 to this young man, was the mother to be taxed with 
 impropriety ? and yet guilt was to be made of it. And 
 very soon it manifested itself in the manner of Lord 
 Montague, after some private conversation held with 
 the Marchioness at the Castle of Montault, who had 
 that morning paid a visit to her daughter-in-law ; when 
 most unfortunately for the Lady Agatha, Wolf was sit- 
 ting with her ladyship, with the young Lord Orlando 
 (now a beautiful boy of fifteen months old) on his 
 knee ; and Lord Montague being that moment absent, 
 she exclaimed with a supercilious smile, as she 
 turned her eye with the most sarcastic severity towards 
 the young man— 
 
 " You appear. Sir, to take .great delight in nursing. 
 I thought that young men at your age could find more 
 appropriate employment for your time ; Lord Montague 
 does, you see, who is the father of that sweet boy. 
 Indeed I should think it very strange to see my son al- 
 ways at the elbow of his wife, and taking upon him 
 cares which only belong to a mother. And pray, Sir> 
 where is the Lady Agatha, that she leaves you in the 
 care of the Lord Orlando? Where is his nurse^ 
 pray?" 
 
 At that precise moment Lord Montague entered, 
 who knew well enough where his lady was gone, for 
 he had given her permission; yet he did not expect 
 Wolf in the capacity of a nurse when he returned ;: and 
 somewhat angrily demanded the nurse to attend the
 
 246 THE FISHKR 8 DAUGHTER. 
 
 child, perceiving that his mother gazed on him witn 
 the most scrutinizing attention. 
 
 When Rebecca appeared, he demanded to know 
 if there were no other attendants for Lord Orlando but 
 Mr. Wolf. 
 
 " Oh yes, my lord, there are plenty,'' cried the 
 nurse, taking the child from the arms of Wolf ^ " but 
 this young gentleman is the best nurse he has. Now 
 Lord Orlando is cutting his teeth he will go to no one 
 else but Mr. Wolf; the child is absolutely frantic if he 
 is a moment out of his sight, so my lady desires that 
 he shall not be crost, but that Mr. Wolf is to take and 
 nurse him whenever the child wants to go to him. Is 
 not that true Mr. Wolf? I am sure that it is none of 
 my fault that you are nursing the child, for I am sure 
 it will go to no oee else when it is cross but you, and 
 you know very well that my lady said only last night 
 that"— 
 
 Lord Montague's countenance had been suffering for 
 the last ten minutes a variety of expressions, that no 
 one could precisely describe, but one placed precisely 
 in his situation ; for the Marchioness, who had come 
 with the full intention of making mischief, had fixed 
 her eyes the whole time on her son, with a demoniac 
 meaning in her look, which could scarcely be misin 
 terpreted, and which the unsophisticated manners of 
 the simple nurse, who had no meaning derogatory to 
 the chaste character of her spotless mistress, had by 
 no means, notwithstanding the opinion of Lord Mon- 
 tague, justified. He was already more than half in- 
 clined to be jealous of his lovely wife, where no cause 
 could warrant his suspicions; and he dismissed the»^-
 
 THB fishbr's daughter. 247 
 
 tendant in an angry tone, while turning to the petrified 
 and confounded Wolf, a glance which overwhelmed 
 him with confusion, he exclaimed — 
 
 " Sir, when your services are required in the nursery 
 of Lady Agatha Montault you will be sent for, till 
 which time this is by no means a fit place for you ; 
 and I must beg leave to inform j^ou, that I do not ex- 
 pect to see you here again without my permission, 
 even though it is by Lady Agatha's commands. The' 
 Lord Orlando, Sir, has other nurses, more appropriate 
 than you ; and I desire that you will not leave your 
 studies, while you are under my roof, to attend to the 
 wants of my child, or entice him from the arms of his 
 nurse, under any pretence whatever." 
 
 Not only the cheek of Wolf had been crimsoned 
 over with blushes of the deepest dye, but his feelings 
 had sustained the most painful conflict, even before 
 Lord Montague had come in, by the sarcastic speech 
 addressed to him by the Marchioness ; and had he not 
 held the infant in his arms, he would instantly have 
 withdrawn himself from her presence. But when 
 Lord Montague attacked him in the same sarcastic 
 strain, and with a look so ferocious that he could 
 not mistake his meaning, he could no longer brook 
 the contempt which was shewn him ; and so indignant 
 and high spirited were his feelings, that he was on the 
 point of returning an answer to the proud and certainly 
 jealous Lord Montague, of a nature that might very, 
 possibly have occasioned an immediate dismissal from 
 Violet Vale, as well as exciting the strong displeasure 
 of his patron the Duke of Braganza. But this was 
 not the only thought that withheld Wolf from express-
 
 24b THB fisher's :>AUGHTtR. 
 
 irig h\s sentiments to Lord Montague in the spirited 
 manner that hi8 feelings would have prompted ; no, 
 there was another consideration above every earthly 
 one besides, and that was the fear of occasioning the 
 slightest uneasiness in the mind of the Lady Agatha. 
 This thought alone, like a charmed talisman, made 
 him preserve a silence, when his heart was proudly swel- 
 ling with the indignity with which he had been treated ; 
 for what had been his offence, for which both the 
 Marchioness and Lord Montague had so tauntingly up- 
 braided him ? The caresses and attentions he had 
 lavished on an innocent babe, who, in return, discover- 
 ed a partiality for him, were to be construed into 
 something of so horrible a nature, that he blushed for 
 the unworthy opinion that his lordship had, both of 
 his honour, and the spotless purity of his angelic 
 wife. 
 
 Immediately, however, he arose at the command of 
 Lord Montague, and with a manly and spirited air, 
 which could not be deemed either presuming or inso- 
 lent, he exclaimed, as he retreated towards the door — 
 
 " Your commands, my lord, shall be implicitly 
 obeyed ; I will never enter these doors again without 
 your lordship's permission. With deep regret I per- 
 ceive that I have unintentionally incurred your dis- 
 pleasure. I say unintentionally, because I never, to my 
 knowledge, willingly offended mortal man, nor can 
 you ever persuade me that your lordship can reason- 
 ably find fault with my conduct in respect to the young 
 Lord Orlando, whom it is impossible I could have 
 enticed from the arms of his nurse, if the child had 
 not shewn a disposition to have come to me ; and for
 
 THE fisher's daughter. ?40 
 
 that surely I am not to blame ; but that fault also shall 
 not be repeated. But your lordship must not com- 
 mand me not to love the sweet boy^ for — for — in that 
 I feel it — an impossibility ever to obey you^ and there- 
 fare I wiH never promise your lordship what I cannot 
 perform. 
 
 Having uttered these words. Wolf, with a firm step, 
 advanced to the door, and with his left hand placed 
 emphaticaily on his breast, bowed profoundly to the 
 Marchioness, and instantly quitted that apartrinent he 
 was forbidden to enter, that was inhabited by all he 
 held dear in earthly existencey the Lady Agatha and 
 her sweet cherub boy. 
 
 Whether it was the attitude of Wolf as he left the 
 room, which was noble, and even affecting ; or the look 
 of ingenuousness that his fine countenance conveyed ; 
 or the spirited, yet modest appeal he had made to his 
 feelings, we cannot say ; but certain it was that Lord 
 Montague felt himself abashed, and coloured deeply, 
 when the Marchioness exclaimed^ — 
 
 " What unparalled insolence and jirodigious affron- 
 tery ! I protest that his name perfectly agrees with h\« 
 nature ; he's savage enough.'' 
 
 To which Lord Montague (heartily condemning, 
 himself that he had been betrayed into such petulant 
 warmth, where no intentional cause had been given, 
 and feeling the superiority of the being which only i 
 moment before he thought so contemptuously of) 
 replied — 
 
 " No mother, that is being too severe, for though 
 Wolf, he certainly is not savage, and I believe I have 
 
 611 II
 
 260 THB FISDEit's DAUGHTER. 
 
 been a little mistaken in my conjectures respecting 
 him. I was unnecessarily angry with him, yet could 
 not assign any reasonable cause for my warmth of tem- 
 per ; it was wrong, it was foolish of me ; he certainly 
 cannot help the infant's being fond of him. Tush, how 
 could I render myself so ridiculous ; if my wife was 
 here she would laugh at me ; and then justly condemn 
 me for my folly. Poor Wolf, how modestly did he 
 defend himself against the unmerited reproaches 
 which, I blush to say, ought more justly to have been 
 applied to me." 
 
 And had Lord Montague been permitted to have re- 
 mained with this impression on his mind, — that he was 
 the offender, instead of considering himself the offend- 
 ed party, all would have been well for the future peace 
 of him and his amiable lady. But there was a snake, 
 whose crested front lay curled and hid in the bower 
 of roses, where so lately soft love was sleeping, and 
 the Marchioness was determined to arouse it from its 
 slumbers ; and to use her endeavours that the favourable 
 impression which now rested on the mind of Lord 
 Montague for poor Wolf, should be completely done 
 away with before she made her exit ; and doubt, suspi- 
 cion, and jealousy, remain unchangeably fixed in that 
 tortured breast and fevered imagination, hitherto the 
 seat of every benevolent and gentle virtue, that dis- 
 dained suspicion, that never till now harboured one 
 thought injurious to his fellow creatures. But O ! 
 jealousy, thou scorpion monster, what canst thou not 
 transform man into? What pure limped waters wilt 
 thou not impregnate with thy bitter streams, when
 
 THB F]«;heb's daughter. 251 
 
 once they have mixed with thy baneful and pernicious 
 draught ? 
 
 Wolf was a proficient in drawing, and he had pro- 
 duced no mean specimens of his taste while under the 
 roof of his august patron, which, like his poetry, had 
 ever been concealed ; for the truth was, that his pen- 
 cil had been employ/d for the last three days on a 
 sketch f»f the Lady Agatha, with her infant son sleep- 
 ing in her arms ; and ever and anon the young artist, 
 when he was permitted to enter the nursery, at the time 
 the child and the mother were present, would draw in- 
 toxicating draughts of beauty ; and, unknown to the 
 Lady Agatha, when the boy was lying asleep on her lap, 
 or on her bosom, trace with his pencil the loved linea- 
 ments of both the mother and the child. When he 
 retired to his chamber at night, Wolf, instead of sleep- 
 ing, (which he did in the same room with his brother 
 Alfred) would take out his precious drawing, and touch 
 with his pencilsome lovelyfeature he had that day caught 
 from the sweet originals. Whole weeks had Wolf 
 been employed on this his sweet and delightful task ; 
 and it was probable he would never have been de- 
 tected, had not Alfred, (wondering that whole nights 
 he had never pressed his couch till the light of 
 morning shamed the burning lamp that was never ex- 
 tinguished,) pretending to be asleep, one night progres- 
 sively watched the motions of his brother; and, when 
 sleep had actually overtaken Wolf in the midst of his 
 operations, stole softly to his port-folio, and there be- 
 held what so utterly astonished and confounded him, 
 that for many minutes he continued gazing on the
 
 952 THE fisher's daughter. 
 
 Joyely drawing before him, scarcely able to credit the 
 evidence of his senses, that such was the work and the 
 ingenuity of his brother Wolf, or that he had a know- 
 ledge so accurate as he had displayed ; but Alfred for- 
 got, in his examination of the picture, that love lent 
 its aid, the most correct limner, and the most faithful 
 historian in the whole created world. 
 
 It was the Lady Agatha, with her infant son sleeping 
 on her bosom ; and so true were the lineaments of 
 this lovely lady portrayed, that Alfred, as he gazed 
 aeiighted on the picture, felt a pang of indescribable 
 regret, that Wolf could never possess that dear origi- 
 nal, from which he had made so faithful a copy, and 
 that it was desperation, little short of madness, for him 
 to pursue such studies, so fatal to his peace and to his 
 honour; and once more he determined to warn him 
 of plunging into such dangerous and forbidden plea- 
 sures, which at the moment that he hoped they were 
 decreasing, were gaining ground. Quietly therefore 
 shutting the port-folio, and extinguishing the lamp, 
 he stole softly to bed again, casting on the sleeping 
 Wolf a look of unutterable affection, and breathing 
 forth a prayer to that divine Spirit who searcheth into 
 all hearts, and from whom no secrets are hidden, or 
 can be hidden, that he might never fall a victim to 
 the hopeless and, as it appeared, his ungovernable 
 passion, for an object, which neither laws human or 
 divine could possibly tolerate. Was Alfred's prayer 
 accepted for his sleeping brother? That secret no 
 mortal power could yet tell. Yes, as it ascended to 
 th^e starry skies, angels wafted it, and ii> pity dropt «
 
 253 
 
 tear on human frailty and human weakness ; and the 
 morning's light no sooner discovered its roseate tints, 
 than the following conversation took place between 
 the two foster brothers, on the subject of Lady Aga- 
 tha's picture. 
 
 ** I don't wonder at your being fatigued this morn- 
 ing, Wolf/' cried Alfred, *' or that the lamp should be 
 burning past the hour of midnight." . 
 
 '* How did you make that discovery Alfred ?" ut- 
 tered Wolf, with a crimson blush mounting to his 
 cheek in varied hues. 
 
 *^ I will tell you my brother," answered Alfred, and 
 immediately pointed to the picture of the Lady Agatha 
 and oer in^t son.
 
 254 T^fi FISHP41 S DAUGUTEA. 
 
 CHAPTER XI, 
 
 — .** Oh then give pity to him. 
 Whose state is such that cannot choose, 
 But lend and give where he is sure to lose; 
 Who seeks not to find what his search implies, 
 But riddle-like lives sweetly where he dies." 
 
 Shakespsarb. 
 
 *' O my brother r* uttered Alfred, now in softer 
 and gentler tones than when he had before addressed 
 him, from seeing the varied hues that a discovery of 
 his darling picture had made on his complexion, which 
 alternately paled and alternately reddened, with cer- 
 tainly an expression that seemed something like anger 
 with difficulty suppressed from blowing into an imme- 
 diate flame. " O my dear brother !" uttered Alfred, 
 now glancing at him a look of the most keen and mor- 
 tifying regret, yet commingled with the most ardent 
 affection towards him, " I thought I had obtained a 
 promise from you, which I imagined would have been 
 as inviolable as sacred ; and O how fervently I prayed, 
 that no returning weakness in my brother would ever 
 have broken it T* 
 
 ** Your prayer then, it appears, has not been heard, 
 Sir," cried Wolf, coldly, and pierced to the quick that
 
 THB fishbr's dauqhtbr. 255 
 
 Alfred should indeed have so shortly discovered his 
 want of courage or stability, where only his courage 
 had ever failed him, or his resolution ever been shaken ; 
 and rather than confess his fault, although to so lenient 
 a judge, and so kind a monitor, he determined to 
 quarrel with Alfred, on accusing him of having pryed 
 into his secrets in a dishonourable manner, and then 
 reproached him in a way that his proud spirit could 
 not utterly repel. " If I chose to spend my hours by 
 the midnight lamp, what right had you Alfred, to 
 search into the mysteries of it ? Much less had you a 
 right to tax me wnth the impropriety of my actions, 
 when those actions did not concern you or any mortal 
 but myself." 
 
 " But your actions do concern me, brother Wolf, 
 and that very materially,'* answered Alfred, though in 
 the mildest tone that was possible ; " for if that pic- 
 ture is discovered in this apartment, or in any other 
 apartment in this noble mansion, I prophesy that it 
 will be both fatal to you and to me; for the con- 
 tinued indulgence you give to a sentiment so dis- 
 graceful to yourself, and insulting, nay injurious to 
 the lovely lady who is the object of your adora- 
 tion, is nothing short of desperation and madness. 
 Remove that picture hence; destroy it, I implore 
 you, for your own safety and for mine ; or if you 
 do not like to destroy the work of your own hands, 
 consign it to my care, and it shall be preserved, 
 even though it were possible that my life should be 
 preserved for a period of a thousand years, yet I 
 would part with life sooner than resign it to any other 
 hand than that of Wolf. But O 1 conjure you not to
 
 2;>6 TWH WS>HKR*S 1>ADGHTER, 
 
 keei> it Jii yoar owtt possession, or expose it to the 
 eye of any human being here. Hear me, Wolf; turn 
 not away with such unkind averted looks. Alas ! why 
 do you shun the gaze of one who would lose the last 
 drop of blood in his beating heart to serve you with 
 honor, but not otherwise? Remember that Wolf; 
 with honour live, or live no more for Alfred. Resign 
 the picture, I beseech you ; on my knees 1 implore you, 
 or keeping it, you will sign your passport to eternal 
 misery, to shame, to the reproaches of an incensed 
 father and jealous husband. Be firm as heaven formed 
 you to be ; let not passion rob you of your senses. 
 Give me the picture, the fatal resemblance of beauty 
 never destined to be yours ; the semblance also of a 
 child, the father of which is Lord Montague Montault, 
 the husband of the Lady Agatha. How does that sound 
 in the ear of Wolf? The picture, — the picture, — ere 
 the caution 1 now give you be too late." 
 
 Poor Alfred in the fervour of his strong affection for 
 his brother, and the fear of the fatal consequences that 
 might ensue, if the picture should be discovered even 
 by their tutors, the wildfire of which would instantly 
 be spread over the whole house, and both him and 
 Wolf be consumed in the general conflagration, 
 became every moment more susceptible of the appre- 
 hensions he had formed, more agitated, and more ur- 
 gent that Wolf would listen to his supplications, and 
 place the picture in his care; while Wolf, on the other 
 hand, was as obstinately inclined on retaining it in his 
 possession, and exclaimed, though with a less degree of 
 petulance than before — 
 
 " Wherefore should I part with the work ot so much
 
 THK fisher's daughter. SoJ 
 
 toil and so much pleasure? Why should I relinquish 
 the happiness of beholding it, merely to satisfy your 
 caprice, brother Alfred ? and you choose to fill your 
 head with idle prophecies ; who made you a prophet, 
 pray ?" To which Alfred gravely replied — 
 
 " I am no prophet, Wolf, I never said I was ; heaven 
 forbid I should utter such iimpiety. But although 1 
 am no prophet, I have uttered some truths which you 
 cannot turn aside from, though you affect to deny their 
 existence ; but do as thou wilt, henceforth I shall learn 
 to be silent, rather than offend you by any anxious 
 fears I may express for your safety and personal happi- 
 ness. Keep then this so fatally loved resemblance of 
 the daughter of our august patron, and the lady of 
 Lord Montague Montault ; but while you retain it in 
 your possession, whether I am prophet or no prophet, 
 I shall never cease to cherish fears that will make me 
 miserable, when I reflect that, although affection 
 prompted them, they were alike treated with indiffer- 
 ence and contempt by my brother.'* 
 
 The feelings of Wolf during this speech of the af- 
 fectionate Alfred were powerfully affected, and he felt 
 conviction and love throb for him in his heart both at 
 the same moment. He knew that he had not a more 
 sincere friend in existence than his brother Alfred, and 
 could not confute his arguments, with respect to the 
 beloved picture of Lady Agatha and her child ; and 
 after some little hesitation, confessed the impropriety 
 with which he had been reproached, and opening his 
 vest, he bade Alfred take the picture from his bosom, 
 where he had carefully concealed it, which request was 
 most joyfully complied with by the now deligbt<*d AI- 
 
 C 11 K K
 
 258 THB fishkk's daughter. 
 
 fi^, who did not leave his beloved brother a moment 
 to repent of the resolution he had now made, for he 
 ran to a cabinet in which he kept his own private pa- 
 pers and memorandums, and very quickly deposited his 
 treasure there ; he then returned to Wolf, who having 
 averted his eyes from the picture as soon as he had 
 resolved to part with it, was now in utter ignorance of 
 the place of its concealment, and Alfred was by no 
 means solicitous to inform him of it ; but clasping him 
 to his breast with redoubled kindness, confidence, and 
 affection, assured him that he should ever remember 
 this strong testimony of a brother's love, as also of 
 this triumph of virtue. 
 
 *' Nay, dear Alfred, you must give me as little credit 
 for that as possible/* uttered Wolf, smiling, *' but 
 much for the most sincere affection that 1 bear my 
 brother ; and yet were that boundless as the ocean, it 
 would not be greater than he deserves." 
 
 It was some few days after this conversation, and the 
 incident of the picture, that Wolf encountered the 
 scene in the nursery with the Marchioness and Lord 
 Montague Montault, and had reason to congratulate 
 himself on his lucky escape, from being detected with 
 the picture of Lady Agatha in his possession ; for his 
 port-folio was certainly lying on the table, and the 
 name of Wolf being on the outside, the Marchioness 
 immediately pointed it out to the observation of her 
 son, just at the critical moment that his lordship was 
 drawing conclusions very much in favour of the fine 
 spirited youth, his severity towards whom he not only 
 repented, but was actually ashamed of. But this dis- 
 position to poor unfriended Wolf was not long encou-
 
 THH fisher's daughtf.r. 259 
 
 raged by the Marchioness, who darting her lynx and 
 jealous eyes on the port-folio, exclaimed, with the 
 fiend-like expression of a malignant fury — 
 
 " Well, I protest I never heard of such unparalleled 
 assurance in the whole course of my existence, to 
 bring his port-folio into the very nursery, where he 
 sits whole hours, I suppose employed in taking 
 sketches from nature, of a living Venus, with her 
 little Cupid, in the form of Lady Agatha and her in- 
 fant son. A prodigious pleasant amusement, I must 
 confess, for a young fellow of eighteen ; he is just of 
 the inflammatory age, when the least spark is fanned 
 into a flame, as furious as those burning on Mount 
 iEtna. And is it possible, Montague, that you are 
 going to tolerate such liberties? What business has 
 he to make a drawing-room of an apartment, sacred 
 only to the nurse and the mother of your infant son ? 
 Merciful heaven ! what would the world say of a 
 husband who would permit a young man to enter his 
 wife's study, or dressing-room, or any other private part 
 of the house to copy his drawings ? and perhaps Lady 
 Agatha, — I do not say that she has, don't take my mean- 
 ing wrong Montague, or be so uncommonly agitated. 
 I don't say that Agatha would be guilty of so great a 
 piece of indecorum, as to sit for her picture to this young 
 Wolf. No — no, your wife has too delicate a sense of 
 propriety; but notwithstanding he has no right to intrude 
 himself into her presence when you are absent ; and I 
 also aflfirm, that when husbands have such pretty wives 
 as you have, they should be on their guard, that is all ; 
 not that I would wish to insinuate ought against your 
 wife, heaven forbid.'*
 
 200 THK fisher's daughter. 
 
 The mischief was now done, and not all the waters 
 that flowed from the streams of Lethe could allay the 
 burning fever of distempered jealousy that the Mar- 
 chioness had awakened in the breast of her son. The 
 torch was now lighted, where before the fuel was 
 but barely laid on, and nothing could quench it. 
 
 Lord Montague paced the room with a wild, flushed, 
 and disordered step, and with a burning cheek, from the 
 effects of the raging fire which his mother had kindled 
 there ; yet he was solicitous to conceal it not only from 
 her, but from all human beings beside, and that not a 
 reproach should be cast upon the conduct of his spot- 
 less wife; and indignantly he exclaimed — 
 
 " Insinuate aught against my Agatha ! No, mother, 
 you dare not ; for, by holy Paul, she is as chaste and as 
 immaculate as the breath of angels. I would not live 
 another moment if I believed her otherwise ; and as 
 to the foolish thought you have taken into your head 
 about the young man drawing pictures in the nursery, 
 it is idle folly; for were I certain thai he presumed to 
 take such a liberty, or Agatha to suffer it, by the eter- 
 nal power that rules created universe, I would pul- 
 verize the reptile into atoms, and Agatha should feel 
 the vengeance of a fond, deceived, yet still doating 
 husband. But tush — tush ! it is madness to cherish 
 such a thought. Mother — mother, why — why did you 
 put such a thought into my head ? Leave me. 
 
 '' Leave you Montague, and in such a disposition 
 towards your mother, in anger I'* uttered the Marchio- 
 ness, affecting to be deeply hurt by his reproaches. 
 *' No, I am your mother, and I will not be command- 
 ed from your presence in this unkind way."
 
 THB fisher's daughter. 261 
 
 " Retract then your cruel and ungenerous senti- 
 ments of my angel Agatha/' uttered Lord Montague, 
 feeling only that he was a husband and a father at the 
 present moment. " Breathe not one murmur against 
 her, if you wish me mother to be on terms of peace 
 with you, and heaven knows I do. I have ever loved 
 you with the most duteous affection, but I should cease 
 to love that parent, however strong my love, or impe- 
 rative my duty, who would seek to plant thorns in the 
 bosom of a doating husband, by infusing into his mind 
 a suspicion of a faultless and angelic wife." 
 
 It was now the turn of the crafty and insidious Mar- 
 chioness to endure a little of the pain she had inflicted 
 on the heart of her son, with whom she perceived she 
 had gone a step too far ; and that his confidence in his 
 wife's propriety of conduct was not easily to be shaken ; 
 and that although he was jealous of every object who 
 approached her, yet it was not exclusively of one, 
 for his jealousy was excited more by the admiration 
 which her uncommon loveliness of person drew forth, 
 than the slightest doubt of her unsullied purity or her 
 true affection for him. 
 
 The Marchioness was therefore, like an experienced 
 general, obliged to retreat, when victory was not likely 
 to be the result of her plans ; and she knew well how 
 to play her cards with her darling Montague, whom 
 with tears, and afterwards with the most fascinating 
 smiles, she contrived to coax into a good humour be- 
 fore she quitted Violet Vale. 
 
 And being informed that Lady Agatha was gone on 
 a charitable visit of condolence to a sick neighbour, 
 her ladyship thought proper to enquire no further, sus
 
 THE FISHER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 pecting that it was the daughter of Mr. Blast, Mrs. 
 Russel, who had that morning been delivered of a fine 
 little girl, that was the object of Lady Agatha's atten- 
 tion : and so it was, Jessy had been indisposed for 
 more than a week, and Agatha sent each successive 
 day, with the most affectionate messages, to enquire 
 after the health of her still respected and beloved 
 friend ; and at length Wolf and Alfred were the bearers 
 of the happy news, that Mrs. Russel was not only out 
 of danger, but was the mother of a little girl ; and Aga^ 
 tha could not then resist her impatient anxiety to be- 
 hold her dear Jessy, since she was now in a situation to 
 communicate and to participate in all her feelings, both 
 in the character of a wife and a mother. Besides, the 
 period was now arrived, when it was necessary for her 
 to have some private conversation with Mrs. Russel, 
 on the subject of her dear foster father's dying request, 
 that if the child of Jessy should be a daughter, it 
 should be called Matilda, in compliment to the Lady 
 St. Clair; and Agatha having communicated this to 
 Lord Montague, immediately obtained permission of 
 him to visit Jessy and the little stranger, who had that 
 morning found its way into a wide world. And no 
 sooner had Agatha gained permission of his lordship to 
 visit her beloved friend, than the carriage was imme- 
 diately ordered, with a basket, which contained the 
 ^eatest delicacies that the season afforded ; and with- 
 out waiting to make the slighest addition to her morn- 
 ing dress, save a white veil and a close straw bonnet, 
 she desired the coachman to drive to the habitation of 
 Mr. Samuel Russel. having snatched a kiss of her 
 lovely boy as it lay sleeping in the arms of its nur«e.
 
 TUB ril^HER^S OAUGHTBK. 263 
 
 As the carriage approached to the residence of her 
 beloved Jessy, the affectionate heart of Agatha bounded 
 with the most pleasurable sensations, little dreaming 
 that sensations of a far less pleasing kind had taken pos- 
 session of the heart of her lord and husband, during the 
 short interval of her absence from Violet Vale, and that a 
 serpent had crept into the bosom of her domestic joys, 
 to blast her happiness for ever. Little dreamt she as 
 she drove along, with spirits light and buoyant as gale 
 of summer's gentle breath, vi^ith peace the inmate of 
 her lovely breast, that a dagger was aiming at it by an 
 unseen hand, to tear its fibres asunder by the sharpest 
 pang that can be inflicted on woman's faithful heart, 
 through that of her husband ; and that by a mother, 
 or one who called herself so, though a better title had 
 been that of monster in a human shape. 
 
 No, the unconscious Agatha dreamt not of all these 
 hidden woes, but with a light step and light heart, she 
 descended from her carriage, which made some little 
 bustle, when it stopped at the gates of Mrs. Russel's 
 beautiful, sequestered, and peaceful dwelling. 
 
 Now it so happened that the fisher Blust, (whose 
 anxious fears for his beloved daughter had been mani- 
 fested for the last few days, in a manner that was truly 
 natural and affecting to those who well knew the 
 excellence of his warm and generous heart, whenever 
 occasion called for a trial of its sensibility,) was at the 
 house of his son-in-law when Agatha arrived ; for he 
 had been so overcome with joy when Jessy's dange 
 w^as over, and he was informed that she had made hin. 
 a present of a little granddaughter, that he swore he 
 would not budge an inch till he had given a heartv
 
 264 THB fisher's daughtbr. 
 
 smack to both the mother and the baby, and that he 
 should then stay and spend the remainder of the day 
 with Sam. 
 
 " Though, shiver my topsails, I am mortally vext it 
 beant a boy,'* uttered he, squatting himself down in a 
 large easy chair by the side of the old nurse, after she 
 had shewn him the infant ; *' but no matter, it be the 
 very picture of my Jessy, and that be enough for its old 
 grandfather. She be a bouncer too, and that be better 
 still, for none of my children was any of your skinny 
 ones, with not so much as one ounce of flesh on their 
 bones, nor a drop of blood in their veins ; but this 
 little toad be as round and as plump as a partridge. 
 Shiver my topsails she be of the true Blust breed. God 
 bless her." 
 
 And again bidding his beloved daughter adieu for 
 the present, Peter was at last induced to quit the apart- 
 ment which contained all he held dear in existence ; 
 and he had not been many minutes with his son-in-law 
 below in the parlour, before the carriage of Lady Aga- 
 tha Montault drove up to the door, to the no small 
 surprise and astonishment of both the parties. 
 
 " Why here be my dear little Agatha, as I am a 
 living soul, come to see my Jessy. Shiver my top- 
 sails, I don't know whether I be standing on my head 
 or my heels, the sight of her do warm the cockles of 
 my heart so. Now Sam, do mind how thee behave ; 
 thee be married to my Jessy now thee do know, and 
 grapes be sour." At this moment Mr. Russel sprang 
 from his seat and flew to the gates. 
 
 " I hope I have the honour of seeing your ladyship 
 well," uttered Sam, in a sort of tremulous agitation,
 
 THE fisher's daughter. 265 
 
 and which he could not wholly shake off, as she ex- 
 tended her hand, with a smile of the most fascinating 
 sweetness towards him, and he assisted her out of the 
 carriage. 
 
 "And how is our beloved Jessy?" was expressed 
 by a look that spoke more than volumes could have 
 uttered, as she made her entrance to the apartment 
 where the fisher had bundled himself behind a large 
 screen, to indulge the whimsicality of his humour on 
 this occasion ; but no sooner did he hear Agatha en- 
 quire after him, than out he bolted from his hiding- 
 place, and without ceremony, boldly snatched a kiss Oi 
 the roseate lips which had just repeated his name. 
 
 *' Shiver my topsails, how glad [ be to see thee, my 
 dear — Ladyship I suppose I must say ?" cried the 
 fisher, laughing; and to which Agatha immediately 
 replied — 
 
 " Indeed you must not suppose any such thing, my 
 dear sir. Call me what you please, so long as you do 
 not call me ungrateful for past kindness ; and that you 
 will believe, that to you I must be always the same, 
 whether I am Agatha Singleton or Agatha Montault. 
 Titles may alter names, but they ough't never to change 
 the heart. A long absence has intervened since I be- 
 held you last; but could I forget the hand that once 
 sheltered me from the chilling blast, with the sunny 
 rays of friendship and hospitality, I should now be 
 unworthy of the blessings that providence bestows. 
 
 There was an air of the most bewitching candour 
 and sensibility which shone in the radiant and lovely 
 countenance of Agatha, as she addressed this speech 
 to her former kind protector, that could not admit the 
 
 a 12 I L
 
 2()6 THE fisher's daughter 
 
 slightest doubt of her sincerity, ana wnicn immeaiatel> 
 occasioned a glistening tear to stand in the eyes of 
 honest Peter; and he vociferated, hastily brushing it 
 away — 
 
 " Shiver my topsails if thee be'st not the same sweet- 
 tempered warm-hearted little soul as ever, though thee 
 be -married to a great lord; but if thee had married 
 somebody else instead of Montague, I do think that thee 
 would have been quite as happy, thee be so con- 
 tented." 
 
 *^ Yes, sir, a cottage or a palace, where peace was 
 the inmate of its walls, would have made but little dif- 
 ference to Agatha ; but I must see dear Jessy, if you 
 please Mr. Russel,'' cried Agatha, perceiving that the 
 remark made by Peter did not lessen the confusion 
 with which he had frequently addressed her, and wish- 
 ing to change the subject as quick as possible, she ad- 
 verted to her own situation, with respect to her alsc 
 having become a happy mother. 
 
 " My sweet fellow grows surprisingly," uttered she, 
 turning her eyes on the fisher, with a look of a mo- 
 ther's fond and delighted expression, " You have never 
 seen him, my dear sir?" 
 
 " Why how the devil should I?" answered the fisher 
 apparently piqued at the thought of some slight having 
 been shewn him by Lord Montague. " You never was 
 civil enough to invite me, did you ? nor your husband 
 neither? I was not grand and great; and do you 
 suppose I was going to poke my nose where I was not 
 welcome ? No — no, Agatha, you know old Peter 
 Blust better." 
 
 *' My dear sir, this reproach is indeed unkind, after
 
 THE fisher's DAUGHrER. 26/ 
 
 what I have before told you," cried Agatha. " You 
 and my sweet Jessy were ever welcome to me; but 
 after my marriage with Lord Montague Montault, I 
 passed a great deal of my time in the circle of ac- 
 quaintance which my father had selected for me. My 
 father, too, my new found father, was anxious to intro- 
 duce me to that great world, of which I had seen so 
 little when I was the reputed daughter of Captain 
 Singleton ; and if, in obedience to a husband's and 
 father's commands, I acquiesced, can you in justice 
 condemn me ? No, I am certain you will not, when 
 you consider how natural, how sacred, nay, how im- 
 perative are the ties I have mentioned." So saying, 
 Agatha preceded Mr. Russel to the chamber of 
 Jessy, who was already apprised by the nurse of 
 the arrival of Lady Montague Montault; and a meet- 
 ing between the two so strongly attached friends took 
 place, of the most tender and affecting kind ; but Aga- 
 tha spoke in soft whispers, and would not permit Jessy 
 to indulge in much conversation, promising that her 
 visit should be repeated the earliest opportunity, as she 
 bad something of the most interesting nature to com- 
 municate to her. The infant was now by desire of her 
 ladyship placed on her lap, and Agatha gazed on the 
 face of tke sweet innocent, with undescribable emo- 
 tions of love and tenderness. 
 
 " Why, my dear Jessy, do you not see a resemblance 
 in the infant, peculiarly striking of your sister Olive?" 
 exclaimed Agatha, " only that it has your dimpled 
 chin and pretty mouth ; but her eyes are black, and 
 the acquiline nose just formed like poor Olive's. How 
 exquisitely beautiful this little creature will be. Jessy,
 
 26h THE FISHKr's r>AUGHTER. 
 
 I will bring my boy with me in the carriage when I 
 come to see you again ; he is a fine healthy child, but 
 I must own that little moppet has the advantage of 
 Orlando in beauty." 
 
 *' And many other advantages, my dear Agatha," 
 softly whispered Jessy, gazing on her pretty babe. 
 " Ah yon must not teach the son of Lord Montague 
 Montault to look at a Fisher's Daughter." 
 
 Agatha looked at Jessy, and Jessy looked at Agatha, 
 but neither of them immediately uttered a sentence. 
 It was probable, however, that the same thought pos- 
 sessed the young mothers at this precise moment; 
 and very soon after, Agatha kissing the little miniature 
 of Olive, and the cheek of her beloved friend, returned 
 to Violet Vale, just time enough to dress for a late 
 dinner, but in such an exhilaration of spirits, that on 
 her entrance to the drawing-room, the uncommon ro- 
 seate tint of her complexion, and the brilliancy of her 
 eyes, drew the attention both of her father and her 
 husband towards her. 
 
 Now there is sometimes a combination of mere in- 
 cident, chance, or accident, which have no cause for 
 their uniting together, except we suspect a cause, and 
 then we take it for granted that the whole is the effect 
 of design, and thus the most injurious suspicions are 
 formed, and the most erroneous opinions grounded on 
 the probability of mere conjecture. 
 
 Now as affairs stood at Violet Vale with a certain 
 Lord, who had more than half imbibed a certain sen- 
 timent, that never suffers its destined victim to rest, 
 when once it has sucked in a portion of its poisonous 
 breath, it was most unfortunate that Wolf should come
 
 THE fisher's daughter. 209 
 
 in contact with his beauteous lady on the grand stair- 
 case, which led to the entrance of the drawing room, 
 the door of which was as unfortunately half open; and 
 both the eyes and the ears of Lord Montague were di- 
 rected to that quarter, on hearing the dulcet voice of 
 his lovely wife exclaim, on thus suddenly encountering 
 Wolf— 
 
 " O Wolf, I am just returned from seeing dear Jessy 
 and her infant daughter, and you cannot conceive any 
 thing half so beautiful as her little sweet girl ; and do 
 you know Wolf, that it is the very image of poor Olive 
 Blust." 
 
 All this had been uttered by Agatha in a tone of 
 such artless simplicity, and without scarcely looking at 
 the object to whom she was addressing herself, that 
 no mortal being in their sober senses could have ima- 
 gined that this meeting could either have been sought 
 after or expected. But had Lady Agatha been con- 
 scious of what had been passing in her absence, she 
 would have avoided speaking to Wolf under any cir- 
 cumstances whatever, as he was now as tenacious of 
 beholding her; and unable to -account for the deep 
 blush which now mantled on his cheek, and the 
 impenetrable silence which he observed, she in- 
 nocently tapped him on the shoulder as he eagerly 
 passed by her, with " Why Wolf, you don't seem 
 interested at all about dear Jessy and the Fisher's 
 Daughter." 
 
 " Pardon me your ladyship,*' cried Wolf, now pass- 
 ing her, and respectfully bowing, *^ but I was not then 
 cither thinking of Jessy or the Fisher*s Daughter, when
 
 270 TrfE fisher's daughter. 
 
 subjects far more essentially necessary to my happiness 
 occupy my mind, and fill it with sensations of unutter- 
 able anguish and despair." 
 
 This concluding sentence was uttered in so smother- 
 ed a tone, that it was a moral impossibility for Lord 
 Montague distinctly to catch the sound which had 
 been sufficiently intelligible to his lovely wife; and 
 Wolf having completely made his exit, Agatha entered 
 the drawing-room with a hurried step, and certainly a 
 flushed and roseate cheek. The Duke was sitting on 
 an ottoman, with a paper of the day in his hand ; Lord 
 Montague was pacing the room with an apparent air of 
 esisy nonchalence ; but it was evident from the expression 
 of his lordship's countenance that something unusual 
 had baffled the even temperature of his mild and cer- 
 tainly placid sweetness of dispositon, and instead of 
 looking at Agatha as she approached him, he pretend- 
 ed to be looking at his watch. 
 
 "My love, did you not think me long?" uttered 
 Agatha, having first paid her duty to her father; " but 
 I have been so pleasantly engaged, that I did not think 
 of counting time, positively, till I heard the clock strike 
 four, and then I hurried home, fearful that I might 
 have kept you waiting. Well, do you know that Jessy's 
 child is a perfect beauty. You have seen Olive Blust, 
 Montague, she is the picture of her, with all the light 
 shades of Jessy's countenance. Why, my love, how 
 grave and sombre you look." 
 
 The Duke now threw an oblique glance at his ne- 
 phew, who still assumed an air of apathy towards his 
 lovely wife, and exclaimed —
 
 THE fISHEB's DAUGHTER. 271 
 
 " So I have been telling him, my love, for two hours 
 before you came in." 
 
 *^ And yet I left my dear lord in most excellent spi- 
 rits," uttered Agatha, not once suspecting the cause of 
 Lord Montague's dejection ; " but 1 dare say he has 
 been tormented the whole morning with visitors ; and 
 when a woman is out of the w^ay, it is excessively 
 awkward. Was not this the case, Montague ?" 
 
 Lord Montague, who had never yet raised his eyes 
 to his lovely wife, was still sedulous to conceal the 
 horrible passion by which he was inflamed from the 
 observation of the Dlike, nor did he ever doubt of the 
 purity of the spotless being before him ; still he was 
 madly jealous of her, and the attractions of such a 
 youth as Wolf he considered dangerous beneath his 
 roof. Why had he intruded himself on the presence 
 of Lady Agatha at the entrance of the drawing-room ? 
 and though he had heard nothing but the most artless 
 expressions from her lips, yet he had much rather she 
 had not spoken to him at all. Still he was unwilling 
 to discover the slightest mark of disapprobation at her 
 conduct, and now endeavoured to conceal it by every 
 effort that was possible, assuming an air of gaiety that 
 was extremely foreign to his feelings, and exclaimed, 
 while he tapped her fair cheek with a playful badinage, 
 
 *'And so you think, because your ladyship happened 
 to be absent, that I was not polished sufficiently to 
 entertain your female visitors. There's an attack, your 
 Grace, upon my parts of speech 5 but the fact was, I 
 had no opportunity of displaying my powers of attrac- 
 tion, for the only female visitor I have had this morn* 
 ing has been my mother."
 
 272 THE FISHER*S DAUGHTER. 
 
 " Who of all other personages I have always been 
 so unfortunate as to find it a difficult matter to please,'* 
 uttered Agatha, gravely; for she instantly surmised 
 that the observations of the Marchioness on her hav- 
 ing obtained permission of her husband to visit the 
 daughter of Mr. Blust, had not been much in her fa- 
 vour, and that she would have prevented any commu- 
 nication taking place with her and the fisher's family, 
 had there been a possibility of succeeding with her son 
 in this malicious intention. Agatha coloured deeply, 
 and her husband looked at her with an air of embar- 
 rassment he could not wholly conceal, conscious what 
 illiberal remarks the Marchioness had made in her ab- 
 sence, and how warmly he had defended her. By no 
 means wishing that she should receive this impression, 
 however, he smiled and exclaimed — 
 
 ^^ It is of little consequence whom my Agatha pleases, 
 while her husband acknowledges her power of pleasing 
 him." 
 
 " My dear lord, it has ever been my study to do that 
 since I have been your wife," uttered Agatha, with a 
 smile of the most resistless fascination ; and Lord 
 Montague feeling its potent influence, felt also how 
 impossible it was for his confidence in her unchanging 
 love and fidelity towards him ever to be shaken ; and 
 again he exerted every faculty to crush that demon 
 jealousy, which, without cause, had entwined itself 
 about his heart, and bewildered his imagination, only 
 to aim a blow at his domestic peace, to undermine his 
 happiness for ever. 
 
 " Upon my word, good folks," uttered his Grace, 
 smiling, while you are paying such compliments to
 
 THE fisher's daughter. 273 
 
 each other, you forget there is a third person present, 
 who is not a Httle interested in the business. Well, 
 my love, you were giving us an account of the Fisher's 
 Daughter. And what says honest Peter to this addi- 
 tion being made to his family ?" 
 
 " O he is quite disappointed, because it does not 
 happen to be a boy," answered Agatha. 
 
 '^ I surmised as much," observed his Grace. " The 
 female part of the creation is not much suited to his 
 Caste. He is avowedly the most singular character in 
 existence, and the most amusing, while the warmth of 
 nis heart is an ample atonement for the defects of his 
 education. I am pleased with his jocularity whenever 
 2 see him -, and his plain way of sailing, as he calls it, 
 is actually worthy of the imitation of those who, 
 though sailing in a higher sphere, have not half the 
 virtues of honest Peter to recommend them. By the 
 bye, 1 must very shortly have some conversation with 
 Mr. Blust, on the subject of his adopted sons Alfred 
 and Wolf, who have actually made such considerable 
 progress in their studies, that they will very soon be 
 ready for the professions they have made choice of. I 
 have already a situation provided for Wolf, and one in 
 serious contemplation for Alfred. I wrote to my friend 
 General St. Montalbino, who is now commander-in- 
 chief of the forces at Sardinia, and he will forward the 
 interest of our young soldier as soon as a second en- 
 campment takes place; and I have no doubt of the 
 ability or enterprize with which Wolf will begin his 
 military career. I have seldom beheld a youth of such 
 fine promise, with so manly and vigorous a mind ; he 
 seems formed indeed for martial exploits; a young 
 
 h 12 M M
 
 274 THE fisher's daughter. 
 
 Norval in reality, without requiring dramatic aid to set 
 him off.** 
 
 ** Have you seen Wolf's last drawing, my dear fa» 
 ther?" cried Agatha, whose cheeks glowed with a 
 colour of the brightest carnation, at hearing these 
 praises of her favourite resounded by his patron. 
 " Have you really seen the head of the Magdalen and 
 the Madona? They are exquisitely fine, and admir- 
 ably coloured, though it was by mere accident that I 
 obtained a sight of them ; for do you know that Wolf 
 nas ever been solicitous to conceal his perfections, 
 rather than recommend them to observation." 
 
 ** Which mark of diffidence is most incontestably a 
 proof of his being possessed of ability," uttered his 
 Grace. " Talent is a gem that can very rarely be 
 hidden ; and never shines with such resplendent lus- 
 tre, as when it is accompanied with modesty in those 
 who wear it in their cap. But where will you find this 
 gem sparkle in assumption, ignorance, pride, envy, 
 meanness, or the mercenary knave ? Never in these 
 can the modest flower of native genius rear its lovely 
 head." 
 
 " Well, my love, proceed. How did you gain a 
 sight of this young man's drawings, on which you are 
 pleased to bestow so much commendation ?" demand- 
 ed Lord Montague, with an air of the most assumed 
 indifference, though he was suffering the most impa- 
 tient anxiety, which he could scarcely conceal. 
 
 To which Agatha instantly replied, without the 
 slightest hesitation or alteration of countenance, and 
 with the greatest simplicity — 
 
 " In foe nursery this very morning, my dear .ord ;
 
 THK fisher's daughter. 2/5 
 
 but it was not the hand of Wolf who brought them 
 there. They were taken by stealth out of the study 
 by his tutor, Mr. Lawrence, who delighted with the 
 finished performance of so young an artist, positively 
 came running up to me with the port-folio in his hand, 
 and begged permission to shew them to me. They re- 
 mained in the nursery when I went out, and if you 
 like to see them, I will send Beda to tell Lawrence to 
 bring them here." 
 
 " No, my love, I will take another opportunity of 
 witnessing this young man's exhibition," and Lord 
 Montague, with an indescribable weight removed from 
 his heart by this intelligence, and feeling a sense of 
 shame and remorse for the ungenerous sentiment 
 he had so falsely cherished, not only against his lovely 
 wife, but poor Wolf, and which it was certain his 
 mother had been the cause of, determined never 
 to listen to her again on so dangerous a subject. But 
 what reparation could he make to this high-spirited 
 and noble young man, for the rudeness he had been 
 guilty of that morning in the nursery ? He had forbid- 
 den him ever to enter it again, on mere suspicion that 
 he went thither to intrude himself into the presence of 
 Lady Agatha, more than to caress the infant ; and it 
 now appeared very far otherwise from the manner of 
 Agatha, and he could not doubt the truth of what those 
 loveiy lips had uttered. 
 
 In what an absurd light then must he appear to the 
 young man to whom he had discovered his jealous fears 1 
 how ridiculous his conduct! and if the youth wei*e 
 really vain of his accomplishments, how greatly had he
 
 276 THB fisher's daughter. 
 
 contributed to heighten his youthful vanity, by making 
 him suppose that he could be an object of attraction 
 to such a woman as Lady Agatha; in short, Lord Mon- 
 tague had so much more reason to feel disatisfied with 
 his own conduct than that of others, that it occasioned 
 him to experience the most uncomfortable sensations 
 during the whole time at dinner; and his endeavours 
 to force into his countenance a gaiety that was foreign 
 to his heart, only rendered it more perceptible in the 
 eyes of the Duke, who, having pushed about the wine 
 with very little success after Lady Agatha had with- 
 drawn, at length exclaimed — 
 
 " Why, Montague, what on earth is the matter with 
 you ? You have really taken a dose of the vapours, or 
 a fit of the blue devils, from which not even the en- 
 livening powers of Champaign can arouse you. Come 
 if you wont drink, you positively shall talk, for I am 
 not going to sit here with one of Pigmallions statues. 
 Suppose we send for the youths Alfred and Wolf to 
 take a glass of wine with us ; they merit encourage- 
 ment. Have you any objection to this proposal ?" 
 
 The countenance of Lord Montague brightened into 
 something like vivacity, for here was now an opportu- 
 nity of reconciling himself to the justly offended Wolf, 
 without condescending to offer him an apology, which 
 he had more than once thought of as he sat at dinner; 
 and the proposal of the Duke was most cordially as- 
 sented to by his lordship, who rung the bell for an 
 attendant to go to the apartment of the doctor, and say 
 that it was the request of his Grace the Duke of Bra- 
 ^anza that Mr. Wolf and Alfred should attend him ;
 
 THE FISHER*S DAUGHTER. 277 
 
 and that if the doctor and Mr. Lawrence would ac- 
 ccmpany the young gentlemen, they would be glad of 
 their company. 
 
 " Am I encroaching on your Grace's kindness, by giv- 
 ing an invitation to the tutors as well as their pupils ?" 
 uttered Lord Montague. To which the Duke imme- 
 diately replied — 
 
 " I hope Montague you know his Grace better than 
 once to suspect me of such ungenerous, nay unmanly 
 prejudice, that because I have got a ducal coronet 
 I think every man beneath me. I should utterly 
 despise wealth, were it always to be accompanied 
 with such paltry notions ! A man of education, a man 
 of talent, is at all times a fit companion for a Duke. 
 Must we not follow the example of our gracious sove- 
 reign George the Fourth ? When has he not awarded 
 and admired talent, and encouraged its success ? How 
 many of his majesty's present subjects could we now 
 instance, that the emanation of his genial smile of pa- 
 tronage has not, from the withering blast of chilling 
 obscurity, transplanted to the sunny ray of fortune's 
 favours, and the estimation of the public ? Tell me 
 when the meed due to merit has ever been denied by 
 our beloved Sovereign, or the supplication of the un- 
 fortunate ever been rejected ?" 
 
 " I most cordially admit the truth of your Grace's 
 observation," replied Lord Montague ; and more wine, 
 with some lelicious fruit being placed on the table, in 
 a few minutes Dr. Syntax made his entrance with a 
 profound bow, and ushering in his modest, retiring, 
 and blushing pupil Alfred. An enquiry being made 
 for their companions, the doctor was under the neces-
 
 278 THE fisher's daughter. 
 
 sity of explaining the cause of their absence, by in- 
 forming his Grace, that Mr. Wolf was gone to the sea- 
 side to collect materials and shells for forming a grotto, 
 which he had just began to construct in a very curious 
 manner ; and that having nothing very particular that 
 evening to occupy his attention, Mr. Lawrence had 
 accompanied his pupil to the sea-shorC, to assist 
 him in his undertaking. 
 
 " But had they known of the distinguished honor 
 which your Grace had intended them," added the 
 doctor, in a very obsequious style, '^ they would most 
 undoubtedly have preferred — " 
 
 ** The collecting of materials here," cried his Grace, 
 smiling at the pomposity which accompanied even 
 the most trifling sentence of the little learned man. 
 " Come doctor, there is some good wine close at your 
 elbow, do me the favour to help yourself and your 
 pupil beside you, and I will pledge you in a bumper, 
 in drinking success and prosperity to the wooden walls 
 of old England." 
 
 " And immortal glory and renown to the encourage- 
 ment of learning," uttered the doctor ; " and the noble 
 supporters of the arts and sciences. Permit me, your 
 Grace, to superadd this, in compliment to the present 
 company." 
 
 « Thank ye doctor," cried his Grace, filling his glass ; 
 " 1 will certainly drink your toast, to which no one 
 could have any reasonable objection ; for without en- 
 couragement be given to learning, the arts and sci- 
 ences, either in this country or any other, would have 
 few supporters to draw from the humble vale of ob- 
 scurity, the very structure on which they are fbrmed,
 
 THE fisher's daughter. 27^ 
 
 on the basis that cannot be shaken. Genius ! where 
 would the arts and sciences be without it ? and where 
 learning?" To which Dr. Syntax gravely replied — 
 
 " My sentiments, your Grace, precisely.'* 
 
 " And the sentiments of every man, 1 hope doctor, 
 who calls himself the friend of either," observed the 
 Duke. 
 
 '^ And in order that your Grace may be more per- 
 fectly acquainted with the nature of those principles 
 which constitute the friend of genius, and what my 
 opinion is on that subject; here are my lines on genius, 
 the year I was disappointed in bringing out a favourite 
 production, patronised by a very great personage, I 
 assure your Grace, but his name shall be nameless. I 
 never like to repeat old grievances, but when I am 
 compelled to do it from necessity ; for when the pub- 
 lication came out, he put his name down for twenty 
 copies, and only paid for one." 
 
 " That was generous," uttered Lord Montague; "so 
 much for patronage. But come, doctor, suppose you 
 give us a specimen of your poetic talent. Alfred push 
 the wine over to the doctor, after you have replenished 
 your own glass." 
 
 The command of his lordship was obeyed, although 
 the invitation was at first modestly declined on the part 
 of Alfred. But his Grace insisted that he should take 
 another glass, and condescended to pour it out himself, 
 at the same moment that he exclaimed — 
 
 '^ Alfred, I would not press upon you any thing that 
 is not in the limits of propriety, but a second glass of 
 ^'ine will do you no harm. My motto is to be merry 
 and be wise ; human excellence cannot attain a more
 
 280 THE fisher's daughter. 
 
 exulted point ; but I am sorry to say, that very few of 
 mankind can arrive at this point, not being merely 
 confined to the pleasures of the table, but in the gene- 
 ral pursuits of human affairs. Now doctor, we are all 
 profound attention to the object of your muse." 
 
 '^ Your Grace does me infinite honour,'* cried the 
 doctor, drawing carefully from his vest a scroll, which 
 he declared that no time or circumstance had ever 
 prevented from his depositing there with the utmost 
 exactness ; and on the doctor placed his reading spec- 
 tacles, and with a loud sonorous voice began to recite 
 the following lines, which, however, reflected no small 
 credit to the ingenious author of them. They were 
 entitled Neglected Genius. 
 
 ** Neglected Genius, heaven-born maid, 
 
 Howe'er insulted, or howe'er betrayed. 
 
 Though clothed in rags, thy slill fair lovely form, 
 
 Shall boast through life an universal charm. 
 
 •Tis thine to teach the human heart to glow. 
 
 And give what rank or riches can't bestow ; 
 
 Cause eyes to weep that never wept before, 
 
 And make e'en Turks and infidels adore. 
 
 Yet still the fool exulting nods his head. 
 
 And weighs each golden drop from thee like leau •, 
 
 To such indeed is sense and feeling known, 
 
 Who think the world was made for them alone. 
 
 But know sweet maid, at thy ecstatic birth. 
 
 Like the soft dews that gently kiss the eartb» 
 
 Thy presence to the wretched gave relief. 
 
 And soon allayed the pangs of hopeless grief. 
 
 The trembling captive bound thee on his breast, 
 
 And cheer'd his dungeon with his sportive gtwfct; 
 
 The peasant boy, while he leads out his sheep, 
 
 On craggy rocks that overlook the deep. 
 
 Has in some pleasant dream thy form conveywJ $ 
 
 He wakes, and wonders why he is afraid 
 
 To venture on a world of such delight. 
 
 As would for ever charm a shepherd's sight.
 
 THE fisher's daughter. 281 
 
 His aged mother, and his father too. 
 Now fancy that their boy is something new ; 
 For much he talks of war, of kings, and courts, 
 Neglects his sheep, and follows warlike sports. 
 Indulgent fate soon grants him his request- 
 Behold the shepherd boy a soldier drest; 
 In quest of laurels, and in search of fame, 
 He builds the fabric of a noble name. 
 'Tis genius all in chaste and hidden fires. 
 Kindles the soul, and breathes such warm desires ; 
 Without her smiles there's millions would be potv, 
 But with her we can never be obscure. 
 Ask the poor poet, whose neglected lays 
 Would oft remind him of a great man's praise. 
 Who bids him still attend from day to day. 
 Resolving when he comes to walk away. 
 Are words, alas I then all the poet gains. 
 Reward for all his labour and his pains ? 
 No ; when daring genius strikes the dart, 
 She makes both fools and cowards feel the smart. 
 Vindictive malice holds her venom'd tongue, 
 Protects the aged, and still guards the young ; 
 Comes forth with meek and unaffected grace. 
 And claims her right to precedence of place ; 
 Heaven's best gift, descended from the skies. 
 And lives eternal, for it never dies ; 
 Till fools no more the passing minutes tell. 
 And hoary time shall bid the world farewell,* 
 
 '* Doctor, if this is the first poetic bantling you have 
 ,oe honour of being the fathei of, I give you all possi- 
 ble credit for the spirit, as well as the truth that it con- 
 veys," exclaimed the Duke; " and whether you obtained 
 the patronage, or not, of the personage you alluded to, 
 I can only say that you deserved it, and that you do 
 not possess one less atom of merit, because great men 
 
 • The above fines were written by the authoress when oniy tnir- 
 teen years of age. 
 
 C 12 N N
 
 282 
 
 treat with iiidifierence and coniempt what they them- 
 selves have not the power or the ability to execute." 
 
 Lord Montague also bestowed great commenda- 
 tion on this little pleasing poem of Dr. Syntax, which, 
 though trifling, possessed some intrinsic merit. Yet 
 Lord Montague was disappointed that Wolf was not 
 present at this meeting, and that now there was no 
 chance of being again on friendly terms with a youth 
 whom he had treated with such unmerited severity. 
 
 Besides, the whole secret would now be revealed to 
 Lady Agatha, who would think it strange that Wolf 
 did not come into the nursery as usual to play with the 
 little Orlando; and as the child was so passionately 
 fond of him, it would be remarked, and the cause per- 
 haps enquired into by his lovely wife : and this thought 
 was insupportable to Lord Montague ; for he was well 
 aware that Wolf would not conceal the truth, but in- 
 form ner laaysnip that he was forbidden to enter there, 
 in the presence of the Marchioness, and by him. And 
 v'hat cause could he assign to Agatha for such conduct? 
 Could he confess to her that he was jealous of a poor 
 unfriended boy, who had once shared with her in all 
 the perils of her fate ? No, Lord Montague felt that he 
 could not do this, because it was certain that it would 
 inflict pain on one of the purest bosoms in existence. 
 The remedy therefore in this case was ten times worse 
 than the disease. 
 
 Alfred had said but little in the presence of his pa 
 trori, but that little was modest, arjd betrayed great 
 solidity of mind, which was certainly an essential point 
 in the character he was so shortly to personate, a can-
 
 THE fisher's daughter. 283 
 
 Qidate for holy orders. He possessed mild, placid, and 
 handsome features, and the tone of his voice was clear 
 and harmonious. He certainly had not the brilliancy 
 or the uncommon energy of the high spirited Wolf; for 
 nature, though she had formed both in her hapi^est 
 mood, had designed them for very opposite characters; 
 both to shine, but with different lights and shades. She 
 had done her work ; it remained for education and mo- 
 ral principles to finish the rest. 
 
 It was late in the evening when Lawrence and his 
 young pupil returned from their peregrinations, in which 
 they had been so successful, that Wolf was loaded with 
 a basket of sea weeds and shells ; and the very moment 
 they made their entrance, Dr. Syntax, whose spirits 
 were not only exhilarated with the wine he had drank, 
 out intoxicated with the praises which the Duke and 
 and Lord Montague had bestowed on his poem, ex- 
 claimed — 
 
 " Well, gentlemen, I hope you have been highly gra 
 tified, and so have Mr. x\lfred and myself. I was never 
 so much so, I give you my honour and credit; for 
 while you have been cooling your heels at the sea- 
 side, and tasting the breezes of the ocean, we have 
 been tasting some of his Grace's champaign, in com- 
 pany with his Grace too, I can assure you, and Lord 
 Montague Montault. Which has the better bargain ?" 
 To \vhich Wolf, with a little asperity, replied — 
 
 " To one part of it, sir, I should have had no objec- 
 tion, but to the other I would much rather prefer 
 the breezes of the ocean, though the winds blew a 
 hurricane, the lightnings flashed, or the loud thunder 
 roared."
 
 284 THE fisher's daughte;?. 
 
 " Well, I confess then Mr. Wolf," cried the doctor 
 laughing, '^ that I would much rather enjoy my owa 
 taste than share in yours; an uncommon odd pro- 
 pensity for a young man at your time of life/ 
 
 " But it is no less a truth, the most serious that I ever 
 uttered," replied Wolf, indignantly. " The wine would 
 have choked me ; I could not have gulped it down, I 
 am very certain." 
 
 '* You surprise me still more Mr. Wolf," reiterated 
 the doctor. " Bless my soul, wine choke you ! Why 
 I tell you that the wine which was on Lord Monta- 
 gue's table, and that Mr. Alfred and I drank several 
 glasses of, was the most delicious that I ever tasted in 
 my life. Come now, I am a pretty good judge of 
 wine." 
 
 " I have no doubt of it, sir," responded Wolf; 
 *^ but I again repeat, that were it more delicious than 
 Nector offered to the gods, I could not have touched 
 one drop of it." 
 
 '* And why, sir, permit me to enquire?" demanded 
 the doctor, in the most profound astonishment. 
 
 To which the now agitated youth, with a look 
 that gave powerful energy to his words, replied — 
 
 *' That, sir, will remain an impenetrable secret to 
 the end of my existence."
 
 THB FISHBR S OAUGHTBR. 2S^ 
 
 CHAPTER XIL 
 
 *< Our virtues would be proud, 
 
 If our faults whipt them not ; 
 
 And our crimes would despair. 
 
 If they were not cherisb'd by 
 
 Our virtues." Shakespeare. 
 
 The feelings of Alfred had been put very severely to 
 the test during the conversation that was taking place 
 between Wolf and his tutor, fearful that some un- 
 grounded expression might escape his lips, and his se- 
 cret be divulged in the same instant; nor could he 
 himself account for the vehemence as well as decision 
 which appeared both in the manner and the features of 
 Wolf in the sentence he had just pronounced; the 
 most profound astonishment having taken possession 
 of the grave sententious countenance of the doctor, 
 and he exclaimed — 
 
 " I protest Mr. Wolf that your language appears a 
 little enigmatical at the present moment, though there 
 is not a doubt but you could adduce very sufficient 
 rejisons for not liking his lordship's wine, and which 
 would seem no longer a mystery, were you to let us 
 into the secret that you resolve to carry with you to 
 the end of your existence ; but I must tell you, young
 
 286 THE FISHERS DAUGHTEIt. 
 
 gentleman, that it is excessively wrong at your time 
 of life to make rash resolves, and sudden resolutions, 
 which it is a thousand to one but you may chance to 
 break the very first opportunity." To which Wolf 
 replied — 
 
 ^^ And pray, sir, do not men run the chance of break- 
 ing resolutions at all seasons of life ?" 
 
 " Granted, Mr. Wolf," answered the doctor. *' No 
 man can possibly be infallible ; yet I consider oaths, 
 when preferred to the Deity, sacred, and that it were 
 sinful to forfeit; for which reason they should never 
 be made, unless they are intended to be kept inviola- 
 ble. I appeal to Mr. Lawrence for the correctness of 
 my opinion." 
 
 " From which it is impossible I can ever dissent," 
 cried Lawrence ; " for oaths are registered in Heaven 
 when they are offered there, and it is sacrilege to for- 
 feit them ; but it does not appear in this instance that 
 my pupil has been guilty of this trespass ; I shall there- 
 fore suffer him to pass without condemnation." 
 
 *^ But I should not suffer myself to pass without 
 condemnation, if I had folly or presumption enough to 
 act contrary to the judgment of either of you two 
 learned gentlemen," uttered Wolf, with a graceful and 
 modest dignity, which rendered him peculiarly inter- 
 esting to the objects on whom he had conferred this 
 delicate and flattering mark of respect. I have taken 
 no oath, that I know of, contrary to the purest precepts 
 of religion in which I have been educated ; at the same 
 time I must acknowledge, that I should not only iiave 
 a distaste for Lord Montague's wine, but to Lord Mon- 
 'ague himself, were he to offer it to me, my reasons for
 
 THE fisher's DAUGHTEfi. 287 
 
 which are locked up in my own breast, and I will never 
 divulge them." 
 
 ^^ And there they had better remain Mr. Wolf," 
 cried Lawrence, gravely. " They are things which do 
 not concern either myself or Dr. Syntax ; and while the 
 exterior is so faultless as I have hitherto found it, it is 
 not my business, as a tutor, to penetrate into the inte- 
 rior part, or exercise severity where there is no occa- 
 sion. If you do not like wine, you are certainly not 
 obliged to drink it, and I would not mind telling Lord 
 Montague so myself." 
 
 A pause ensued to this speech of Lawrence's, and as 
 it probably put an extinguisher on any further com- 
 ments being made on the subject, the parties very 
 quietly retired for the night to their respective cham- 
 bers. Wolf, who now kept nothing secret from Alfred, 
 ixplained the whole of the mystery of the wine 
 business, and the behaviour he had experienced from 
 his lordship and the Marchioness of Montault in the 
 nursery, which filled the mind of the delicate and sen- 
 sative Alfred with the utmost apprehensions, and in- 
 quietude ; yet he certainly saw nothing to reproach 
 him for, and he most heartily wished that the time 
 were indeed come for a removal from Violet Vale, as 
 it was too evident to perceive that Lord Montague was 
 already jealous of the attractions of Wolf, and that so 
 dangerous an object as the Lady Agatha now was 
 to the peace of his beloved brother was best at a 
 distance. 
 
 In the meanwhile the Lady Agatha, perfectly uncon- 
 scious of the reception that Wolf had received from 
 ner husband, wondered, when two days had elaaped.
 
 288 THE fisher's daughter. 
 
 that he never paid his accustomed visit to the nursery 
 to enquire after the health of his little favourite, anti 
 that there was also a constrained distance in his man- 
 ner whenever he approached her, which was quite 
 foreign to the intercourse which had so lately subsisted 
 between them ; that even when by chance he directed 
 a look towards her, it was suddenly withdrawn, while 
 a deep shade of melancholy pervaded his fine animated 
 and intelligent features ', she also remembered the des- 
 pondent tone in which he had addressed her on the 
 staircase : and wholly unconscious of the nature of his 
 feelings, or the cause of the offence which had been 
 given to him by Lord Montague, she determined the 
 very first opportunity of being alone with him to de- 
 mand an explanation of such extraordinary apparent 
 chagrin, and what made him shun the embraces of 
 her lovely infant. But Wolf had very seldom an op- 
 portunity of seeing Lady Agatha without the presence 
 of a third object ; he never dined at the table with her 
 or Lord Montague except on very particular occasions ; 
 he could see her no where but in the nursery, or in the 
 gardens, both of which places he cautiously avoided, 
 so that an explanation of his conduct was necessarily 
 deferred, and Lady Agatha was certainly a little un- 
 easy and mortified at this perceptible change in the 
 manners and deportment of her young favourite to- 
 wards her ; because she was not conscious of having 
 given him any offence, and it never entered her imagi- 
 nation that any one else in her establishment had, or 
 she would certainly have resented it; much less did 
 she suppose that Lord Montague had, and far less did 
 she suspect the cause. In the meantime the little
 
 THE fisher's daughter. 289 
 
 Orlando, every time he caught a sight of Wolf, to whose 
 caresses he was so accustomed, set up his little pipes 
 in no very melodious strain, stretching out his arms^ 
 and one day the child cried so passionately, that it was 
 heard, while they sat at dinner, by Lord and Lady 
 Montault, the Duke being also present ; and on the bell 
 being instantly rung to know what was the matter 
 with the child, word was brought back, that Lord Or- 
 lando seeing Mr. Wolf, cried to go to him, but the 
 nurse had taken him into another apartment to pacifv 
 him, but all to no purpose, he still wanted to go to 
 Mr. Wolf. 
 
 This intelligence not only surprised Agatha, but her 
 lovely cheeks assumed a colour of the brightest crim- 
 son, while she indignantly exclaimed — 
 
 " Tell the nurse to bring the child here immediately, 
 that I may know the meaning of such conduct. It is 
 strange, indeed, that W^olf should be so unkind as to 
 suffer the infant to cry thus after him i he surely might 
 have taken it for a few njoments." 
 
 " Stay, my love, it is perfectly ridiculous to flurry 
 yourself so," uttered Lord Montague, who now felt 
 like a criminal arraigned at the bar, and who was just 
 going to take his trial ; and dreading, the entrance of 
 the nurse, he went out (;f the room with the rapidity 
 of lightning, and returned in a few minutes with his 
 infant son in his arms, who at the sight of his mother 
 soon dried its tears, nestling his head on her lovely 
 bosom, and smiling in her face. 
 
 '^ My darling, you must never again have a favourite, 
 if thus you are rewarded," uttered Agatha, with some 
 asperity ; Lord Montague alled^fing as an excuse tor 
 
 tz 13 o o
 
 299 THL fisher's daughter. 
 
 the imrsr-, and the supposed ingratitude of poor Wolf, 
 that it was only fancy in the child, for Wolf had 
 never been near the nursery that day. 
 
 This made bad worse ; for Lady Agatha, highly 
 piqued, and in the heat of momentary anger, ex- 
 claimed — 
 
 " Nor for many days, to my certain knowledge ; 
 and I must own I do not feel altogether pleased with 
 such caprice, and cannot possibly guess the cause of 
 it ; so fond of the child, and now to treat it thus : I 
 have no patience." 
 
 " Why, my love, you are really angry," cried Lord 
 Montague, exhibiting the strongest marks of confu- 
 sion, which was by no means unremarked by the 
 Duke, while his lovely daughter replied — 
 
 " My lord, I never affect what I do not feel. I am 
 really angry, and Wolf shall know the cause of my 
 displeasure," 
 
 ^' And yet I would wager that Wdf is not the ag- 
 gressor," uttered his Grace, fixing his eyes on the 
 changing countenance of his nephew. *' There h 
 some mistake in the business, which, in justice to 
 the youth, whom 1 think highly of, I shall beg to have 
 explained. What say you Montague? Have you any 
 objection to my speaking to Wolf on this subject ?" 
 
 And to the utter astonishment, both of his Grace 
 and the Lady Agatha, Lord Montague, with almost 
 involuntary warmth, replied — 
 
 " Yes, your Grace, a very serious objection ; it is 
 making this youth of too much consequence in my 
 family. I would not have hirn for one moment sup- 
 pose that his contempt of my child can in the slightest
 
 THE fisher's daughter. 291 
 
 degree affect the feelings of Lady Agatha Montault 3" 
 and darting a look of severe reprehension on the sur- 
 prised countenance of his lovely wife, his lordship in- 
 stantly quitted the room, leaving the Duke in amaze- 
 ment at the agitation he had betrayed. 
 
 " Good heavens ! my dearest father," uttered Aga- 
 tha, " what can possibly be the matter with Monta- 
 gue? He seems prejudiced against Wolf, but I am 
 utterly ignorant as to what offence he may have given 
 him." 
 
 " That I will certainly know of Wolf himself," an- 
 swered his Grace, " for it is perfectly unintelligible to 
 me ; and notwithstanding his prohibition, I will assur- 
 edly know the truth of it. It does not appear to me 
 that Wolf is in fault ; but if he is, it is extremely proper 
 I should be made acquainted with the nature of his 
 offence. 1 am his patron and protector, and if he has 
 proved himself unworthy of the regard 1 was inclined 
 to shew him, he shall no longer have my protection. 
 I will instantly go into the study, and question him on 
 a point that I will not bear to be trifled with ; in the 
 mean time, my love, take no notice of the petulance of 
 your husband ;" so saying, and snatching a kiss of the 
 rosy little dimpled cherub that now lay sleeping in the 
 arms of his beauteous mother, the Duke sallied forth 
 in quest of the accused Wolf, whom he found with his 
 tutor, intent upon some maps which Lawrence was 
 accurately pointing out to him. The animated coun- 
 tenance of Wolf reflected the mind that was its coun- 
 terpart, energy, sensibility, and truth ; and he arose 
 on the entrance of his august patron, as also did the 
 tutor.
 
 292 THE fish£r's daughter. 
 
 *' I have broken in upon you without ceremony, be- 
 cause the business I came about is somewhat urgent," 
 uttered his Grace. " It is with you Wolf that I wish 
 to commune privately ; Lawrence, you will leave us to- 
 gether." 
 
 The tutor bowed and made his exit, while Wolf 
 closed the door gently after him, then returned, and 
 waited in silence the commands of his patron, who 
 addressed the astonished youth in the following 
 words : — 
 
 '' Wolf, you are well aware that if I had not consi- 
 dered you were worthy of my protection, I should never 
 «iave placed you where you now are. Whenever I find 
 you disgracing it, you must instantl'y depart, and no 
 intercession will ever induce me to pardon your indis- 
 cretion.** 
 
 " O your Grace ! and do you think me guilty of 
 any?" now exclaimed the agitated Wolf. " If I am, 
 I know not in thought, word, or deed, the nature of 
 my offence towards you, or any beneath this roof. I 
 beseech you then, sport not with the feelings of one 
 who would sooner perish, than live disgraced in the 
 eyes of his patron. What fault have 1 committed? 
 Who — who has accused me?" 
 
 " You are not accused ; hear me patiently," cried 
 the Duke. '' I am only going to put a few questions 
 to you on a suVyect that puzzles me ; all you have to do 
 is to answer them with a strict adherence to the truth, 
 which you never need blush to own." 
 
 '^ Your Grace I honour truth, as I adore the hallow- 
 ed source from whence it flows," uttered Wolf now, 
 with his wonted spirit and energy of character. " I
 
 THK fisher's daughter. 293 
 
 have been scourged for it when I was in the Black 
 Forest; I have writhed under the lash of the whip for 
 it, till my back was laid bare and bleeding, yet I never 
 forfeited it. I was then wild, little better than a savage 
 boy, untutored, uneducated, still I was steadfast to the 
 truth ; and shall I now forsake that beaten track, which 
 was the light of my existence, and the glory of my 
 heart ? Now that I have energy, sensibility, charac- 
 ter, now that I feel I am springing into manhood, shall 
 I forsake man's proudest boast — truth? No, let me 
 perish first. Now for the questions, so please your 
 Grace, and I will answer them fearlessly, but truly, as 
 I hoi)e for mercy at the judgment seat of heaven." 
 
 The Duke for a moment was lost in wonder, asto- 
 nishment, and even admiration at the character of this 
 intrepid and fine spirited youth, whose bold defence 
 of himself was marked with an expression that would 
 have commanded respect, even from those who were 
 his superiors ; and that he sprung from a race that was 
 noble, however abject the state which he described to 
 have been his former lot, or however impervious the vail 
 which was cast over his origin, there was not the smallest 
 doubt. Still he resolved to be satisfied on the points he 
 was so solicitous to obtain a knowledge of; and in the 
 mildest tone bade the agitated youth to compose him- 
 self, for that he entertained the highest opinion of both 
 his principles and his honour, from the sentiments he 
 had just broached, which were as creditable to himself 
 as to those who protected him ; and that such was 
 nov/ his confidence in the native ingenuousness of his 
 character and disposition, that he would unveil his 
 thoughts with less reserve than he had at first intended
 
 294 THE FISHER*S DAUGHTER. 
 
 to do, and immediately asked him why he had for 
 
 the last several days so sedulously avoided bestowing 
 caresses on his little grandson, and that he did not 
 visit the nursery as usual to play with the child. 
 
 Instantly the face of Wolf was in a perfect flame, 
 and his features assumed an expression that might 
 have been taken for ferocity, had not sensibility shoric 
 in his brilliant eyes, and moistened his cheek with a 
 tear. Every nerve seemed roused to energy, and he 
 exclaimed — 
 
 ^' Your Grace, however painful to my feelings, T 
 must inform you of the cause." 
 
 " That is exactly what I want you to do," cried the 
 Duke. 
 
 ^' I was forbidden to enter the nursery, peremptorily 
 forbidden to enter it, and severely reprimanded for pre- 
 suming to caress the young Lord Orlando," reiterated 
 Wolf, an involuntary sigh escaping from his breast, 
 which now proudly and indignantly swelling at the re- 
 collection of the reproaches he had received from Lord 
 Montague on this occasion, would have concealed at 
 this moment the pain he had inflicted there. 
 
 Petrified and confounded by this intelligence, which 
 completely justified the conduct of the so falsely ac- 
 cused Wolf in the estimation of his august patron, he 
 demanded to know who had forbidden him. 
 
 "Lord Montague Montault," answered Wolf, boldly, 
 *^ none other but him : the Lady Agatha and yourself 
 would not have taught Wolf implicitly to follow a com- 
 mand so repugnant to his feelings ; for not more do I 
 love the light of all created universe, than I love the 
 face of that beauteous boy. It has cost me some pains
 
 THK fisher's daughter. 296 
 
 to avoid the sweet innocent, but Wolf has done his 
 duty." 
 
 " And nobly, my boy," uttered the Duke, after a few 
 minutes abstraction of thought ; " yet I own it appears 
 to me extraordinary. Did he assign no cause ?" 
 
 " I did not presume to ask, your Grace," answered 
 Wolf. "The Marchioness of Monlault was present 
 when I received this so little merited reproof from his 
 lordship, and her ladyship was equally severe, her mo- 
 tives for which I am wholly ignorant of, nor did I 
 enquire. And why, your Grace ? conscience whispered 
 that I was innocent of the slighest offence ; and what 
 has innocence to do with fear?" 
 
 The Duke was profoundly silent. There was a pain- 
 ful and involuntary thought that it was possible filled 
 his mind at the communication of poor Wolf, which 
 having connected wMth other existing circumstances, 
 very nearly amounted to conviction of what before he 
 had only surmised, that the uncommon perfections, 
 and brilliant genius of this promising youth, had ex- 
 cited in the breast of even the accomplished Lord 
 Montague, two of the meanest and most miserable 
 passions that can agitate the human bosom, envy and 
 jealousy ; yet so tenacious was the Duke of concealing 
 the faults of his son-in-law from his protegee, that he 
 affected an air of carelessness, while he replied — 
 
 " My dear boy, you are now" perfectly restored to 
 my good opinion, and I shall never henceforth accuse 
 you wrongfully. That I did not, that I could not sus- 
 pect you without a cau^e, is the reason why I have 
 sought in this interview to know the real state of you^
 
 290 THE fisher's daughter. 
 
 feelings ; I find yon clear, without a shadow of offence, 
 and the fault decidely rests with Lord Montague, who, 
 though he is the husband of my angelic child, I do not 
 choose to glance over; but they are faults which you 
 must not notice, Wolf, and w^hich delicacy to the Lady 
 Agatha forbids me to explain. I can say no more as a 
 father, but you may probably gue>s at them. Every 
 man has a fault in his disposition, and Lord Montague 
 has one; I need not point it out to you, your good 
 sense (of which you have I am happy to say an abun- 
 dant share) will suggest the meaning of what I would 
 not wish to disclose to mortal. He is the husband of 
 my daughter, and therefore he is sacred from any reproof 
 of mine, while he does not glaringly interfere with the 
 happiness of my beloved child, born under cironm- 
 stances, which even you Wolf are no stranger to." Hero 
 a struggling and convulsive sigh escaped from the breast 
 of the Duke of Braganza, sacred to the memory of the 
 now sainted mother of his Agatha, and for some mo- 
 ments he scarcely recovered his self-possession ; at 
 length he resumed his discourse, for the feelings of 
 Wolf could not be explained, they were undefinable. 
 
 " You must take no notice of what has passed be- 
 tween us Wolf," uttered the Duke. " Lawrence will 
 question you, but resolve him nothing ; in the mean- 
 time I will point out to you a system of conduct, which 
 yon must instantly adopt while you remain beneath 
 the roof of Lord Montague Montault, and that is, to 
 behave {jrecisely as formerly, when you first came 
 hither. Go to the nursery and seek your little fa- 
 vonriie, who vvill he as naturally anxious to seek you;
 
 297 
 
 aui.1 take my word for it, you will never be forbidden 
 agaih to enter there by the command of Lord Mon- 
 tague Montault." 
 
 " But I hope, your Grace, that I have not equally 
 incurred the displeasure of the Lady Agatha, by obey- 
 ing the commands of her lord," cried Wolf, with his 
 face in a rich glow of crimson;, and unable to conceal 
 the pain that he endured from such a supposition ; the 
 Duke all the while looked at him with keen penetra- 
 tion ; but there was no reproach in the glance that was 
 directed towards him, and he mildly replied — 
 
 " No, she was not offended, but a little hurt that her 
 little Orlando was disregarded, or rather forsaken by 
 his favourite. No matter, I will set all this to rights 5 
 but I charge you. Wolf, to hold no conversation with 
 the Lady Agatha on this subject. It is sufficient that 
 I am able to justify you in her opinion. You must seek 
 no further explanation with the daughter of Braganza." 
 
 " Your Grace's commands must ever be sacred with 
 Wolf,'* uttered he, and bowed gracefully. ** When I 
 forfeit them, then spurn me from your presence, and 
 cast me off for ever." 
 
 " I will stake my life on your obedience, my boy," 
 exclaimed the Duke, surveying Wolf with unspeakable 
 satisfaction, " and leave you to your reflections. The 
 time is fast approaching when you will seek for fame 
 and glory in martial deeds. You will shortly be re- 
 moved from hence, to engage in the perils of the field, 
 and let that alone occupy your present thoughts. If I 
 augur rightly, I shall not be deceived in the expectations 
 1 have formed of your successful debut on the stage 
 of your profession. Farewell, and peace be with you." 
 
 bl3 p F
 
 The Duke was a litlle overcome by the serious con- 
 versation he had held with Wolf, as well as by a pre- 
 diction, that if this disposition in Montague continued 
 to gain strength, that fleeting and short would be the 
 happiness of his beloved child, whose every thought 
 was pure, and whose every action was blamele,s. 
 Besides, he liked not the clandestine visits of the 
 Marchioness to her son, and the unbounded influence 
 which, though married, she yet possessed over him. 
 What right had she to exercise any severity towards 
 Wolf, or reprove him for his fondness for his liltle 
 grandson, and in the absence of his Agatha, make 
 comments that she had no business to do in the esta- 
 blishment of his daughter? In short, the Duke was 
 not in the most possible of all sweetest of tempers 
 when he again made his entrance to the drawing-room, 
 and there beheld the Marchioness, Lady Lavinia, and 
 Lord Winstone, whose nuptials were to be solemnized 
 in the course of a few days ; and they all rose to re- 
 ceive him with the greatest respect. Lord Montague 
 had recovered some portion of his chagrin, and was 
 conversing with great gaiety with Lord Winstone on 
 the subject of his approaching change of condition. 
 The Marquis was talking in a low strain to Lady Aga- 
 tha, over whose lovely features there was a pensive 
 shade, yet her irresistibly charming smile was the 
 same as ever, although its bright beam shed a some- 
 what fainter ray. 
 
 " I protest, your Grace, it is insufferably provoking 
 to take yourself away when you were most wanted,*' 
 uttered the wily Marchioness, with one of her most 
 insinuating smiles, which, though she had hitherto been
 
 THE fisher's daughter. 'SSQ 
 
 a favourite of the Duke's, on this evening had, for some 
 reason or other, lost its power of fascination : " we 
 have wanted your Grace's decision on a most impor- 
 tant point for this half hour, and now you are come 
 we will positively have it." To which his Grace 
 gravely replied — 
 
 " There are some points, your ladyship, which I 
 should not choose to decide upon, although I grant 
 that decision is a necessary virtue, vvithout which man 
 would be a mere nonentity." 
 
 " But we cannot decide without your Grace's judg- 
 ment on this occasion, for it happens to be so impor- 
 lant, that it depends entirely upon your Grace, it ap- 
 pears, by a majority of ladies, whether 1 am to be 
 honoured with a certain fair hand, unless that hand is 
 presented by his Grace the Duke of Braganza," utter- 
 ed Lord Winstone. '' In short, your Grace, Lady La- 
 vinia positively refuses to become my bride, if you 
 (ion't become her father." 
 
 " Yes, indeed I have said so, yuur Grace," cried Lady 
 Lavinia, blushing deeply, or rather afifecting to blush 
 deeply, for certainly none of nature's labouring was 
 there, but no inconsiderable quantity of Parisian rouge 
 bepainted cheeks that would have appeared to much 
 greater advantage vvithout it. 
 
 " And 1 am sure, my love, that his Grace will 
 not refuse yonr i>upj)lication," cried the Marchio- 
 ness. 
 
 " Nor mine, I hope," reiterated Lord Winstone. 
 
 *' Nor mine," echoed the Marquis, now fixing his 
 eyes for the first lime on ihc unusual i^n'.viiy wineh
 
 300 THE fisher's daughter. 
 
 pervaded almost every fine feature of the Duke of Bra 
 ganza. 
 
 " Nor mine/* repeated a voice, full of the most 
 melodious sweetness, and that voice was his beloved 
 daughter's. " Dearest father, it is the request of Lady 
 Lavinia, that you will at the holy altar consign her hand 
 to Lord Winstone ; and I am sure you cannot form any 
 reasonable objection to such a request." 
 
 " None in the least, my love," replied the Duke, 
 fixing on the lovely features of his beloved child a look 
 of the most idolized fondness. " Lord Winstone and 
 Lady Lavinia may command my very best services on 
 so joyful an occasion, if services they can be consider- 
 ed. To confer happiness on others, is to me the most 
 pleasurable sensation that I can enjoy ; to inflict unne- 
 cessary pain would make me as miserable; and those 
 who delight in doing so, deserve to be miserable to 
 the end of their existence." 
 
 This was not spoken without point, and the Mar- 
 chioness exhibited the strongest marks of confusion. 
 Nor was Lord Montague without his share of mortifi- 
 cation, for he had not the slightest doubt but the Duke, 
 in consequence of the chagrin that his daughter had 
 betrayed at the supposed ingratitude of Wolf, had de- 
 manded an explanation of his conduct, and that Wolf 
 had told them all that had passed between them, in 
 which case his own weakness must make him appear 
 very ridiculous in the eyes of his father-in-law, and 
 would also be very soon manifest to his lovely wife. 
 Lord Montague therefore sat upon thorns during the 
 remainder of the evening, making out the old adage,
 
 THE fisher's daughter, ^1 
 
 that a guilty conscience wants no accusing when put 
 to the test. Nor was the mind of Lady Agatha in its 
 perfectly serene and quiet temperature. She was dis- 
 pleased with Wolf, and she was by no means pleased 
 with her husband ; and she felt indignant with both^ 
 without being able to seek an explanation with either 
 of them, because she had been enjoined by her father 
 not to do so ; yet surely he would tell her if Wolf were 
 guilty or not, if he had obtained any conversation with 
 him ; and she was certain that he had, and that the re- 
 sult was not very favourable to her husband. Cau- 
 tiously, however, did Lady Agatha conceal her sensa- 
 tions, and the conversation becoming general, no fur- 
 ther notice was taken of the humour of either of the 
 party, except that Lady Lavinia appeared exhilarated 
 in spirits to the highest degree, and Loid Winstone 
 the most transported of lovers. The Marchioness, 
 probably a little piqued at the pointed expressions of 
 the Duke, from whom she had hitherto received the 
 most flattering compliments, thought it policy not to 
 expose herself to the animadversions which he might 
 again take an opportunity of passing on her, and im- 
 mediately set herself down to cards in an adjoining 
 apartment, where card tables were laid out for those 
 who chose to play, and to which Lord Montague and 
 Lord Winstone had retired, the Duke remaining in 
 conversation with his brother, his lovely daughter, and 
 Lady Lavinia, and where some successful rubbers at 
 whist soon put the Marchioness into her usual flow of 
 spirits. She always played high, and very rarely lost, 
 and had ever been an adept in this fashionable amuse- 
 ment; and Lady Lavinia, who always loved to copy
 
 302 TUE fisher's daughter. 
 
 bcjuiiiful inammu in every air and grace, was a tolerable 
 proficient in the art of winning large sums, and sorne- 
 linies losing them, an accomplishment certainly that 
 would not have met the approval of her lover had he 
 known it; but defects were concealed, for beautiful 
 mamma never suffered her daughter to sit down to the 
 card table when Lord Winstone was there. 
 
 Once, however, it caught the observation of the 
 Marquis at a crowded parly, when the Marchioness 
 supposed that he was elsewhere ; and the next day it 
 called forth severe reprehension. 
 
 '* What in the name of heaven do you mean. Mar- 
 chioness, by teaching your daughter to play at cards?" 
 uttered he. ^' 1 am shocked, perfectly shocked at 
 such glaring impropriety." To which her ladyship 
 replied, with an air of the most provoking noncha- 
 lence — 
 
 '^ And 1 am perfectly amazed, nay I am horrified by 
 your making so absurd an enquiry. Can your daugh- 
 ter move in high circles of fashion, without playing at 
 cards ?" 
 
 *' Then it is a great pity that high circles of fashion 
 cannot teach her something more worthy of imitation," 
 answered the Marquis ; " and it is not the merely 
 playing at cards that J object to but I have a very great 
 objection to seeing a female so young as Lavinia, 
 betting for considerable sums of money with the most 
 professed gamblers in town, and her mother sanction- 
 ing such indecorous conduct; and I can tell you, Mar^ 
 chioness, that I will not tolerate such doings. If ever 
 I see Lavinia acting again so improperly, 1 will chastise 
 her with that authority that becomes a father, who is
 
 THE fisher's daughter. 303 
 
 naturally anxious for the happiness, the honour of his 
 child." 
 
 " And expose yourself to the severity of all your ac- 
 quaintance/' cried the Marchioness. " Had you not 
 better purchase an iron cage, and put her into it, with a 
 padlock, of which nobody is to keep the key but your- 
 self? Upon my word, Marquis, you are particularly 
 fastidious all of a sudden, in your precise notions of 
 female propriety.** 
 
 "My notions are precisely what they ever were," 
 reiterated the Marquis ; " and your ladyship wiil find 
 them so, if this pernicious habit is continued by your 
 daughter, and encouraged by you." 
 
 At this unlucky moment, when fire raged on both 
 sides. Lady Lavinia made her appearance, and inter- 
 rupted this no very agreeable matrimonial duet be- 
 tween papa and beautiful mamma, by making it a trio; 
 for the Marquis in a displeased tone exclaimed — 
 
 " Laviiiia, 1 desire I njay never see you doing what 
 you did last night ut Lady Tunnington's." 
 
 '•La, papal and what was that?" demanded the 
 young fashionable beauty, in her usual simpering mode 
 of expressing herself j and glancing towards beautiful 
 mamma, she tiiere beheld the approach of a storm, and 
 wondered what had also ruffled the quiet and always 
 placid temperature of her father, who immediately re- 
 plied — 
 
 *' You were doing what a young female of your age 
 ought to blush in acknowledging, Lavinia, and what 
 you never shall do again witli my {)ermission. Win- 
 ning, losing, at)d betting at cards ; and with whom ?
 
 304 THE fisher's daughter. 
 
 gamblers, professed, notorious gamblers ; although they 
 may call themselves men of fashion, of education, and 
 of high birth, they are nevertheless a disgrace to it, 
 and the scourge, the infamy of all mankind. And a fe- 
 male gamester! heaven and earth, shall I suffer a 
 child of mine to add to the disgusting catalogue that 
 fills up the annual register of the votaries of the gam- 
 ing table ? Lavinia, on peril of my eternal displeasure, 
 I command you to forego this dangerous propensity, 
 this infatuated passion. I will not allow you to play a 
 single card beneath this roof, or any other ; your im- 
 mediate acquiescence to my wishes will prove if you 
 have any affection for a father, who, however severe 
 he may be considered in giving you these restrictions, 
 gives at the same instant the most incontestable proof of 
 his affection for his daughter." 
 
 Although the Marchioness had been silent during this 
 conversation with the Marquis and Lady Lavinia, it 
 was not out of fear, but policy and interest, which if it 
 be the white man's god, is certainly the white woman's 
 too; for the wily Marchioness well knew that there 
 was more advantage in being silent, than by offering 
 any opposition to the arguments he had been adducing 
 against play; but, though silent, her looks had all the 
 eloquence of speech in them, and they were presently 
 understood by the fair culprit, who, wholly unprepared 
 for this grave lecture of her father, was covered with 
 confusion ; and glancing at beautiful mamma, whose 
 motions were most expressive of her meaningj she in- 
 stantly crept up beside her, and leaned over the otto- 
 man, where her ladyship was reclining, with a sort of
 
 THE kishkr's daughter. 305 
 
 I)erfc<:t iudifft rerice as tn the scene that was passing. 
 Softly, however, now she whispered in the ear of the 
 blushing ai]d half affrighted maid — 
 
 *' Why don*t you cry child, he will never be able to 
 resist your tears; come, put your handkerchief to your 
 eyes- and sob as loud as ever you can." 
 
 This hint was no sooner given by beautiful mamma 
 than taken, for Lady Lavinia was an apt scholar. The 
 Marquis had arisen from his chair, and was pacing the 
 room, apparently to recover the effects of his irritabi- 
 lity, and his waste of breath and words on his insensi- 
 ble child, when to his utter astonishment she suddenly 
 burst into a convulsive passion of tears ; and her sobs 
 were $o outrageously violent, that the Marchioness in- 
 stantly sprang from the ottoman, and rang the bell 
 for some hartshorn to rub the temples of her dear 
 child, that she protested would go into a fainting fit, 
 owing to the cruel and barbarous manner in which 
 the Marquis had attacked her. 
 
 "•' You have really no compassion, not even for your 
 own offspring, Marquis," uttered the Marchioness. 
 " The dear creature is quite overcorne, she is so sen- 
 sitive and so nervous, all soul and tender sensibility." 
 
 The hartshorn was now applied without effect. The 
 hysteric sobs of Lady Lavinia still continued with rei- 
 terated violence, and the fountain of tears to deluge 
 the cheeks of the sensitive beauty, while beautiful 
 mamma poured torrents of reproaches on the object 
 who had occasioned such agitation in the snowy breast 
 of her beautiful Lavinia, who carried on the farce so 
 well, that she succeeded in making her father believe 
 that her indisposition was occasioned by his sevcritv, 
 
 C 13 Q Q
 
 306 THE fisher's daughter. 
 
 and that she was so powerfully affected by his re- 
 proaches, as to excite symptoms of the most alarming 
 insensibility. 
 
 Now the Marquis, though in some points of his cha- 
 racter he was particularly tenacious of what should be 
 considered right or wrong, and would for a moment 
 exert that control which he thought it incumbent for 
 him to do, yet in the next moment he would betray the 
 weakness that belongs to human nature, and forget his 
 former resolutions ; in one word, the Marquis of Mon- 
 tault, though one of most amiable of husbands and he 
 the best of fathers, as well as the most prudent and moral 
 of men, possessed an unaccountable softness of disposi- 
 tion, which had too much of the milk of human kind- 
 ness in it ; and the firmest of his resolutions could be 
 dissolved, or rather broken, when they came in con- 
 tact with that yielding point in his disposition. Now 
 ye severe moralists, what shall we say ? Were they 
 faults, or were they virtues ? The very gravest, nay 
 the very wisest of you cannot decide that point ; for of 
 philosophy no man can reasonably boast when he is 
 put CO the testy and woman lies in the perspective.
 
 THE fisher's daughter. 307 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 «« Tbere is nought in heaven, 
 Or earth, or air, or ocean beautiful. 
 That bears not some similitude to thee. 
 Calm as the summer sky, aud sparkling 
 As the summer night ; as gentle as the wave 
 That steals along the orient sands, when winds 
 Are hush'd in deep repose ; blooming as flowers, 
 Woo'd by the gales of June ; thy perfumed sighs 
 Breathe of the musk rose, and its deepest blush 
 Tints thy fair cheek. A peri formed of air. 
 And balm, and sunshine, nursed in purple bowers 
 Of fadeless amaranths ; from the bright realms, 
 Thy pearly gates of paradise, thy feet 
 Have strayed to bless a mortal." 
 
 Subdued, or rather deceived by an appearance of so 
 much sensibility, in which he had always imagined his 
 daughter to have been greatly deficient, the Marquis 
 instantly softened his asperity towards her, and with a 
 spontaneous feeling which is not always to besuppressed, 
 (at the same moment that we admit it may be termed 
 a weakness,) he approached the sobbing girl, and 
 imprinting a father*s fond kiss upon her cheek, ex- 
 claimed — 
 
 " Come, dry these tears my Lavinia, and compose 
 your fluttered spirits to serenity and peace, for you 
 know me too vvell, to suppose I would unnecessarily or
 
 
 308 THE fisher's Daughter. 
 
 crueily give you pain. Seventy is not a feature in my 
 ehaxacter, but deeision ever; if your tears flow from a 
 consciousness of the impropriety of conduct which I 
 have been pointing out to you, I am convinced that you 
 will not again hazard the displeasure of your father. I 
 will therefore dismiss a subject so painful to us both ; 
 and as you have etrinced these marks of contrition for 
 your fault, I freely forgive you ; for repentance is always 
 an atonement for error, when breathed from a heart 
 that is perfectly sincere." 
 
 The Marquis then went to his private cabinet in the 
 adjoining apartment, and returning, presented his sup- 
 posed penitent child with a most liberal mark of his 
 generous consideration for the pain and mortification 
 he had inflicted on her feelings, which it is possible 
 had more influence (as certainly it had more weight) 
 than all the admonitions he had been giving her; and 
 itjstantly the fountain of tears, which had till then so 
 incessantly flowed, were stopped in their current, as if 
 by a magic inspiration : such is the power of gold ! And 
 stealing an expressive glance from beautiful mamma, 
 who silently triumphed in the success of finesse. Lady 
 Lavinia's countenance now borrowed the semblance of 
 the sunny ray, when first it darts its orient beams after 
 a gloomy shower, and smiling at the glittering ore, ex- 
 claimed — 
 
 ' ^* Indeed papa, I will never make you angry again. 
 No, never, if you will always go to your cabinet and 
 bring me such a present as this." 
 
 " And so your smiles are to be purchased^ are they 
 my Lavinia?" uttered the Marquis ; "and if so, you 
 will not find me so ready to become a bidder at any
 
 THE fisher's daughter. 309 
 
 future opportunity; for you will gain nothing, while 
 I consider that interest has any thing to do in the bu- 
 siness, believe me." 
 
 " Oh I don't mean that, papa," cried Lady Lavinia, 
 colouring like scarlet. 
 
 i" Then what did you mean?" uttered the Marquis. 
 
 i** I don't know," responded Lady Lavinia, simper- 
 ing, and looking towards the Marchioness for further 
 instructions, who perceived that it was now necessary 
 for her to edge in a word, or that Lavinia would lose 
 all the ground she had been making in the good graces 
 of her father ; for she was not yet an adept in the art of 
 dissimulation quite so far, as to appear what she really 
 was not ; and the Marchioness exclaimed — 
 
 " My dear Marquis, do not tease the dear child so, 
 when you see how determined she is to obey your 
 commands ; it is really barbarous of you to torment 
 her thus. Come love, we are going to a party to night 
 at Lady Gaylove's, aud it is necessary that you should 
 make some slight alteration in your dress. Kiss papa, 
 aud let us retire to our dressing-room. Marquis, do 
 you intend to escort us there? but I had forgot. You 
 have an appointment with Montague, have not you ?" 
 
 '' Yes, and it is one that I cannot dispense with," 
 cried the Marquis. " He is going to appoint a new 
 steward, and 1 have recommended him one that I atn 
 of opinion will do him justice. Of course I must te 
 present at the introduction, but I will meet you in the 
 course of the evening at Lady Gaylove's." 
 
 Lady Lavinia now threw her snowy arras around tbo 
 licck of her too indulgent father ; and as she presseo
 
 310 THE FISHER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 his cheek with her roseate lips, warbled in melodious 
 accents, 
 
 ^ For I am your only daughter ;" 
 
 and the Marchioness laughed heartily, while the Mar- 
 quis, most cordially returning the salutation, left them 
 together to fulfil his appointment at Violet Vale. 
 No sooner had he made his exit, than both of the ladies 
 enjoyed the success of the admirable farce they had 
 been playing. 
 
 " Bravo, Lavinia !** cried beautiful mamma. ^' You 
 will make an excellent actress when you have a little 
 more practice." ;. 
 
 " But I was almost at a loss when the crying scene 
 was over mamma," uttered the young lady. " But how 
 shockingly barbarous it is of papa to prohibit me from 
 playing, when by a lucky chance one may win thou- 
 sands." 
 
 '* And by an unlucky one lose them,'* cried the Mar- 
 chioness, with a deep sigh; " however, I believe you 
 may safely venture on a hit to night, while your father 
 is absent, at Lady Gay love's. There will be some 
 young pigeons there, fresh upon the turf. We must 
 try to fleece them ; for, to tell you the truth, Lavinia, 
 I have been prodigiously out of luck lately. Some 
 demon presides over my cards, for I have lost repeat- 
 edly, and gained nothing by my ventures. How much 
 money has your father given you ?'* 
 
 Lady Lavinia counted the gold on the table, the 
 Marchioness surveying it with a greedy and a wishful 
 eye, while she artfully added —
 
 THE fisher's daughter. 311 
 
 " I never knew him so generous before; now the 
 way to keep him so, is most rigidly to comply with 
 the conditions for which he has given you such liberal 
 marks of his munificence. So, my love, instead of 
 your playing to night at Lady Gaylove's, suppose you 
 let me try your chance, and lend me the money ; then 
 if I should be a winner — " 
 
 A shade of no very pleasing aspect passed over the 
 fair countenance of the fashionable beauty; she paused 
 a little, and then exclaimed — 
 
 " But it YOU should be a loser^ beautiful mamma, 
 you wont be able to return the money so soon as I 
 want it, and then I shall be so disappointed." 
 
 " Why, what do you want it for ?" demanded the 
 Marchioness. 
 
 *^ I want to buy a monkey," uttered the young lady, 
 <^ to play with the squirrel that Winstone gave me ; 
 and I must have one, cost wha*", it will." 
 
 " I promise you the monkey, »f you will lend me 
 the money to night. I will get a monkey for you to- 
 morrow on that proviso." 
 
 *' I shall cry ready to break my heart if you don't," 
 simpered Lady Lavinia. 
 
 " Pretty dear ! but it shan't cry," cried the Mar- 
 chioness, coaxingly. " I will win to night, fleece the 
 pidgeons, and buy the monkey, as a momento of their 
 folly, to-morrow." 
 
 " If I could be certain of your winning, beautiful 
 mamma; but" — hesitated Lady Lavinia. 
 
 " If I do not win, I will give you my second best 
 diamond necklace and earrings, in which you capti-
 
 •^i- niK KISHEk's DAUGIITFR. 
 
 vated Lord Winstone at Lady Tannington's," uttered 
 the Marchioness. 
 
 The temptation was too strong to be resisted. Lady 
 Lavinia yielded to the solicitation of beautiful mamma, 
 and gave her the contents of her purse without a mo- 
 ment's delay^ to the inexpressible joy of the Marchio- 
 ness, whose own finances were completely exhausted 
 by her late considerable losses at the gaming table. 
 Fatal, infatuated, and destructive passion, at which too 
 frequently the honour both of a husband and a wife 
 are staked at a venture, domestic happiness destroyed, 
 female delicacy put to the severest test of mortified 
 feelings, and principles and character become a woeful 
 wreck. This imprudent woman, (the most unfit in na- 
 ture to have the guidance of a young and beautiful 
 daughter, being unable to guide herself,) not only 
 persisted in a continuance of her own folly, but, not- 
 withstanding the admonitions of her excellent hus- 
 band to his child, and the unexampled proof he had 
 given of the generosity of his disposition, still en- 
 couraged her daughter to pursue this evil propensity 
 by her own pernicious example ; absolutely taking the 
 gift, which a kind indulgent father had bestowed, from 
 the too credulous girl, in order that she might again 
 enjoy the luxury of this detestable vice. 
 
 But from this disgusting picture let us turn with ab- 
 horrence, to one of the loveliest, in the form of Lady 
 Agatha Montault, who to the endearing titles of wife 
 and mother, added that of woman, in her best and 
 fairest semblance; for though beautiful, she was no^ 
 vain ; aud though wise, she was not conceited .
 
 TKK fisher's daughter. 313 
 
 It wa« not because the Graces had wreathed roses 
 round her brows for the adornment of her lovely per- 
 son, that Braganza's daughter arrogated to herself a 
 superiority over her fellow creatures. No, she had 
 been taught to value herself on qualities far more trans- 
 cendant; — to erect a temple of charity; — but where? 
 not in the Morning Herald, or the Daily Advertiser, 
 that emblazoned her name with public donations. No, 
 she had been taught a different mode of bestowing 
 benefits on her fellow creatures; for the fame she built 
 upon was her own conscience, and the temple of cha- 
 rity she erected was in the human heart. 
 
 Shall we then emblazon her worth by eulogy ? Shall 
 volumes speak her praise? No, the anguished heart 
 from which she so oft had removed the load of care, 
 the tearful eye which she so oft had dried, let these — 
 these speak, where language is denied. Like the violet 
 of the lowly vale, she sheltered those virtues, whose 
 retiring modesty creates a charm, more sweetly fra- 
 grant than the flower which obtrudes itself on our gaze. 
 The rose is seen, but the violet will be sought after. 
 Such was the portrait of Montague's wife ; yet Monta- 
 gue, though i^ot insensible to the choice blessing which 
 heaven had bestowed, knew not how to appreciate its 
 value. 
 
 Lord Montague had some difficulty in concealing 
 the mortifying sensations he experienced from the ob- 
 servation of his lovely wife when they retired to their 
 chamber, and he was left alone with her; and he 
 dreaded her making the enquiry herself about it, and 
 therefore most cautiously avoided any conversation on 
 
 a 14 R R
 
 314 THK fisher's daughter. 
 
 the subject. But of this there was, though unknown 
 to his lordship, not the slightest apprehension, for 
 Lady Agatha was as silent as he was ; the hints she 
 received from her father being sufficient to deter her 
 from seeking any explanation from her husband, of the 
 mystery of his conduct respecting Wolf. 
 
 Meanwhile things remained in the same position till 
 the following morning. Lord Montague arose with 
 the same gloomy aspect seated on his brow, and with 
 the same restless temperature of disposition, not that 
 either his manners or his words were ungentle towards 
 his lovely wife. He was not out of humour with her, 
 6ut with himself, for which there was no remedy, but 
 that which was most humiliating and repellant to his 
 feelings, and that was to offer an apology to the of- 
 fended Wolf, for the hasty, not to say the unkind man- 
 ner in which he had expressed himself towards him 5 for 
 to run the risk of Wolf repeating it elsewhere, would 
 be immediately to discover that he was jealous of him ; 
 and after resolving and re-resolving for a length of time, 
 he determined while Lady Agatha was absent with her 
 infant son, on her accustomed airing in their salubri- 
 ous and healthy situations around the sea coast, to 
 send for Wolf, and to speak to him privately. In the 
 mean time Agatha had as resolutely determined that 
 morning to pay a visit to Mrs. Russel, whom she had 
 not seen for several days ; and she was now quite anx- 
 ious to know the state of her health, and to take her 
 little boy with her, according to promise; but Agatha 
 had never yet done any thing without consulting the 
 approbation of her husband ; and as soon as breakfast
 
 THE fisher's daughter. 315 
 
 was over, she informed him she was going to see the 
 Fisher's Daughter, and to take Lord Orlando with her. 
 
 *' For do you know, my love," added she, with a 
 sweet smile playing over her lovely features, which 
 had not yet lost its inexpressible charm in the eyes of 
 her still adoring Montague, " that Jessy is quite im- 
 patient to see my little darling. " May I then go and 
 take my boy?" 
 
 To which Lord Montague, with a look of the most 
 impassioned fondness, and feeling the delicate respect 
 she ever paid to his wishes, replied — 
 
 " My dearest, and do you think it necessary to ask 
 permission, when you have an undoubted right to con- 
 sult your own inclinations ?" 
 
 *' Certainly," cried Agatha, '' your inclinations are 
 mine also. My heart has never formed one wish con- 
 trary to your judgment, in which I consider you supe- 
 rior. If you do not approve of my taking the child to 
 Mrs. Russel's, I would not surely do it, though that 
 wish was mine." 
 
 " Do as your heart directs you then, my angel," 
 cried Lord Montague ; " for I am confident that while 
 you thus act so prudently, you can never do wrong. 
 Take the boy, and let his first visit to the Fisher's 
 Daughter be accompanied with a testimony of my re- 
 spect to the amiable Jessy ;" and Lord Montague im- 
 mediately placed in the hands of his lovely wife a very 
 liberal mark of his generosity to the little stranger, to 
 the inexpressible delight of Agatha, who, paying a very 
 elegaiit compliment on the occasion, ordered the car- 
 riage ; and taking her son in her arms, told the nurse 
 that she should dispense with her services, till she
 
 316 TH5 fisher's daughter. 
 
 returned from the visit she was going to make to a 
 friend. 
 
 " Dear me, my lady, and will you not be terribly fa- 
 tigued in nursing the child ?'' cried the nurse. ^' Lord 
 Orlando is a little boisterous fellow, I assure you, and 
 I fear you will not be able to manage him without my 
 assistance." 
 
 " O never fear Margaret,'* answered Agatha ; " I 
 shall do very well with the little urchin, I promise you. 
 1 am not one of those delicate ladies who are afraid of 
 nursing their own children ; it is a mother's duty, and 
 the sweetest privilege she can enjoy." 
 
 So saying, Lady Agatha having stepped into her car- 
 riage, it immediately drove off, the infant clapping his 
 little hands, and testifying every demonstration of the 
 most infantine and lively joy, in being nestled to the 
 bosom of his lovely mother ; and after a pleasant ride 
 of nearly an hour, they soon arrived within sight of Mrs. 
 Russel's habitation : and Jessy, being seated at the win- 
 dow to inhale the breezes of the fresh air, very quickly 
 discovered the carriage of Lord Montault; and in de- 
 lighted accents exclaimed to her husband, who was 
 sitting by her side — 
 
 i( My gracious, Samuel ! there is Lady Agatha, as I 
 hope to live, and her Kttle son ! Run — run my love, 
 and assist her out of the carriage." 
 
 Away posted honest Sam, just as the carriage stopt 
 at the gates ; and in a few minutes Agatha was in the 
 presence of her friend, where the warmest congratula- 
 tions between them took place. Jessy almost devoured 
 with kisses her lovely boy, while Agatha exclaimed — 
 
 " It is really a most agreeable surprise to see you so
 
 THE fisher's daughter. 317 
 
 charmingly recovered, and looking so delightfully well. 
 Well, you see what a little Hercules 1 have brought 
 you to look at. 
 
 " He is indeed a prodigious fine child," uttered 
 Jessy. 
 
 *' But not half so beautiful as the Fisher's Daughter," 
 responded Agatha, gazing with delighted rapture on the 
 face of the little girl, as it lay sleeping in a cradle at 
 the feet of its mother. <^ Upon my word Mr. Russel, 
 if your daughter continues to improve as she has since 
 I last beheld her, you will have the credit at some fu- 
 ture day, of being father to one of the most lovely crea- 
 tures in existence ; never did I see so pretty a little 
 babe." 
 
 Mr. Russel seemed highly gratified with this compli- 
 ment from Lady Montault; but how much more so, 
 when Agatha presented the gift of her husband to 
 Jessy, in commemoration of the birth of her daughter; 
 and no witnesses being present, she gradually revealed 
 the last request of her foster father, to which both 
 Jessy and her husband most cheerfully assented. 
 
 " That is, if 1 can in any way prevail on my father," 
 uttered Jessy, looking at Samuel, as if she feared there 
 would be some little difficulty. " You know my fa- 
 ther's oddities, dearest Agatha," added she, smiling, 
 *' He will have my girl called Peggy, he says, in spite 
 of me ; it was the name of my mother. Your influ- 
 ence alone can make him alter that determination." 
 
 " My influence! I fear I have lost it," cried Agatha, 
 colouring deeply at the recollection of the conversation 
 which took place between them at their last meeting, 
 
 " Ah you are quite mistaken, your ladyship," cried
 
 318 THE FISHEr'8 DAUGHTER. 
 
 Sam. " Mr. Blust, would sooner comply with any request 
 of yours, than any other mortal soul living. You have 
 but to name the wish of Captain Singleton, and I 
 would stake my life on your not meeting with a re- 
 fusal." 
 
 " Well, I shall put him to the test of it the very mo- 
 ment that I have a seasonable opportunity,'* answered 
 Agatha. *^ Perhaps we may have a little stormy wea- 
 ther at first about it, but it will soon subside again into 
 a pleasant calm, when he is informed of the motive 
 that urges me to so pressing a solicitation." 
 
 Other conversation now ensued, Mr. Russel very de- 
 licately leaving the ladies together ; aware of the great 
 confidence that subsisted between his wife and Lady 
 Montault, and that she might have something to im- 
 part to Jessy, in which a third personage might be 
 considered an intruder, he took the earliest opportu- 
 nity of retiring, in order that they might enjoy a mutual 
 interchange of thoughts and sentiments ; and Agatha 
 then, with some little hesitation, enquired if Jessy had 
 seen Wolf and Alfred since her confinement. To 
 which Mrs. Russel replied — 
 
 " Yes, more than once, and they were delighted with 
 the sight of my little moppet. Wolf in particular; he 
 is excessively attached to children." 
 
 '' But a little changeable in his attachment towards 
 them," cried Agatha, colouring deeply. " He appear- 
 ed to be passionately fond of my little Orlando, and 
 could not rest a day without going into the nursery tu 
 play with him^ but all of a sudden he has quite deserted 
 his little favourite, his motives for which I am utterly 
 at a loss to define, and I am excessively angry with
 
 THE FISHER S DAUGHTER. 319 
 
 him Jessy, I assure you. I do not admire such unac- 
 countable caprice." 
 
 *' Nay, my dear friend, you must not condemn Wolf 
 unheard," cried Mrs. Russel, with a peculiar expres- 
 sion in her countenance. " It may have been possible 
 that his devotions to Lord Orlando in the nursery might 
 have been considered too fervent, or rather too intru- 
 sive. He may have been forbidden to enter there; and 
 if that is the case, you cannot blame him for obedience 
 to a command so peremptory." 
 
 Agatha was confounded, and somewhat tremulously 
 uttered — 
 
 " I am certain that I did not prohibit his going there ; 
 and you speak Jessy, as if you had a knowledge who 
 had.' 
 
 '^ I have," answered Mrs. Russel ; " it was your 
 husband." 
 
 '^ My husband I" cried Agatha, in the most profound 
 astonishment, and betraying at the same moment a 
 most mortified sensation of deep regret, at receiving a 
 communication which she so little expected. " My 
 husband V repeated she. *^ Did Wolf really tell you 
 that it was Lord Montague who forbid him the nur- 
 sery ?" 
 
 " How else should I have been informed, my dearest 
 friend ?*' answered Jessy. " But wherefore are you 
 thus agitated ?" 
 
 '^ Because I not only blush, but am deeply grieved 
 at Lord Montague's beiraying so great a mark of weak- 
 ness and folly," exclaimed Agatha. " He is my hus- 
 band, but I am not blind to his faults, though none more
 
 320 THE fisher's daughter. 
 
 highly appreciates hia virtues. He is jealous of this 
 youth, because he is strongly attached to my infant." 
 
 " Or rather, because he fears he is strongly attached 
 to the infant's mother,*' uttered Jessy, with a look that 
 could not be misinterpreted ; and Agatha involuntarily 
 exclaimed— 
 
 " Impossible, Jessy ! so base a thought could not 
 enter his imagination. There is no cause for jealousy. 
 No — no, my husband is above so mean a passion. 
 Jessy, you wrong my Montague by such a supposi- 
 tion." 
 
 " Would to heaven that I did so,'* uttered Jessy, 
 with a sigh ; " but it is too palpable, my dear friend, 
 that your husband is indeed inflamed with jealousy to- 
 wards poor Wolf, and that he disapproves of the slight- 
 est favour conferred on him by you ; and, pardon me 
 dearest Agatha, if the confidence and friendship with 
 which you honour me, and which has so long subsisted 
 between us, gives me a dear and tender title, to impart 
 to you without reserve or fastidious ceremony, my 
 most secret thoughts. But indeed — indeed you cannot 
 be too cautious in your conduct towards this unhappy 
 young man.** 
 
 The lovely cheek of Agatha was tinged with a colour 
 of the brightest crimson ; and with a half reproachful 
 look for the first time in her life towards Jessy, she 
 indignantly exclaimed— 
 
 ** And who has dared to call my conduct in question 
 respecting Wolf, towards whom I have been uniformly 
 kind ? It is the affection of a sister that I cherish to- 
 wards him 5 and while he merits that affection, there i»
 
 THE fisher's daughter. 321 
 
 nothing earthty shall deprive him of it. I say, while 
 he merits that afFection, Jessy, that chaste affection 
 shall continue undiminished to the end of my exist- 
 ence ; and that though I hold my husband's love dearer 
 than the breath of life, yet not even for him would I 
 relinquish the good opinion I have of Wolf, till it can 
 be proved, incontestably proved, that he is no longer 
 worthy of it. But why do you call Wolf unhappy, 
 Jessy? I see no cause that he has for unhappiness 
 whatever; on the contrary, a bright star waves at pre- 
 sent over his youthful head, and will no doubt lead him 
 on to fortune and to fame ; and I see no cause for the 
 unhappiness of which you speak. My father thinks 
 highly of Wolf's abilities, and my father is the avowed 
 patron of genius, and will never desert those who con- 
 fidently look up to him for protection.^' 
 
 Jessy's little girl at this precise moment occasioned 
 some slight interruption in the conversation of the fair 
 friends; and little Orlando, who had for the last half 
 hour been consigned to the arms of Jessy's nurse, had 
 fallen fast asleep, and was laid in the cradle of the 
 Fisher's Daughter, perfectly unconscious of the high 
 post of honour which had been assigned to him by the 
 mother of the little stranger. 
 
 " My dearest Agatha, if I called Wolf unhappy," 
 uttered Jessy, " I did not mean to say that it had any 
 thing to do with his prospects in life, though probably 
 ii will colour every future day of his existence." 
 
 " You speak in parables, Jessy. Why do you not ex- 
 plain more fully the nature of your thoughts, that I 
 may more perfectly understand them ?" cried Agatha; 
 
 614 ss
 
 322 THE fisher's daughter, 
 
 a deeper blush than before mantling her fair cheek. 
 To which Jessy replied — 
 
 *' I will no longer speak in parables, if you will for- 
 give what f am going to say." 
 
 *^ Say on,'* uttered Agatha, '' and you shall have my 
 forgiveness afterwards, if indeed Jessy finds it neces- 
 sary to ask it of Agatha." 
 
 And Jessy immediately informed Lady Montault of 
 the unhappy passion with which Wolf was inspired for 
 her, and of the urgent necessity there now was of keep- 
 ing him at a most profound distance, till the period 
 should arrive when he would be called upon to em- 
 brace his professional career. At which Agatha ex- 
 pressed to Jessy her deepest regret at the knowledge 
 of such a circumstance, though she could not censure 
 her amiable friend for thus confidently imparting it to 
 her ; and determined that her conduct should be guided 
 by it in every particular, respecting an object whom 
 she must now learn to treat with sensations very far 
 different to what she had ever done before, she ex- 
 claimed with a pensive and involuntary sigh — 
 
 ^^ Poor Wolf 1 the happy joyous days of thy boyhood 
 are now over, the sweet smiling innocence of which will 
 return no more, and thy young heart has now hopes with 
 which it never glowed, and fears with which it never 
 trembled before. It is a strange guest that thou hast 
 admitted there, and nought but misery can mark its 
 progress, and spread a ruin around thy devoted head.'* 
 " I grieve, my dear Agatha, that I have inflicted pain 
 on your gentle feelings," uttered the affectionate Jessy; 
 " but I could not suffer j^ou to remain in ignorance of
 
 THE fisher's daughter. 323 
 
 Wolf's unhappy passioi), when once he revealed it to 
 nie. It was necessary that you should know it, to pre- 
 vent the consequences that might have resulted from 
 it, had you still continued to bestow those marks of 
 kindness on this youth, in the supposition that he 
 could feel only a brother's love for you; and 1 resolved 
 even to risk your displeasure, rather than not 
 have made you acquainted with the conversation that 
 passed between us. I have done my duty to my 
 friend. I have consulted her happiness, her peace, 
 her honour, which was far dearer to me than any 
 earthly consideration 3 and it was better to give you 
 pain now, than to see you suffering it hereafter." 
 
 An affectionate embrace was the only reply that 
 Agatha was able to make at this precise moment to 
 her beloved Jessy, but her eloquent looks spoke vo- 
 lumes; and when she arose to take her leave, she 
 pressed the babe in her arms, that she felt she could 
 be a mother to if it had not one. 
 
 ^* I protest that Orlando is stretching out his arms 
 towards your little girl, Jessy," cried Agatha. *' There^ 
 he wants to kiss her. I wonder whether the boy doea 
 this by instinct or not?" 
 
 Jessy smiled. 
 
 "It v/ould be a dangerous instinct for a Fisher's 
 Daughter, if he was to continue it/' uttered she. 
 
 " And dangerous for Orlando too, I think," answer- 
 ed Agatha, '^ if she continues to grow into woman- 
 hood with all this beauty about her. My boy would 
 have little chance of escaping from the shafts of Cupid, 
 were that to be the case with the Fisher's Daughter, I 
 am certain "
 
 324 THB fisher's daughter. 
 
 '^ She is certainly a very striking. likeness of my poor 
 sister Olive/* uttered Jessy. 
 
 ^* Yes, her features have the same cast of beauty," 
 answered Agatha," but their expression is quite differ- 
 ent. Olive was unquestionably beautiful, that is, every 
 feature possessed perfect regularity; still there was 
 something wanting, Jessy, and that was the want of 
 expression, without which beauty may attract the eye, 
 but it fails in making an expression on the heart. We 
 admire the colour of the butterfly, you know ; it is 
 beautiful, but when once it is out of our sight we for- 
 get that and its colours too, but we do not forget those 
 easily that make an impression on the memory." 
 
 Jessy entreated that her most grateful acknowledg- 
 ments might be presented to Lord Montague Montauit, 
 for his very liberal gift to her child, and promised her 
 lovely friend that she would embrace the earliest op- 
 portunity that was possible, to speak to her father re- 
 specting the request of the departed Captain Single- 
 ton, and that there was not a doubt but she would be 
 enabled to succeed, in having her little girl baptized 
 by the name of Matilda. 
 
 " He cannot, will not object to it, I am certain, my 
 dear friend," uttered Jessy, as she most affectionately 
 bade Lady Montauit farewell ; " it is the least compli- 
 ment he can pay to the memory of so excellent a man, 
 who in his last moments evinced such generous marks 
 of disinterested friendship for us all/' 
 
 " Well, in a few days you will be able to take an 
 airing with me, my dear Jessy," cried Agatha. " I wiU 
 come the first very fine morning, and steal you away 
 from Mr. Russel for a few hours, baby and ail. 1 as-
 
 THB fisher's daughter. 32& 
 
 «ure you I have given ray husband and my father such 
 an account of the extraordinary beauty of the Fisher's 
 Daughter, that they are exceedingly anxious to behold 
 it/' 
 
 With these words Lady Montault, with her little 
 son sleeping in her arms, was carefully handed to her 
 carriage by honest Samuel, who felt not a little proud 
 of the confidence and friendship with which his Jessy 
 was so highly honoured by the lovely wife of Lord 
 Montague Montault and the wealthy heiress of Bra- 
 ganza. The passion he once felt for her when she 
 was the supposed orphan daughter of Captain Single- 
 ton had long been changed to a cool and quiet tem- 
 perature, her exalted station placing her in a sphere 
 for ever at a distance of again approaching her in the 
 character of a suitor. Besides, he really loved Jessy, 
 whose amiable and gentle sweetness of disposition, 
 added to the simplicity and artless graces of her fair 
 form, very soon made that impression on honest Sa- 
 muel, that nothing but pure and honourable love could 
 inspire for a woman that he wished to make his wife; 
 for its basis was virtue, and the most perfect confi- 
 dence and esteem. There was not a doubt therefore 
 of the happiness that subsisted between two objects 
 every way so congenial to each other, now augmented 
 by the birth of their child 5 for without a perfect uni- 
 son of hearts, and congeniality of disposition, there is 
 no marriage in this earthly state of existence can long 
 continue to be either happy or prosperous. 
 
 But to proceed. During th3 absence of his lovely 
 lady, Lord Montague determined to avail himself of an 
 opportunity of being reconciled to the offended Wolf,
 
 326 THE fisher's daughter. 
 
 in a way that would not be derogatory to the feelingg 
 of either ; and no sooner was Lady Agatha's carriage 
 out of sight of Violet Vale, than his lordship sent a 
 message to Lawrence, to say that he would be glad to 
 see his pupil for a few moments, if it was no interrup- 
 tion to his studies ; and Lawrence having communi- 
 cated the message of Lord Montague to Wolf, he in- 
 dignantly replied — 
 
 ^' 1 will certainly attend his lordship, because I can- 
 not well dispute his authority, without giving offence to 
 my noble and august patron the Duke of Braganza, 
 otherwise no earthly power should compel me to yield 
 submission to Lord Montague Montault." 
 
 " Young man — young man ! you are too warm. I 
 must correct your impetuosity," answered Lawrence, 
 at the same instant that he could scarcely conceal his 
 admiration of the undaunted spirit and energy which 
 brightened every intelligent feature of this uncommonly 
 prepossessing youth. 
 
 *^ Sir, you have a right to correct me when I am in 
 error," answered Wolf; ^' and I have ever submitted 
 to your judgment; have not I ?" 
 
 " I cannot reasonably deny your assertion," answered 
 Lawrence; " still I must remind you of an impropriety, 
 when I see you committing one contrary to that judg- 
 ment which you appear so highly to respect. My dear 
 l>oy, you must learn circumspection, the most difficult, 
 although it is the must useful lesson that youth can 
 acquire in their journey through life. If you dislike 
 Lord Montague, keep the knowledge of it to yourself, 
 at all events whfle you are under this roof. You must 
 not forget that he is the son-in-law of that illustrious and
 
 THE fisher's daughter, 327 
 
 excellent man, to whom you owe eternal gratitude for 
 the protection he has afforded you. I do not know why 
 you should dislike Lord Montague, nor do I seek to 
 enquirCc It is not my province to worm your secrets, 
 though you are my pupil ; but I must suggest to you, 
 that it is extremely indecorous, Mr. Wolf, for a youth 
 of your age to be forming dislikes, and conceiving 
 prejudices against any personage or personages what- 
 ever, in which your judgment is so liable to be mis- 
 taken ; and it is the great regard I have for you, Mr. 
 Wolf, that makes me tell you of faults which may be 
 so easily corrected." 
 
 The tutor paused to see what effect this salutary ad- 
 vice had upon the mind of his pupil; and lifting up his 
 eyes towards him, beheld the face of Wolf bathed with 
 tears. At length he made an effort to recover his self- 
 possession and wonted energy of character, and grasping 
 the hand of Lawrence, pressed it with ardour to his lips ; 
 looked what expression had denied to him, and hurried 
 out of the room, to attend the summons of Lord Mon- 
 tague Montault.
 
 328 HE fisher's DiUGHTKR. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV, 
 
 " Be thou as chaste as ice, as pure as soow. 
 
 Thou shalt not escape calumny," SHAKSPEi.RB. 
 
 There is a blush of innocence very different to that 
 which rises up in judgment on the really guilty cheek, 
 but which too frequently is mistaken for its opposite, 
 and which few, so judging from external appearance, 
 ever form so correct opinion of, because it is generally 
 under false impressions that it is made. 
 
 When Wolf found himself in the presence of Lord 
 Montault, his complexion had certainly assumed a 
 colour of the most glowing' tints ; from a reflection, it 
 is presumed, that it was the husband of Lady Agatha 
 in whose presence he now stood, and towards whom 
 he felt the most unconquerable dislike, if it did not 
 immediately amount to hatred. 
 
 " Lord Montague Montault, I attend your sum- 
 mons," uttered Wolf, as soon as he advanced to the 
 centre of the room, where his lordship was seated at 
 a table, with books and materials for writing before 
 him, and apparently deeply engaged in the most pro- 
 found meditation, from which he was suddenly aroused 
 by the tone and dignified manner of the intrepid Wolf,
 
 THE fisher's daughter. 329 
 
 who, feeling that nothing could be adduced against 
 him, either derogatory to his character or his princi 
 pies, preserved a self-possession, and a consciousness 
 of innocence, which it was utterly impossible for any 
 human being to deprive him of; and it was not without 
 an expression of something like mortification that Lord 
 Montague, pointing to a chair, bade him be seated 
 After an apparent struggle, his lordship addressed 
 him in the following words : — 
 
 " Wolf, when I parted from you last, it was under 
 the influence of a momentary anger, not immediately 
 the effect of any action of yours that had in any degree 
 merited my displeasure, but actually proceeding from 
 an involuntary weakness of my own intemperate folly, 
 which I blush to confess has of late too frequently in- 
 fused itself into my mind, and embittered all the sweets 
 of my too happy and transported lot, in being husband 
 to one of the most faultless and loveliest of women. 
 All men have infirmities of disposition, as well as in- 
 firmities of body, Wolf; but few men have the courage 
 to acknowledge it, but would rather adopt pride as a 
 subterfuge to conceal defects, which only expose them 
 to detection while they seek to hide them. I spoke to 
 you in this very intemperate heat of passion that I de- 
 scribe; but I no sooner became sensible of my folly, 
 than I felt deeply grieved for having wounded your 
 feelings, and now seek this opportunity of being re- 
 conciled to you. A confession of error, you know, not 
 only paves the way for amendment, but renders the 
 culprit amenable to mercy. Wolf, there is a noble- 
 ness of nature in you, that urged me to throw myself 
 openly upon your confidence, rather than meanly dis- 
 
 C 14 T T
 
 330 THE fisher's j^aughter. 
 
 guise the sentiments of a heart which, with all its 
 hasty follies, would never wantonly sport X^ith the 
 feelings of another, much less be at warfare with my 
 fellow creatures. Let us then in future be friends with 
 each other." 
 
 Wolf, who had hitherto preserved rather somewhat 
 of an indignant silence than a respectful one, was in- 
 stantly subdued by such a frank and ingenuous confes- 
 sion from Lord Montague, which, being wholly unpre- 
 pared to expect, for a moment utterly confounded him, 
 and made him feel more embarrassed than if his lord- 
 ship had certainly not made such a confession; and 
 perceiving that he was waiting for his reply, he ut- 
 tered — 
 
 " My lord, to me do you think it necessary to make 
 such apology ? believe me there is none due. I ever 
 must respect the husband of the Lady Agatha, whom, 
 if I have approached with a bolder licence than be- 
 comes my humble and obscure state, was from igno- 
 rance rather than fault; for, by the light of heaven, 
 she was the first of womankind I ever bowed or bend- 
 ed to, or ever hailed (pardon me my lord) with admi- 
 ration ; for most hideous was the female in the Black 
 Forest, and I saw no other, conversed with no other. 
 She taught me ferocity instead of the milder virtues of 
 her sex ; and thus, untutored in the Black Forest, I left 
 the rude and savage beings with whom I had been 
 cradled in my infancy, when the pough tempest threw 
 me on this coast, shipwrecked, and nearly lifeless. 
 What were my sensations, when such a being as Lady 
 Agatha met my view ? Wildly I gazed in speechless 
 wonder and profound astonishment, for I never had
 
 THE FlSH£a's DAUGHTER. 331 
 
 seen the like before ; and when I heard her voice, 1 
 could not believe but it was some angel, and I asked 
 my brother Alfred if such the lady was. Still I was 
 savage, and the fisher could not tame me ; none had 
 the power to soften me, for I was wild, and would oft 
 have been severely punished, but for the intercession 
 of the Lady Agatha. Wonder you then, my lord, that 
 I worshipped the shrine of this only being who had ever 
 shed a ray of pity on poor friendless Wolf, and that 
 with riper years I have become insensible to the voice 
 of gratitude to my kind instructress ? No — no — no / 
 condemn me not 1 spurn me, my lord I tear out my 
 heart, and you will yet leave her image hercj the tute- 
 lary angel that taught my savage mind to feel and 
 know myself a man; and that same power which taught 
 me that, now bids me boldly tell you, that Wolf will 
 never disgrace, or prove himself unworthy of the friend- 
 ship of his noble patrons." 
 
 What could a man say to such a noble acknowledg- 
 ment from a youth so spirited, and yet so evidently the 
 child of nature and of truth ? For there was not only 
 truth to recommend the simple tale he had related, why 
 he felt towards Lady Agatha such veneration ; but 
 there was conviction without a default on either side of 
 the question ; and as Lord Montault gazed on the fine 
 open brow, and soul-speaking countenance of the in- 
 nocent youth before him, he divested himself of that 
 mean and inglorious base passion which had un- 
 manned him, and caused him to betray such marks of 
 weakness and of folly. And virtue had its triumph. 
 Where no other passion could erase its firm impres
 
 332 THE FISHKr's DAUGHTfift. 
 
 sion^ there confidence in the affections of his lovely 
 wife had never yet been shaken. It was only a sup- 
 position that Wolf loved her, which had occasioned 
 him to experience all the inquietude he had ever felt ; 
 and how noble and ingenuous had the confession of 
 Wolf been, why he had regarded Lady Agatha with 
 the sentiment that he did ! And was there aught of 
 guilt in it ? No, guilt is ever concealed ; it never openly 
 confesses itself, but avails itself of the mean and con- 
 temptible subterfuges to avoid its detection; but here 
 were no such subterfuges, it was a plain round unvar- 
 nished tale that Wolf had delivered; and to doubt its 
 assertion, was to disbelieve the existence of t;uth and 
 nature. 
 
 Here was no snake in the grass, that concealed its 
 crested front beneath the flowery herbage, only to 
 watch an hour insidiously to despoil it of its beauty. 
 There was no libertine passion that lurked in imposing 
 manners or address, no superior art that could gild the 
 real deformity of vice under the semblance of virtue. 
 What then had Lord Montague to fear from such a 
 sentiment as this noble youth had expressed for his 
 lovely wife? No man of honour could suspect the 
 purity of such a sentiment, which was supported by 
 such an open avowal of candour, simplicity, and truth; 
 and immediately dismissing from his mind every sha- 
 dow of doubt or apprehension, he extended his hand 
 to Wolf, with the undisguised grasp of friendship and 
 confidence; and while a glistening tear of sensibility 
 shone in the fine intelligent eyes of the amiable youth, 
 whole feelings had been powerfully affected by this un-
 
 THE fisher's daughter. 333 
 
 expected interview with the husband of the Lady Aga- 
 tha, they were at this precise moment interrupted by 
 the presence of his Grace the Duke of Braganza. 
 
 " I hope I do not interrupt business/' uttered he, 
 and smiled at the perplexity which appeared in the 
 countenance of both the surprised parties, which in a 
 few minutes was fully elucidated by Lord Montague, 
 to the great satisfaction of the Duke; and from this 
 hour Wolf was reinstated, not only in the good opinion 
 of his lordship, but in all the honours he had formerly 
 enjoyed, in caressing his little favourite, and visiting 
 him in the nursery, whenever an opportunity was 
 granted to him by the nurse, or, that Lady Agatha was 
 absent ; and the sweet innocent, as if conscious of the 
 pleasing change which had taken place, and that he 
 was again noticed by his old friend, clapped his little 
 hands whenever Wolf approached him with his former 
 marks of kindness, and imperfectly expressed his joy- 
 ous hilarity. 
 
 Still there was a perceptible distance in the manner 
 and even looks of Lady Agatha towards her favourite, 
 which, though neither cold or affectedly reserved, were 
 marked with the most delicate and graceful propriety, 
 and which Wolf was but too conscious of the cause of, 
 yet could not sufficiently admire, although it may pro- 
 bably be guessed, that, under any other circumstances 
 than the existing ones, would have inflicted on his too 
 sensitive and feeling bosom, a pang of the most unut- 
 terable despair, and keen felt anguish. 
 
 In the meanwhile the Lady Agatha, who had been 
 seriously alarmed, as well as excessively grieved at the 
 communications of her friend Jessy, respecting the ill
 
 334 THE fisher's daughter. 
 
 placed and iiiifortunatc attachment of poor Wolf, shud- 
 dered at the consequences which would result from it, 
 w^ere it ever to be really discoverable to her husband, 
 and determined her for ever afterwards most religiously 
 to adopt but one manner and but one language towards 
 this young man while he remained beneath her roof; 
 much less did she ever converse with her husband about 
 him, or yet seem studiously to avoid it. Thus did this 
 lovely, pure, faultless, and inestimable creature, by this 
 delicate and praiseworthy conduct, by almost imper- 
 ceptible degrees, crush that insidious enemy that as- 
 sailed the peace of her beloved Montague, and embit- 
 tered their hours of sweetest repose. Even the Mar- 
 chioness was completely silenced in her severe and 
 sarcastic observations, and her malicious purpose of 
 exciting the jealous fears of her son against the con- 
 duct of his angelic wife were defeated. 
 
 The approaching nuptials of Lady Lavinia and Lord 
 Winstone were now publicly talked of, and the most 
 splendid preparations for that important event were 
 beginning to take place at the Castle of Montault, un- 
 der the auspices of the Marchioness, whose ambitious 
 pride had now an additional zest, by the increased ag- 
 grandizement of her family, in so advantageous a n^atch 
 for her youthful daughter, who was so shortly to be- 
 come a blazing star in the hemisphere of fashion. 
 
 Meanwhile, under the immediate instructions of 
 beautiful mamma, Lady Lavinia gave herself the most 
 consummate airs of consequence, ill befitting the state 
 of which she was to form a member, and totally un- 
 prepared either for the tender or the sacred duties 
 which were allied to it. It was sufficient for her that
 
 THE fisher's daughter. 335 
 
 she was going to be married, and that her husband was 
 a lord, young, handsome, and splendidly wealthy, and 
 that she herself would be the object of an admiring 
 Ihrong, for the exclusive affections of her lover. Lady 
 Lavinia was actually as cold and as indifferent as if she 
 had never heard, much less felt the influence of the 
 belle passion, which had never agitated her bosom for 
 a single moment; and Lord Winstone, or lord any- 
 body else, would have been equally the object of her 
 regard, if he had equally been the favourite of fortune. 
 
 On a marriage formed on such a basis, was it mo- 
 rally possible to suppose that the attachment could be 
 lasting, constant, or sincere, or that much happiness 
 could succeed the honey moon ? But why had Lord 
 Winstone selected such a female as Lady Lavinia, when 
 so many others, both of intellect and feeling, presented 
 themselves to his notice, and of superior beauty ? But 
 the fact is, that Lord Winstone being disappointed of 
 succeeding in his attempts on the person of the beauti- 
 ful daughter of Captain Singleton, was, like all other 
 men, regardless of the next object that came in his 
 pursuit. Agatha was lost to him for ever; to her be 
 would have been the most faithful worshipper that ever 
 bowed to the shrine of beauty ; and in the dissipated 
 haunts of fashion, he endeavoured, by every means in 
 his power, to banish her lovely image hence. 
 
 He had unfortunately staked large sums with the 
 Marchioness of Montault, and had frequently been 
 her debtor, which, though he could at any time dis- 
 charge, yet the wily Marchioness from time to time 
 ever chose to avoid ; and for motives best known to
 
 336 THE fisher's daughter. 
 
 herself, placed her young and lovely daughter ever in 
 his view. 
 
 Instructed in the art of pleasing by beautiful mamma. 
 Lord Winstone always found Lady Lavinia seated in 
 the place of her mother, and whenever she lost, virould 
 always exclaim — 
 
 " Never mind, my lord, mamma will pay you, for I 
 am only sitting to play her cards while she is absent." 
 Then at other times Lady Lavinia would be more 
 fortunate, and win considerable sums of his lordship, 
 which at the moment he was quite unprepared to dis- 
 charge. Such are the effects of gambling, even in the 
 society of the good and the great, the splendid and the 
 wealthy ; they are all of equality when they are placed 
 in a situation so subordinate, whether they are coblers 
 or princes. Then her ladyship would exclaim, putting 
 on one bf her most fascinating smiles, and arrayed in 
 youth and beauty : — 
 
 *' You have lost my lord, but that is of no conse- 
 quence. You are not indebted to me, but to mamma. 
 They are not my cards with which I won the last stake, 
 but mamma's. You must pay it to her, not to me.'* 
 
 In short. Lady Lavinia played her cards so well by 
 the direction of beautiful mamma, that Lord Winstone, 
 always meeting so young and lovely an antagonist, fell 
 into the trap which the wily Marchioness had laid for 
 him ; and from the game of dice, fell into a much 
 more conclusive, if not a more dangerous one, that of 
 the snares of Cupid. He thought the youthful daugh- 
 ter of the Marchioness excessively pretty; and the 
 mark of simplicity she always assumed towards him.
 
 THE fisher's daughter. 337 
 
 made the infatuated Earl also believe she was the child 
 of nature. At first he looked at her with this picture ; 
 in the next she was the daughter of the Marquis of 
 Montault, a name so deservedly held up to public es 
 timation, that no stain or blemish ever yet appeared to 
 sully the illustrious ancestors from whom this noble- 
 man had descended ; for the nefarious actions of the 
 late Duchess of Braganza were not intimately known 
 to Lord Winstone ; it was a sort of hushed-up affair, a 
 lullaby, only known to those employed to chaunt it 
 over the remains of the deceased, for which they were so 
 liberally rewarded, that they Avould declare to all who 
 doubted the purity of the immaculate lady, that she 
 was a perfect saint, gone to meet her kindred sister 
 angels in the skies. 
 
 So much for bribery and corruption, when allied to 
 exalted station and to exalted wealth. 
 
 The Duchess of Braganza descended to the grave 
 in a coffin of the richest crimson and gold, and a hearse 
 drawn by eight horses, as richly caparisoned with 
 plumes of nodding feathers and armorial bearings, 
 that extended to a considerable distance from the 
 pompous procession that stalked before, to tell the 
 world whose remains they had the honour of carrying 
 to their last earthly tenement, and last earthly greatness. 
 
 ** The Dutchess of Braganza !" was echoed from the 
 surrounding multitude. " What a grand procession, 
 and what a beautiful coffin, and what a number of car- 
 riages!" was repeated in gaping astonishment by the 
 infatuated mob. 
 
 Alas ! that such should be the food only of worms, 
 which will destroy it as soon as the unhonoured heads of 
 
 a 15 V u
 
 338 THK fisher's daughter. 
 
 the poor and the unfortunate, who lay mouldering be- 
 neath a heap of humble turf, without a stone to mark 
 their place of rest. But the Duchess of Braganza ! a 
 marble monument, with sculptured and emblazoned 
 ornaments, and eulogy of verse, hangs o'er the tomb 
 which embodies her all of earthly remains ; and a splen- 
 did escutcheon, placed on the vaulted roof of Mon- 
 tault Castle, proclaims to the passing traveller, that she 
 who once possessed these magnificent domains is no 
 more. All that grandeur and wealth could effect has 
 been done to invite the eye to gaze at the gilded trap- 
 pings of empty greatness, but it can do no more : could 
 even these speak, they would relate a tale of horror, 
 too terrific for the pageantry of show, or idle pomp to 
 palliate. — The murderess ! — the scurrilous monster in a 
 female shape ! — the inhuman mother ! — and the dissem- 
 bling, false, perfidious destroyer of smiling innocence, 
 love, and beauty ' — This would it tell 1 and what then 
 would gilded pomp avail ? 
 
 If the foul actions of inglorious great ones were 
 thus inscribed upon the painted sepulchres which con- 
 tain their ashes, no longer would the eye gaze with 
 wonder, but abhorrent turn from the mockery of woe. 
 
 But with the blandishments of a young and fashion- 
 able beauty, was the eye, not the heart of Lord Winstone 
 caught. It remained for his lordship, in his cooler 
 moments of reflection, to find out the deception which 
 both mother and daughter had practised on him, when 
 no human means could remedy the evil. 
 
 At present nothing was thought of but matrimony, 
 and the pleasures which succeed it; what splendid de- 
 corations, and what costly dresses would best become
 
 THE fisher's daughter. 339 
 
 the youthful bride, while the editors of the newspa- 
 pers found plenty of fuel for their fire, by cramming 
 down the throats of the public what they generally 
 deal in — egregious falsehoods. 
 
 Some of them in long paragraphs proclaimed the 
 beauty and the accomplishments of Lady Lavinia to 
 be of the most extraordinary kind, while others labour- 
 ed hard to extol the qualities of Lord Winstone. 
 
 *' Newspaper fame is nothing," cried Lady Gadabout, 
 to about half a dozen belles who were full of fashion- 
 able news. It is all a fudge about the beauty of Lady 
 Laviuia Montault. I protest that she has not one to- 
 lerable feature in her whole face but her mouth, and 
 that is frightfully large when she opens it." 
 
 " And her eyes are perfectly a la grimalkin," ut- 
 tered one of the party. '' Did you never observe the 
 colour of Lady Lavinia's eyes, my dear friend ? They 
 are positively between green and grey, yet are not di- 
 rectly either. Then her hair is carotty; what is so 
 hideous as red hair?'' 
 
 "But that is certainly made up by her complexion," 
 cried a third. " She is beautifully, nay she is trans- 
 cendantly fair; and a la bloom of roses whenever 1 
 have seen her ladyship taking an airing for healthful 
 CKcrcises with the Marchioness. She was in an open 
 carriage yesterday with Lord Winstone, and 1 
 assure you that her appearance excited general ad- 
 miration." 
 
 These observations in favour of the so greatly envied 
 object, enraged the feelings of the scandalous party 
 there assembled, insomuch that they could with diffi- 
 culty suppress the mortification they had received from
 
 the account that Miss Plainway had given of the young 
 and fashionable beauty, whom, however, they one and 
 all flatly contradicted. 
 
 *' Well, I protest Miss Plainway," uttered Lady Gad- 
 abouta *^ clever as I ever thought you, I must now 
 think your judgment barbarously defective, when you 
 would make people adopt your opinion respecting the 
 fairness of Lady Lavinia's complexion, when every 
 Dody knows that she owes it to art and not to nature. 
 Why, I can take you to the very shop where she pur- 
 chases her bloom of roses, and her aromatic white- 
 wash, in the Burlington Arcade, at Truefit's. I give 
 you my word, my dear, I have reported nothing but 
 the fact ; 1 like facts." 
 
 ''And have no objection to comments whenever they 
 happen to fall in your ladyship's way," answered Miss 
 Plainway, by no means relishing the flat contradiction 
 she had met with from Lady Gadabout ; and finding 
 that the stream was going very rapidly against her, 
 she sneeringly added, " The Burlington Arcade ! O I 
 I am as well acquainted with all the shops there, pos- 
 sibly, as your ladyship. There is the pad shop, that 
 most .ingeniously offers consolation to ladies who have 
 long since lost their juvenility of figure and elegance 
 of shape, by immediately supplying stuffings, or pads, 
 as they are generally called, wherever a deficiency may 
 be apparent. I did hear that your ladyship was a most 
 liberal patronizer of this most useful and beautiful art, 
 and that padding, in consequence of your ladyship's 
 successful imitation at the last route at Lady Tanning- 
 ton's, was become general." 
 
 " What the false bosoms you mean. Miss Plainway,
 
 341 
 
 don't you ? I protest I have heard of the whole affair, 
 and how natural they appear," uttered Miss Scruple^ 
 an errant retailer of scandal, and one of the coterie that 
 formed one of the principal members of the scandalous 
 society, that frequented the house of Lady Gadabout. 
 " Yet though they fitted some certain persons shapes 
 almost to a nicety, I positively should feel quite asham- 
 ed of practising so gross a deception on common de- 
 cency/* 
 
 " Besides, if one should chance to meet with an ac- 
 cident that might occasion a discovery,'' cried Miss 
 Plainway, " crowded rooms are apt to make one faint- 
 ish when they are excessively full. There is such a 
 thing as unlacing tight stays, you know. Miss Scruple, 
 and then if the bosom should be exposed" — 
 
 " It would be a most unfortunate exhibition for the 
 ingenious vender of the pads in the Burlington Ar- 
 cade," answered the mischievous Miss Scruple, laugh- 
 ing so immoderately, that Lady Gadabout, unable to 
 defend herself against the whole army of assailants, 
 which were directing volley after volley, to attack her 
 on the weakest side, which was her personal vanity, 
 like an experienced general, chose rather to retreat 
 than surrender, or come to close quarters, when she 
 would entirely lose the victory; and made her exit, 
 leaving the false bosoms still a subject for the severe 
 animadversions of the scandalous party she had not 
 the courage to meet face to face on such an occasion. 
 
 While scandal, love, and folly took their diur- 
 nal course in the fashionable world, more sequestered 
 enjoyments, and far more rational pleasures were the 
 lot of Lord Montague and his lovely lady; and the
 
 342 THE fisher's daughter. 
 
 Duke was constantly a sharer in the increased happi- 
 ness of his beloved daughter, who, with his young 
 grandson, now formed the ne plus ultra of all his 
 earthly wishes, fondest hopes, and pleasing expecta- 
 tions. They were indeed the only ties which bound 
 him to existence ; not that his Grace had not a 
 thought to bestow on the welfare and happiness of 
 others; he was not so selfish ; and he determined that 
 if the tvanderings of Wolf were attended with success, 
 and the fortunes of Alfred prosperous, as he expected 
 they would be, from the united talents of both these 
 exemplary and clever young men, that he would cer- 
 tainly leave them ample means in their own power, to 
 live independent of the frowns of the world, but that 
 this intention in their favour should not be intimated 
 to them, till their own efforts had succeeded in the 
 several professions they had made choice of. 
 
 Wolf, however, was so decidedly the favourite of his 
 patron, from the striking traits of character tliat he 
 had exhibited, that he was very often on the point of 
 persuading him to relinquish his intention of following 
 a military life, in the fear that so brilliant a flower 
 might be nipt in the bud, ere its lovely blossom was 
 half blown ; for there was danger in the field ; innume- 
 rable difficulties and hardships attend a soldier's life. 
 
 Yet why should he check the spirit of the fearless 
 youth, or damp the ardour of his youthful breast. 
 
 *^ No, let him go," mentally exclaimed the Duke. 
 " Though I regard this youth with more affection than 
 occasion warrants, yet I will not seek to detain him 
 from the impulse of his bold and spirited disposition. 
 If he fallsj it is the hand of destiny that strikes the
 
 THE fisher's daughter. 343 
 
 blow; for not a sparrow falls without the interposition 
 of Almighty Providence, nor yet a flower, arrayed in 
 its pearly bloom, that owes not its fragrance and its 
 beauty to the pure atmosphere and genial smile of all • 
 delighted heaven." 
 
 These were the reflections made by the Duke of 
 Braganza, in his moments of profound meditation with 
 respect to Wolf; but they were not disclosed to any 
 other person, nor did he wish Wolf to suppose that he 
 was a greater favourite with him than his brother A\ 
 fred, and consequently did not take so much notice of 
 him in public as in private; notwithstanding which, 
 however, he delighted in hearing the praises of Wolf 
 resounded from the mouth of his tutor, who neglected 
 no opportunity of displaying the abilities of a youth, 
 who reflected so much credit to his instructions, and 
 whose promise of talent seemed to afford the senten- 
 tious Lawrence so much gratification. 
 
 Now Lawrence had an additional zest for admiring 
 each day new qualities in his pupil, and that was, be- 
 cause he had written some complimentary lines on a 
 sect to which he had formerly belonged, and from 
 which he had first sprung — the quakers. In short, 
 Lawrence had dwelt so much upon the perfections of 
 his sister Anne, in the relation he gave to Wolf of his 
 family history, parentage, birth, and education, in all 
 of which his fair quaker sister had made so prominent 
 a part, that Wolf on the ensuing day presented his tu- 
 tor with the following tribute of respect to the memory 
 of the young sister Anne, whose gentle virtues, and 
 simplicity of character, had taught Emanuel her bro-
 
 344 THE fisher's daughter. 
 
 ther to repeat them with such enthusiastic affection. 
 A copy of which we translate for the curiosity of our 
 fair readers, to whom such gentle virtues, whether they 
 ire quakers or not quakers, very deservedly belong. 
 
 Sister Anne, the Quaker Beauty. 
 
 ♦< Fair Quaker Beauty, flush'd and hale. 
 Thou art like the hedge-rose of the vale, 
 Whose fragrance scents the vernal gale. 
 
 Oh ever placid l 
 O'er thy sweet face no frowns prevail. 
 
 From passions acid. 
 
 Thine's the ever smiling eye. 
 Benignant fair l and pity's sigh ; 
 Serene as orient summer's sky. 
 
 Thy soul is ever ; 
 And peace, soft pet lamb, ever nigh. 
 
 Thy breast leaves never. 
 
 Thy soul like twilight's hour appears, 
 
 Ere Sol has kiss'd the dewy tears 
 
 From earth's sad cheeks ; ere yet he cheers 
 
 With golden light. 
 Meek twilight hour, that endears. 
 
 More soft than bright. 
 
 Thou wavest in plainness through the throng. 
 As through the sky some bird of song. 
 To whom no gauds or dues belong, 
 
 In homely plumes. 
 Whose claim to admiration strong. 
 
 Yet ne'er presumes. 
 
 The sunshine of thy breast's thy treasure; 
 As through gilt skies of white and azure. 
 Thus swims the dove in guileless pleasure. 
 
 Thou movest in mildness ; 
 A stranger thou to passion's measure. 
 
 And metecr wildness.
 
 8«5 
 
 Tby looks are lovely, passings praise ; 
 Thy form of reverence displays 
 A vestige of the ancient days, 
 
 The charm of nature. 
 The trick of art, Anne, ne'er arrays 
 
 Thy form or feature. 
 
 Thou art no sparkler, but thou art one 
 Sweet as the summer's setting sun. 
 No gem whose bright reflections ruu ; 
 
 But thou art a pearl 
 Facily clear ; no blaze to shun. 
 
 But nature's girl. 
 
 No nymph of earth, or skies, or maioy 
 But a young English woman plain, 
 A virgin of the simple train. 
 
 The train of friends ; 
 Though lovely as a sylph, not vain. 
 
 Who darns and mends ; 
 
 Who takes no shame, but in her heait 
 Loves to play the housewife's part. 
 The duteous child's, the nurse's art. 
 
 In suffering hour. 
 By gentlest soothing blunt death's dait ^ 
 
 With all her power. 
 
 Thy sister maids my heart admires. 
 Like Cambrian girls of farthest shires. 
 Simplicity and truth are theirs, 
 
 My countrywomen. 
 True to husbands, brothers, sires. 
 
 Loved of freemen. 
 
 Samples primitive of neatness, 
 Artlessness and youthful sweetness. 
 Innocence and every fitness. 
 
 For man's pure bride. 
 Oh, cold's the heart of haughty gttKtaem, 
 
 Who such deride ! 
 
 ft 15 XX
 
 346 THE fisher's daughtek. 
 
 To me the geutle people stand. 
 
 The best and wisest of the land, 
 
 The foes of strife, dear concord's band. 
 
 May heaven bless ye! 
 May power's demon guided wand 
 
 Ne'er fail to oppress ye. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 ** The evening; gale sweeps over the rich tofts 
 
 Of clustering orange buds, and wafts perfume 
 
 Like incense round me ; fair, and still, and calm. 
 
 The moon-light sleeps on yon translucent wall. 
 
 And the Acacia's wreathing flowers have bow'd 
 
 Their graceful heads to kiss the silv'ry flood. 
 
 How tranquil, and how beautiful the hour ! 
 
 No sound breaks the luxurious silence. 
 
 Save the soft tinkle of the wild guitar. 
 
 Waking at distance its fond serenade ; 
 
 And the rich swell of music from the song 
 
 Of the blythe goat-herd, or the muleteer. 
 
 Brought by the mountain echoes ; 
 
 Yet the scene so fraught with bliss, 
 
 To me seems dull without 
 
 My bosom's lord. Lord Byron. 
 
 The very first opportunity that Jessy could avail her- 
 self of when she was alone with her father, was fully 
 o disclose to him the last request of the dying Captain
 
 THE fish'er's daughter. 347 
 
 Singleton, that her child was to have the name of the 
 Lady St. Clair, which request had also been seconded 
 by the earnest solicitation of the Lady Agatha Mon- 
 tault. Nor did the grateful Jessy neglect to inform 
 him of the liberal donation she had received for her 
 infant daughter from the hands of Lord Montault, add- 
 ing, with her usual tone of placidity and sweetness, at 
 the same time that Peter was fully supplied with pipes 
 and tobacco, and a flowing bumper of grog, and Sam 
 had planted himself close by his side, in order to bring 
 him round to the point they wished- to accomplish — 
 
 " Now, father, what is to be done in the business ? 
 I am unwilling to refuse this request of Captain Single- 
 ton, that, poor man, he made when he was dying ; and 
 1 am sure he has acted most liberally towards us, in 
 leaving such marks of his generosity in his last will and 
 testament, and yet both Samuel and I are equally un- 
 willing to act contrary to the wishes of my dear father. 
 It remains therefore with you to decide, whether your 
 little grand-daughter is to receive the name of Peggy, 
 or be baptized by that of Matilda, according to the re- 
 quest of poor Captain Singleton.*' 
 
 A silence of some minutes succeeded to this duteous 
 and affectionate speech of the amiable Jessy, during 
 which the fisher had sustained some conflict with his 
 feelings, and several puffs of his pipe were giv€n with 
 additional force. He had set his heart on the little 
 girl being called Peggy, and it was very well known 
 how little lie could hear contradiction when it came 
 ill contact with his favourite propensities; and a storm 
 was beginning to rise as usual over his sun-burnt brow, 
 when the mild image of the departed Captain swam
 
 S4S THE fisher's daughter. 
 
 across his imagination, and softened the violence of 
 contending passions. He had bequeathed two thou- 
 sand pounds to him and Jessy, when it was not ex- 
 pected that he would have bestowed the slightest me- 
 morandum of his regard ; and though it was a bequest 
 of which neither he or his daughter stood in need, 
 yet that consideration did not make the gift of the ge- 
 nerous donor the less acceptable, or his intention less 
 kind. All this passed in the mind of the fisher before 
 be would answer one word to Jessy's mild interroga- 
 tory and affectionate appeal to his feelings. At length 
 laying down his pipe, he looked her full in the face, 
 and exclaimed — 
 
 " No, dang it Jess if I can make up my mind to be 
 ungrateful. What though the Captain be laid under 
 hatches, it shall never be said that Peter Blust were 
 ungrateful to the memory of as good and as honest a 
 man as ever broke bread. No, I'll stick to that point 
 of the compass while I do breathe the breath of life. 
 For certain sure I did set my mind on Peggy for the 
 little round faced dumpling there, because it was the 
 name of thy mother, child. But no matter, it don't 
 signify one rope's yarn what the girl be called ; so, shi- 
 ver my topsails, let it be this long what d'ye call 'em 
 name if you please, only don't say no more about it, 
 that's a good wench, but let the business be done in a 
 crack." 
 
 " Whenever you please, dearest father," uttered 
 Jessy, exchanging looks with Samuel of the most sa- 
 tisfactory kind, and heartily rejoicing that she had 
 accomplished a point in which she expected a total 
 failure of success. "The child shall be christened to-
 
 THE fisher's daughter. 849 
 
 morrow if you have no objection ; for who do you 
 think are to stand sponsers on the occasion ? Lord 
 and Lady Montault are actually going to be godfather 
 and godmother to my little mopsey/' 
 
 " Be they though ?" cried Peter, his features bright- 
 ening into a smile of undisguised pleasure. " Well, 
 that be kind and civil after all. Come, come, that be 
 bringing up sail, and getting into safe moorings, after 
 rough seas and heavy squalls. I say Sam, thee must 
 overhaul the lockers at Herring Dale ; there be some 
 tightish wine there, my lad, and a few kegs of brandy. 
 The smugglers for that! dost thee remember lad, how 
 the poor devils scudded before the wind the night we 
 sacked them ?'* 
 
 " Yes, sir, and I also remember that when they 
 begged for mercy, you promised never to betray them," 
 cried Samuel. 
 
 " And did I ?" vociferated Peter. " No, shiver my 
 topsails, I would have suffered a rope to be twisted 
 round my neck first. When a man gives up his pro- 
 perty, and throws himself on the protection of another, 
 he must have a heart of flint, who would treacherously 
 betray the confidence he has reposed in him." 
 
 Samuel could not dissent from his father-in-law's 
 benevolent sentiments ; and it being perfectly under- 
 stood by Jessy, that the fisher had given his full con- 
 sent for the christening of her infant daughter, a note, 
 couched in the most respectful and affectionate terms, 
 was written by Jessy, and sent to Violet Vale, to in- 
 form Lord Montague and Lady Montault that such 
 was her intention, and soliciting the honour of their 
 presence on the occasion. It arrived during a morn-
 
 350 THE FISHER'a DAUGHTER. 
 
 ing visit of the Marchioness and Lady Lavinia, whose 
 nuptials with Lord Winstone were to take place at only 
 the distant period of two days. The former exclaimed, 
 after hearing the contents of Jessy's note, which Aga- 
 tha read aloud to her husband : — 
 
 " Impossible, Montague ! You surely cannot seri- 
 ously intend any thing so absurdly ridiculous. Spen- 
 ser for the Fisher*s Daughter 1" 
 
 To which Lord Montague, viewing the cheeks of hift 
 lovely wife suffused with a colour of the brightest crim- 
 son, coolly replied — 
 
 " I certainly do intend seriously to stand sponser for 
 the Fisher's Daughter, notwithstanding the absurdity 
 or the ridicule which your ladyship may please to at- 
 tach to it. I, for my own part, think it the; most natu- 
 ral' conclusion possible.** 
 
 To which the Marquis, looking indignantly toward, 
 his lady, immediately made reply — 
 ?r^< But your mother, Montague, always attempts to 
 render every thing lidiculous, which is not of her own, 
 i/rmediate planning and contrivance." 
 ''^'•* Indeed, Marquis!" uttered her ladyship, with a 
 sneer, " what wonderful sagacity you are gifted with^ 
 to discover that which no one can discriminate besides. 
 Still I shall na^ forego my opinion in order to please: 
 yOfUr- caprice or any one else, and again repeat the abt- 
 surdity of Lord^ Montault standing godfather to the 
 Fisher's Daughter. However, it certainly does not 
 concern me, as my inclinations were never consulted 
 in- the' affair. The objects are totally beneath my no- 
 tice, to enter into any contention about them. Come, 
 Lavinia ! child, it is time for us to go to Adams's.
 
 THE fisher's daughter. 351 
 
 There is a raffle, you know, and both our names are 
 down, at the express desire of my Lord Winstone, 
 who is waiting there to conduct us to the public 
 rooms, and he will be quite impatient for our arrival.'" 
 
 Agatha, who had sustained some struggle with her 
 feelings, to remain neutral on the subject which had 
 occasioned the Marchioness such displeasure, never 
 once forgot, however, the respect which was due to 
 the mother of her husband, and arose from her chair, 
 in order to adjust her ladyship's scarf, as she haughtily 
 desired that her carriage might be called ; and this was 
 done with such an air of mildness by her daughter-in- 
 law, that it was morally impossible to exercise any re- 
 sentment that she would otherwise have felt towards 
 her. 
 
 " Will your ladyship take any refreshment before 
 you go the rooms?'* timidly demanded Agatha. 
 
 *^ No, child, we breakfasted late;" was the reply uf 
 the Marchioness, who, however, had softened the as- 
 perity of her manner, as she bade Agatha good morn- 
 ing ; and nodding somewhat coldly to Lord Montague, 
 who was in earnest conversation with his father, she 
 made her exit, without condescending to bestow one 
 look at the Marquis, who had greatly offended her by 
 the support he had given to her son ; and no 
 sooner was her ladyship seated in the carriage with 
 Lady Lavinia, than she burst forth in the following 
 exclamation : — 
 
 " Did you ever hear of any thing half so ridiculous, 
 Lavinia, as Montague's standing godfather to the fisher's 
 little brat ?" 
 
 ** Oh never mamma ! T protest I was quite shocked
 
 352 THE fisher's daughter. 
 
 *vhei) I heard my brother mention such a thing; and 
 papa was as bad to encourage him in it." 
 
 ' Your father is actually grown a perfect savage/* 
 reiterated the Marchioness. " Since he has been so 
 frequent a visitor at Violet Vale, he has acquired all 
 the monkish notions of your grave and sentimental 
 cousin ; positively that girl has infected the whole fa- 
 mily with her horrible ideas. *' 
 
 "Yes, it is all her fault, that you may be certain of," 
 answered the fashionable beauty. " I am sure my 
 brother would never have thought of degrading him- 
 self so much, if Agatha had not persuaded him to 
 stand godfather for the Fisher's Daughter; she has 
 such uncommon propensities of encouraging such low- 
 born illiterate creatures." 
 
 " So she has my love," uttered the Marchioness, de- 
 lighted that she had now a full opportunity of indulg- 
 ing her spleen. " I have frequently remarked that it 
 is the society that she likes best. I protest I should 
 not wonder if hereafter this little animal, when it can 
 walk about and chatter, will be invited to Violet Vale, 
 to be a companion for Lord Orlando, who will in pro- 
 cess of time become attached to the little minx. A very 
 pretty connection truly for Lady Agatha Ui form for 
 the son of Lord Montague Montault, and the grandson 
 of the Duke of Braganza." 
 
 ^' And they say the child is so uncommonly beauti- 
 ful," cried Lady Lavinia. " Agatha was giving me a 
 description of it only this morning." 
 
 *' A description of her fool's head," uttered the Mar- 
 chioness. " Was there ever any thing so preposte- 
 rously absurd, as to be launching forth in praise of the
 
 THE fisher's daughter. 353 
 
 beauty of an infant of only a few weeks old ? How- 
 ever, let her go on with this pretty romantic farce ; I 
 have a shrewd notion that your brother will have cause 
 to repent of his folly when it is too late. Good hea- 
 vens ! are not the most imprudent connections formed 
 by this^ dangerous system, that of bringing males and 
 females together, till they become imperceptibly at- 
 tached to each other ? Yes, yes, I have my prophe- 
 cies, and they are generally fatal." 
 
 " Yes, beautiful mamma, you was always a prophe- 
 tess," uttered Lady Lavinia. 
 
 At this precise moment the carriage stopt at the 
 door of Adams's library. Lady Lavinia beheld her 
 lover, and the Marchioness, what she liked far better, 
 some of her gambling associates, by whom she was 
 immediately surrounded, and overwhelmed with the 
 most fulsome compliments. 
 
 " Divine Marchioness," cried Colonel Target, *' we 
 despaired of seeing you time enough for rouge ou noir. 
 Will you come to our bower?" 
 
 "I. vow Colonel, I can scarcely resist your invita- 
 tioD," uttered the Marchioness, with a smile of fascina- 
 tion ; *' but your bovver is not made of roses, as far as 
 regards myself, for I protest I am quite out of cash. 
 Never thought of bringing any. Lavinia, child, have 
 yOsu got any money ?" 
 
 The looks of Lady Lavfnia predicted a negative to 
 her mother's interrogatory, and which the Marchioness 
 was already apprised of. ff^^ 
 
 9f,^' Borrow, borrow mamma, ' hastily pronounced the 
 young lady in a soft whisper. '* The Colonel is in full 
 feather, pluck him." 
 
 C 15 Y V
 
 3fl4 THE fisher's daughter. 
 
 " Tannington, wil. you accommodate?" cried the 
 Marchioness, taking her ladyship aside." 
 
 " Dear Marchioness, you know how utterly impos- 
 sible it is for me to refuse you," answered her ladyship, 
 drawing out her card purse, abundantly supplied. *' It 
 is not the first time that I have boen tempted by your 
 ladyship's smiles." 
 
 " Nor the first time that I have paid you interest for 
 the same," archly replied the Marchioness. 
 
 This was a memorandum that called a slight hectic 
 to colour the cheek of her dear friend, who immedi- 
 ately whispered — 
 
 ^' Dearest creature, pray take what you want, but 
 leave me a chance if you can." 
 
 The matter was speedily adjusted, the Marchioness 
 supplied, and giving her hand to the gallant Colonel, 
 he led her to the bower, where the stakes were run- 
 ning high at the fore table. No matter, she was a 
 woman of courage, and, tempted by the glittering bait, 
 she bade defiance to the frowns of fortune. 
 
 In the meanwhile Lady Lavinia, under the guardian- 
 ship of Lord Winstone, was tempted by another bait. 
 A superb chain and diamond cross was the prize con- 
 tended for, and innumerable were the candidates. 
 
 " You must throw for me Lavinia," cried the Mar- 
 chioness ; " I positively cannot join you these two 
 hours — here I am, fixed as the polar star." 
 
 And therefore we will leave both her and Lady La- 
 vinia, with permission of our fair readers ; for a magic 
 wand waves us on to mettle more attractive, in the 
 form of Lady Agatha ; and at its call we must obey. 
 
 She was punctual to the hour she had promised to
 
 THE fisher's daughter. 355 
 
 call on her dear Jessy, and arrived at her habitation 
 just as the family were sitting down to dinner. Her 
 entrance occasioned some confusion among the plates 
 and dishes ; but the fisher, (who had that day invited 
 himself to dine with Mr. and Mrs. Russel, preparatory 
 to the ceremony which w^as to take place on the mor- 
 row,) no sooner beheld Lady Montault, who had tript 
 into the room without ceremony, than he vociferated, 
 with the most joyous glee depicted in his sunny coun- 
 tenance — 
 
 " Lord love thy little heart and soul ; why thee be 
 Agatha Singleton again, every morsel of thee. So thee 
 be come to pick a bit with us 3 here Jess^ bring t'other 
 duck that be down at the fire, and swimming in gravy, 
 and a hot plate, and let her ladyship have it nice and 
 comfortable, for I do know that she do like thy cook- 
 ing 5 does'nt thee now, my lady?" 
 
 '^ Dear father, consider that Lady Montault is not 
 accustomed to dine so early," cried Jessy, having 
 placed a chair next to her for her beloved friend, and 
 thanking her for the early notice she had taken of her 
 note. " Pray do not press her to eat, if it is not agree- 
 able." 
 
 " Why that's a confounded lie Jess, to say that Aga- 
 tha Singleton that was, did not like to dine at family 
 hours ; thee didst dine early enough when thee was at 
 Herring Dale, did'nt thee my lady? Shiver my top- 
 sails, where is the use of mincing the matter, because 
 thee be grown grand and great ; thee will always re- 
 member the bridge that carried thee safe over, won't 
 you my lady?" 
 
 To have stopt the current of the tide might h^vs
 
 356 ^HK fisher's daughter. 
 
 I)ceij attenipttd with equal success as Peter's tongue, 
 when once it was set into motion ; and though Jessy 
 actually bhished for her father, he was unconscious o^ 
 having said any thing that could cause him to blush 
 for himself. In the meanwhile, Agatha scarcely able 
 to refrain from laughitjg, humoured his jocularity with 
 the sweetest smile of affability, and entered so much 
 into the spirit of his mirth and whimsicality, without 
 taking the slightest offence at any observation that he 
 made on her change of fortune, that, more than ever 
 charmed with his little favourite, he exclaimed — 
 
 " Lord love thee, if thee were a queen, thee would 
 be worthy to wear a crown, because thee do love to 
 make folks happy about thee." 
 
 " And hope I ever shall, my dear sir,'* answered 
 Agatha, with a sweet smile. " Life would not be 
 worth preserving, if we only liv^d to embitter the hap- 
 piness of those around us." 
 
 And after some little further conversation with Jessy 
 and her worthy husband, it was suggested by Agatha, 
 that their infant daughter, at the express desire of Lord 
 Montault, should be christened at Violet Vale, by the 
 Reverend Mr. Harris of the church of Cromer, and 
 ihat after the child was named, they should finish the 
 remainder of the day in each others society, by partak- 
 ing of a handsome repast, in compliment to their be- 
 coming sponsors for the little girl. 
 
 " J will positively take no refusal,^' uttered Agatha, 
 perceiving that Jessy was overwhelmed with confusion; 
 so unexpected was this most flattering conipiiment 
 conferred on her by Lord Montague ; '* nor will I re- 
 ceive a word of thanks from either you or Mr. Russei.
 
 THE FfSHRR's DAUGHTER; S5J 
 
 It was all settled hefore I came here, I assure you; and 
 my dear lord expects the pleasure of your company at 
 Violet Vale, your husband's, and of course your father's. 
 We shall be so happy Jessy! one kiss of your little 
 mopsey, and then I must depart." 
 
 With these words Lady Montault im mediately took 
 her leave, leaving an impression on th,e grateful hearts 
 Okie nad made so happy, never to be erased from their 
 memory. But it had quite altered the plans of Peter, 
 who had anticipated pleasures over the christening of 
 his little granddaughter^ in which he Was well aware 
 he would not be permitted to indulge in the society of 
 Lord and Lady Montault ; the latter indeed, would have 
 only smiled at his little omissions of politetiess and eti- 
 quette, but the former would have felt indignant at any 
 irregularity of conduct in the presence of his lovely 
 wife. The fisher well knew, therefore, that it would 
 be a severe restraint imposed upon his feelings, the 
 dining at Violet Vale, and that he could not enjoy the 
 pleasures of the bottle so freely as at the table of his 
 son-in-law; and when Jessy first informed him of the 
 arrangement which had taken place between her and 
 Lady Montault, and that the christening was to be per- 
 formed at Violet Vale, after which they were to spend 
 the remainder of the day there, he swore with a tre- 
 mendous oath, that he would not go at all to any such 
 fine dangle flippery, but that he should eat his roast 
 beef and plumb pudding, and drink his grog by himself 
 at Herring Dale. ' thi.j-^ r :-i 
 
 "Well, but my dear father, prajr do consider the 
 nature of the case," uttered Jessy, endeavouring as 
 much as possible to calm the violent gust of passion
 
 858 
 
 into which he had broken out : " pray do consider, 
 dear father," repeated Jessy, while softly laying her 
 hand over the back of his chair, *' how impossible it 
 was for me to have declined the invitation of Lord and 
 Lady Montault on such an occasion, and in which you 
 are included, as well as me and Samuel. Consider 
 now that — " 
 
 :it:" Consider a fiddlestick's end/' loudly vociferated 
 the fisher. *^ I consider my own comforts, and I don't 
 choose to have them broken in upon ; no, shiver my 
 topsails, to please any lord or lady in Christendom. 
 Have not you studied to please them more than you 
 have me already, with having a fine fingle fangle name, 
 when I had my heart on the girl being called plain 
 Peggy ? And now you want me to turn out of a snug 
 chimney corner, to stick myself up at the table of a 
 great lord, where I must be obliged to sit as stiff as a 
 poker all the while I am having a morsel of dinner. 
 No, I will be put upon a gridiron and broiled first, be- 
 fore I will sit in such purgatory, and so you may tell 
 my lord and lady if you please. I don't value a lord's 
 good word any more than I do a brass button ; and as 
 to their favours, who the devil want's any, I say ? not 
 Peter Blust, nor any of his family. Favours — favours 
 be—" 
 
 The concluding sentence, to our utmost possible sa- 
 tisfaction, remained unfinished by the fisher Blust, for 
 his pipe being out, he was obliged to extend his arm 
 over the table to reach his tobacco-box, and conse- 
 quently to move the back of his chair, over which Jessy 
 was leaning. 
 
 To his violent harangue she had been silent as the
 
 THE fishkr's daughter. 359 
 
 grave; so was Samuel, because they well knew that the 
 tempest would not continue long, and that trying to 
 calm it would be of no avail; and it was just as he 
 turned round and discovered Jessy at the back of his 
 chair, that he was going to swear an oath, which we 
 are happy to say was suppressed by the effect that 
 his daughter had upon his feelings. 
 
 For the lovely azure eyes of Jessy Were filled with 
 tears, a sight as painful and mortifying to the feelings 
 of poor Sam, as it was distressing to her father, who 
 felt conscious that he was the sole cau«e of them ; and 
 not knowing what excuse to plead for the intemperate 
 warmth he had betrayed^ he deliberately laid down his 
 pipe, and walked up to the cradle, where his little 
 granddaughter was lying with her eyes wide open, and 
 the lovely innocent perfectly smiled in his face as he 
 approached to take her in his arms. 
 
 " Thee be a good tempered little soul, shiver my 
 topsails if thee be'nt," uttered he, caressing the lovely 
 infant, and very carefully placing it on his knee, look- 
 ing at Jessy all the while, who had recovered her self- 
 possession, and was now seated, as much as to say I 
 am sorry I have offended thee ; and at length he ex- 
 claimed, (Sam having slept out of the room,) " Jessy, 
 1 do love thee wench, and it do break my heart when 
 I do see a tear trembling in that eye, that 1 do know 
 thy father's unkindness has caused to flow. Ah Jess, 
 Jess ! thee were the darling of my heart, when thee 
 were just such another little dumpling as this on thy 
 old father's knee. Shiver n)y topsails, I could hang 
 myself up like a dog for saying a word that was cross- 
 grained to thee, my Jess. Thee were the tenderest
 
 360 THE FISIlErt*S DAUCiHTEK. 
 
 ht^eirted little fioul when thee were a baby, and so thou 
 hast been ever since, and as kind a wench to thy old 
 father as ever breathed ; so come here Jess and give 
 me a kiss, and say no more about the christening, for 
 I shall go because it do please thee, but shiver my 
 topsails if it do please me." 
 
 '^ Then father I had better not go," uttered Jessy, 
 as she removed her. infant, which had now fallen fast 
 asleep, from the arms of its grandfather, in so soft, un- 
 assuming, and bewitching an accent, that unable any 
 longer to oppose or act harshly to the wishes of his 
 beloved child, he strained her yet more closely to his 
 heart, and promised to do all she wished, provided that 
 he might be allowed to please himself the day after the 
 chrisjtening, 
 
 '^ Certainly you shall, my dearest father," cried Jessy, 
 delighted at the thoughts of obtaining his sanction, in 
 any way whatever to accompany her to Violet Vale. 
 
 , ** Why then we'll have another christening the day 
 after," cried the fisher, " in my own way, remember 
 Jess. None of your fine dingle dangles, but a jolly 
 good dinner, and plenty to drink afterwards, where I 
 can sit, or stand, or smoke, or let it alone, just as I 
 like, Avithout being called to account by any body; on 
 these conditions I shall go, and behave myself as well 
 as I. can at my lord and my lady's, but I shall be hear- 
 tily glad when I am got into safe moorings again, you 
 may depend upon it. 
 
 Jessy promised every thing that her father wished, 
 and he departed at a late hour, in great good humour 
 with her and honest Samuel, who, for reasons best 
 known to himself, did not choose to interfere between
 
 THE fisher's daughter. 361 
 
 Jessy and her father in any altercation that might ne- 
 cessarily occur, well knowing that the fisher's fondness 
 for his daughter, would very soon bring matters round 
 again, without his taking any active share in it at all; 
 and so it proved, for on the following morning the 
 fisher was punctual to the hour at which they were to 
 set out for the magnificent mansion of Lord Montault 
 and drest in all his best clothes, which were extremely 
 respectable, Peter presented hinjself at the chamber 
 door of Mrs. Russel, before her own toilette and that 
 of her infant was completely adjusted. It was a beau- 
 tiful season of the year; Jessy was attired in a plain 
 robe of the finest cambric, trimmed with lace, a cap of 
 the same, with bows of white satin ribband, confined 
 her luxuriant beautiful light hair in modest and matronly 
 order ; and her lovely baby looked like a perfect angel 
 when, in the arms of its nurse, and in a close carriage, 
 they proceeded to the mansion of Lord Montague Mon- 
 tault, where the Rev. Mr. Harris had already arrived. 
 
 Lord Montague received his guests with the greatest 
 urbanity and hospitality, welcoming the fisher Blustan^ 
 Mr. Russel with distinguishing kindness ; and heartily 
 shaking Peter by the hand on his first entrance to the 
 room, gave him joy on the birth of his little grand- 
 daughter, which contributed in no small degree to ex- 
 hilarate the spirits of Peter, who immediately ex- 
 claimed — 
 
 *^ Thank you, my lord, thank you; the same to you, 
 with all my heart and soul. It be a nice little dumpling ; 
 can't say but what it is ; and since we could not have a 
 boy, why we must make shift with a girl, that be all.'* 
 
 His lordship smiled, and with great jocularity re- 
 a 16 z z
 
 362 THE fisher's daughtkr. 
 
 marked, that it was a fault which the following year 
 might easily repair. Aftei* partaking of a very elegant 
 repast, the parties were conducted to a most spacious 
 apartment prepared for the occasion. Wolf and Alfred 
 having also been invited by Lord Montague to be pre- 
 sent at the ceremony, and where it was at length 
 most impressively performed by the Rev. Mr. Harris ; 
 the fisher conducting himself in the most appropriate 
 manner that was possible during the whole of its per- 
 formance, which being concluded, and the little girl 
 having received the name of Matilda Margaretta, her 
 nurse was conducted into the apartment where Lord 
 Orlando and his nurse was, and where every attention 
 was paid to them by the orders of Lady Montault; after 
 vt^hich the whole party sat down to dinner, where the 
 utmost good humour and hilarity prevailed. Peter 
 was indulged with pipes and tobacco, and some excel- 
 lent grog ; and Lord Montault having seated himself 
 next to Mrs. Russel, congratulated her in a whisper on 
 the birth of so beautiful a child. 
 
 " Then surely, my lord, 1 may return you the com- 
 pliment," cried Jessy, " for never did I behold a finer 
 child than Lord Orlando." Jessy then took an oppor- 
 tunity of returning her most grateful acknowledgments 
 to Lord Montague, for the very liberal mark of his 
 bounty he had bestowed on her little daughter. To 
 which Lord Montague replied — 
 
 " Do not mention it, I beg of you, Mrs. Russel, for 
 you are worthy of every kindness and attention that 
 you receive from any part of my family, I am very 
 certain, and you may rely on my future friendship to- 
 wards you. It is impossible for me ever to be indiffer-
 
 THE fisher's daughter. 363 
 
 ent to an object so tenderly and affectionately regarded 
 by my beloved wife." 
 
 " Do you not think Wolf and Alfred most amazingly 
 improved, my Lord ?'* uttered Jessy, on perceiving 
 that his lordship's eyes were at that moment most 
 earnestly fixed on Wolf, and alternately on Alfred, with 
 the conduct of both of whom he had been particularly 
 pleased and gratified the whole of the day ; and Lord 
 Montague returned the following answer : — 
 
 '* I do indeed, Mrs. Russel ; they are altogether two 
 of the finest youths I ever beheld, and are well worthy 
 of the patronage they have been so fortunate to obtain. 
 Poor fellows, who could turn their backs on them, or 
 treat them with cold unfeeling apathy, or unmerited 
 contempt; friendless as they were, shipwrecked on 
 our coast, without home, and without parents ?" 
 
 " And yet they found one, thank heaven !" cried 
 Jessy. 
 
 " And friends who never will desert them," uttered 
 Lord Montague. 
 
 Both Dr. Syntax and Mr. Lawrence had been invited 
 by Lord Montague to the christening of the Fisher's 
 Daughter, and their conversation served as a relief to 
 Peter's, who, notwithstanding his resolution of preserv- 
 ing sobriety, continued to make too many oblations to 
 Bacchus, to find his way home that night to Herring 
 Dale, and was therefore under the necessity of staying 
 and taking a bed at his son-in-law's. He was highly 
 delighted, however, with the reception he had met 
 with at Violet Vale, and every now and then began a 
 long oration on the excellent qualities and delicious 
 flavour of his lordship's wine.
 
 364 THK fisher's daughter. 
 
 " Of which, my dear father, you really have had a 
 tolerable good portion,'* cried Jessy, Smiling. 
 
 '^ Yes, pretty well for that,'* hickuped the fisher, as 
 he endeavoured to walk steadily towards the door of 
 the chamber to which his son-in-law was preparing to 
 conduct him; " but never mind, a christening comes 
 but once a year in the same family; but shiver my 
 topsails 1 don't care how often it comes, if one could 
 drink a bottle of such wine as his lordship's cellar 
 abounds with." This was the exit-speech of poor 
 Peter as he staggered off to bed, but over whose frail- 
 ties we would much rather throw a veil, than expose 
 them to the severe animadversions of his friends ; but 
 they are those only to whom we can or ought to reveal 
 them, because the excellent qualities of his heart will 
 very naturally excuse trifling defects, which were really 
 injurious to no one but himself. Alas ! no human 
 being is exempt from frailty, be his perfections or his 
 virtues what they may ! it is born with us, and it as 
 certainly dies with us. 
 
 But to proceed. The following morning Wolf and 
 Alfred, by the fisher's private invitation, which he 
 contrived to whisper in their ear, went over early to 
 Mrs. Russel, to enquire if indeed there was to be a 
 second christening of the little Matilda, for that Mr. 
 Blust had informed them so, and had also invited 
 them to dine there that day, in order to celebrate it. 
 
 '^ So we have obtained leave of absence, dear Jessy/* 
 cried Wolf, " if by coming so early you do not consi- 
 der our company intrusive.'' 
 
 " O by no means, my dear boys," cried Samuel, 
 laughing heartily at the whim of the fisher's. " You
 
 THB fisher's daughter, 366 
 
 are heartily welcome, though we did not expect you ; 
 but it is all right, my father must certainly be indulged 
 with his way to day, because he gave us our's yester- 
 day." 
 
 " But not "without difficulty, I do assure you. Wolf,'* 
 cried Jessy, laughing. '^ We could hardly prevail 
 upon him to accompany us to Lord Montague Mon- 
 tauit's, although his lordship gave him so kind an invi- 
 tation." 
 
 " Every man to his humour," uttered Wolt^ and 
 smiled. 
 
 *' Certainly," answered Mr. Russel, ^* and every wo- 
 man too." 
 
 " What a magnificent mansion is that of our dear 
 and amiable friend !" cried Jessy ; ** incomparable crea- 
 ture ! how like an angel did she behave to us yester- 
 day; and how beautiful did she appear when seated at 
 the head of her table ; attentive to all, yet particular to 
 no one I O what an inestimable treasure is Lord Mon- 
 tague possessed of!" 
 
 " And not without being fully sensible of its value," 
 uttered Alfred, looking reproachfully at Jessy, for hav- 
 ing thus introduced the name of the Lady Agatha; 
 for Wolf, to her observation on the merits of her lovely 
 friend, exhibited an agitation he vainly endeavoured to 
 conceal ; and sighing profoundly, averted his head from 
 Jessy's ardent gaze, without a sentence being pro- 
 nounced, while Jessy feeling sorry that she had unin- 
 tentionally been the cause of awakening the dormant 
 passion of poor Wolf, by dwelling on the perfections 
 of her lovely friend, instantly made a pretext of quit-
 
 []&} THK FISHRIl's DAUGflTEll, 
 
 tiug the mom, to give mm time to recover his self- 
 possession, which oiily for a moment seemed to have 
 deserted its citadel. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 " We are too apt to ridicule in others, 'what requires arnemlrnent 
 in ourselves ; we are blind to our own defects, though keen sighted 
 when they proceed from our neighbours. Let their faults be the 
 fingerpost, shewing us the road to the correction of our deformity." 
 
 PiCTOR. 
 
 Wolf met Jessy at dinner with a downcast eye and 
 a flushed cheek, and the consciousness of having 
 wounded the feelings of this amiable and fine spirited 
 youth, (although unintentionally,) had inflicted on her 
 own gentle bosom an involuntary sensation of pain 
 which she could not conceal ; and she most impatiently 
 longed too for an opportunity of telling him so ; but no 
 such opportunity as this occurred, for the fisher, who was 
 in high glee,and in the best of all possible of dispositions, 
 had actually thought proper to monopolize the conver- 
 sation both of Alfred and Wolf the whole time they
 
 THE fisher's daughter. 3G7 
 
 were there^ by offering them, in his way, (and certainly 
 no had way ; for although his language was so plain and 
 unsophisticated, still it was the language of the heart, 
 and its dictates were truth and sincerity,) some lessons, 
 which it was not likely would ever be erased from 
 their recollection. 
 
 " For d*ye see, my dear lads," uttered he, filling his 
 pipe with tobacco, and placing it mechanically to his 
 lips, '^ though we may be wise to day, we may be fool- 
 ish to-morrow ; and it is better to steer clear of quick- 
 sands and shoals, than run headlong into them, and 
 founder on the rocks. There's but one steady course 
 to guide the hehn when the anchor's afloat, and we are 
 launched on the wide ocean ; and sink or swim, it will 
 carry us into safe moorings, in spite of the rough tem- 
 pests or the rough seas; and that's integrity, and doing 
 our duty to our fellow creatures. Shiver my topsails 
 if ever I see the face of either of you again, if ever I 
 catch you doing a bad action. Lord love you, what 
 did I take you under my wing for, but to give you a 
 good bringing up ? I knew I had the shiners to do it 
 if nobody else had ; and though you have had the good 
 fortune to find friends to set you a going, who can do 
 better for you, remember, my lads, you had no friends 
 when the waves cast you upon this coast on the night of 
 the storm, like a couple of dead herrings in an old fish- 
 woman's basket ; and if ever you should chance to get 
 grand and great in the outlandish parts where you are 
 going to, here's one piece of advice I give you, never 
 to forget the bridge that carried you safe over." 
 
 " Could we forget your kindness, we were indeed
 
 *^6S iHE fisher's daughter. 
 
 unworthy of the blessing that heaven bestows," uttered 
 Alfred. 
 
 " And should deserve to meet the frowns of fortune 
 in its worst extremes," observed Wolf. " But, sir, 
 believe us not so ungrateful, or our memories so trea- 
 cherous of past kindness, for gratitude is a blossom 
 that never dies ; it revives with the genial sun of friend- 
 ship's cheering beams, from whose smiles it first in- 
 haled breath, and can only end with the total extermi- 
 nation of it." 
 
 The fisher's eyes shone with a glistening tear, at the 
 sentiments so ingenuously expressed by those amiable 
 youths, and heartily shaking them by the hand, drank 
 health and prosperous gales of happiness in a full 
 flowing bumper, in which honest Samuel, in his quiet 
 orderly soberly way, (for he was formed of materials 
 of the most peaceable kind, without being divested of 
 the ingredients of common sense, so falsely attributed 
 by those whose brighter talents shine more conspicu- 
 ously, but not more safely or more prudently, permit 
 me to observe, in the common routine of worldly af- 
 fairs,) most heartily joined ; and as he pledged the 
 glass, in imitation of his father-in-law, exclaimed — 
 
 " Prosperity my good lads await thee wheresoever 
 thou mayest steer thy compass, and guide you safely 
 on your voyage through life. 'Tis not, as I have heard 
 say, (and I do honestly believe that the saying is true,) 
 it is not in the power of mortals to command success, 
 but it is in the power of every man to endeavour to 
 deserve it." 
 
 '* I am most decidedly of your opinion, Mr. Russel,"
 
 THE KISHini's DAUGIirER. 369 
 
 cried Wolf, " and I most earnestly hope that neither 
 my brother Alfred nor I may disappoint our warmest 
 and most earnestly attached friends of their kindly ex- 
 pectations." ' ->^ 
 
 With these and many morefriendly hints, alternately 
 given by the fisher and honest Sam, Wolf and Alfred 
 departed, after having caressed the lovely little Matilda 
 with every demonstration of the truest affection, in 
 compliment to the authors of its being ; and as it laj 
 sleeping on its mother's gentle bosom. Wolf, as be 
 imprinted a fervent kiss on its roseate lips, observed, 
 that a day would yet come when he should behold 
 that promise of infantine loveliness ripened into charms 
 of womanhood : and that when he returned from a far 
 distant country, to which his patron informed him he 
 would be shortly going, he should see the lovely girl 
 the pride and darling of her fond parents. 
 
 "And many more darlings too, to keep her company 
 besides. Wolf, mayhap," cried the fisher, winking slyly 
 and archly at his son-in-law, while it brought a roseate 
 blush on the fair face of Jessy. " Wounds man, there 
 will be a house full of such little dumplings before thee 
 comes back again to thy old quarters; then you know 
 little Matty there will be fit for a wife for one of you. 
 There is many a thing comes to pass that be locked up 
 in a sow's ear, thee do know lads, that be otily in a 
 pig's ear at the present moment; the wisest of us can* 
 not tell what may happen in the course of time." 
 
 " That can they not, indeed sir," cried Wolf, sup- 
 pressing a painful but involuntary «igh with which his 
 bosom seemed overcharged. " In the web of time lies 
 wonders, but this cannot time do; it will never change 
 
 bl6 3 a
 
 370 THE FISHRRS DAUGHTER. 
 
 mv heart or my resolutions; they are fixed as the po- 
 lar star, and will know no change, till that change 
 which dissolves all earthly ties, affections, enmities, the 
 feelings of life and nature." 
 
 " The feelings of a fiddlestick's end," vociferated 
 the fisher, in his usual blunt tone; and perceiving that 
 Wolf had more meaning in his thoughts than he dared 
 give utterance to, and probably guessing at their mean- 
 ing more than he chose to express, he assumed an air 
 of jocularity, in order to dissipate the uneasiness he 
 beheld him suffering, which made him smile, in des- 
 pite of the sombre reflections which were beginning 
 to assail him. What, dost thee want to be ground old 
 before thee beest ground young ? cast thy colt's tooth 
 first. But I say, Wolf, where beest going, dost thee 
 know lad ?" 
 
 " To India, as I understand, sir, from the Duke,*' 
 replied Wolf, thoughtfully. " I believe that his Grace 
 has already received my appointment, though, for some 
 reason, he has not yet publicly declared what are his 
 intentions respecting the period of my departure ; still 
 I know that it is certainly fixed ; but from the peculiar 
 circumstances in which I am situated in the Duke's 
 family, delicacy forbids me to make any enquiry that 
 might be deemed either impertinent or intrusive." 
 
 " Shiver my topsails if 1 don't think that be carry- 
 ing delicacy too far,'' uttered the fisher. " I should 
 make no bones about that, I can assure you, when I 
 was going to be launched into the wide world, and to 
 sail on my own bottom, as a body may say ; I should 
 like to know what side of the compass 1 was going to 
 steer by, though, master Wolf, after all."
 
 THE FISHER*S DAUGHTER, 371 
 
 " A very safe one, you may rely on it, sir,** answered 
 Wolf. 
 
 *' Humph !" murmured Peter, between a whifF of 
 his pipe, and a sort of short dry cou^h, with which he 
 sometimes happened to be seized. " If thee be satis- 
 fied, why it's all the same to me, that be all, only I 
 should like to know something about it. T suppose 
 AIfy, it will be a main long time before thee do climb 
 up to a parson's box, wont it ? Great folks do take a 
 mortal time to consider of things, that be true enough." 
 
 " Yes, sir ; but wh-en they are certain" — uttered Al- 
 fred, who found that it was now his turn to undergo 
 an examination, and that the more conchisive he was 
 on the subject, the sooner it would come to a finale ; 
 but in this he was mistaken, for Peter, after a string of 
 interrogatories, none of which were deemed sufficiently 
 satisfactory to him, he exclaimed — 
 
 '* And pray what do you know about the certainty 
 of great folks, I should be glad to know ? I tell you 
 it's all a confounded lie, no more and no less, and that 
 they tack about as often as a ship does when the wind 
 is blowing directly contrary against her." 
 
 " But do you believe, my dear father, that the Duke 
 is not perfectly sincere in his intentions towards my 
 brother and me ? or that so great and worthy a person- 
 age would not most rigidly perform a duty which he 
 imposed upon himself, and none other suggested ?" 
 cried Alfred, in the mildest accents. " Is it likely 
 that such a gentleman would act inconsistently with 
 honour, delicacy, or truth ?" 
 
 There was another humph gruffly escaped from the 
 lips of Peter 3 and what he was going to say we cannot
 
 3/2 THE FISHER*S DAUGHTER. 
 
 precisely tell, in opposition to Alfred, had not the 
 sweeter lips of the gentle Jessy opened to pronounce — 
 
 " No, indeed Alfred, I am well persuaded that the 
 Duke would not, and I am very sure that my father 
 does not think so, notwithstanding the hasty manner 
 in which he has expressed himself." 
 
 The fisher chuckled at the manner in which Jessy 
 had defended him ; and as the sound of her sweet 
 voice always put an extinguisher on any thing that 
 seemed like wormwood on his tongue, in his severe 
 remarks on others, the most perfect good humour was 
 preserved, and the utmost harmony prevailed during 
 the continuance of their visit at Mr. Russel's. 
 
 At a late hour they returned to Violet Vale, when 
 the first intelligence Wolf received from his tutor 
 Lawrence was, that the Duke of Braganza had given 
 orders for Wolf to attend him at an early hour the 
 ensuing morning, and that he had every reason to 
 believe that his Grace had received, in dispatches 
 from India, the order for his appointment to one of 
 the regiments stationed there, under the command of 
 General Fontenelle. 
 
 The countenance of Wolf underwent many changes 
 at the communication of his tutor, but they were those 
 of the most animated and pleasing kind ; and that there 
 was now a prospect for his mind to be engaged in 
 some active pursuits, filled him with the greatest joy, for 
 his present state had of late been unsupportable to him 
 from many causes, and had rendered him a completely 
 wretched and isolated being, owing to the unhappy 
 and unconquerable attachment he felt towards an ob- 
 ject, between whom and him a barrier was placed of
 
 THE fisher's daughter. 373 
 
 such unmeasurable distance, that it was utterly out of 
 the pale of probability to imagine either from chance 
 or circumstance, that hope would ever fan a mutual 
 flame. The sight of her was therefore dangerous to 
 his peace and injurious to his honour, while it was 
 equally unfavourable to his studies or his progress in 
 learning ; for he was bound in the pleasing charm that 
 fascinated his senses, which was riveted too powerfully 
 about his heart ever to be broken, except by that 
 change which dissolves all earthly ties. 
 
 Joyful therefore was the intelligence imparted to him 
 by Lawrence, that there was at last a probability of his 
 commencing his military campaign, and of his speedy 
 departure from Violet Vale ; but not so joyous were 
 the feelings of his tutor on the occasion, who being 
 most passionately attached to his pupil, expressed, with 
 great sensibility, his deep and unfeigned regret, that a 
 separation was so shortly to take place between them. 
 
 " It is not from a selfish motive, believe me, Mr. 
 Wolf,'* cried Lawrence, " or that because your absence 
 will render my services no longer necessary at Violet 
 Vale, that I regret so fervently your departure, but I 
 have an affection for you, Mr. Wolf, in which no selfish 
 consideration can ever take precedence, or worldly 
 considerations ever be united with. I have my pecu- 
 liarities, friendships, antipathies, congenialities, faithful 
 attachments, everlasting zeal, and fidelity. Yes, I 
 have cherished all these Mr. Wolf, in happier days, be- 
 fore I thought mankind could act ungratefully or 
 treacherously towards each other. J have lived to be 
 deceived, and who is there that does not ? yet some- 
 thing tells me that in you I shall never be mistaken.
 
 374 THE fisher's daughter. 
 
 for there is an ingenuous nobleness of disposition 
 which charmed me at the first sight of you ; time has 
 strengthened my attachment towards you, and now 
 makes parting painful. I am a lone man, you know, 
 Mr. Wolf, a solitary plant cast on a blighted heath; 
 few sunny rays have smiled to cheer the gloomy single- 
 ness of my fate, till I beheld you, loved boy ; you were 
 the sunshine that so suddenly broke in upon me, at a 
 time of life when I would have conceived that no mor- 
 tal tie could have bound me to existence. Having thus 
 explained the nature of my feelings, you cannot won- 
 der, Mr. Wolf, that I should experience some sensa- 
 tions of regret at bidding you farewell.*' 
 
 Wolf was astonished and confounded by this confes- 
 sion of his tutor, in whose eye he beheld a glistening 
 tear of most genuine affection ; and it was not without 
 betraying considerable emotion, that he answered this 
 affectionate appeal made to his feelings. 
 
 '' O revered and respected sir, how shall I express the 
 deep sense of gratitude I feel towards you, for the warm 
 interest you take in my welfare, and the favourable 
 opinion with which you honour me I O, sir, may I oe 
 permitted to assure you, that I shall ever retain the 
 most indelible impression of all your kindness, and that 
 the pain inflicted on your heart by our separation, is 
 not less so on mine, and that the loss of your society 
 will be doubly felt by me in a far distant clime, where 
 no cheering voice of friendship will salute my eaxs as 
 it does now — no friendly eye to greet my presence 
 there — no counsel to guide my inexperienced youth 
 My monitor, my instructor, and friend, why does my 
 fortune bid me rove without you ! Yet so it does, and
 
 THE fisher's daughter. 375 
 
 I am anxious for the long farewell to objects, whom 
 though 1 love dearest on earth, yet whole ages of tor- 
 ture could not exceed what I suffer in their presence, de- 
 prived of the privileges I so blissfully enjoyed once in 
 their company and conversation ! But pray pardon my 
 digression on this subject, I am strangely wandering." 
 " You are indeed, my dear Mr. Wolf," uttered 
 Lawrence, casting upon him a look, alternately blended 
 with compassion and tenderness of affection, "wander- 
 ing far, far beyond the limits of discretion, when you 
 speak thus of objects as being dangerous to your repose, 
 if such indeed they are. I rejoice that prudence and 
 good sense so naturally suggest to you, that from such 
 objects it is indeed your imperative duty to fly; from 
 dangerous objects there is no safety, but in itn mediate 
 flight. There is a frailty, a weakness in human nature, 
 which even the wisest head and the firmest heart can- 
 not at all seasonable times set at absolute defiance. Had 
 man been completely perfect, he had never fallen or 
 been degraded in the eyes of his Maker; and a heavy 
 punishment succeeded to the commission of the offence 
 of which he had been guilty. But was there not mercy 
 held out to him hereafter by an all- gracious, mild, for- 
 giving, and beneficent Being ! Was there not a drop 
 of pity mixed in the heart-galling beverage which he 
 himself had prepared ! Man was forgiven by God, 
 when repentance was offered in atonement for his 
 transgression. God forgives, and man presumptuously 
 denies it. He refuses to his fellow-creature what he 
 himself stands in need of from his Maker, — pardon ; 
 for there never was that earthly being yet, however 
 pure or immaculate, who did not require it. Thoughts
 
 376 THE FlSHER^S DAUGHTER. 
 
 ascend to heaven as well as actions ; and thoughts are 
 free ; impervious oft to man, but to God never. Let us 
 thus, my dear boy, endeavour to be as pure in thoughts 
 as we would be in every action of our lives ! and with 
 this consciousness about us we have nothing to fear ; 
 in peril, in sickness, in poverty, nay, even in the house 
 of death, it will sustain us; and half its terrors, (if in 
 deed to the truly good and virtuous it hath any,) will 
 be disarmed. My dear boy, I read your heart, I have 
 been able to read it for a long time past, and with inex- 
 pressible grief and regret soon discovered the fatal secret 
 with which it was labouring, which it was probable some 
 existing circumstance greatly tended to increase thema- 
 ladyof. I call it by its right name, my dear Wolf, and be 
 not angiy at the plain terms I give it, for it is nothing 
 less nor more than a malady,— the love you bear for Lord 
 Montague's lovely wife. Nay, start not, you have 
 manfully and bravely struggled to conceal that secret, 
 but the attempt, as far as relates to my own observa- 
 tion, has been fruitless and unavailing. Heaven grant 
 that it may have succeeded with others ; but this 
 malady at your time of life, dear boy, is not incurable. 
 Romantic passion cannot last, where hope fans not the 
 flame with its balmy breath ; and for you there is no 
 hope. The flower will therefore perish as on a blight- 
 ed stalk ; absence is its death, and, fortunately for you 
 will leave no sting behind, for the Lady Agatha is both 
 a wife and a mother, and is besides most passionately 
 attached to her lord and husband, and to her child , 
 ihese are affections on which woman's heart pridei 
 itself, and holds so sacredly, that she is not likely to 
 forego them, even if her heart before marriage hao
 
 THE fisher's daughter. ^JJT. 
 
 ever been another's. There is then no hope, no 
 ohance existing, or probability that she would ever be- 
 stow her affections on you. There is also between 
 you and the Lady Agatha a disparity of years ; she i» 
 your senior by many; and though now beautiful as an 
 angel, she will not continue so. Wolf. Women and 
 rases run on the same parallel ; they are both fading 
 and perishable, though both lovely while their season 
 la$ts. 
 
 At this remark, however just, Wolf heaved a deep 
 and melancholy sigh ; but it was occasioned only by 
 the reflection that the lovely flower, now in its full 
 bloom of beauty, though it might indeed be withered 
 in its fragrance, would never belong to him, and he 
 exclaimed : — 
 
 " Ah, sir ! and even then I should love the Lady 
 Agatha ; in my eyes that beauty would never fade, for 
 it was not that which made my heart so willingly her 
 captive; it was her mind, that fairest pattern of all hu- 
 man excellence, her generous heart, her gentle disposi- 
 tion." 
 
 '^ Boy — boy, you talk like an enthusiast; but thou 
 art young, and thy heart is warm with passion," cried 
 Lawrence, smiling. ^' When thou dost carry a few 
 more years on thy shoulders, the fairy colours that 
 deck thy glowing fancy will vanish, and, 
 
 — * like the baseless fabric of a vision. 
 Leave not a wreck behind.' " 
 
 ^' Sir, to your better judgment I ever must yield 
 with submission," uttered Wolf; " but wherefore 
 should we part, if indeed you will share my fortunes ? 
 
 cl6 3 b
 
 378 THE FISHER*S DAUGHTER. 
 
 most gladly would I accept of your company to India. 
 I have some little independence from the bounty of the 
 deceased Captain Singleton, and doubtless I shall have 
 more from the generosity of my benefactor. Will 
 you, sir, accompany me to that distant cJime 1 am 
 going to ? Be still as now my mentor, my instructor, 
 my kind friend, and I will be your grateful pupil. Say, 
 at once, you will not refuse my solicitation." 
 
 For many moments Lawrence could not articulate 
 a single sentence, so unexpected was this offer from 
 his young favourite; and he exclaimed, after a pause : — 
 
 " Noble, exalted, and generous boy ! now indeed I 
 feel thou art worthy of my affection, since thou wouldst 
 burthen thyself with a feeble old man, who could do 
 nought for thee but give thee good counsel ; yet thou 
 wouldst bear with him and his infirmities together. 
 Well — well, I'll think on thy plan, and tell you of the 
 result to-morrow. In the meanwhile let's to our 
 chamber; the hour is growing late, and yet I miss not 
 the time that I have been talking with thee." 
 
 With these words, a kind good night, and an affec- 
 tionate squeeze of the hand, Lawrence retired for 
 the night, leaving Wolf to reflections of a nature which 
 were almost undefinable, pleasing, and certainly pain- 
 ful ; for it was not to be imagined that he could bid 
 adieu to the fisher and his family, beneath whose roof 
 he had been so kindly sheltered and fostered with pro- 
 tection, when destitute of friends and fortune, without 
 feeling considerable emotion. His dear Alfred, too ! 
 could he part with him without a tear of brotherly af- 
 fection, or wishing that he were not the companion of 
 his voyage as formerly, when, shipwrecked on the coast
 
 THE fisher's daughter. 379 
 
 of Cromer, they became the peculiar care of the honest 
 fisherman ? Yes, the thoughts of parting with Alfred, 
 who doubtless would mutually share in the pain of a 
 separation, when he should indeed hear that the time 
 was fixed for his departure, occasioned Wolf to pass a 
 restless and sleepless night ; and when he arose from 
 his pillow at an uncommonly early hour the ensuing 
 morning, his countenance exhibited traces of an agi- 
 tated mind, which vainly he endeavoured to conceal 
 from the observation of his preceptor. 
 
 But Lawrence was not to be deceived in the appear- 
 ance and the looks of his beloved pupil ; for in the words 
 of a pensive, but highly-wrought inspired bard, the fine 
 features of Wolf were exem])lified in the following 
 manner : — 
 
 ** 0*er his pale brow a melancholy thought 
 Hangs like a cloud, dimraiug the eyes of fire, 
 And stealing from his youthful cheek the rose. 
 As though a baffled cause, a ruin'd house, 
 Unprosperous love, or cruel banishmeut, 
 Had blighted the fair buds, which would have growi 
 To goodly blossoms. Yet the lofty soul, 
 The high aspiring mind, breaks, like the sun. 
 Through the thick veil of care, and points to hopes 
 Of future glory, patriot zeal, and tells 
 Of difficulties vanquished, toils o'ercome. 
 Laurels unwreath'd, with love's sweet roses pluck'« 
 From danger's desperate gulph." 
 
 ** You have rested but poorly, Mr. Wolf," cried Law- 
 rence, as soon as he entered the room, and discovered 
 his pupil sitting in a mournful abstraction of mind. To 
 which Wolf replied — 
 
 " Or rather, I have had no rest at all. I had wak- 
 ing thoughts, sir, that — **
 
 ^0 THE FISHER*S DAUGHTER. 
 
 " It would be worse than folly to indulge, or yield 
 to the impression of, at a crisis like this, my dear boy," 
 answered the tutor, gravely ; and at this precise mo- 
 ment Alfred entered the room. The agitated looks of 
 Wolf soon attracted his observation, and with an air 
 of the most brotherly kindness, he tenderly enquired 
 into the cause ; it was soon explained, and the counte- 
 nance of Alfred instantly betrayed, that the intelligence 
 he received of his dear brother's departure, was not 
 only unwelcome, but painful to his feelings, although 
 he felt that it was his duty to exert every energy of his 
 mind to suppress the sensations which he experienced 
 on Wolfs account ; yet tears shone in his eyes when 
 they conversed niore fully on the subject, and the part- 
 ing hour was adverted to. Alfred, whose softness of 
 x,*haracter, and gentleness of disposition was percepti- 
 ble in every look and action of his life, was not proof 
 against parting with an object so affectionately beloved; 
 and in a tremulous voice he pronounced — 
 
 "Ah, dear Wolf! though I rejoice in the prosperous 
 smiles of good fortune that await you on your en- 
 trance upon a life in which you have so long panted to 
 be engaged, and at the opportunity it will afford you of 
 engrafting knowledge into your mind, and improving 
 those bright talents with which nature has so liberally 
 endowed you ; though I rejoice, I say, at this comple- 
 tion of your wishes, yet I am not so much of a philo- 
 sopher as to part with you without shedding tears, or 
 feeling, by the absence of a dear brother, I shall be de- 
 prived of a very considerable part of my happiness, 
 amusements, and pleasures, in which my dear Wolf so 
 long has shared. Yet we shall meet again, if heaven
 
 381 
 
 permits it ; and to that period let us look forward with 
 a lively hope, with a full and entire confidence in each 
 others unchanging affection. You have promised me a 
 regular correspondence; do not be unmindful of that 
 promise when you are in a far distant clime, I implore 
 you, my dear brother/' 
 
 " Wolf, much affected, faithfully promised Alfred 
 that, in all his wanderings, he would regularly trans- 
 mit every particular of his situation, and that he in re- 
 turn should expect a similar favour of him," 
 
 This being finally arranged between them, at the en- 
 trance of Dr. Syntax they sat down to breakfast, and 
 enjoyed a rational and pleasing conversation on a 
 variety of subjects. 
 
 After which Wolf immediately repaired to the pre- 
 sence of his patron, his Grace the Duke of Braganza, 
 who received him with a most cordial smile, and con- 
 gratulated him on the prospect there now was of his 
 shortly setting out to join his regiment, which was 
 stationed at Port Antonio, under the command of his 
 friend. General Mahoney, and in which an ensigncy 
 had been procured through the immediate interest of 
 the governor, and that promotion was to take place 
 the very first opportunity, provided that his conduct 
 should be found to merit that distinction. 
 
 " And which I do not at all question, Wolf," uttered 
 his Grace, smilingly. " I have not the slightest doubt 
 but you will prove yourself worthy of the patronage I 
 nave been so fortunate as to succeed in procuring for 
 you; your rising in your military career will hereafter lie 
 in your own exertions of active zeal and distinguishable
 
 882 THE fisher's daughter. 
 
 merit, which will be far more gratifying, than if you 
 owed it to mere personal interest." 
 
 Wolf bowed at receiving a compliment so highly 
 flattering ; and in terms at once modest, elegant, and 
 animated, thanked his Grace for the noble and disin- 
 terested proof he had given to serve a friendless, 
 nameless youth, who had no being on earth to claim 
 him for his own. He then timidly enquired of his pa- 
 tron, if he might be permitted to know at what period 
 his embarkation would take place ? 
 
 " In a month from the date of this day," uttered his 
 Grace. " There is a fine ship under an especial con- 
 voy, and which is with many others bound for India ; 
 she is called the Maria Louisa, and in her I wish you 
 to sail. In the meantime I wish you to enjoy yourself 
 with those recreations to which, at your season of life, 
 it is very natural to suppose you may be inclined ; 
 I mean the society of a few partial friends, the fisher 
 Blust, for instance, and his family. Your hours of 
 study are now over. I wish you to understand that I 
 do not mean to restrict you in any shape whatever, be- 
 fore you depart, from pleasures that come within the 
 scope of prudence. I will arrange all other things ne- 
 cessary for your departure, with regard to furnishing 
 you with what may be requisite for your apparel, 
 books, and all such articles and expenditure that can- 
 not be dispensed with in the profession in which you 
 are about to be engaged. No thanks, young man, I 
 will receive none. I have done my duty, and the con- 
 sciousness of that is a sufficient reward." 
 
 So saying, the Duke dismissed from his presence his
 
 THK fisher's daughter. 383 
 
 young favourite, leaving Wolf in flutter of spirits not 
 to be described^ his exaltation being so sudden ana 
 unexpected^ that he could scarcely credit the evidence 
 of his own senses. 
 
 He was now in full possession of what he had so 
 long and eagerly desired to obtain, a commission in the 
 army stationed in a foreign clime, and favoured by 
 •auspices that could not fail to be the leading star to 
 fame and fortune. At what then did this so greatly 
 favoured youth repine? That we will inform our read- 
 ers of in the next chapter. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 " There is no room for such regrets, Venulal 
 
 la this devoted heart love has expell'd 
 
 An female vanity. I never wish'd 
 
 That titles, wealth, or power, should bend before 
 
 My humble shrine ; not e'en to be refused 
 
 For thee, the only earthly good I ever 
 
 Asked of heaven!" Kinsman of Napies. 
 
 There is no man who loses sight of the object ot 
 whom his soul has doated, and still doats with the 
 most unutterable fondness, that can boast of being
 
 384 THE fisher's daughter. 
 
 either a stoic or a philosopher; however stern his 
 creed may be, he must still feel the influence she has 
 possessed over his charmed senses, in the parting mo- 
 ment which may eventually separate them for ever; 
 and so felt Wolf, ev^en after the sober and mature re- 
 flections he had made, and the resolution he had form- 
 ed, utterly to banish the impression which the Lady 
 Agatha hac ao powerfully wrought u|)on every impulse 
 of his actions and his mind, which also the timely 
 admonitions of his beloved Alfred had in no small de- 
 gree tended to increase. But alas ! when was love 
 ever controlled by advice, when like a torrent it 
 rushes down with impetuous force, suffering nothing 
 to impede the progress of its way ? One glance of the 
 Lady Agatha as she passed the window with her at- 
 tendant and her child, had the effect of electric fire 
 through his trembling frame, and her melodious voice 
 thrilled to his very soul when she stopt and uttered — 
 
 " Good morning, dear Wolf, what delightful weather; 
 it has invited me abroad, though I confess I am no 
 early riser, yet such a morning as this is so resplen- 
 dently lovely, that it tempts me to forego sleep, to enjoy 
 a ramble over the plantations. My boy too, you see, 
 has caught the humour of his mother, and is determin- 
 ed to be the companion of my peregrinations. But 
 bless me, Wolf, have you been paying nightly vigils to 
 the moon, or studying the planets, or what? for in 
 truth you do not look as if you had rested. I hope 
 you are well. Wolf; your eyes are heavy, and your 
 complexion pale ; these are unusual signs with you ; 
 pray tell me if you feel indisposed ?" 
 
 There was an air of anxiety in the beautiful counte-
 
 THE fisher's daughter. 3H5 
 
 nance of Agatha as she made tHis enquiry of her youner 
 favourite, which it was impossible for Wolf not to feel 
 the expression of 3 and as he raised his eyes towards 
 her's, his face was crimsoned with a deep blush, while 
 he replied — 
 
 " Your ladyship honours me by an enquiry so kind ; 
 but if truth must be spoken, (and I never yet uttered a 
 falsehood to you,) I have indeed had a sleepless night 
 and a restless pillow ; but certainly it is not indisposi- 
 tion to which I can ascribe it, but the suddenness with 
 which I was informed by his Grace of my speedy de- 
 parture for India. We cannot, lady, always put an 
 extinguisher on feelings to which we have so long 
 been naturalized, that they have become mingled 
 with our very existence 5 we cannot tear kindred 
 branches asuntler, without the tree being shook by 
 the separation. The oak of the forest will tremble, 
 though it sustains the storm." 
 
 Agatha, from some internal feeling, immediately 
 averted her head from th'e dark and piercing eyes 
 which had rested for a moment on her face ; and, after 
 a pause, expressed some little surprise that the Duke, 
 her father, should not have mentioned this intelligence 
 either to her or Lord Montague — " Knowing how 
 happy I and my dear lord would be to hear of an event 
 so prosperous to your future fortune, dear Wolf," said 
 she. '' But how soon may it be probable that you 
 depart?*' To which Wolf faulteringly replied, and 
 scarcely suppressing a half struggling sigh — 
 
 " In one month hence his Grace informs me that I 
 shall embark. Yes, in one little month, dearest lady, 
 I shall bid adieu to friends that — " 
 
 n ;7 3C
 
 386 THK fisher's daughter, 
 
 " Will never cease to take an interest in your fate/* 
 answered Agatha, with her head still averted from his 
 ardent gaze. It was a critical moment for poor Wolf, 
 aione with the being he most idolized on earth, (for 
 the attendant had walked on with the child,) so soon 
 to be separated from her, perhaps not shortly to meet 
 again, perhaps never, and yet not to be able to express 
 all the tumults of his beating heart. 
 
 In the meanwhile Agatha, who, it was probable, 
 wanted no interpreter to explain the looks of the de- 
 jected Wolf as he stood yet lingering beside her; and 
 fearful that, if he did so much longer, some observa* 
 tions might ensue of a very painful and disagreeable 
 nature, which she was determined to avoid, both 
 for her own sake and that of Wolf, (for whose unfortu- 
 nate attachment to herself she felt the utmost commis- 
 seration and pity, as it was now evident that he could 
 no longer conceal it, though he had endeavoured to do 
 so by every means in his power,) most heartily re- 
 joiced that a separation was so shortly to take place 
 between them, well knowing the disposition of Lord 
 Montague, and of his former suspicions with respect 
 to the attentions of this young man, which nothing 
 but jealousy alone could have excited, which the 
 very moment that she discovered she became sedu- 
 lously cautious, by not giving the slightest opportunity 
 in all her conversations with his lordship, to induce 
 him once to imagine that Wolf had ever been a greater 
 favourite with her than Alfred ; she never dwelt on his 
 praises, or extolled him more highly when their tutors 
 Were commending any of their performances; and by 
 this prudent method prevented any further impression
 
 TUK FrSFi'KU's DAUC.MTT-R. 38? 
 
 being made on the mind of her husband by the demon 
 who had formerly possessed him. Here, however, 
 was a severe trial for her feelings, for she could not 
 disguise the favourite sentiments she felt for this noble, 
 amiable, and ingenuous young man, or bid him fare- 
 well, without deep regret and a powerful interest in 
 his fate; and she could impart these thoughts to none 
 but her beloved Jessy, which she did on the following 
 morning after the intimation she had received of Wolf's 
 departure, for she had never once mentioned it to Lord 
 Montague, nor his lordship to her; neither had the 
 Duke bten at all communicative on the subject; he 
 merely said that Wolf was going, but did not say 
 when, or in what manner he had obtained his appoint- 
 ment. 
 
 In the course of her morning's visit to Mrs. Russel, 
 she, however, slightly glanced at the subject, carelessly 
 enquiring if Wolf had told her hovv shortly he was 
 going to leave them? To which Jessy, much surprised 
 at the abruptness of the question, replied — 
 
 '^ No, 1 have never heard him once mention it, al- 
 though he has been frequently here lately. How 
 shortly, may I ask, does Wolf embark for India?" 
 
 " In one month hence, as 1 understand,*' answered 
 Agatha. 
 
 " I am excessively rejoiced to hear it, are not you, 
 my dear Agatha?" cried Jessy. 
 
 But there was an interval of some moments before 
 her ladyship replied, and then her manner was some- 
 what marked with hesitation, because she felt afraid of 
 saying too much on the subject, and therefore scarcely
 
 3gg THK FISHER S D AUGIITHR. 
 
 said any thing at all, to the utter astonishment of Jessy, 
 .vho not being bound by the same restrictions as her 
 lovely friend, without disguise launched forth into the 
 tvarmest praises on the perfections of Wolf, hoping 
 that in all his wanderings in a foreign clime, success 
 and the most prosperous good fortune might attend 
 him. " For I am sure that he merits the good opinion 
 of all his admirers here," added Jessy; " he is without 
 exception one of the most noble fine spirited youths I 
 ever knew, and he is so clever, yet without being vain 
 of talents which so rarely fall to the lot of other young 
 men at his age." 
 
 " You do not overrate his good qualities, most cer- 
 tainly, my dear Jessy," uttered Agatha, after a very 
 thoughtful pause ; " but genuine talent is never assum- 
 ing, for the consciousness of its own worth sets it above 
 the paltry consideration of vanity ; it will always shine, 
 even in obscurity, and reflects back lustre on itself, in 
 spite of the envious sneers that would crush it to the 
 dust, or glory in its downfall. But while talking of 
 Wolf, we must not forget Alfred ; he is equally as 
 amiable, though he is not gifted with so great a versa- 
 tility of talent." 
 
 Jessy acknowledged that he was so, and most hear- 
 tily concurreld in the favourable opinion of her friend. 
 
 ^' He will shine in the pulpit, do you not think so ?" 
 cried Jessy. To which Agatha replied — 
 
 " Yes, when he arrives at that preferment, there is 
 no doubt to be entertained but he will be both an ac- 
 qmsition and an ornament to so sacred a calling ; he is 
 of so mild and gentle disposition, and his manners and
 
 THE FISHRR's DAUGHIER. 389 
 
 deportment are full of sweetness and urbanity. None 
 else should methinks become representatives of the 
 church." 
 
 Jessy perfectly assented to this remark of her lovely 
 friend^ whom she thought uncommonly grave, and out 
 of her usual quiet temperature of spirits, but she deli- 
 cately forbore to make the slightest comment that 
 would appear prying or inquisitive; and soon after, 
 the subject of Wolf and Alfred was changed, to talk 
 of the approaching nuptials, which were now so 
 speedily to take place between Lord Winstone and 
 the Lady Lavinia Montault, which were to be cele- 
 brated in the most splendid and magnificent manner 
 at the Castle of Montault, with every appendage and 
 ceremony that was due to their exalted rank. No- 
 thing was talked of in the town of Cromer, but the 
 preparations which were making for this so long ex- 
 pected and important day, at which Lord and Lady 
 Montague Montault were of course to be present, his 
 Grace the Duke of Braganza having faithfully promised 
 to give the youthful bride away. A most sumptuous 
 dinner was prepared for the bridal party, which on 
 the morning that Agatha visited Jessy, wanted but 
 another day for the consummation of the happy nup- 
 tials. 
 
 " I should scarce remember ever having beheld Lord 
 Winstone, but for one particular circumstance," utter- 
 ed Jessy, " and that is, because my poor sister Olive 
 was with us on the evening that we encountered both 
 him and Sir George Clevland on horseback, as wc were 
 returning from my cousin Margarette Craftly's. Do 
 y-ou remember how indecorously both these gentlemen
 
 390 THE fisher's daughter. 
 
 behaved, and that your influence alone prevailed in 
 making them desist froii) the bold familiar manner in 
 which they addressed us ? How I trembled, and how 
 Olive laughed ! yet you made them sensible of the im- 
 propriety of their conduct, and both gentlemen made 
 an ample apology, and quietly left us to pursue our 
 way ; but for this circumstance I certainly should never 
 have recollected Lord Winstone or his fashionable 
 companion, for you know, my dear Agatha, we lived so 
 retired at the residence of my father at Herring Dale, 
 that he would never permit us to go beyond it, and our 
 station was too humble to attract the attention of such 
 elevated personages as Lord Winstone and Sir George 
 Clevland, whose manners I thought extremely disgust- 
 ing, because they actually seemed to take delight in 
 staring -humble modesty out of countenance." 
 
 To which Agatha, half smiling at the sweet simpli- 
 city of her gentle friend, replied — 
 
 " Yes, my dear, it has become a species of amuse- 
 ment, of which young noblemen of the present fashion- 
 able day are extremely partial. Lord Winstone, how- 
 ever, must be considered an exception to the general 
 rule, and when not under the influence of the god of 
 wine, conducts himself towards the female sex in a 
 manner which reflects honour both on his heart and 
 his understanding. He is excessively attacked to Lady 
 Lavinia, and will no doubt make her ladyship an excel- 
 lent husband." 
 
 Some caresses were now lavishly bestowed on little 
 Matilda, who gave every promise of being a healthy and 
 thriving child, with such uncommon loveliness, that 
 Agatha could not help again remarking her extraor-
 
 THE FISHKR S DAUGHTER. BOt 
 
 dinary likeness to her unfortunate aunt, Miss Blust, 
 although the softness of expression was that of her 
 mother's gentle kind ; and Agatha again stooping 
 forward to kiss the beauteous little creature, ex- 
 claimed — 
 
 " Well, positively Jessy, the Fisher's Daughter will 
 l)e a paragon of beauty ; every day, every hour, she 
 grows more sweetly interesting; what a chaming play- 
 mate she will make for my little Orlando by and bye ; 
 almost of an age, and equally good humoured and 
 playful, they will delight in each other's company, and 
 ihds cement a more lasting friendship, when they ar- 
 rive at a more ripened season of their lives/' Agatha 
 uttered this smilingly, and certainly with no particu- 
 lar meaning attached to it; but she coloured deeply 
 on recollection that it was the most highly improper 
 one she could think of addressing to Jessy, and one 
 that if Lord Montague had listened to, would have 
 excited his severest reprehension, for it was morally 
 impossible to imagine that however lovely or passion- 
 ately attached she might be to the mother of the child, 
 that his lordship had formed views for his son of quite 
 so humble a nature, as to seek a matrimonial alliance 
 with a Fisher's Daughter, or that the proud, haughty, 
 and rebellious spirit of the Marchioness of Montault 
 would ever acknowledge her grandson, should his 
 heart ever yield to an attachment below his high birth 
 and splendid riches. 
 
 Agatha therefore blushed deeply as Jessy fixed her 
 eyes upon her expressive features as she addressed to 
 her this incautious speech, and a painful sensation 
 alternately took possession of them for a few momeiitsf)
 
 392 THE FISHER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 without eitlier being able to impart to the other the 
 nature of therr feelings. 
 
 At length Agatha, pressing her friend's hand with 
 the most affectionate fervour, exclaimed — 
 
 " I was wrong Jessy, in what I just now uttered 
 highly blameable ; I have no right to predict in such 
 an instance, and still less right to be forming connec- 
 tions, even though only in embryo, for your infant 
 daughter, and the son of Lord Montague Montault ; 
 not but what I — " Agatha stopped, and Jessy ex- 
 claimed — 
 
 " Hold, Lady Agatha, and do not forget the immea- 
 surable distance there would be between a daughter of 
 mine and a son of your ladyship's ; for heaven's sake 
 repress such a thought, for Lord Montague's sake and 
 your own ; and believe not that I am so presumptu- 
 ously vain, as to raise hopes so fallacious, or expecta- 
 tions so visionary for my child, who, if it pleases Pro- 
 vidence that she should arrive at womanhood, will be 
 taught to know her station better, than to encourage 
 hopes which never can be realized. No, dearest Aga- 
 tha, Matilda and Lord Orlando must never meet, or be 
 thrown into each others way promiscuously. My child 
 must never be the victim of disappointed passion and 
 misplaced attachment of the heart ; from such a fate 
 avert my darling girl." 
 
 " Come, Jessy, you are now growing too serious on 
 a subject on which I was only jesting," cried Agatha; 
 " I was only thinking of the two little creatures as 
 likely to become playmates, not lovers." 
 
 ^' But it would be no jest, if it were to prove other- 
 wise at a more ripened age," uttered Jessy, her lovely
 
 complexion paling at the bare apprehension of such a 
 thought. ** Agatha, dear Agatha ! never mention this 
 subject again so lightly, I beseech you. There is ter- 
 ror in the veiy sound of ill requited love, and apostasy 
 of lover's vows ; you know there is, and you also know 
 how deeply my heart has bled for it. The name of my 
 cousin Craftly is still remembered in the memory of 
 her he so treacherously deceived, and makes a mother 
 tremble for her child." 
 
 '' Dearest Jessy, pray forgive me if I have, uninten- 
 tionally heaven knows, wounded your feelings," ex- 
 claimed Agatha, most affectionately embracing Jessy 
 as she was about to depart. " I meant not to recall 
 such painful recollections to your mind, but a mere 
 badinage on our two little moppets, who are yet too 
 young to incur the danger you apprehend so seriously. 
 It will be time enough to talk of these fears, and 
 cherish these thoughts some ten years hence, but now 
 it is really very silly of you, dearest Jessy." 
 
 Jessy pressed the lovely hand that was extended to- 
 wards her in silence, and quickly recovering her self- 
 possession, kindly bade her adieu, Agatha promising her 
 that she would call on her again the day after the wed- 
 ding. " For I have a commission of some moment to 
 entrust you with a charge of, Jessy ; you only can dis- 
 charge that faithfully to the wishes of your friend. 
 Adieu ma chere amie .'*' 
 
 On her return home, to her utter surprise she be- 
 held Wolf in earnest conversation with Lord Monta 
 gue and her father, the latter of whom held a volume 
 in his hand of a young author, the composition of whose 
 works he was discanting on with great force and energy. 
 
 b\7 3 D
 
 394 THE fisher's daughter. 
 
 He had died in the full bloom of youth, and before his 
 lively and animated genius was half expanded. 
 
 " I do not altogether admire his Works," uttered his 
 Grace, " although Wolf you seem to have quoted him 
 as an example of sublime poetry, of which he never 
 possessed a particle." 
 
 " I pray your Grace to pardon me," uttered Wolf. 
 " You cannot for a moment imagine that I should pre- 
 sumptuously wage war with your Grace's opinion on 
 that subject ; T only speak of the poem which so par- 
 ticularly attracted my attention, as being figuratively 
 poetical ; a meed which envy would hardly deny to 
 the lamented son of genius, and that is, your Grace, 
 the poem which comes under the title of the Ring, or 
 more properly speaking. The Wedding Day." 
 
 " Ah 1" cried his Grace; " the wedding day! egad 
 it is a case in point, for to-morrow is the wedding day 
 of an object in whom we shall all take the most lively 
 interest. Suppose you read that poem to us while 
 Montague and 1 are drinking our wine, after which I 
 will give you my opinion on the style of composition, 
 which is so avowedly the theme of your admiration. 
 
 Wolf took the volume presented to him by the hand 
 of his patron, and bowing respectfully, in a clear and 
 melodious voice, read aloud the following, entitled The 
 Ring, from the muse of his favourite bard, to which 
 his Grace and Lord Montague listened with profound 
 attention.
 
 THK fishkr's daughter. 398 
 
 The Ring, or Wedding Day* 
 
 The happy day at length arrived 
 
 Wheu Rupert was to wed 
 The fairest maid in Saxony, 
 
 And take her to his bed. 
 
 As soon as morn was in the sky, 
 
 The feasts and sports began, 
 The men admired the happy maid. 
 
 The maids the happy man. 
 
 In many a sweet device of mirth, 
 
 The day was pass'd along, 
 And some the featly dance amused, 
 
 And some the dulcet song. 
 
 The younger maids with Isabel 
 
 Disported through the bowers, 
 And deck'd her robe, and crown'd her beady 
 
 With motley bridal flowers 
 
 The matrons all in rich attire. 
 
 Within the castle walls. 
 Sat listening to the choral strains 
 
 That echoed through the halls. 
 
 Young Rupert and his friends appear'd, 
 
 And nothing could he find. 
 But to the castle did return 
 
 With sore bewilder'd mind. 
 
 Within he found them all in mirth. 
 
 The night in dancing flew j 
 The youth another ring procured. 
 
 And none the adventure knew. 
 
 And now the priest has join'd their hand* 
 
 The hours of love advance, 
 Rupert almost forgets to think 
 
 Upon the mcM'u's mischance.
 
 3y6 THE fisher's daughtsr. 
 
 CHAPITER XVIII. 
 
 •- If I am traduced by tongues, 
 
 Which neither know my faculties or power. 
 
 Yet will be the chronicle of my undoing, 
 
 Let me say, 'tis but the fate of place, 
 
 And the rough brake 
 
 That virtue must go through." Suakkspeare. 
 
 A LIGHT step aud a gentle rap at the door of tlie 
 apartment announced a visitor to the reading party, 
 who, however, received an agreeable interruption, by 
 the unexpected entrance of the Lady Agatha, whose 
 lovely presence rose-tinted the cheeks of poor Wolf, 
 and, most unfortunately for him, he betrayed an agi- 
 tation which he would have found it difficult to conceal 
 from the observation of Lord Montague, if his Grace 
 had not bid him postpone the reading of the poem to 
 some future opportunity ; for his voice, which but a mo- 
 ment before was firm and energetic, would inevitably 
 have altered the tenor for which it was remarkable, from 
 the faultering manner in which he replied to Lady 
 Agatha's " How d'ye do. Wolf?" with—- 
 
 '* I hope I have the honour of seeing your ladyship 
 well." 
 
 *' I fear, my dear, Montague, I have interrupted
 
 THE fisher's daughter. 397 
 
 business/' uttered Agatha, after having answered the 
 enquiry of Wolf, in a tone of peculiar kindness. 
 " Wolf was reading, when I came in, something inter- 
 esting, I presume; pray do not let him discontinue it 
 on my account, for I must positively vanish in less 
 than ten minutes, to fulfil a very particular engagement 
 I have made without your permission, my dear lord. It 
 is now exactly six, and I have ordered the carriage pre- 
 cisely at seven; I have therefore only just time to dress." 
 
 " But may I enquire where your ladyship is going?" 
 cried Lord Montague, and smiled, perceiving that she 
 was only having a little badinage with him ; " if I 
 n)ay be allowed to adopt so unfashionable a habit, as 
 to make an enquiry so contrary to the etiquette of the 
 modern man and wife, in order that I may join your 
 party some time in the evening, and conduct you safe 
 home again." 
 
 To which Agatha, with an air of the most fascinating 
 sweetness, and directing an arch look towards his 
 Grace, replied — 
 
 " 1 believe his Grace can inform you, my lord, of 
 the particular nature of my engagement this evening, 
 for he was present when it was made, and is, if I mis- 
 take not, one of the invited guests on the occasion." 
 
 ** Indeed !" cried Lord Montague, highly pleased 
 with this intelligence ; " I have then some idea of 
 where you are going, my love, and shall enquire no 
 further." 
 
 *' Yes, you will certainly hear of me at the Castle of 
 Montault," cried Agatha, as she arose to quit the 
 apartment to retire to her dressing room, where her 
 attendant Beda was already waiting for her; and she
 
 398 THE fishbr's daughter. 
 
 enqqired what her lovely mistress intended to wear for 
 the evening party at the Marchioness's. 
 
 " Which, 1 dare say will be excessively crowded, 
 your ladyship," cried Beda, ** because it is the last 
 time that Lady Lavinia will appear in public before she 
 is married to Lord Winstone, they do say. Well, I 
 wish them happy ; every body should be happy when 
 they marry, should'nt they, my lady ?" 
 
 " Yes, and after they marry too, Beda, or they had 
 better never marry at all," uttered Agatha, whose fond- 
 ness for her little merry waiting maid in the ruins of 
 the Old Abbey had never been diminished, since she 
 had taken her under her own protection ; and although 
 greatly improved in the prettiness of her person, man- 
 ners, and conversation, the genuine simplicity of Beda's 
 character still remained. What she thought she gene- 
 rally uttered in the same moment, and with the same in- 
 nocence and purity of heart, and that heart was faith- 
 fully attached to her lovely mistress, who certainly in- 
 dulged Beda with a privilege which none but Claribelle 
 had ever enjoyed, that of being always near her person, 
 and holding unreserved conversation with her. Agatha 
 looked on the daughter of Michello as a child of nature, 
 simplicity, and feeliljg, and as she grew more ripened 
 in years, and mature in judgment, she became more at- 
 tached to her little favourite than ever, who being in a 
 talkative mood, while she assisted at the toilet of her 
 mistress, continued to make her remarks and observa- 
 tions just as she thought proper, without receiving the 
 slightest check from her beautiful auditor. 
 
 \h ! you are right my dear lady," exclaimed she; 
 
 it is a great pity for people to niany that don't love
 
 THB fisher's daughter. 399 
 
 one another, and I will never marry wlierc my hand 
 and my heart does not go into the hargain ; hut some- 
 times, my lady, the heart goes first, and the hand won't 
 follow it." 
 
 Beda both blushed and sighed deeply as she made 
 this remark, and Agatha, somewhat surprised at the 
 confusion she exhibited, immediately replied — 
 
 *' Yes, when affections are improperly bestowed, im- 
 |>ediments are very justly thrown in the way, to frus- 
 trate designs that may neither be strictly honourable, 
 or strictly creditable to the feelings ; but we will con- 
 verse on this subject, Beda, when you are some years 
 older; you are at present too young to talk about en- 
 gagements of the heart or the hand. My dear child 
 they will come fast enough, and with them cares innu- 
 merable.'* 
 
 The roseate colour which always bloomed on the 
 face of Beda had gradually paled to the conclusion of 
 Agatha's speech, and a tremulous agitation possessed 
 her vvhole frame ; tears started to her eyes, and her 
 lovely mistress, deeply concerned at such unusual 
 symptoms, exclaimed — 
 
 " For heaven's sake, wherefore this agitation, my 
 dear girl ? What is the cause of it, tell me troly ?'* 
 
 *^ First tell me, dear lady, whether it be a crime to 
 love one that don't love you again, and never may ?'* 
 uttered Beda, in the most confused accents. 
 
 " It is a great misfortune," answered Agatha, '^but 
 it depends upon the peculiarity of circumstances to call 
 it a crime ; but I must insist upon } ou, Beda, to explain 
 yourself more explicitly." 
 
 *^ And so I will, dear lady, if you will not chide poor
 
 400 THE fisher's daughter. 
 
 Beda for her folly. But no, you will not, when you 
 know the truth of it; you are so kind and so gentle, 
 that I do not fear to tell you, lady." 
 
 *' Folly ?" uttered Agatha, now altering both her 
 countenance and her manner towards her; and in a 
 voice of severe reprehension. " And do you then un- 
 hlushingly own that you have been guilty of folly, and 
 imagine that you are to escape from my severity 
 Beda ? You are under a mistake if you suppose that 
 I am quite so pliant to your faults. Come, dry 
 those tears, which will have no avail, if you do no ; 
 instantly give me a very proper and conclusive expla- 
 nation of the cause of your present agitation ; when I 
 know that, I shall be able to know whether you deserve 
 my severity or not." 
 
 Poor Beda, wholly unprepared for this change in her 
 lovely mistress, from whom she had never experienced 
 but the most gentle treatment, could scarcely sob out her 
 little short detail of the secret which had burned so long 
 in her youthful bosom, which was interrupted with many 
 sighs and tears, and proved nothing more nor less 
 than a confession of a strong attachment for the young 
 Wolf, which she protested he was a total stranger to, 
 never having spoken familiarly to him since he was in 
 the ruins of the Old Abbey ; and that she had tried all 
 manner of means to prevent the ascendancy he held 
 over her heart, but all her efforts had proved ineffec 
 tual, insomuch that when she heard from Mr. Law- 
 rence, as she did last night, that Mr. Wolf was going 
 to take his departure for India, she had wept all 
 night at the thoughts of it, in the fear that she might 
 never behold him again.
 
 THE fisher's daughter 401 
 
 " And this is all I have got to tell yuu, n)y lady, about 
 my conduct ; and indeed it is all true, that love comes 
 and goes whenever it pleases, and will not stay to be 
 asked. Indeed, indeed, 1 cojld not help loving Mr. 
 Wolf, but 1 am very sure he don't love me." 
 
 There was a sort of expression in the look which 
 Beda now directed towards her beauteous lady, that, 
 without her being conscious of it, spread a crinjson 
 hue over her face and bosom, the nature of which Aga- 
 tha could not herself have defmed, even if she had been 
 asked the question. But this had nothing to do with 
 Beda's artless and ingenuous confession of her passion 
 for Wolf, which, though it required an immediate check 
 and gentle remonstrance, yet was neither criminal or im- 
 prudent ; as it was by no means an unnatural or impro- 
 bable circumstance, that so handsome a young man as 
 Wolf unquestionably was, should have attracted the 
 attention, and even excited the admiration of such a 
 girl as Beda, who, viewing him in the humble situation 
 in which he then appeared, imagined that his quality 
 and his birth were no more exalted than her own. 
 
 It was therefore not very unlikely that Beda did not 
 believe he was superior to her in any one respect, or that 
 it was imprudent to own that she entertained a parti- 
 ality to the young wandering stranger, whom she con- 
 sidered only as a vassal in the establishment of her 
 illustrious master ; and she frequently wondered that 
 he kept himself so much aloof from forming any inti- 
 macy with the higher order of the domestics in Lord 
 Montague's noble mansion, whose authority was far 
 greater than his had ever been. But Wolf had too 
 nnuch pride to form any such connections ; and though 
 
 c 17 3 E
 
 402 THK fisher's daughter. 
 
 beheld by all the females with a too partial eye of 
 favour, he sedulously avoided any attentions from them 
 which at all approached to familiarity, and conse- 
 quently forced from them that respect which was due 
 to the rank of a superior. Alfred had preserved the 
 same system of conduct, and it was probable that Al- 
 fred knew that he was so, and therefore they never at- 
 tempted at taking the slightest liberties with him, 
 more than what good manners allowed. 
 
 Unconscious, however, of the passion which he had 
 inspired in the breast of the youthful Beda, who was 
 really a very pretty and attractive female, Wolf relaxed 
 much from his haughty demeanour whenever chance or 
 opportunity threw her in his way ; but the favour she 
 gained in his eyes was only because he knev*^ her to be 
 a favourite of the Lady Agatha's ; and the scenes to 
 which she had been familiar in the Old Abbey, made 
 him, under every severity he had suffered there, con- 
 verse with her more unreservedly than with the rest of 
 the female establishment. It is true that Wolf had 
 often seen Beda blush, and heard Beda sigh, but not a 
 whisper of vanity suggested to him that either the 
 blush or the sigh were expressed for him ; in short, he 
 would proudly have repelled such a thought, had any 
 one presumed to have laid it to his account; for he 
 was so utterly involved in one passion alone that form- 
 ed the light of his existence, that he would have been 
 cold to the charms of a Venus de Medicis, had they so 
 been offered for his acceptance. 
 
 Love, however, they say, has eyes when all other 
 eyes are shut, and they are those of the watchful lynx; 
 and Beda was not blind, she had seen Wolf's colour
 
 THE fisher's daughter. 403 
 
 change alternately from red to pale, at the very men- 
 tion of the Lady Agatha, and that in her presence he 
 always wore an air of embarrassment, though of admi- 
 ration, very difficult to be held within bounds. His 
 uncommon, nay almost idolizing fondness for the 
 young Orlando, that was the very image of its beau- 
 teous mother, also made the little alert Beda ever 
 watchful, while she in her bosom cherished a passion 
 so strong and ardent for an object so perfectly uncon- 
 scious of the flame with which that bosom burned, and 
 whose advances towards her were so utterly cold and 
 indifferent. But poor Beda never revealed to mortal 
 what were her secret thoughts, or her secret passion 
 for young Wolf, till she was convinced that that 
 passion was completely hopeless; for Beda was no 
 longer a stranger to where her idol would have paid 
 his vows, had he dared, or had he been permitted to 
 have bowed at her shrine. It was the daughter of 
 Braganza, her young and lovely mistress, who had first 
 taught his heart to love, and he could not hide it in 
 spite of the firmest resolution he could adopt. For one 
 morning soon after the recent confinement of the Lady 
 Agatha, she was suddenly seized with faintness in the 
 nursery, with her beauteous babe on her lap, when 
 no other witnesses were present but Beda and Wolf, 
 (the attendant nurse having just quitted the apartment 
 on some domestic occupation,) when young Wolf sprang 
 forward to her assistance, snatched the infant from her 
 feeble grasp, and resigning it to the care of Beda, bore 
 his beauteous burthen into the open air, sprinkled wa- 
 ter on her face, and by every other restorative, very 
 soon had the satisfaction of seeing her raised to a state
 
 404 THE fisher's daughter. 
 
 of sensibility, betraying such emotions, that no art 
 could conceal what anxiety he had endured during 
 the interval of her so sudden indisposition. Not that a 
 sentence had escaped the lips of Wolf to express that 
 anxiety; he was profoundly silent, while in his arms 
 he bore the lovely form of the Lady Agatha; but his 
 looks conveyed whole volumes which he dared not 
 give utterance to. Beda had not quitted the chamber, 
 and from this incident, marked with some others, she 
 soon guessed at the idol of young Wolf's secret adora- 
 tion ; it was the transcendant charms of her beauteous 
 lady that had inspired the heart of Wolf with love as 
 hopeless as unconquerable ; but never to mortal ear 
 had Beda whispered that such was her conjecture, and 
 it was probable that on her own part she would never 
 have told her love, 
 
 " But let concealment, like a worm in the bud. 
 Feed on her damask cheek," 
 
 if the thoughts of never more beholding the object of 
 her affections had not wrung the confession from her 
 panting heart. 
 
 But what the sensations of the Lady Agatha were on 
 the disclosure of that passion from the lips of the art- 
 less girl, it was hardly possible to define, as her beau- 
 tiful countenance underwent many variations, both of 
 colour and of expression, while she told her plain un- 
 varnished tale to the confiding ear of her gentle mis- 
 tress, who, however, after an interval of silence for 
 some moments, thus calmly and collectedly addressed 
 the trembling girl, who was almost sinking with shame 
 and confusion at her feet.
 
 THE fisher's DAL'GHTER. 405 
 
 . ^* Rise Bcda, and endeavour to compose yourself! 
 1 desire you to listen to me in that manner which 
 it is your duty to do to your protectress, and which I, 
 being your proteclrc^^s, feel it my duty to require of 
 you : for the affections of the heart, as far as they are 
 consistent with female delicacy and virtue, I admit 
 every reasonable [>iea, for they are involuntary, and few 
 are possessed of suflficient fortitude to withstand a 
 temptation so formidable, or resist a weakness so as- 
 sailing to youtliful aiid inexperienced minds. Your 
 confession is ingenuous, but that is the only part of it 
 that i can view in a favourable light, or tolerate with 
 propriety; for you have shewn a preference for an ob- 
 ject who is by no means your equal, although you may 
 consider him so, and who having shewn none to you, 
 ought to have made you keep at a modest and retiring 
 distance, and not yield lo sensations, which at your 
 age are highly improper, and for your situation highly 
 j)resuming. The expectations of Wolf, united to the 
 education he has received, gives him a title to rank 
 with gentlemen, and not with my domestics ; and it is 
 extremely arrogant for a young girl in your humble 
 situation to suppose that he is to select you for the ob- 
 ject of his particular attentions ; if he did so w^ithout 
 the knowledge of his patron or Lord Montague, he 
 would have fallen under their severe displeasure, and 
 you. Beda, under mine. I beg therefore you w^ill learn 
 a more projier sense of decency and propriety, than 
 thus openly to express such violent attachments for 
 young men who profess none towards you, and who 
 would treat you with the most contemptuous scorn, 
 weie they to imagine that your affections were to be
 
 406 THE fisher's daughter. 
 
 so easily obtained. Women, Beda, are not to seek, 
 but to be sought ; they are not to pursue, but to be 
 pursued, as they are worthy of pursuit ; bear this al- 
 ways in mind, and when you are older, you will know 
 better than to give your heart away to one who is in- 
 sensible of the gift. Wolf will depart for India shortly; 
 in the meantime you must think no more of him than 
 as one far above your station ; and remember that I will 
 not repeat this command, I expect to be obeyed with- 
 out a murmur from your lips, or a comment being 
 made on the severity your folly has extorted from me. 
 No tears 1 shed them in silence and contrition, and re- 
 tire and reflect on the admonition I have given you; at 
 a future time you will thank me for it." 
 
 Beda was heartily glad of leaving the presence of 
 her offended lady in silence, and in obedience to 
 her command, determined that she would never fall in 
 love with any young man again, if it was to cost her 
 existence. 
 
 In the meanwhile Agatha chastised herself for being 
 so severe to her little favourite, for a failing so natural 
 at her youthful age, and what so many older, and even 
 wiser heads than Beda's could scarcely have resisted. 
 She resolved, however, ever after this discovery to have 
 a vigilant eye over her conduct, in order that she might 
 form no imprudent connection, without her being fully 
 aware of who the object was ; for the father of this 
 
 , she reflected, was an Italian, and that Italian was 
 Paulo Michello ; some of his propensities of disposition 
 might be hereditary in his daughter, and if so, now was 
 ihe time to turn the current to another source. But 
 how highly did she think of Wolf ! If vanity he had not.
 
 THE fisher's daughter. 407 
 
 he had certainly discernment, and he must have per- 
 ceived the impression he had made on the heart of the 
 youthful Beda; yet he prudently avoided all familiarity 
 with so seducing an object, even when she courted his 
 attention. 
 
 More grave than usual, after having snatched a kiss 
 of her beauteous boy, Agatha, elegantly but simply at- 
 tired, joined her father and husband in the drawing 
 room, and from thence, escorted by his Grace, she de- 
 scended to her carriage, which instantly proceeded to 
 the Castle of Montault, Lord Montague having pro- 
 mised to join her there in the course of the evening. 
 
 The Marquis met his august brother and his lovely 
 daughter-in-law at the grand entrance, and led her in 
 triumph to the rooms, which were most brilliantly at- 
 tended by a numerous and elegant assemblage of fa- 
 shionable guests. The heat was intense, notwith- 
 standing a beautiful veranda that was laid open with 
 the most fragrant and odoriferous flowers of the 
 choicest collection. 
 
 " How divinely handsome Lady Montault looks to- 
 night," uttered a fashionable Baronet, in a whisper to 
 his companion. In answer to which he replied — 
 
 " Yes, and what is really wonderful, she is without 
 her Cerberus to guard her. He is cursedly jealous of 
 his pretty wife; have you heard that, Balfour?" 
 
 *^ And a cursed fool into the bargain," cried Balfour, 
 " to imagine that no man will dare to feast his eyes on 
 her besides himself. For my part I am of opinion that 
 every pretty woman is fair game, and it is robbing her 
 of her prerogative not to stare her out of countenance." 
 
 " So I think, my boy, and would instantly adopt
 
 408 THE fisher's daughter. 
 
 your persuasion/' uttered he, " if there was not an 
 old dragon sitting beside her. Egad, there's no Hes- 
 perian fruit to be tasted there, without paying too 
 dearly by the tax that is imposed on rt." 
 
 A loud unmeaning laugh from Sir Harry, assentea 
 to his friend's remark, without either of them having 
 the temerity to approach the lovely magnet, whose 
 superior beauty and graceful modesty had attracted al» 
 eyes towards her. 
 
 Both the Marchioness and Lady Lavinia were under 
 the influence of the most exhilarating spirits, and both 
 exhibited the most s[)lendid attire, with a profusion of 
 diamonds, none of which could, with all their dazzling 
 brightness, rival those unrivalled charms in their young 
 and lovely relative, who was the theme and admiration 
 of every tongue, and the delight of every eye. 
 
 Lord Winstone too, frequently caught himself in the 
 act of directing his eyes to where the lovely wife of 
 Lord Montague sat, which was between his Grace and 
 the Marquis of Montault, with whom she was convers- 
 ing so earnestly, that she did not perceive that she had 
 excited the attention of almost all present, save alone 
 the Marchioness, and her daughter, who was so envious 
 of the superior loveliness of her sister-in-law, and the 
 frequent glances of Lord Winstone, that she betrayed 
 no small show of vexation, and several times answered 
 him with petulant warmth. 
 
 ^' I have addressed you three times, my lord," utter- 
 ed she, reddening like scarlet ; " but you are really so 
 employed in observing the party opposite to you, that 
 you have no ears or eyes for any body else." 
 
 The accusation of her ladyship was certainly not
 
 THE FISHER*S DAUGHTER. 409 
 
 without some truth, and crimsoned the cheek of Lord 
 Winstone with a sense of confusion he could not con- 
 ceal. To appease his little offended beauty, therefore, 
 he whispered with an air of the most insinuating soft- 
 ness, well calculated to disperse the dark cloud that 
 had been for some time gathering on her brow — 
 
 " And will my adored Lavinia accuse me of inatten 
 tion towards her, when like a stationary planet I am 
 always beside her? I was certainly looking at the op- 
 posite party, but not at the object to whom your allu- 
 sion points. It was not Lady Montault that so particu- 
 larly attracted my attention, but a remarkable splendid 
 snuff-Dox which his Grace the Duke of Braganza has 
 been exhibiting this half hour; and to convince my 
 Lavinia how unwilling 1 was to abandon the station I 
 hold, 1 would not resign it even for a moment, to go 
 over to your uncle to examine his curious box. Are 
 you satisfied now, my angel ?" 
 
 Who would not have been satisfied v>^ith such an 
 epithet from the lips of the man she adored ? And a 
 smile of reconciliation again played on the roseate lips 
 of Lady Lavinia, to the inexpressible delight of Lord 
 Winstone, who certainly had not the slightest inten- 
 tion of offending her, or becoming an apostate to the 
 shrine at which be was paying his vows, and was so 
 shortly to call his own. 
 
 But was his lordship ingenuous in the way he had 
 accounted for his truant looks ? Not perfectly so, we 
 believe, but Lady Lavinia thought so, and that was 
 sufficient ; and in spite of her reluctance to quit the 
 side of her lover, good manners and etiquette obliged 
 her to pay some respect to the daughter of Braganza, 
 
 a 18 3f
 
 410 THE fisher's daughter. 
 
 and her august uncle; thetefore approaching Agatha 
 with a smiHng air, she exclaimed — 
 
 " My love, are you a widow bewitched to-night, or 
 a deserted wife, that Montague is not with you ?'* 
 
 " In neither of those characters, thank heaven !" 
 cried Agatha, in a tone of gravity which reddened the 
 cheek of her fashionable sister-in-law. " Your brother 
 had an engagement with the surveyor of one of his es- 
 tates so indispensably necessary, that he could not at- 
 tend me hither, but 1 expect him to join us in the 
 course of the evening." 
 
 " But, my dear creature, how do you like my dia- 
 monds? are they not prodigiously beautiful?" ex- 
 claimed her ladyship, perceiving that Agatha had paid 
 no attention to them. "A gift of Winstone's, I assure 
 you. How generous! is*nt he?" To which Agatha 
 replied, half smiling. 
 
 " If he is not generous now, when do you expect 
 him to be ? They are very splendid, but I would have 
 preferred exhibiting them on a certain occasion, my 
 dear Lavinia." 
 
 " Lord, my dear, I had no patience ; I was abso- 
 lutely dying to wear them long ago, if mamma would 
 have permitted me ; but T coaxed her to night, because 
 I knew what envy they would excite in all the old 
 tabbies, who have so many daughters to whom they 
 cannot give such splendid gifts. Twig the old Dowa- 
 ger, how maliciously she eyes me, with that frump of 
 a niece of her's, the daughter of a Scotch baronet, who 
 nas brought all her fortune to town with her ii a white 
 '^jocket handkerchief; and is so excessively proud of 
 iicr high descent from the clan of the Macgreggors, and
 
 THE fisher's daughter. 411 
 
 the Campbells, and the Glenburnics, and the Allans, 
 and the Ramseys, and half a dozen more Macs and 
 Glens besides, that she imagines, with her carroty 
 locks, goggle eyes, and high cheek bones, she is to 
 exhibit a coronet, by making a conquest of some of 
 the flower of our English nobility. What arrogance ! 
 but I would advise the old Dowager to take Miss 
 Moggy Macgreggor back to the Scotch mountains 
 again, till coronets are more plentiful, and young 
 lords more come-at-able than they are at the present 
 season of an overstocked market of such Caledonian 
 exotics." 
 
 Her ladyship at the conclusion of this very delicate 
 and charitable speech laughed so immoderately, that 
 Agatha, who had no inclination either to laugh at, or 
 join her in remarks so excessively illiberal, blushed 
 deeply, in the apprehension that the party on whom 
 she had exercised such unmerciful severity, and who 
 sat with her aunt, the Dowager of Duncan non, at no 
 great distance from them, might have overheard her 
 ladyship; and gently twitching her by the arm^ ex- 
 claimed — 
 
 " For heaven's sake, Lady Lavinia, restrain this im- 
 moderate mirth, and do not sport with the feelings of 
 objects, who cannot, if they hear you, help being 
 wounded by your remarks. Surely the want of fortune 
 ought not to draw upon us either contempt or ridicule 
 from those who are wealthy, and who are so frequently 
 unworthy of the blessings that wealth bestows. Be- 
 sides, my dear, they are the guests of your father, an' 
 invited by him to partake of the pleasures of the ban* 
 quet. In this instance, bv offering an insult to theil
 
 412 THB FISHER*S DAUGHTER. 
 
 feelings, you are transgressing what ought ever to be 
 held sacred.'* 
 
 " And what is that, my pretty grave sentimental 
 sister?" demanded her ladyship, in no way affected 
 by the observation ; but to which Agatha sharply re- 
 plied — 
 
 " The rights of hospitality, my love, which neither 
 rank, station, or exalted birth, should ever forget." 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 ** I have no local attachments ; it is indifFerent to me whether a man 
 was rocked in his cradle on this or that side the Tweed ; I have 
 sought for merit where it was to be found." Lord Chatham. 
 
 Whether the objects on whom Lady Lavinia had 
 so improperly exercised her sarcastic pleasantry had 
 overheard any part of it, or whether they felt themselves 
 pointedly neglected by the fashionable hostess of this 
 superb and elegant mansion, who had never once spok- 
 en to them but on their first entrance to the rooms, 
 cannot be enquired into at the present nfioment; but it 
 is certain that the amiable Dowager and the lovely 
 Caledonian, Miss Moggy Macgreggor, very suddenly
 
 THE fisher's DAUGHTtli. 413 
 
 disappeared from among the motley group, with evident 
 chagrin and disappointment portrayed in their coun- 
 tenances. 
 
 In the meanwhile the Marchioness had been flying 
 about in all directions, to exhibit the blaze of diamonds 
 she wore in her turban cap, and to talk of the ap- 
 proaching nuptials of her daughter with Lord Win- 
 stone, while actually neglecting to pay her duty to 
 those guests which her husband had invited on this 
 splendid occasion. 
 
 A nod, with a sort of a half forced smile, and a " how 
 d'ye do child ?" was all the conversation that passed 
 between Agatha and her mother-in-law ; but that was 
 quite sufficient, for she never felt so completely dis- 
 gusted as she did this evening, with the manners of this 
 haughty, proud, and suuercillious relation, who thought 
 everybody inferior to her, at the same moment that she 
 was lessening herself in the eyes of those very inferiors 
 that she considered so unworthy of her, but who actu- 
 ally considered her unworthy of them. 
 
 It was late before Lord Montague arrived ; he had 
 some conversation on trifling subjects with his mother, 
 and rallied his sister on its being the last time he 
 should address her as Lady Lavinia Montault ; after 
 which he stole to the side of his lovely wife, who was 
 tonversing with several ladies of distinction around her, 
 and avoiding any particular attentions from the opposite 
 sex with the most retiring and modest diffidence, and 
 who hailed the approach of her husband with a love- 
 beaming eye, and a smile of the most resistless fasci- 
 nation. 
 
 " ' have thought ycu so long, my dear lord," uttered
 
 414 THE FISHER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 Agatha; but she was not ridiculous enough to pay 
 this compliment to her husband loud enough to be 
 overheard by any other personage there present ; and 
 Lord Montague responded in the same gentle whisper — 
 
 " And have you indeed, my Agatha, surrounded by 
 this gay and splendid scene, felt so much anxiety for 
 the conversation of your husband ?" 
 
 ^' Can you doubt it, when I tell you that I am weary 
 of the scenes which you imagine possess such charms 
 for me, and would much rather prefer your society by 
 our own domestic fire-side at home, than all the gaiety 
 and splendour in the world, deprived of the company 
 of my husband ?'* cried Agatha. 
 
 For shame, Lord Montague ! how could you possi- 
 bly thi-nk of squeezing the hand of your wife in a room 
 full of company, with all eyes staring at you and her^ 
 and probably laughing at you both, for being so un^ 
 fashionable a married pair 1 
 
 However, Lord Montague certainly did squeeze the 
 hand of his wife, in reply to the kind and flattering 
 speech she had addressed to him, in despite of the re- 
 dicule which was attached to it ; and Agatha was heart- 
 ily glad when the hour of departure arrived, and her 
 carriage was called to convey her to her quiet habita- 
 tion at Violet Vale. In a few days from this period. 
 Lady Lavinia gave her hand to Lord Winstone, and be- 
 haved like all brides generally do on such occasions. 
 
 The solemnization of the nuptials was splendid in 
 the extreme, and the liberality of the bridegroom, in 
 dispensing charitable donations to the poor in the 
 neighbourhood of Cromer and the adjacent villages, 
 was the universal theme of praise. 
 
 1
 
 THE FISHERS DAUGHTER. 415 
 
 The happy pair, as soon as the ceremony was over, 
 after partaking of a most sumptuous entertainment at 
 the Castle of Montault, retired to his lordship's most 
 elegant seat at Winstone Park, where, drawing the bridal 
 curtains close around them, we shall leave them, and 
 wmg our flight to Violet Vale, from which Wolf in a 
 very few days was to take his final departure ; all his 
 necessaries being already embarked, there remained no- 
 thing more than a mandate from the captain to inform 
 his Grace what day the ship sailed. 
 
 Whatever were the internal feelings of Wolf on this 
 occasion, they were manfully and vigorously suppressed 
 in the presence of those objects in whose judgment he 
 did not wish to lessen himself. He was going to a 
 post of honour, and he was to exalt himself by his 
 actions ; they depended on his conduct alone, and he 
 determined to exert every nerve and faculty he posses- 
 sed, to prove worthy of the protection of his august 
 patron. His Grace, on hearing the petition of poor 
 Lawrence not to be separated from his pupil, (which was 
 so urgent, and contained so affecting an appeal to his 
 feelings,) after a few hours consultation with Lord 
 Montague, very nobly and generously acceded to his 
 request ; finding that his affection for this youth was 
 on a basis not easily to be shaken, and that no sinister 
 motive of worldly interest was to be attached to the 
 resolution he had taken in accompanying him to a 
 foreign clime. 
 
 " And pray Lawrence," uttered his Grace, after hav- 
 ing taken into serious consideration the written appli- 
 cation he had made him, " what are your expectations 
 in this affair? Of course thev must be such as to make
 
 416 THE fisher's daughter. 
 
 you independent of the young man, for whom you feel 
 such extraordinary and deep interest; for from his 
 means you cannot gather your resources; he will be 
 provided for himself, but the provision made for him 
 cannot be extended to a second object ; he cannot af- 
 ford to keep you, if you cannot keep yourself, and this 
 is coming to the point at once, in order that you may 
 not deceive yourself hereafter. Wolf has no patri- 
 mony, save that which is given to him ; his fortune 
 must depend on his courage and his sword, and though 
 . do not think they will ever remain inactive in the 
 service of his sovereign and his country, yet a soldier's 
 laurels very seldom yield an abundant harvest, in com- 
 parison to the difficulty with which they have been 
 obtained. They are something like the poet's, scanty 
 enough ; I would have you therefore reflect on this 
 your so sudden resolution, before you accompany him 
 to a far distant clime, for you are to consider, Law- 
 rence, that while time is scattering roses on his youth- 
 ful brow, that it is also scattering snow on yours; he 
 can contend with danger and with difficulty which you 
 cannot. Moreover, he has not the means of offering 
 you an asylum from those difficulties, Lawrence. You 
 have now heard my sentiments on this subject, I shall 
 now be glad to hear your*s ; you may speak freely, and 
 without the shadow of an offence to me. I admire 
 your steady affection for this youth ; I do not deter you 
 from following your inclinations, I only wish to apprize 
 you of the difficulties and dangers to which, at your 
 sea-son of life, you will necessarily be exposed, if you 
 have nothing independent of his means to provide for 
 you."
 
 THB FISHER'« daughter. Ilj 
 
 A pause ensued, which certainly was not imme- 
 diately filled up by the tutor, who thought that some 
 part of his Grace's observations were, as far as respected 
 himself, indelicate and severe ; for he was not going to 
 seek a livelihood at his age of a poor unfriended boy, 
 who at best was but a dependant on his Grace's 
 bounty j he had never once hinted at such a thing in 
 the written application he had made to accompany 
 Wolf on the continent ; and having no self-interest at 
 all connected with the affection he felt for the youth, 
 he was deeply hurt at being suspected of it in the 
 slightest degree whatever; and wishing to exculpate 
 himself in the clearest manner possible from any such 
 imputation, he placed his hand on his heart, and ad- 
 dressed his Grace in the following explicit, and most 
 unquestionably creditable terms, which reflected the 
 highest honour both to his heart and his under- 
 standing. 
 
 " Your Grace, in the light you now look upon my 
 conduct, with the offer of my services to Mr. Wolf, has 
 not been made with your usual judgment, or, permit 
 me to say, your Grace would never have mistaken me 
 both for a fool and a rogue at the same time." 
 
 '* 1 did not take you for either, sir," uttered his Grace, 
 surprised at the extraordinary warmth which had 
 involuntarily spread itself all over his features. " Pray 
 have the goodness to explain yourself; why have I 
 taken you either for a rogue or a fool, tell me 
 why?" To which Lawrence slowly and deliberately 
 answered — 
 
 " Because your Grace is well aware that I should 
 have been a fool to have ventured on a hazardous voy- 
 
 -6 18 3c
 
 418 THE FISHER S DAUGHTER. 
 
 age to a far distant country with a young man who 
 had not more than the means of supporting himself, 
 and that I should have been the greatest scoundrel in 
 existence, to have lived meanly on the generosity of his 
 disposition. No, your Grace, I would scorn to do any 
 such thing, when I know myself to be a man of so dif- 
 ferent a persuasion, so different a principle. I love 
 Mr. Wolf for himself alone, and wish to calculate more 
 jn his happiness than my own, by taking this voyage 
 with him. I do not impoverish him, or wish to do so, 
 for I have saved a patrimony of my own by honest in- 
 dustry ; it is sufficient for my wants, which content 
 makes temperate, and more perhaps than I may re- 
 quire while a sojourner in this world's earthly space. I 
 am as a plant in the blasted heath, and when it pleases 
 Providence that I should fall to the ground, there is no 
 one to rise from my ashes, or to lament my departure. 
 Never to mortal has my heart yearned so greatly as to 
 this youth, and if I have singled him out among the 
 million for an old man's blessing, let not your Grace 
 call that folly, which seemeth only reason, and that 
 madness, which has been the effect of mature considera- 
 tion. Pardon me, your Grace, if 1 have spoken my 
 thoughts too freely ; but you bade me speak freely, 
 and I scorn to utter falsehoods." 
 
 Astonished and confounded by a retort he so little 
 expected, and ashamed of having borne down too hard- 
 ly on the feelings of the old gentleman, his Grace ex- 
 pressed his regret that so much had been said on either 
 side of the question, that he was fully aware of the 
 propriety of his conduct respecting his pupil, that his 
 attention to him during the progress of his studies was a
 
 THE FISHER*S DAUGHTER. 419 
 
 sufficient proof that he was an object of his rcijard, in 
 consequence of which he would be the last to impede 
 his wish of being Wolf's companion in his voyage to 
 India, well knowing that he would always have a friend 
 and adviser to consult with him, and whose experience 
 and judgment were so far superior to his own. In 
 short, his Grace was so highly pleased with the can- 
 dour and the good sense of Lawrence, that he conclud- 
 ed his conversation with him, by informing him that 
 he should undertake to pay all the expences of his 
 voyage, and other necessaries which were requisite for 
 the occasion. 
 
 " But I positively will receive no thanks at the pre- 
 sent moment/' uttered his Grace. '' Send your pupil 
 to me at an early hour in the morning.*' 
 
 Lawrence bowed profoundly, and retired, but his 
 heart was too full to obtain any refreshing slumber till 
 he had unburthened some of his thoughts to his young 
 favourite, whom he discovered in his chamber, in deep 
 and earnest conversation with his brother Alfred, whose 
 dejected countenance and spiritless manner but too 
 plainly bespoke what was passing in his heart, at the 
 thoughts of being separated from an object, in whom 
 at present were concentrated all his earthly affections. 
 
 And by way of consolation., Lawrence immediately 
 related the conversation he had been having with the 
 Duke of Braganza, and of his generous intentions to- 
 wards him, which account was highly satisfactory to 
 the feelings of Wolf. 
 
 " Ah ! would that it were possible I were admitted 
 a third companion in your voyage, dear Wolf," cried 
 Alfred, tears filling his bright and azure eyes, which
 
 420 THE fisher's daughter. 
 
 he seemed to have no power of suppressing, when he 
 reflected how soon the parting hour was drawing 
 near. 
 
 *' But my dear brother, though absent, shall we not 
 live in each other's affection and memory?" responded 
 Wolf, not wishing to yield to a weakness which would 
 presently disarm him of the fortitude that he was ac- 
 customed to possess on important occasions, in a man- 
 ner that proved how vigorous was his mind whenever 
 exertion called it forth. " We shall beside, correspond 
 daily too, and that will be a delightful occupation both 
 to you and me Alfred. What an interchange of thought 
 and sentiment shall we not have together! You will 
 tell me of your gradations as they rise or fall, and I in 
 return will give you shreds and patches of a soldier's 
 life. You mount the pulpit, and I carry a pair of co- 
 lours. Thus shall we both ascend the ladder of pre- 
 ferment, although in different ways. Then 
 
 * There's a sweet smiling cherub that sits up aloft.* 
 
 Don't you know the fisher's song, Alfred ? That che- 
 rub will take care of both our lives, till we behold each 
 other again." 
 
 '' There's little doubt of that, Mr. Wolf," uttered 
 Lawrence, much affected at the peculiar manner in 
 'yhich Wolf was endeavouring to animate the dejected 
 spirits of his brother, and to prepare him for their se- 
 paration. " While you so implicitly rely on the good- 
 ness of Providence for protection, it will never abandon 
 you to despair, you may depend upon it." 
 
 As Wolf had much to say to the gentle Jessy before 
 he went to take his last farewell of his former kind
 
 THE fisher's daughter. 421 
 
 protector, honest Peter, he took a walk to Mr. RusseKs 
 one evening by himself, and found Jessy alone, nursing 
 her little girl; he immediately informed her that he 
 should shortly set sail for India. 
 
 " Tis a long and perilous voyage, dear Wolf," ut- 
 tered Jessy, and sighed deeply, for Jessy was tender- 
 hearted, yet quickly recovering her self-possession, 
 *' but it is all for the best that you are going, all things 
 considered." 
 
 Jessy coloured, she did not mean to make choice of 
 this expression. And Wolf replied, in a tone that 
 seemed to come from the very recesses of his heart's 
 core : — 
 
 " Yes, all things considered, I think my voyage to 
 India, or to the antipodes, Jessy, preferable to staying 
 here ; any where rather than here ! — Oh God ! to wit- 
 ness — . Jessy — Jessy ! heed not what I say. It is 
 wrong, it is foolish, it is madness, folly 1 pray Jessy, 
 heed it not ; pray pardon me, we'll talk of other things. 
 How's your father ? Alas ! I once called him father, 
 and then I was happy ! O how happy ! those days 
 will never return, Jessy!" 
 
 There was a wildness both in the look and manner 
 of Wolf at this precise moment, which, though it 
 wrung her heart, Jessy by no means wished to encou- 
 rage ; and hastily dismissing the subject, she ex- 
 claimed — 
 
 " Dear Wolf, we should never count the days that 
 are gone by, you know, but always look forwards to 
 those which are to come, some of which may produce 
 as much happiness as those you regret so deeply the 
 loss of. I should not wish this girl, for instance, to
 
 422 TUB fisher's daughter. 
 
 remain always as she is now, yet I am very happy to 
 see her so sweetly engaging ; but in a few years she 
 will make me happier Wolf, so will your days that are 
 yet in the web of time, if you will be patient. Heaven 
 alone can tell what events may fill up the space of our 
 existence, and some of those may be both prosperous 
 and happy to you, dear Wolf; and why should they 
 not ? unless you encourage thoughts that — " 
 
 Here Jessy made a full stop again, much to the re- 
 lief of poor Wolf, who, after an apparent conflict with 
 some powerful feeling, which seemed to swell his proud 
 heart almost to burstmg, exclaimed — 
 
 " I will do nothing, dear Jessy, to reflect discredit 
 on my thoughts; but I cannot promise you that when 
 absent they will not stray to a recollection of objects so 
 dear and sacred to my memory, that I must cease to 
 exist ere they can be forgotten. I have one request to 
 make to you, dear Jessy ; perhaps it is a presumptuous 
 one, yet in pity do not deny it ; it may be the last I 
 shall ever live to make to Jessy; and refusing it to poor 
 unhappy Wolf, when she hears that he is numbered 
 with the dead, she will then reproach herself for hav- 
 ing been so unkind, in rejecting the only boon he ever 
 asked." 
 
 Jessy smiled, and extending her hand towards the 
 agitated Wolf, replied — 
 
 " You give me no opportunity of refusing or com- 
 plying with your request, whatever it be, if you will 
 not tell me the nature of it. Come name it, dear 
 Wolf, and be not thus agitated. Does it relate to an 
 object that I would not willingly offend, by consenting 
 to any proposal of yours that might be called impro-
 
 THE fisher's daughter. 423 
 
 per? tell me then, is Lady Montauit concerned in 
 the request you have to make to me?" 
 
 To which Wolf immediately replied, with his face 
 covered over virith the deepest blushes — 
 
 '' No, Jessy, Lady Montauit has no concern in it. 
 I am as tenacious of her name as you can possibly be, 
 believe me, and will not mention it again while I am 
 here ; it concerns yourself Jessy, yourself alone : and 
 it is, to hope that you will think there is no impro- 
 priety in my keeping up a correspondence with you, 
 and will not fail to answer my letters whenever I ad- 
 dress any to you ; promise me this, and you will make 
 me the happiest fellow in existence !" 
 
 After an interval of silence, Jessy gravely replied — 
 
 " If my corresponding with you, dear Wolf, can be 
 of the slightest service to you, or afford you the least 
 possible satisfaction, I will cheerfully comply with your 
 wishes, on one condition, and that I must stipulate for, 
 or otherwise, (though I should feel pain in refusing 
 you,) deny your request altogether, and that h, that 
 Samuel may be apprized of our correspondence, for 
 you cannot imagine that I would write to any one with- 
 out the knowledge and approbation of my husband ?" 
 
 " I do not expect it, dear Jessy," uttered Wolf, and 
 waiting for her final answer, which was given in the 
 affirmative, he expressed his sincere acknowledgment 
 for her willingness to oblige him in a point where 
 he felt his happiness so materially concerned; after 
 which, kissing the snowy forehead of Jessy's pretty babe, 
 he aflfectionately bade her farewell, till he should call 
 again for the last time,, at Herring Dale, to take 
 leave of Mr. Blust ; " and then 1 shall bring Alfred to
 
 424 THK fishkr's dalichter. 
 
 bear me company," rejoined Wolf, *^ Poor fellow he 
 grieves sadly because I am going to leave him.** 
 
 '* The dearest friends must part,*' answered Jessy; 
 *' and though absence may be compared to death, when 
 separated from those we love, yet we should never 
 murmur at His decrees, who is so much better able 
 to judge for us than we for ourselves. 
 
 Wolf then departed, but met the Fislier and Sam 
 Russel dismounting from their horses, (for tiiey had been 
 on business to Cromer,) at the gate, and he swore by 
 his topsails, that Wolf should go back with him and 
 Sam and take a bit of supper with them ; with which 
 solicitation Wolf felt obliged to comply, well knowing 
 that opposition to the imperative command of Peter 
 Blust, was as futile and unavailing as running against 
 the tide in the middle of the ocean. 
 
 He had no sooner vaulted out of his saddle, there- 
 fore, than he seized Wolf by the arm and lugged him 
 into the parlour, where the servant was just going, by 
 order of her mistress, to lay the cloth for supper. In 
 the meantime Jessy hearing the voice of her father, 
 immediately joined them, declaring he had done with 
 Wolf what her utmost entreaties could not, — prevail 
 upon him to stay and sup on a fine brace of ducks 
 which was then at the fire. 
 
 Peter chuckled and rubbed both his hands, which 
 was always the case when he was pleased ; besides, to 
 use his own phrase, he was nearly a sheet in the wind, 
 having dined with an old acquaintance of his in Cro- 
 mer, and he had as yet had nothing to put him out of hu- 
 mour; which misfortune, indeed, very rarely occurred 
 at the house of his son-in-law, whose sole study was
 
 THE FISHKR*S DAUGflTKR. 425 
 
 to pleavse him ; and from his lovely daughter he never 
 had an unkind or an ungentle word addressed to him 
 in the whole course of his existence, with Jessy there- 
 fore he never was offended. 
 
 '* No — no/* cried he, squatting himself down to 
 table without farther ceremony; " he knew it would'nt 
 do to gammon Peter Blust, and that if he did not turn 
 in and pick a bone with him, that he would never 
 speak to him so long as his name was Peter Blust." 
 
 The supper was now brought in, and Wolf, without 
 betraying the slightest hesitation to the fisher's positive 
 commands, sat down to partake of a repast, over which 
 the utmost good humour and harmony prevailed. 
 
 *' Well, how does my lord and my lady do, and the 
 young fry, and the old fry, and the devil's fry that do 
 live in the Castle of Montault ?" enquired Peter, now 
 beginning to fill his pipe, and to take his glass of grog. 
 " Be they all well and hearty ? and how's miss ? I 
 mean her ladyship, that's got that long thingembob 
 naufiC on the top of her stern, she that were married 
 t other day to the great lord ?" 
 
 " Lady Lavinia, the daughter of the Marquis of Mon- 
 tault, I presume you mean, sir, who is now the lady of 
 Lord Winstone," cried Wolf, who catching a smile 
 from Jessy, found it morally impossible to preserve his 
 gravity. And Peter, whose little predilection for lords 
 and ladies was too generally known to require any 
 comment, loudly vociferated — 
 
 " Well, lady or wife, shiver my topsails if I care a 
 rope's yarn whose wife she be, so long as she bean't a 
 wife of mine. None of your fine gentry for my money, 
 except it be my own dear little Agatha Singleton ; I 
 
 c 18 3h
 
 426 THE FISHER'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 should have had no objection to she, whether rich or 
 poor. But come lad, why dost thee not drink and be 
 merry ?'* 
 
 Wolf replenished his glass at the request of Mr. 
 Blust, who, instead of being one sheet in the wind, 
 was likely to get three before he took his departure 
 from the dwelling of his son-in-law; and as Peter's 
 company was really not very desirable when he had 
 been making such liberal libations to Bacchus, Wolf 
 was heartily rejoiced when he fell fast asleep at the 
 back of his chair with the pipe in his mouth; and 
 Jessy, after bidding Wolf good night, stole softly out 
 of the room, leaving Samuel to take care of her fa- 
 ther, and bestow him safely in the chamber in which 
 he usually slept when he was unable to return to Her- 
 ring Dale. Over Peter's frailty we must tread lightly, 
 for it was his only fault, and that only when his heart 
 was warmed by every generous sensation, so that a 
 worm would not have received the slightest injury 
 from him, unless it attempted to injure him. 
 
 Peter had strong prejudices and singularities, which 
 he never affected to disown : but let it be remarked, 
 that they were those which always induced him 
 to humanity, and to befriend and aid the unfortunate ; 
 and that education had done nothing to remove 
 those prejudices, for in this alone the fisher Blust was 
 deficient. The grosser particles therefore still remained 
 in the form in which they were first moulded, and 
 his conclusive opinion of men's minds, or their merits, 
 extended only to what was verbatim, right or wrong, 
 in all they did or said. His cradle had been rocked by 
 the rough waves of the ocean, and not more stormy
 
 THE fisher's daughter. 427 
 
 were his passions ; nature alone could calm them, and 
 when they were so, he was amenable to the softest 
 impressions. Refinement was entirely out of the ques- 
 tion ; he could only be refined by the feelings of nature, 
 which were so sensitive in this rough son of Neptune, 
 that when conscious of having really wounded the 
 feelings of a fellow creature, there was no humiliation 
 that he would not bend to in order to atone for it, and 
 to be once more restored to harmony and to peace 
 with them. 
 
 Alas ! can refinement teach us a better lesson ? or 
 polished education give us a higher sense of moral 
 duty to Christianity? It may indeed be conveyed 
 in a different language, but is it always as genuine 
 and sincere ? No, it is more frequently disguised, as 
 the wily serpent is, under a bed of grass, with flowers 
 scattered over its surface, the more certainly to deceive 
 those who credulously trust to its smiling appearance. 
 But in Peter Blust there was no disguise, and no art 
 lay concealed. 
 
 But to proceed. While the preparations were mak- 
 ing for Wolf's departure, and that of his tutor, for his 
 voyage to India, he had frequent opportunities of being 
 alone both with Lord Montague and his lovely wife, 
 on the former of whose mind all impressions of jea- 
 lousy respecting this young man were completely irra- 
 dicated, the extreme propriety of Wolf's conduct to- 
 wards Lady Montault, and her own irreproachable 
 purity of character, rendered it impossible for a doubt 
 to remain on his lordship's mind, that the slightest in- 
 discretion could pass between them -, and for the few 
 days previous to his embarkation, both Alfred and
 
 428 THE fisher's daughter. 
 
 Wolf were allowed to dine at the table with Lord 
 Viontague and the Lady Agatha, his Grace the Diikc 
 of Braganza being almost constantly a guest, and who 
 employed himself in giving such necessary hints and 
 instructions to the young adventurer, as he thought 
 'Expedient for one entering on the voyage of life ; which 
 were received by Wolf with such graceful modesty, 
 and unassuming, yet dignified deportment, as propor- 
 tionably to increase the high opinion which his Grace 
 had always entertained of his promising talents. 
 
 Some of these conversations were generally affecting, 
 they were even solemn, because it was probable that 
 the kind lips which breathed forth such exhortations 
 might be closed for ever, ere the young wanderer, for 
 whose welfare he was so solicitous, might return again 
 to tell his beloved patron that he had profited by them. 
 The same uncertainty also prevailed with Wolf; young 
 and old are alike destined to meet mortality, happen 
 when it may ; and the Lady Agatha, whose heart was 
 the very seat of the most sublime, tender, and delicate 
 sensibility, frequently retired from these affecting con- 
 versations with her father, with eyes not un moistened 
 by a tear ; for the fate of Wolf was by no means in- 
 different to her, and she felt she could not hear of his 
 falling in battle, or otherwise being exterminated from the 
 race of mortals, without sensations which would wring 
 her heart with the most unutterable anguish. The deep 
 interest she felt for him when a poor unfriended ship- 
 wrecked boy, was so interwoven with her own former 
 histery, and his sharing with her in all the perils and 
 dangers to which she had been exposed in a solitary 
 and even a treacherous exile in the mouldering ruins
 
 THE fisher's daughter, 429 
 
 of the Old Abbey, had given him so natural a claim, as 
 she imagined, to her friendship, that no change of time 
 or circumstance could ever erase from her recollection, 
 or banish from her heart. 
 
 And was not Alfred as much to her as Wolf? Had 
 he not been a poor shipwrecked boy too, with a fate 
 as similar? and was he not as generous and as kind- 
 hearted a youth, and in all respects as praise- worthy ? 
 She could not but admit that he was, although the me- 
 rits of Alfred were cast in colours less glowing with 
 animation and spirit. 
 
 Yet Wolf was not Alfred, nor Alfred Wolf. There 
 was a striking difference between them, and Agatha felt 
 a slight hectic of a moment pass over her lovely cheek, 
 on the impropriety of her making any difference be- 
 tween them, or drawing comparisons which ought to 
 possess no bias over her mind ; neither standing in 
 any other relationship to her, than merely the protegees 
 of her august father. 
 
 From these reflections she was one evening suddenly 
 aroused by the cries of her little Orlando ; and when she 
 darted into the nursery to enquire the cause, found the 
 child sobbing violently, with his arms stretched towards 
 the window, which was open, and looked in upon the 
 lawn ; and his nurse immediately exclaimed — 
 
 " Indeed, my lady, I cannot pacify him, was it ever 
 so ; he saw Mr. Wolf go across the lawn, and he has 
 been crying to go to him ever since. I never saw 
 the like of it in all my days.'* 
 
 *' The child will be ill if he is suffered to cry thus," 
 cried Agatha, not attending to her last observation.
 
 430 THE FISHERS DAUGHTER* 
 
 " Pray, Rebecca, take him in your arms, and try if you 
 cannot find Wolf; any thing to pacify my darling." 
 
 The order was obeyed, Rebecca took her charge, 
 telling him she would carry him to Wolfy, at which 
 he was instantly appeased ; and in a few moments 
 Wolf returned with Rebecca, with his little favourite 
 in his arms, who testified the utmost joy on seeing his 
 old playmate. 
 
 He bowed, on his entrance to the Lady Agatha, who 
 sportively exclaimed — 
 
 " Upon my word Wolf, you have become a formida- 
 ble rival in the affections of my son ; he has actually 
 flown from my arms to run into yours." 
 
 " But what will Lord Orlando do, your ladyship, 
 when Mr. Wolf goes quite away from us ?" cried 
 Rebecca. " I protest it will be as bad as weaning 
 him. Nobody could pacify him then but Mr. Wolf." 
 
 ^' I should be sorry that he suffered on my account," 
 uttered Wolf, clasping the sweet little fellow with in- 
 voluntary fervour to his breast, which was not unre- 
 marked by Agatha ; '^but I am sure I should suffer if 
 I knew it. Then should I wish the ocean that divides 
 us — " The voice of Wolf was growing tremulous^ he 
 stopped, and casting his eyes down on the ground, be- 
 came profoundly silent, not daring to lift them up 
 again while Lady Agatha remained in the room, which 
 she quitted instantly on some slight pretext, in order 
 to give poor Wolf time to recover his self-possession ; 
 and feeling herself unable to resume an air of compo- 
 sure, much less of apathy at the thoughts of his de- 
 parture. Rebecca and Wolf w^re on the most friendly
 
 THE fisher's daughter. 431 
 
 terms ; he was more familiar with her than any domes- 
 tic in the establishment of Lady Montault, because she 
 was the nurse of Lord Orlando ; with her therefore 
 he held frequent conversations on his expedition to 
 India. 
 
 " Which I do truly hope may be prosperous and 
 happy," cried Rebecca, " and that you may come home 
 one of these good-looking «lays a general in the army. 
 Lank a mercy, what changes may happen in all that 
 time, Mr. Wolf! Here's this dear boy will be grown 
 quite a man mayhap, and there's my lady, though she's 
 married now, she may not be married then. Lord 
 Montague has very bad health, and do you know Mr. 
 Wolf, whenever I have looked at his pale face, 1 don't 
 know what the dickens possesses me, but he'll never 
 live to have old bones, or my names not Becky. Why 
 then in that case, you know Mr. Wolf, my lady might 
 niarry again. There's no law against that, thank hea- 
 ven, if there was, lauk a mercy what would the world 
 come to. Well then, as I was a saying, my lady might 
 be married again ; she is so young and so beautiful, 
 that every body would be for snapping her up in quick 
 time. Then you know Mr. Wolf, as I was a saying, 
 if yon was a general in the army, and my lady a — a— 
 a — Lauk a mercy Mr. Wolf, what's the matter with 
 yoa?*' 
 
 Wolf, who had sat in the most abstracted manner, 
 rather enduring than listening to Rebecca's long ora- 
 tion, caught only the last sentences which H conveyed, 
 and he could not be insensible to the meaning they 
 implied, which so completely electrified his whole 
 frame, that he started up with the wildness of a ma-
 
 43^3 THE fishek's daughter. 
 
 Iliac, and pacing the room with hasty strides, involun- 
 tarily exclaimed — 
 
 •* Rebecca, why have you named, why have you 
 mentioned — imprudent woman, are you in your senses 
 Rebecca?" 
 
 " Yes, Mr. Wolf, but hang me if I think you are in 
 yours," uttered she. " Lauk a mercy, why what was 
 there to frighten you so much in what I have been say- 
 ing ? There's very few young men would be frighten- 
 ed at any such a thing, I am certain. I onlv said 
 that—" 
 
 " Silence, I implore you, for heaven's sake," ut- 
 tered Wolf, growing more calni ; " let not such ano 
 ther sentence escape your lips, as you value my peace, 
 the peace of your honoured lord, the happiness of your 
 angelic lady." 
 
 '* Lauk a mercy, Mr. Wolf, pray don't alarm your- 
 self so," cried Rebeca. " Do you think 1 was going 
 to be such a simpleton as to mention such a thing be- 
 fore my lord and my lady ? No, no, indeed, Beckey's 
 too wise ; it would send me away from my place before 
 one could cry Jack Robinson." 
 
 " And send me to perdition," uttered Wolf, wildly. 
 
 «' Send you to a fiddlestick's end," cried Rebecca. 
 <* Lauk Mr. Wolf, you wants cutting for the simples. 
 Howsomever, I shan't say any thing more of the kind 
 you may depend upon it, seeing that it puts you clean 
 out of your senses so." 
 
 *' Don't, that's a good creature, and you will greatly 
 oblige me," rejoined Wolf, slipping into Rebecca's 
 hand an irresistible an(J weighty argument, against 
 opening of mouths when they are paid to be shut ; and
 
 THE fisher's daughter. 433 
 
 Rebecca, while Wolf remained at Violet Valo^ never 
 resumed a subject which appeared to have so powerful 
 an effect upon his feelings, the meaning of which Re- 
 becca had probably formed her own conjectures on ; 
 for women are certainly quick sighted on these occa- 
 sions, they instantly perceive where the blind deity is 
 shooting his mark from, before the victims themselves 
 are hardly conscious of the innovation. So much for 
 the sagacity of the female part of the creation." 
 
 But what were the sensations of Wolf, to perceive 
 from the inuendos thrown out by Rebecca, that she 
 had discovered what he so sedulously w^ished to hide, 
 and that the very agitation he had betrayed in her pre- 
 sence, had only more strongly confirmed suspicions 
 which, once awakened, might, if not immediately smo- 
 thered, lead to the most dangerous and fatal conse- 
 quences imaginable ! 
 
 There was no alternative, then, that he could adopt, 
 under existing circumstances, but to bribe her to si- 
 lence on such a subject, by the only means which, it 
 was probable he considered, would impose the neces- 
 sity of obedience to his request, and which certainly 
 had the desired effect. It would have been far better 
 policy, however, to have treated as a mere jest the 
 subject of Rebecca's discourse, and laughed at her plea- 
 santry, as having no meanhig in it. 
 
 But the gravest philosopher could not have done 
 this, if the gravest philosopher, like Wolf, had been so 
 deeply bound in Cupid's fetters. 
 
 Besides, hope told a flattering tale, which in spite of 
 reason the heart will not disown ; and though it 
 was illusion, yet how transcendantly lovely did the 
 
 a 19 3 I
 
 434 THE fisher's daughter. 
 
 faii-y colours seem to such a glowing imaginatioDj and 
 warm impassioned fancy as was seated in the breast of 
 Wolf. 
 
 " For still it whispered promised pleasure. 
 And bade the lovely scenes at distance hail.** 
 
 And where is the man who could »( sist the fascination 
 of such a thought? 
 
 The picture, however, was too dazzling to behold, 
 and it was only in those moments when reason shut 
 her eyes, and passion triumphed, that he had the te- 
 merity to look upon it at alL 
 
 While these scenes were passing at Violet Vale, very 
 dissimilar ones were going forwards both at the Castle 
 of Montault, and with the new married pair at Win- 
 stone Park, where the Marchioness for a few days, in- 
 stead of the youthful bride, seemed to reign the abso- 
 lute mistress ; but fond as Lady Lavinia was of the 
 company of beautiful mamma while she held her in 
 leading strings, and could do nothing without her au- 
 thority, she began to be weary of wearing them when 
 she became Lady Winstone, and to feel anxious to use 
 her own prerogative as a married woman, and mistress 
 of her own establishment. 
 
 Three weeks therefore had scarcely elapsed before 
 Lady Lavinia found beautiful mamma a very trouble- 
 some and imperative guest at her elegant mansion ; and 
 she was constantly giving orders contrary to her's, and 
 remonstrating with her about one thing or other, in 
 the same way as when she was under her paternal 
 roof, which was certainly excessively obnoxious to a 
 young bride, and by no means pleasant to the bride- 
 groom
 
 THE FISHKRS DAUGHTER. 435 
 
 " Lavinia you shall do," and " Lavinia you shall not do 
 •o," was at length so frequently repeated, that a quar- 
 rel with beautiful mamma and her fair daughter one 
 morning ensued, about some exotics which her lady- 
 ship bad given orders to be brought into the drawing- 
 room, but which orders were immediately counter- 
 manded by the Marchioness, which so offended Lady 
 Winstone, that she pettishly exclaimed — 
 
 ** I protest mamma, I think it excessively strange 
 that you are constantly contradicting my orders ; but 
 it don't signify, I wont be contradicted, and that's flat. 
 I am not in leading strings now, I am a married wo- 
 man, and I will do just as I please in my own house.'* 
 
 " You are a fool,*' uttered the Mars-hioness, con- 
 temptuously, which epithet instantly produced the 
 retort courteous from the irritated daughter, 
 
 " If I am a fool, mamma^ it is you that have made me 
 so; papa told me that you would. But if I was a fool, 
 do you think that my Lord Winstone would have mar- 
 ried me?" 
 
 To which the Marchioness with the utmost noncha- 
 lence replied — 
 
 " I don't know, men do very silly things when they 
 are blinded by passion." 
 
 " Then I suppose that was the case when papa mar- 
 ried you," answered her ladyship ; *^ but I shall tell 
 my lord what you say, and — and — and — " The proud 
 swelling heart of the fashionable beauty could hold out 
 no longer, and she burst into a flood of tears, while 
 the indignant, haughty, and unfeeling mother, conti- 
 nued looking at her with the most perfect apathy. 
 
 " You shall never serve me so again," at length sob-
 
 436 THE fisher's daughtek. 
 
 bed out her ladyship; "and I will have the exotics 
 brought in on purpose to vex you." 
 
 A fit of the most ironical laughter was the only reply 
 made by the Marchioness, who looking at her diamond 
 repeater, protested it was time to dress for a dinner 
 party at Lady Tannington's. 
 
 *' To which I am not going, so you need not alarm 
 yourself,'* cried her ladyship, spitefully. " I know 
 what you want to go there for; the pidgeons will be 
 flying, and money is scarce, mamma; you shan't have 
 my purse again, I promise you." 
 
 This was a thunder-stroke to the crest fallen Mar- 
 chioness ; she had gone a step too far, and must re- 
 trieve it, or lose her influence for ever. Altering her 
 sarcastic tone therefore, she exclaimed — 
 
 ** Nonsense Livey, I was only joking with you." 
 
 *' I don't like such jokes," pouted Lady Lavinia. 
 
 " Give me a kiss then, and I will never vex you 
 again. Come, I will order the exotics to be brought 
 hither immediately." The kiss was given, and the 
 exotics placed where her ladyship had desired, and the 
 quarrel adjusted. So much for fashionably bred mo- 
 thers, and fashionably educated daughters of the risiug 
 generation.