mm^ t^r L I E) R.AR.Y OF THE UN IVLR5ITY or ILLINOIS 825 R52 V. I Digitized by tine Internet Arciiive in 2009 witii funding from University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign http://www.archive.org/details/revealerofsecret01lond THE •3^i?tu^altr iDf ^iririri^M ^ OR THE HOUSE THAT JACK BUILT, A NEW STORY UPON AN OLD FOUNDATION. >»^^»^^j IN T[!REE VOLUMES. hY THE AUTHOR OF CTTryF'f /U ABBJ^Y, PAXKS OF THE WYE, AUNT AND NIECE. SU3STA\CS AND SHADOW, Ifc. ^c. " A le.'scn sadly tcacliinE, to year cost. That ArcSiitecture'a nobie ait is lost." VOL. L ■**>*»^^«*«t«*- Uontrcn: Printtdal Ike Minena Preti/or A. K. NEWMAN AND CO. LEA DENHALL-STREET^ 1817 THE REVEALER OF SECRETS, CHAPTER I. '" And this our life, exempt from public liauut, rinds tongues in trees, books in the irunfijug hrooki, \i Sermons in stones, and good in ever}- thing/* "X HAVE long been waiting to see my history brought before the public, and to .be spared the awkward task of appearing lias my own biographer. In this age of H- 'terature and reading, when even a " velvet cushion" has been made the vehicle of in- terest, I certamly expected that I should ^othave been suffered to pass unnoticed, ^ot from any particular merit in myself, or S VOL. I. B from '^ 2 THE IIEVEAI.EII OF SECRETS. from any peculiarity in my construction, l3ut merely from this circumstance, that every body has heard of me, and eveiy body has talked of me. My name has fre- quently been lisped by inflmts, before they have learned the Lord's Prayer, and nurses ifind mammas have thought it no indifferent promise of future advancement in know- ledge, when such learning has been attain- ed; but here it ended. Though all can talk of me, yet no one seems to know in what precise part of the globe I stand ; and though ray identity does not seem to be doubted, yet it is taken upon trust, and handed down to posterity from the oral testimony, and what may be termed the rote evidence of those historians I have mentioned. How natural does it appear to me to ask the following questions ! — " Who was Jack? and where is the house be built ?" If " sermons are found in stones," surely lessons may be learnt from houses; and if, like me, the walls of every bouse could speak THE HEVEALEIt OF ^.CHETS. ^ speak which had echoed to the sigh and groan of a mortal tenant, what beacons, what warnings, what examples, would their sounds become! No house in tiie united kingdom would be large enough to contain the voluminous records of human folly, and human suffering, which would then be extant. When I have reflected on the scenes which I have witnessed, I have .sometimes thought that they might not be unworthy of the public attention ; but now that I come to appear before that public in propria pe7^S07id, • my courage begins to fail me, and I shake to my very foundation. I once entertained some hopes of having my stbry presented to the world in a second-hand style, for I one day ob« served two gentlemen in close conversa-^ tion under my windows ; they had been making a pedestrian excursion together; one of them was busily occupied in ex- amining a stone which he carried in hi§ hand, and in which I could discern nei- ther curiosity or beauty. So intent waj? 15 2 he 4 THE REVEALER OF SECRETS. ke on the senseless object of his study, that I began to think he would pass me with- out casting a look on my open front, if, laying his hand against one of my wings, his companion had not said, *^ This is the house that Jack built." The mineralogist was instantaneously lost in the antiquary ; the stone rolled on the untrodden turf wliich surrounded my entrance, (for at tliis time I was uninha- bited), and springing forward, and eying me with a degree of reverential awe, be cried — *^ Ah, indeed ! this is a curious discovery !" then falling back a few paces, he surveyed me with great curiosity, ex- amined my height, my size, and my di- mensions ; and turning to his companion, lie said, (calling him by liis surname of Thompson) — " In the statistical survey of this county wbich our friend has just given to the world, we find no mention of this edifice ; I am not very much inclined to think that it is an ancient building; in- deed THE REVEALEl^ OF SECRETS. & deed its name bespeaks it of modern ori- gin, for we find no Johns in tiie J^glish history till the twelfth century. But here," (continued he), ** I see some of the porous stone which was used in the con- struction of ail the religions houses in this neighbourhood, and also in the baronial re^ sidences ; yet this could Hot surely have been a religious^ house, for iik the veigu of king John, we do not find that one reli- gious house was erected in the county of Gloucester.'* He here laid his finger to his forehead, and was lost in profound study. Thomp- son meanwhile was eying him attentively, and, as I thought, with an ironied expres- sion of countenance. " The fact is," said the antiquary, (whose name was Oddson), breaking his self-im- posed silence, " that I remember nothing of modern date, nothing subsequent to William the Conqueror. All the transact tions of yesterday are as nothing, wlien compared witii that mighty mass of ev^ B 3 dcnce d THE EEVEALER OF SECRETS. dence which I find in Domesday Book; that is the study, that, sir, is the solid and substantial pursuit ; I can read it with very great fluency. To be sure we must allow, as I say to my friend, that, with the Sax- ons, a great deal is left to fancy, especially with regard to names. Now, for instance, Aduithus ; I suppose I might venture to give you tv^^enty proper names which you may read for the Saxon Aduithus, and all of them equally eligible ; some of them in- deed not the least like the one I have mentioned, but equally imposing and sa- tisfactory to my mind. But the house in question, I think I have fairly proved that it was not erected by earl John, son of Geoff ery Plantaganet, afterwards king John, of whose death you know many stories are afloat in the world, such as the fever from eating peaches, and the surfeit from potted lampreys; but I think the' coolness of the peach might be far more likely to cause a paralytic affection than to produce a fever ; and as to^ the lam- preys. THK RElTExlLER OF SECIIETS. preys, I have long suspected that the monk of Swiheshead might have been called Lambert, or Lambertus, v/ho, by some his- torians, is said to have poisoned king John. The name of the monk may have hitherto been concealed for obvious reasons. The family of Lambert is still extant, and it would not be fair to throw such a stigma on it, while the memory of their ancestor is yet ripe on the minds of men; so, my dear Thompson, you will act wisely if you do not breathe a hint of my suspicions, though I believe, I may sey they nearly amount to facts, for I seldom take a thing upon trust ; I search it all out — Domesda}/^ Book — ^Black Letter ; there it is — there we have it ; I don't mean the little anecdote I have just given you, but that in those records knowledge is treasured up, on which the craving mind may feed for ever. But this house — have you really no idea of the John, or Jean, or Jack, who erected it ? Let me reflect ; have we no clue in tdie archives of the abbey yonder? is there B 4t no S ^ THE REVEALER OF SECRETS. no mention made of such a person ? Was the founder of this house called Jack, to signify John the younger, think you ? or Jack the son of John ? for now I recollect, the king of that name left two natural sons." " Or suppose that Jack was meant as Little John," said Thompson, " and that this was the dwelling of the famous fores- ter, coeval with Robin Hood?" " Thompson, you have hit it ; you have given me a clue ; Robin Hood's hill is in this very county ; now, he fixing his sta- tion on a hill, miglit not Little John have chosen a valley V " Yes ; but' it would, I think, be a hard task, even for you, to convince the world that Little John was the builder of this liouse ; in good truth, I believe he was a * denizen of the air ;' and to his co-mates and brothers in exile, he may have said, in the language of our immortal bard, ' Ilath not old custom made this life more sweet, Than tliat of painted pomp r" « f True. THE REVEALER OE rjECRETS. 9 * " True, true ; I had not recollected thati^ it had somehow escaped me, as many 7720- clern things do;. 1 am not quite sure, for that too is a recent matter, irery recent, and therefore I do not speak bodly ; but I am not quite certain whether Jack Cade might not have had a residence at this place;" " We hear of Mm first in Kent, I think," said Thompson, " and of his A^a J on Lon- don bridge." " True, precisely so ; therefore, on se- cond thoughts, I am inclined to give up that idea, at any rate ; it would require a great deal of investigation, before we could get at the truth of history on this point. No Domesday to refer to here ; nothing but common-place trash ; and perhaps after long research, we should find ourselves as much in the dark as before. You do not remember another Jfean, John, or Jack, in history?" " I perfectly remember * The History of Jack the Giant-Kiiler." B 5 " Many 10 THE REVEAliER OF SECRETS, " Many persons doubt in the existence of giants ; but that they have existed is substantiated beyond all controversy," con- tinued Oddson, in a grave tone of voice ; " and amongst my extraneous fossila, I have proofs of a former world, which would astonish you." " The proofs of an antediluvian world are very convincing." " Sir, I have proofs of world beyond world ; the antediluvian world was itself a thing of yesterday, compared wdth what I can show you. Antediluvian is merely an- other term for recent — that is, in our geo- logical researches, it stands to that effect — a mere point of time, previous to which we fix our data, and establish our facts, beyond all contradiction'' " So I should imagine." " I always disclaim speculative points^ I argue on facts " " But this house that Jack built," for Thompson seemed to wish Oddson to re- 4;urn to the original train of thought, in order THE REVEALEIl OF SECRETS. 11 Order tp draw him away from the spot to which lie had been rivetted. " Aye, this is the house you tell me, the very identical house which Jack built, and of which I have heard so frequently ; I touch it with some degree of awe ; there is mystery belonging to it. What doe§ St. Pierre say ? * The loveliness and re- spectability of objects are increased by their mysteriousness, sometimes by antiquity, which renders monuments venerable, some- times by distance, v/hi<:jii diffuses charms over objects in the horizon, sometimes by names.' If tliese lichens could speak, they probably would be able to tell us some- thing: lichens are generally mistaken for vegetable substances ; but they are purely animal, animal entirely, and if used for food, would be found to resemble oysters, and be much esteemed : I question if they were not used by tlie ancients for nutri- tious purposes." " In one of the pigmy worlds, perhaps," said Thompson ; *' a lichen sandwich, in B 6 vour 12 THE REYEALEU OE SECRETS. your giant globe, would scarcely have served as a sop for a Cerberus." - " I don't know that ; if the race of men was large, of course every thing was in proportion ; iS^ature does nothing by halves. I can shew you impressions of insects which are not known in these later days, which indeed are proved never to have had an existence with us; might not these have been the lichens of a giant world? and what gives this idea more solidity, I may say what establishes its authenticity, is, that the impressio^2S%n]y of these lichens being found on stones, it is evident that the animals themselves were stripped from the rock}^ pillar, to which they had clung with such adhesive firmness, as to make an impression even on the adamantine stone, and w^ere served up in hecatombs to glut the overloa\ied table of some ^cormandizinir giant. Thus, by following things to their sources, the inquiring mind makes all things plain and easy — cause and effect ; never lose sight of this, and the road is smooth tiiE revealer of secrets. IJ smooth before us. * Nature,' says the in- genious author whom I lately quoted, * Nature has made nothmgin vain; when- ever she has prepared a habitation, she im- mediately peoples it ; she is never strait- ened for v/ant of room." " And you, my friend, like Nature, can give to every thing ' a local habitation and a name." " Not at all; I have no merit ; I merely tell you of things just as they are — of things that are and were ; I neither in- vent or conjecture; I hate conjecture; matter of fact is my motto; I estabhsh facts, and with more certainty than all your chronologians, with all their Anno Domini's, because I reason from analogy, and I refer to causes and their effects." " Well, at last we must leave ' The House that Jack built' where we found it, for the only fact that we can establish con- cerning Jack is, that he must have had the organ of constructiveness, or love of building, 14 THE REVEALEU OF SECRETS. building, in his cranium. I believe I must be right in this idea." " By-the-bye, let us stop one moment,, fer here I have another clue; Observe, I have nothing of that * ideality' about me, which the doctors Gall and Spurzheim: rightly call * an omnigenous faculty ;' no • individuality,' but an ' attention to 'parti- culars,'- — ' form' — * size' — * weight' — * co- lour* — * space'^ — ' order' — ' tune' — * num- ber' — * language' — * comparison' — * causa^ iity;' these belong to me, and are more distinguishable in my head than any fea- ture in my face. Now then to return to my clue, to which your mention of con- structiveness was so happy an introduc- tion: — I have every reason to believe, from every thing I can observe, and fix in my mind relative to Jean, Jacques, John, or Jack, who built this house, that he must have lived since the Saxon heptarchy.. Now it vv^ould be a very easy matter, just to run over the different tombs, in the dif- ferent THE hevealer of secrets. 15 ferent churchyards in this neighbourhood, for about ten, twenty, or perhaps thirty miles round, and if we find an ' hie Jacet Johannes,'' or John, merely by going a lit- tle under the turf, and looking at the scuU, we should soon be able to ascertain whe- ther we had got to the Jack in question. If the organ of constructiveness was not fQund legibly engraved as a characteristic mark of the cranium, it could not have belonged to our hero ; and if it should be found vice versa, we should have attained* our object ; for as we do not know of any other house built by any other Jack in this vicinity, it would not be at all probable that two Jacks should exist so near toge- ther; both endowed with the constructive organ. Nature, as I have frequently said, does nothing in vain. * Liberal, not lavish, is kind Nature's hand,' says the philosophic and elegant Beattie; if one Jack had an organ implanted in his cra- nium for the express purpose of build' ing up, in all human probability another Jack 16 THE REVEALER OF SECRETE. Jack was at the same period ushered into the world with the organ for pulling down, which we may term perhaps * secretive' ness f for if it does not absolutely amount to the ' love of stealing/ it may surely be denominated the ' love of plunder.' I think, therefore, from all that we have col- lected on the subject, that this' house must have been erected in the fifteenth century, and that while Jack Cade was busily em- ployed in pulling down, this Johannes, Jean, Jacques, John, or Jack, was building to himself a name. It would be the easiest thing in the world to substantiate the fact of the existence of the Johannes, Jean, Jacques, John, or Jack, who built this house, if we would but dig for it. I tell you what it is, my friend, if we would find treasure, we must dig for it ; I have a great mind to try." " Many of the churchyards in this neigh- bourhood are inundated during the winter months," replied Thompson, who seemed to have no opinion of the digging plan for treasure THE REVEALER OF SECRETS. 17 treasure of this kind. I fear you might get into a quagmire." " So much the better ; I would not care if I was up to my elbows in liquid mud; for if I found a scull in the state which we call fossilized, in fact, if it was only in- crusted, what an addition should I have to my cabinet! The scull of the very Jack that built that house converted into an extraneous fossil ! Sir, give me leave to tell you, this would be no common in- cident — this would be the chef-d'oeuvre of my history ; and when future ages shall read my life, and know that I dug amidst the churchyards of Gloucestershire, and plunged my shoulder into the petrifying vaults of those who had lain entombed for centuries, these labours would not be num- bered amongst the least of mine, or those that will be the least admired by poste^ rity." " Like the labour of Hercules in cleans- ing tlie Augean stables. But of what use would be this search ?" "User 18 THE BEYEALEB OF SECRETS. " Use!" the antiquary, the geologist, the craniologist turned round, and darted an eye of fierce defiance upon Thompson. He again repeated the word ** Use ! yoa may as well ask me of what nse is my * Essay on Moths' — of what use are my Black Letter M. S's. — of what use are my butterflies — my collection o^ spars — my gems — my sea-weeds — my skeleton mon^ kies — my drawers of shells — ^my plaister of Paris busts — my easts — my dormice — my sea monsters.'^ Thompson saw he had gone too far; he walked leisurely away ; and after a pause of some moments^, the rage of Oddson seemed to subside, or rather his " attention to particulars" returned; he stooped to take up the stone which he had before^ thrown down, and wetting it from time to time with his tongue, he held it to the sun, as if to receive added beauty from the reflected rays of that glorious orb. I heard no more of his researches after my origin ; and as I knew that all his laboius would THE REVEALER OF SECRETS. 19 would have been in vain, I remained per- due, and resolved to reveal myself to the public at my own time, and after my own fashion. In searcliing into past ages, the poor antiquary overlooked the present. Any peasant in the parish would have told him from whom I derived my name : I have no antiquity to boast, being in reality the thing of yesterday. My architecture might liave informed Oddson that I was not coe- val either with the classic or Gothic £eras ; but self-evident facts often escape the pene- tration of those who would fain have all things enveloped in mystery, till they are at hand to withdraw the veil, and make their " darkness visible.'" CHAP- 20 THE BEVEALEE Of SECKETS. CHAPTER ir. *• But chief, that tyrant of the soul, That cursed man of Hell, Despair; See, see his livid eyeballs roll ! What canker'd teeth, -Ahat grissljr hiv'r ! Anguish and trembling fear his- consofence quail, And all Hell's damned ghosts the shrieiting wretch assail V^ My founder, Jack, as he is concisely term- ed in history f had, at the age of thirty, re- tunied to the parish where he was born, and haying- acquired no inconsiderable sum of money, he resolved to build hiEfi- self a house and a name amongst men. He had been apprenticed, at twelve years old, to a respectable tradesman in Bristol ; but the sober and industrious habits to be learnt with the art of making bruslies, in the family of an honest citizen, did not suit the aspiring turn of Jack; hexan away from. THE REVEALER OF SECRETS. 21 from his master at the first opportunity, got on board a vessel, which lay at King's Koad, ready to weigh anchor for the coast of Guinea ; and rising in consequence as he rose in years, from a cabin-boy he became a sailor, and ship's mate, and master, and at length the captain of a ship, which was con- stantly employed in the inhuman and nefa- rious service of conveying negroes from the shores of Africa to the West India islands. We will not say any thing in this place of the cruelty, and wickedness of such a mode oi life — " Ey your fruits shall ye know them !" The feehng of locality, which is part of our nature, turned the thoughts of Jack towards the vales of Gloucestershire, where he had iirst drawn breath. This feeling he held in common with the poor African whom he had torn from his coun- try and from social life, whom he had transported to a clime far over the Wes- tern Ocean, and who never ceased to sigh for the shore he had been compelled to quit, 2^ THE UEVEALEU OP SECRETS. quit, whose affection induced him to be- Heve, that, after death, " he should return to his native scenes, the delight of his fa- mily, and the theatre of his former occu- pations." This love of country, common to all mankind, formed a component part of Jack's nature, and under the scorching influence of the torrid zone, under an ac- cumulation of torturing recollections, which sometimes would rush across and over- power his mind, he would, in imagination, be transported to his primeval vallies ; he would feel the cooling breeze playing on his face, as he sat on the margin of the sedgy Severn ; he would hear the cowboy's voice as he drove the herd along; he would hear the milkmaid's carol, as she tripped through the meads with her well- whitened pail. The stream of time rolled on, and at length he saw these pleasing visions realized. But how were they re- alized? The vallies were as fruitful as formerly, the river flowed \vith its accus- tomed freshness, the breeze ^^s as health- ' ful THE KEVEALER OF SECEETS. 23 ful and invigorating, the cowboy was as jocund, the milkmaid as blithe; but the parents whom Jack had forsaken were laid in the grave, they had died in penury and want, their son had never inquired af- ter them till they had long been gone to rest — till they no longer could benefit from his assistance ; and the legitimate feeling of right and wrong, which is always to be distinguished amongst the English pea- santry, when they are not vitiated by an intercourse with the world, taught the simple rustics of Gloucestershire to view their old companion and playmate with an eye of suspicion, which was not unmix- ed with fear. Even his riches could not blind their eyes or stop their ears ; they thought his wealth ill gotten, and they did not envy him the enjoyment of it ; neither did they receive him as a brother. Unfit for the society of persons of educa- tion, and feeling uneasy in the company of those whose prejudices (for such Jack would 24. THE REVEALER OF SECRETS, would have called them) were not to be overcome, his mind fell back upon itself, and the horrors of conscience came before him in all their black array, without pro- ducing i^eal and genuine repentance of hearty that v*^as only to be sought in one way. The way was vmknown to the traf- ficker in human blood ! Of an impetuous temper, and an active mind, leisure and apathy were quite ini- mical to his nature. The solemn pause of solitude and silence were more appalling, were more dreadful to him, than would have been the loud cannon's roar or the clash of swords. In the darkness of the night, when not a breeze fanned the air, he heard the moans of dying innocence, " And heard the sound of many a corse plung'd from the ship, Into the wave beneath that murmur'd on the shore." It v/as necessary to find employment ; for if his conscience was thus to be his ac- cuser. THE RETEALEll OF SECRETS. 25 cuser, if he were thus tortured by its " compunctious visitings," existence would scarcely be supportable. In order to dissipate reflection, he deter- mined on building a house, and to be at once the architect and projector of his own residence, and thus have a pursuit for the employment of his bodily and mental fa- culties. Entering into this purpose with ^11 his heart, he rose early and went late to bed ; fatigue of body superinduced sleep, and his dreams were not disturbed by visions of the past. A high scaffold- ing was placed round the spot, from the commencement till the completion of the building; and having partly overcome the prejudices of the neighbourhood, by th« decency of his exterior, and his regularity of conduct during his return to Glouces- tershire, lie invited those v»dth whom he was nominally acquainted to come to the hou,se'tvarmingy and to give their opinion of his residence, now that the last finish had been given to it ; and the scaifolding VOL. I. c being 2:6 THE REVEAI.ER OF SECRETS. being taken av/ay, I stood disclosed to public view. Novelty, curiosity, and other motives common to the human mind, acted as the - impetus of the large party convened at the new house. Every one was desired to give an opinion; every one admired^ but every one could find something to alter, or something defective. I had risen imder the breath of Self- Liove — Vanity had taken an active part in my construction. Jack had forgotten, or he had never read, the fable of the painter v. ho pleased every body and no- body. He was but too apt to look at ' the dark side of the picture. Every if and hut reached his ear and galled his heart; he saw the sarcastic turn of the lip ; the conveyed meaning, which lay lurking, though unexpressed, in the eye ; he suspected himself of being the object of contempt and ridicule. The chimney- piece, on which he had prided himself, as being the most elegant and unique in tlie country, THE REYEALER OF SECRETS. 2T country, was distained by the smoko which now issued into the room in thick volumes. In a paroxysm of rage and dis- appointment, which appeared to remind many of the by-standers of the fury of a slave'(hwe7% the fire was ordered to be removed The feast was untasted by the donor. A simple boy of the party had innocently said to liis father — '' Is not thi§ house something like the Biackamoor*s Plead, papa?" This was construed into a covert insult, tliough the poor child had merely likened me to an inn of that name, which being nearer my size tlian any other house lie had seen, liad naturally drawn the com- parison from him. Jack saw the company depart, and theji locked himself in. As he shut the hall door I shook all over. I was then young, and quite inexperienced in the ways of men, but I ielt the stairs vibrate, ^nd heard them creak, as he walked up to. inyroof, where there was a door whicli c 2 opened g8 THE REVEALER OV SECRETS. opened on the leads. I fancied that he might be looking at the prospect, and my windows being shut up for the night, I had no means of seeing why he remained there so long, but I concluded that he still fancied himself under the influence of the torrid zone ; and I had frequently heard him say, that it was the custom in hot climates to remain at open porticoes, and on flat roofs, during the greatest part of the night : but the whole of this night passed and my master did not return. I was too young to have imbibed any su- perstitious notions, but I heard the wind howl in my chimneys, and the new wain- scoting of my master's apartment gave me several audible tokens. An owl too hooted and flapped as it pitched on my skylight ; but I rested in safety till morn- ing, when all the neighbourhood appeared to be surrounding me. Their eyes were turned upwards in earnest gaze ; their countenances exhibited signs of the ut- most dismay and horror. At THE REVEALER OF SECRETS. 26 At the break of day the early peasant had descried the inanimate figure of Jack ; he had suspended himself from the out- side of the chimney which had so much inflamed his anger on the preceding night. On breaking into me, which was done with a rush of impetuosity which would have jarred my whole frame, if I hid not been put together in the strongest and most compact manner, the smoky chim- ney was necessarily a most powerful ob- ject of interest ; but on trying to look through it, to discover how my poor mas- ter had managed thus to suspend himself, it was instantly seen that a board, which the workmen had put up in the chimney to prevent the rain from coming into the room and soiling the marble hearth, had acted uiTa non-conductor to the smoke on the foregoing evening : here then was ex- hibited an awful instance of the hasty ir- ritability and wretched imbecility of the human mind, when writhing under a sense of disappointment and fancied inju- c3 ry, 30 THE REVEALER OF SECRETS. ry, when goaded by the stings of con- science, and when not upheld by a sense of religion ! " Except the Lord build the house, their labour is but lost that build it," said a pi- ous old woman as she clasped her hands together, and turned away from the wretched spectacle. The coroner's inquest sat upon the body, and brought in a ver- dict of lunacy ; and surely this must have been the act of a madman — " no phrenzy lialf so desperate as this !" The heir of the miserable Jack gave orders for a decent burial, but he judged rightly in having it done with as much piivacy as possible; and a plain stone, without inscription or initial, marked the place of interment ; therefore my reader will perceive that Oddson would not have succeeded in the inquiry he wished to have set on foot, if he had proceeded in the way he had suggested to Thompson. I was now untenanted and forlorn ; my new owner resided in London ; no person in THE HEVEALER OF SECRETS; SI ill the .vicinity cared to have any thing to do with me ; it would have been thought bold and adventurous. ^ly founder had been used to go by the familiar appellatioa of Jack before he quitted home, and peo- ple were not inclined to adopt a more re- spectful designation at his return ; nozv th^* passenger said with a melancholy shake of the head — " This is the house that Jack built:" and my name became fixed on me more firmly than modam emperors have fixed on theirs, for mine was by pre- scriptive right, and ancient usage. In my neighbourhood resided a man who undertook to let me, and to keep me air- ed. His occupation v/as that of a malt- ster; and finding the rats had made un- wonted depredations on his property at the close of the folloAving autumn, and I contiiming void and useless, he removed some of his store into one of my upper apartments. "This was the mult that lay in tiie House that Jack built." c 4 CHAP- 32 THE REVEALER OF SECRETS, CHAPTER III. •^■■^^^^■^^^^■^■^■^■^^■f-e^* ^A house that is without a tenant feels very cheerless and uncomfortable. I be- lieve I may have omitted to tell my read- ers that I stand very near the banks of the Severn; and though I am in a plea- sant situation for the summer, yet in the winter I have but a cold birth of it. As the days shortened I became very lonely and melancholy ; the winds of au- tumn sighed through my passages, and from being shut up with the malt, I cer- tainly had contracted an unpleasant smell. It was one morning in November, when Mr. Browning came over, and began to open my doors and windows at an early hour. He bustled about w^ith a vast air of importance, and I soon perceived that something was in the wind ; but delight- ed THE REVEALER OF SECRETS. 3^ ed at ^inhaling the fresh air once more, for the day was dry and clear, I cared little for the consequences while enjoying the present hour. It w^as between three and four in the afternoon when a dashing, fashionable young man rode up to my front. He alighted from a famous blood mare, and made only two steps of the eight which graced my ei: trance. Mr. Browning was in waiting to receive liim, and bowed ■with an air of mingled respect and fl^mili- arity. I have since been able to translate the meaning of that bow, for age has given me wisdom. Tlie respect was that feeling which is invariably felt towards a native English gentleman by an inferior. The famiUarity was grafted on it, and (mzist I say it) liad its origin from a know- ledge of the vices of him who should have been " the maker of manners." " Well, Browning, here we are ; this is the house, hey ?" , " Yes, sir." c 5;, : "A snug 34 THE REVEALER OF SECRETS. " A snug thing, faith ; let's go it over ; but I say, Browning, what do you call it, hey? " The House that Jack built, sir, we do call it here in the country." " The House that Jack built ! droll enougli ! th0 House that Jack built ! ha, ha, ha ! droll enough ! a quizzical name, 'pon my s — 1 ! and as you do call it here in the country, so we'll call it in toxvn too, my boy. Well, get it all ready, d'ye iiear me ? we shall be in to-morrow. Get fifty fires, and all the rooms aired and win- dows cleaned, and so on. I do not under- stand these things myself, but set mops and scrubbing-brushes to work, and sec that every thing's right and tight. D'ye mind m_e. Browning? keep moving; it wi]] do! quite a snuggery, this House "that Jack built. Ha, ha, ha ! I protest I like the name amazingly ! it has w^himsi- cality, eccentricity attached to it. Bell will laugh ready to split her sides, when T tell her the name of her new^ place. I must THE REVEALEIl OF SECKETS. .3:) must be off; but, d'ye hear me? see that all is as it should be.-^ Browning followed to the door, and while the honourable Mr. Daring vaulted lightly into his saddle, and stooped do\vn to adjust his polislied stirrup, the treaty for me was entered into ; a few words en- g'dged me for three months-. Daring again galloped lightly over the turf, taking the road to Daring Abbey, the seat of his» father, lord Daring, and I was put in inii- versal motion, all the scrubbers and rub- bers in the parish being in requisition for setting me in order. Jack had furnished the house in a plain and substantial man- ner, but a variety of things, which, in ??iy days, I had never seen, and Avlnch I could scarcely imagine the use of, were brouglit in for the accommodation of my nevv' inhabitants — one-armed and no-nvmed couches, sofas with backs, ottomans with neither legs or backs, mirrors and chim- ney-glasses, and dressing-glasses for the honourable Mr. Daring and his favourite G 6 Bell 36 THE REVEALER OF SECRETS. Bell Random, \vliere they might stand and view themselves from head to foot. " Ah," thought I, " if they could see themselves xolthin as well as without, sure- ly they would not be very partial to these same reiiectors !" With all the imposing airs of youth and beauty, with all the advantages of fashion and of dress, with all the appearances of gaiety and happiness, I soon saw that Bell Random was a most pitiable object. Oh that every stone v;hich composes me could start from its position, and stand forth as a warning to those unhappy ones of her sex who are about to plunge into the same career of vice ! She was called a daughter of pleasure ; and is there pleasiire in jjuch a life as hers ? Oh rooms and walls around me, bear witness to her pleasures ! lost to heriself and to the world, how did she em- ploy those hours when Daring left her? A]as ! she had no employment ! estranged from her former associates, shunned by the respectable and decent part of society (for THE REVEALER OF SECRETS. o7 (for the whole neighbourhood felt them- selves outraged by her contiguity), she dared not go abroad, and what alternative had she at home but her own reflections ? Habits of employment and industry were inimical to her whose whole life had been passed in dissipation and tumult. In London she had been used to spend every morning in the thronged street, and every evening at some public amusement, but here no such resources were in her powder. Reading? Could she take up a book which would not be turned into a v/eapon of self-accusation? Even those novels with which Daring supplied her (though of an enervating and mawkish tendency, though fabricated in that school of morals, under that vitiated and lax system which our nei and had met together with an express ac- knowledgment 68 THE REVEALER OF SECRETS. knowledgment of equality, yet, on the score of descent, each would have been in- clined to assert her claim to ha^ e been first named in the list, while on the score of seniority, each would have fallen back with a self-satisfied air, and have pushed the remaining seven before her. It was at length settled to go alphabetically ; and some of the country housewives must have been astonished and entertained, at the strange mistakes and eccentric orders, which were now made and issued by the monthly mistresses of the Mansion of Peace ! Some of them, having no idea of the quantity of meat necessary for the congumption of a family, would bespeak more than enough for the weekly main- tenance of a ship's crew. Miss Sere, the pattern of austerity and self-denial herself, starved her seven sisters during the month of her purveyance. Selina Sillinger, raising her languid head from off her pillow when the servant had informed THE REVEALER OF SECEETS. 6^ informed her the butcher was waiting for orders, had said — " Tell him calves' sweet- breads ; a dozen of sweetbreads." " Nothing else, ma'am ?" " Oh yes, certainly, some chickens ; Weill live on sweetbreads and chickens." Miss Veer was writing upon the digni- ty of human nature, when she had been interrupted by the same impertinent in- truder, and she had not looked off her pa- per, while she had answered, in an autho- ritative tone, " Legs of mutton and rumps of beef," and in consequence the elegant sentimentalists were constrained to live on this coarse vulgar fare during a Vvhole week. The butcher had stared when Mrs. Modish had told him to " measure out three quarters of a yard of roasting pork," im^ she bid the cook to send trifle and flummery every day. It was thus, that even in ordering a dinner^ I had learnt to discover the turn or the bent of the mind. Women frequently laugh at being told that tliey are unable to exist without the 70 THE UEVEALER OF SECRETS. the other sex, but I had too much reason for supposing that with all their boasted delicacy and refinement, they would soon imbibe very ungraceful habits, and run in- to great eccentricities of manner and con- duct, if excluded from the society of men. The poet says, speaking of the fair sex — " Men had been brutes without you." I will not venture on reversing the picturt but I think a mixed society is wanting t( keep the ladies in proper restraint. Man) of them would most assuredly degenerate into slatterns of the most conspicuous sort, if they did not stand in a little awe of the lords of the creation. My own tenants have frequently reminded me of Macbeth's witches, when, heller skelter, they have ran through my gallery at the third or fourth sound of the dinner-bell, and with papered hair, or wig askance, with slipsh,od shoes, in wrapping-gowns, or loose unpinned robes, began their meal. Mrs. Modish (I must say that for her) never ventured forth without her proper deckerments (perhaps that THE REVEALER OF SECRETS. that word belongs as much to a college to a house :) she probably would have sai with Pope's Belinda — No, let a charming chintz and Brussels lace, Wrap my cold limbs, and shade ray lifeless face ; One would not sure look frightful when one's dead — So, Betty, give this cheek a little red ! I am loth to confess that I was again become the common talk. It seemed as if I was always to be held up as an object of terror, or disgrace, or ridicule; but my readers will naturally suppose tha such a society as that now met togethe in the JNIansion of Peace must have drawn out the curiosity of the surrounding neighbourhood, and it must not, cannot be denied, that discord had fast succeeded to the harmony which had once reigned amongst my fair ones. There had been too much familiarity, too lax a system, and I began to fear that now they had lost sight of good manners and good hu- mour; that, to speak in vulgar language, I should 72 THE REVEALER OF SECRETS. I should be too hot to liold them ! But I protest that I should have been cool enough but for these fair incendiaiies, and I frequently wished myself again remand- ed to my silence and solitude, to Mr. Browning's malt and my cupboard rat My inhabitants had a great notion of mixing up the utile with the duke, though they scarcely knew how to begin. Amongst the new publications sent to Miss Hanker, she had a variety of volu- minous controversies concerning Lancas- terian and national education ; and the idea was no sooner suggested, than it was determined that all the children of all the poor in my neighbourhood should be edu- cated at the Mansion of Peace. Orders were issued for convening all the infant pupils in my hall, and every lady began to read system upon system, and plan up- on plan, and to form a system and a plan of her own. Here was the misfortune ; such a variety, such a contrariety of opinions ! >lis6 Veer v/as decidedly against the nationd THE KEVEALEll OF SECRETS. 73 national system of education, and the arbitrary imposition of a catechism and creed, on poor little creaures who did not know their right hands from their left; such a ridiculous mode of acting was as bad as persecution, and savoured as much of tyranny ^s the doctrine of the Church of l^ome : she would have all people, all the world enlightened. IMiss Sere was partly of this opinion ; with regard to the catechism, she quite agreed with Miss Veer ; and the Church of England was by no means purified from Popery, as was pro^^ed by their fancying themselves de- signated as the Christian Church, as though the Christian Church did not embrace, un- der oiie gejieralizing head, all sects, and all denominations of Christians in the known world, for of all sects and all nations, some were elect from the beginning of the world. jNliss Veer filled at the woixi elect; while faith and works, and works and faith, were bandied about on either side, with VOL. I. i: little 74 THE REVEALEIl OF SECllETS. little of Christian temper or Christian be- lief. Mrs. Staunch, who I had always thought the most unpretending and quiet, and at the same time the best-intentioned of the M'hole coterie, but wl^m I have not men- tioned, because " she sat still in the house," now spoke in a gentle yet impressive man- ner ; she had collected all the arguments which had been made use of by Lancaster and Bell; the plan of the national sys- tem of education had long received her full approbation ; and her honest heart di- lated at the idea of the real benefits whicli it was likely to produce. In better lan- guage than I had often heard in the house^ yet in a modest tone of utterance, she gave her reasons for wishing to follow this plan, and freely offered the whole of her time and attention to forwarding so interesting and beneficial a purpose; but she was overpowered by a mingled din of voices, who seemed all struck with surprise at her changing THE REVEALER OF SECRETS. 75 dianging characters, and becoming a speak- er, when she used only to be a hearer ; and an attentive hearer I had always admired as an estimable character in the INIansion of Peace. All voices, all hearts, now joined in a phalanx against Mrs. Staunch ; and it was finally determined that each lady should take the instruction of ten children, and teach them according to that mode v> hich " should seem best in her own eyes." 'Now the hurly-burly began ! Can my readers imagine any thing more ridiculous than this — can they ? no ! I will defy them to imagine tlie " confusion worse confound- ed" wliich ensued. A regular hour for the children's attendance was ordered ; but, except Mrs. Staunch and Miss Sere, none of the teachers were on the theatre of ac- tion. Mrs. Staunch quietly pursued her modest duties ; while Miss Sere, with all the severity and gravity of an ancient presbyter, uttered her maledictions on the unoffenduig heads of helpless ignorance. jMiss Sillinger frequently made light of E Q hei* 76 THE REVEALER OF SECRETS. her part of speech, by making her children repeat the Lord's Prayer, and dispatching them home, on the plea of a headach, with a cake a-piece; while Mrs. Modish gave them an old ribbon, and told them she would " send for them at a more convenient sea- son." Miss Veer taught her pupils to liijp and drawl out, in the provincial twang and broad .tones of Gloucestershire, " the Uni- versal Prayer of Pope ;" she talked to them of the moral duties, and told them, " an honest man" was " the noblest work of God ;" but of the debasement of the no- blest work of God through sin — -of his ut- ter inability to change his ignoble -to a no- ble nature without Divine assistance-rof his being able to do all things, when up- held by the hand of him who is mighty to save — of the mercy of God, in sending his only Son as the redeemer of sinners — on these topics she never touched. In direct opposition to the reasonably- expressed sentiments of Mrs. Staunch, who had suggested the impolicy of teaching different THE REVEALER OF SECRETS. 7T different creeds and forms of worship to the children of one family, it had been de- termined that no lady should instruct more than one child of a house, and the reason given was, that the effect of this method' of teaching would thus be apparent, and its beneficial result established. Thus were children divided against one another in infancy, and on the most momentous of. all points, and before they were capable of understanding why they were thus divided:' The opposite notions of Miss Sere and Miss Veer might' have afforded mirth, if mirth were ever allowable on serious oc- casions. Erect in person and grave in manner, with knitted brows and pendant sharp elbows, all the softness of Miss Sere's nature was lavished on her favourite tab- by, who rested on her pillow, and purred on her lap. Have I told my readers, that " This was the cat, That killed the rat, That eat the malt, That lay in the House that Jack built?'' E 3 Miss 78 THE REVEALER OF SECRETS. Miss Sere slept in the room where Browning had kept the malt; the cup- board had long been cleaned out, and filled with the dry discussions of the fair pole- mic's library. One hapless night, when all was dark and still around, and puss was lain on lady's quilt of snow, the rat re- turned to cupboard hiding-place — the door was left ajar ; puss heard a nibbling nois^ amongst learned lady's papers ; forth from her bed he sprang. My readers, guess tl%e rest. Every part of me resounded to the shrill screams of Miss Sere, when, on the following morning, she rose before tl>e lark, as was her custom, and on the floor discerned the inanimate rat , but enough of this. How frequently are the quarrels of principals fomented by their humble friends and domestics ! Miss Veer had a pug, that usually graced her arm, a black-nosed, snarling little animal ; but she delighted in him, and was used to call him a " darling beast," her lovely Quiz. Quiz had taken an THE REVEALER OF SECRETS. 79 an unconquerable antipathy to Mogsey, and Mogsey, in his turn, was not very le- nient towards Quiz. Such barking and spitting as there used to be between them ; and philosopher as she was, I must say that I think IMiss Veer enjoyed seeing what she called " a battle royal," and used to delight in seeing Quiz pursue Mogsey to the door of Miss Sere's apartment ; but that sacred territory he dared not invade, though it was clear to the most common observer, that That worried the cat, That killed the rat, That eat the malt. That lay in the house that Jack built." Miss Sere's scholars and Miss Veer's were soon at open variance ; the pupils C/f the former called the latter " poor children of perdition;" and the little disciples of the modern philosopher returned the compli- ment, by ordering them to the d 1. E 4 A pitched so THE REVEALEU OF SECRETS, A pitched battle ensued, and the affray became so serious, that the business was referred to the respective teachers of these strange doctrines. Miss Sere lifted up her hands and eyes in astonishment, when she heard the heinousness of the Veerites' of- fence; while Miss Veer laughed most heart- ily, and asked her opponent, " of what con- sequence was the foi^m of speech, when it bore precisely the same meaning ?'* Words grew higher between the two ladies ; Miss Sere condescended to throw a book, which she had held in her hand, at the head of Miss Veer, who, with very little ceremony, re- turned the compliment, by knocking the lady down. Learning was now dethroned ' — confusion reigned. Mrs. Staunch dis- missed her little circle, and locking herself into her bedroom, immediately began to pack her trunks. Miss Sere no sooner rose from the floor, than she declared that / could "no longer contain Miss Veer and herself" Miss Veer said she had long been heartily tired of the dull, monotonous life THE REVEALER OP SECRETS, 81 life of the ' Mansion of Peace;' but Miss Sere seemed equally determined on a re- moval, and said all who called themselves her friends would go in her party. Two parties were presently made, three Serites, four Veerites, (for Mrs. Staunch sided with aeither, but went off alone) ; and in less than tliree days I was left in perfect si- lencer The Serites bore JVIogsey off in° triumph; but Qiiiz could no tr be found, so his mistress was obliged to depart with- out her " darHng beast," her " lovely Quiz.'* E B CHAP^ 8S THE REVEALER OF SECllETS, CHAPTER V. After a storm comes a calm. I had now learned to prize that tranquillity which I had before lamented. This world is full of contradictions; v/hv^t we dislike one day we like the next : I can speak for myself, that it was so with me ; and I am apt to believe that it is the same with men. Had I been given to laughter, I must have in- dulged it on losing my late title, as soon as I was restored to total silence. Yes, reader, I am no longer " the Mansion of Peace," but " the House that Jack built." If I had not been formed by Jack with an excellent constitution, I must have suffer- ed in strength and appearance, from the frequent transitions I underwent ; but en- dowed with this grand desideratum^ I bid fair THE REVEALER OF SECRETS. 83 fair to defy the power of time and change. The laugh was still against me ; and the sigh, or the look of horror which was for- merly called up by the recurrence to my hapless founder's untimely end, which a view of me naturally occasioned, seemed now to be totally forgotten, or obliterated, in the ludicrous stories and anecdotes at- tached to the late Mansion of Peace, and the quarrels of its peaceful inhabitants. 1 seemed any way, and in every way, des- tined " to point the moral, and adorn the tale ;" and if properly read, I am vain enough to think that I may afford a lesson of morality to the grave, and of entertain- ment to the gay ; but vanity is frequently discoverable in the elievation of a house. Again was I consigned to the care of Browning ; but it being at the commence- ment of the malt season. Miss Sere's apart- ment was unencumbered, and I was entire- ly useless. But I contmued a very short time in this dormant state. Browning- wrote to my owner in London tlxe account E 6 of 84 THE REVEALEll OF SECRETS. of my being again on hands ; and a short fit of illness having determined Mr. Prune on taking an active partner, and trying a little country air, he speedily answered Browning in the following manner : — " London, No. 31, Bisbopsgate Without, July 3. " SIK, " Heceived yours 30th ult. with regard to House Jack built. Not being very well, mean to be down with wife on or about 8th instant; so hoping to find in good health, remain " Your obedient servant, " Simon Prune. '• To Mr. Browning, Lee's Farm, near Chizzles, Gloucestershire." Behold me now in full preparation for my rightful master, and behold him arrive in a capacious vehicle, with a shining leather head, and painted wheels, to w hicli he had given the name of buggey. Bishopsgate- street THE REVEALER OF SECRETS. 85 street Without had long been supplied with figs and raisins by JVIr. Prune the grocer ; he was a fat, round, rosy-looking man, of about fifty years of age ; his boots were well blacked, and his thicksets above were nicely crossed over the knees Avith the most cheerful-looking green ferreting. Mrs. Prune, a little thin spare woman, sat at his side, but was thrown quite in the background by the prominence of his figure. How different was the life which I now led, to that which had so recently been my lot ! now all was order — it was clockwork entirely ; and JMr. Prune was the master- spring to keep all the machinery right, and to make the movements go in proper time. At eight o'clock he breakfasted, and at two he dined. My readers may like to be made acquainted with the regu- lar country employments of -so regular a man. From eight to nine was usually taken up in breakfasting, and r^-examining " liloyd's Evening Post," and giving Mrs. Prune 86 THE EEYEALER OF SECRETS^ Prune the necessary instructions concern- ing the meal next in perspective; from nine till ten Mr. Prune walked up and down at my front, with his hands crossed behind him, the skirts of his coat lying- over his arms, all regularity, as I observed before ; his motion never varied — it was^ firm and steady, neither fast or slow; sometimes he would suddenly stop, fall back to look at me^ which he always did Vv^ith an eye of paternal approbation ; and; I could plainly discover that ev^rj feature in my face would be described to \\\s^ friends in Bishopsgate Without on his re- turn to London. From ten to twelve the, httggey v/as in motion, in conveying Mi\ Prune to and from the market-town.. Mrs. Prune was never the companion of these excursions; but after church on, a Sunday afternoon, Mr. Prune generally treated her with an airing of a few miles on the turnpike road. At the town M\\ Prune marketed, which he always foimd an interesting and profitable pursuit,, and got THE REVEALEB, OF SECEETS. 8T ^ot his letters and his newspaper ; and re- turned just two hours before dinner, to make me resound with his orders, and echo with his pacings from parlour to kitchen, and kitchen to parlour,. Mrs. Prune never used a needleful of thread, from the time of his return till din- ner was on the table, for her attendance on the cook was thouglit indispensible by her husband ; and if any thing was wrong when it was served up, Mr. Prune w^as at no loss for a topic of discourse for the next three hours, while drinking his grog and smoking his pipe. Meanwhile Mrs. Prune never took her eyes off her work ; and I question wheth3r she heard the complain- ings of her husband, he had brought her into that state of mechanical motion which was suited for his purpose, and best suited for her tranquillity ; his delights were all comprised in the gross enjoyments of the table. She had no deliglits^ — no mind— - no hopes ; and even her fears had long been lain to rest. I had at first pitied her, till 88 THE REVEALER OF SECRETS. till I found that slie was not a pitiable ob- ject. She never opened her mouth but to give a monotonous " yes," or *' no ;" some- times indeed when urged by Prune, she ventured as far as a very slov/ — " I — tJiink — so — Simon ;" or " a very — little hit more, Simon,'' at dinner. But Mrs. Prune did her duty; Mr. Prune's shirts were all nicely mended, their frills nicely plaited down; the dinner was for the most part well dressed ; and his " toast cheese" at night sent in to suit his appetite. How have I heard him expatiate over this fa- vourite repast to Browning, laughing now and then between, in order to clear his ut- terance, for his short neck and full make made me think that he was very likely to, be taken from me in an apoplexy. " Now can you tell me, Mr. Browning, if you can I'll thank you, a better thing for supper than this here toast cheese ? It must be of the right sort, mind, like vat you makes here in Glostershire, not too new nor too old, for that vould be vorse than t'other. THE UEVEALER OF SECRETS. 89 t'other, but the right age like this ve have here — you see it relly svims as t'were in fat ; but the cheese doesn't part from the fat in the mouth : now this cheese, vith good mustard, sich mustard as this, vich I keeps at No. 31 in Bishopsgate-street Vith- out — I brought some with me ; but 'tis near out now, vife tells me. Mind, lovey dear, as I send to partner, to send down some vith a letter next veek per coach in a parcel. Now I say, Mr. Browning, I should be glad to know vere a man can find a better supper? Mind, vife, as you: remember me of the mustard." A slow nod of obedience proved Mrs. Prune's^ having heard the application to her me- mory, and he proceeded with — " A bit more, Mr. Browning, pray do. As I vas a saying, one chief reason for my coming down here in Glostershire to poor cousin Jack's house this summer for change of air arter my illness vas, because I thought I might be able to relish a bit of toast cheese, and I knew I should have it in perfection. Didn't 90 THE REVEALER OF SECRETS^ Didn't I say so, vife — didn't I say so^ lovey dear?" . " You did^ Simon." The rest of Mr. Prune's conversation was of a piece with the " toast cheese." I began to think that he was scarcely of the same species with my late inhabitants ; such a contrast was never witnessed, I be- lieve, by one house in immediate succes- sion, and Mr. Prune appeared to think so» We are none of us acquainted with our own peculiarities ; and that foibles are fre- quently mistaken for virtues, is very evi- dent. Vice and virtue are more distinct in their definition, and cannot be mistaken, unless we wilfully blind our eyes. An at- tention to eating, as the grand concern of life, Mr. Prune really conceived to be a praiseworthy and meritorious trait in his. character ; and if. he rose early, and was. neatly dressed, and was in time for dinner^ and did not drink grog enough to besot himself, and went to church on the Sun- day, he imagined that he was doing hisi duty THE REVEALER OF SECRETS. 91 duty in the state of life to which he had been called. There was nothing mental about him ; he had no idea of taste, but the taste of the palate ; the most beautiful prospects in nature would not extort one look or word indicative of admiration or remark ; the richly- wooded and finely-di- versified meadows were as blanks before him, while he counted the dairies of cows, and speculated on the excellence and pro- bable quantity of " toast cheese" which they would in due time produce. A fine park, with all the varied feature of hill and dale, was observed only as it was conceiv- ed to contain such a number of deer; and the elegant and agile motion of the grace- in 1 animals as they bounded over the turf, only called forth the inquiry of " how many bucks were killed in the season ?'* and " whether the venison was highly fla- voured ?" Wliile the fair sentimentalists had affect- ed to despise all the necessaries of corpo- real existence, and all the concerns which attached B^ THE REVEALKR OF SECRETE. attached to it, Mr. Prune took a pride in ridiculing (and his ridicule disgusted even me) every thing which was not connected with it, as being foolish and absurd. He was nearly as fond of money as of eating ; as the former ministered to the latter^ I be- lieve I may say that they had an equal claim on his thoughts, and an equal share of his attention. He had no notions in common with any of my former inhabi- tants. Of the notions of his poor relative ^ Jack, indeed, I had scarcely been able to form an estimate; but I conclude that the - uneasy state of his mind would have dis- abled him from such a close attention to the " perishable stuff" which surrounded it. In the midst of dissipated pleasures, slaves to vice as were Bell Random and Daring, they had yet some notions of men- tal enjoyment, which proved that they^ might have been fitted for a better life than the one they had chosen. Of their suGcessorSj. I have said enough to give my readers THE UEVEALEE^ OF SECRETS. 9S readers a full idea of their dissimilarity to Prune; and I could not help observing, that the report of this dissimilarity formed one of his principal amusements while he resided with me. Every ludicrous and ex- aggerated trait (and of these enough were afloat) which he could pick up of the im- providence, carelessness, or ignorance, of these eight ladies, was retailed to Mrs. Prune, while his double chin wagged, and his fat sides shook with laughter. I do not.know that I quite relished this; I do not like to hear the departed spoken ill of; and as they had been tenants to Prune, and had paid him his rent, and six months extra for quitting me without no- tice, there was something very unfeeling in this behaviour. I am naturally partial to the female sex, and, in general, they are attached to us, and take a delight in im- proving, adorning, and beautifying us, though too many things had been neg- lected about me, and I was by no means kept in proper order ; yet I still possessed specimens 94 THE KEVEALER OF SECRETS. specimens of the genius, taste, and inven- tion of my recent inhabitants. TreUisses shaded my windows from the ferv^our of a southerly svin, and the fragrant clftnatis T adorned them; vases, and boxes, and flow- er-baskets, were disposed about my rooms ; and sketches of the adjacent country were to be seen about my walls; but the trellisses were nov/ taken down, the climatis was pulled up by its root ; Mr. Prune liked an exposed window, or none — " If a room I'equired darkening, better stop up a win- dow at once — there was some sense in that, as window- tax would be saved." This was done in more than one instance ; and in my very prettiest sitting-room, a fine view was in part excluded, because the dimensions of the window were beyond the limits prescribed for one by the tax, and a little mean, contracted bow, which would have done for an huxter's shop in a country village, was broken out in the wall, in order to enable JNIr. Prune to over- look the turnpike-road as he sat in his par- lour. THE REV^EALER OF SECRETS. 9.5 lour. It must be allowed that there was sincerity in this; he neither wished or sought to disguise his pe'iichant for seeing all that was to be seen. I fear the case was somewhat different with his immedi- ate predecessors ; one idea they might therefore have held m common with Mr. Prune, though they would fain have dis- claimed it ; but any other point of assimi- lation I could never discover. '•' Such trumpery paper baskets as these, what are they fit for ? I vouldn't give one halfpenny for 'em," said Mr. Prune. " No, no, give me something of the solid and substantial sort ; silver as will last, and be good for something in the end ; and if you do not chuse to go to that there expence, vy there's the best I^unnon plate ; or then again, there's Brummagem ware to be had as cheap as dirt ; but as to flower-baskets, I vouldn't give house-room to such trum- pery, for of what use in the vorld are tliej^? Lovey dear, now mind, don't go for to set your heart upon flowers — one can see enough 96 THE REVEALER OF SECRETS enough of them there in Covent-Garden market. 'Tis all veil enough for they as have nothing else to do ; but vat vith look- ing arter my things, and keeping them mended, and minding servants, vife can find enough to do — can't'e, chick?" Chick answered — " I can, Simon." Simon was satisfied with this instance of conjugal obedience, and would then ha- rangue for an hour, in what he thought an entertaining style, to Mrs. Prune, on the subject of the eight ladies. " How they could ever think of keep- ing house, is surprising to me ; but by what Browning says, they knew nothing at all about it, no more than an infant, from first to last of 'em ; and he declares that they never knew vat vas for dinner, or vat tiiey had got in the house ; at first I couldn't believe Browning ; but he swears 'tis true : bless us all, only to think on't ! — not know vat they had got for dinner ; one voidd relly think as they'd broke loose out of Bedlam ; not know vat they vas to have for THE REVEALER OF SECRETS. 97 for dinner! and sometimes, as may veil be supposed, they got nothing at all, and served 'em right too, for it might bring 'em to their senses ; for my part, I know nothing more likely : and then vat vaste and confusion there must have been in the kitchen! I don't vonder as they vere single ladies for the most part (only one or two vidoxvs, by vat I can find). Who in the wersal vorld vould marry them f and of vat use is all the learning in the vorld, I beg to know, if it vill not help the pot to boil ? But iliey neither roasted or boiled, by what I can find. I asked Browning how they made shift to live at all. Sometimes, he says, vy maybe they had a few sweetbreads or so, or a pudding, or maybe a pye ; and then all of a sudden, I suppose, they felt themselves hungry. Ha, ha, ha ! for 'twas legs of mutton and great pieces of beef! feast one day and starve the next. I am for doing things a little arter the rate ; I'm sure t'would never liave done for me, nohow at all. And then VOL. I. F as 98 THE REVEALEU OT SECRETS. as to them things as they call skitcheSj pinned and nailed up about some of the rooms, they may be veil enough ; but you may see how the nails have hurted my vaUs ; Browning shouldn't have suffered it— no, he should not have let it be; I vouldn't say thankee for a thousand of them skitches, for my part. If von V07its pictures, there's enough of them to be bought cheap enough at secondhand, and properly framed and glazed, and coloured as will stand. You know ve've got some wery handsome, chick, in Bishopsgate Without; there's over the chimney, in parlour behind shop, there's the picture of the great lion as died in the Tower " " His name it was Leo." " It vas, it vas. Vife, dear, you've a good memory for them there sort of things; and then you know there's my pictui-e ^^ith the yallor waistcoat, as neighbour Figgins made for me." ' ** And mine, in my blue silk, holding my work in my hand." " Yes, THE UEVEALER OE SECRETS. 99 ** Yes, 'tis so — 'tis so, chick ; they cost me, them there two paintings of us, they cost me a guinea a-piece, before ve vera dressed, as I may say — before they ve7^e ever framed or glazed ; they cost me both together five golden guineas, and veil vmih the money, because they'll last vit/i care, as nobody goes anigh them to break the glass, as long as ve lives ; but these here things, why if a fly does but perch upon 'em, vy there 'tis, never to be viped off." Are my readers as tired of IMr. Prune as I soon became ? A house cannot change or exchange its inhabitants at pleasure; but I frequently asked myself if I was never to have an occupier whom I could esteem and respect ? or whether the inti- macy which a residence must naturally occasion was always to lov/er my opinion of the human character ? The reader may probably suspect that I had something misanthropic in my disposition ; but they will be mistaken, and, on the contrary, I believe a house can never be perfectly com- f2 fortable. 100 THE IlEVEALER OF SECRETS. fox'table, unless it has inhabitants. " The Sketches of Character" which have fallen under my notice are what I must hold up to view ; and as they pass along over the ca- mera obscura of ray paper, I cannot height- en or diminish their flitting shadows. Well may I term them flitting, for it ap- peared as if 1 was never to be settled for life. No young lady would have been more pleased with such a prospect than I should now have been, thovigh perhaps af- ter all, like many a young lady, I should have been heartily tired of a tenant for life. Tov>^ards the approach of winter, Mr. Prune began to wish himself in Bishops- gate-street Without. Severn salmon was out of season — London cod was in. Here v/ere two reasons for urging a departure, and nothing so imperative demanded his stay ; he talked of making a tour, in his %vay home, and going into Warwickshire. As Warwick appeared to be the specific object of this circuitous route, I, of course, imagined THE rtEVEALEE OF SECRETS. 101 imagined that he had a wish to see the femous castle at that place ; and such a wish, in such a man as Prune, puzzled me exceedingly, as he did not appear to have a spice of the antiquary about him. I was therefore at a loss to account for his enter- taining a wish of seeing a building, which I thought he could not understand suffi- ciently to admire ; but I was soon inform- ed as to the object of this journey. A very different motive — a very sufficient attraction drew Mr. Prune to Warwick. My readers cannot — no, if they were to guess for ever, they would not find it out, and yet it was of a piece with the man ; let every reader, therefore, before he con- demns Mr. Prune, ask himself, or A(?rself, to what lengths they have gone, or would be inclined to go^ in order to gratify a ruhng passion, and then perhaps they will not be apt to wonder if I should tell them Mr. Prune took a purpose journey to War- wick, in order to eat roasted ducks ! ! ! A gentleman one morning on hearing F 3 Mr. 102 THE REVEALER OP SECRETS. Mr. Prune say he was going to Warwick, mentioned the castle as a venerable and noble pile of antiquity. ^" Yes, sir, I believe there may be a cas- tle there, I think there is — I have been at Varwlch, sir; but I can't say as I noticed it ; I know the Black Svv^an is a very com- fortable inn there ; and I know that in all my life I never eat better ducks than I got there ; and I determined to go there again one day or other, to see for some more of "em ; and now that vife and I are out, a few miles, more or less, is not of much consequence one way or t'other, or setting off a day sooner, or a day later, so that I manages to be in Lunnon by the fifth instant, for that's the day when neigh- bour Steel gives a dinner ; I mitst be there by that time, let vat vill happen. To be sure, 'tis rather late in the season for ducks, but then they vill be larger. I dare say the landlord of the Black Swan will remember me again." " You will vsee the castle noWy of course ?'* " No, THE REVEALER OF SECRETS. 103 •* No, sir, I shall not, that is, if you mean the inside ; I may perhaps see some of the old walls as I pass along; but to look over musty old rooms, and galleries, and places, vy 'tis not at all in my vay — not a bit to my taste." In the common acceptation of the term, Mr. Prune would have been thought a good-natured man ; and I believe he might be good-natured, if nothing interfered with his own wishes; but if he were asked to give up a roasted duck, to which he was about to sit down, to a friend v/ho was in want of it, then farewell to the good na- tiire of Mr. Prune. I saw him depart, with no appearance or feelings of regret ; and yet I was rather ungrateful, for he saw that every thing about me was put in complete and sub- stantial repair ; and gave orders to Brown- ing for keeping me properly aired, and for securing me from the depredations of thieves and robbers during the winter, for F 4 durinir 104 THE RETEALER OF SECRETS. during the winter he did not expect to meet with a tenant for me. " Well, God bless you, Mr. Browning," were his parting words. " If the house is on hands in the spring, why, if the vorst comes to the vorst, I can but be down here again, and try a little more of your toast cheese and the country air. Both have agreed wery veil, and so has the salmon too, for the matter of that, I can't say but what it has. Always speak veil of the bridge as carries you safely over. Only, to be sure, Mr. Blunt's dying, as they said he did, from a surfeit of salmon, rather frightened me a bit ; but I can never think 'twas at all ovving to the salmon, if the fish w^as good, and v/holcsome of its kind, and in season — thafs the great point. I have eat it times and times, and it never hurted me, as I know of; however, I shall ask the Lunnon doctors about it, for one I'oiild not go for to eat a thing that vould hurt one, for that vonld be madness; but for mv THE REVEALEU OF SECRETS. 105 my part, I always thought if the fish was in season, and the article fresh, and good of its kind, one might eat as much salmon as one liked. I can't make it out, for my part, how Blunt could surfeit himself upon salmon — I think /never should ; however, I mean to ask the Lunnon medicals about it ; one vould not go for to take poison cer- tainly ; and if they say it might be so, vy 'twas so, I suppose ; but 'tis i^OTzderful to me." During this parting monologue, Mr. Prune had been tightening his harness, and adjusting his knee-straps, while Mrs- Prune had been quietly adjusting herself, and her various bundles, in the buggey. He now got in by her side, with — " A'^ell, chick, are you ready ?" " Yes, Simon, I am.'* " Then God bless you, Mr. Browning ; take care of the hovise, and of yourself, and send the hamper of cheese by the first fly vaggon. I'll let you know what the doc- p 5 tora 106 THE EEVEALER OF SECRETS. tors say about the salmon ; so here ve go,"* and away went Mr. Prune and chick. Sohtude had now some charms for me ; I had never experienced any pleasure in the society of Mr. Prune ; and though he certainly assumed every authority over me which bespoke the rightful master, I had not been disposed to pay him more obedi- ence than I had done to my other occu- piers. One mode of behaviour I had inva- riably adopted towards them all; none of them could fairly have had cause to com- plain of me, and upon the whole, 1 had met with tolerable usage from them ; but I must add for myself, that if they spoke truth, they all might say that I was a good, comfortable house. And was nothing heard of Quiz ? Poor Quiz! Yes, it was my fate to her him baying to the moon, through many a long winter night which succeeded to Mr. Prune's departure. It appeared to me that Quiz had been as much tired of the con- fined THE HEYEALER OF SECRETS. 107 fined life which he led at the " Mansion of Peace" as his mistress ; but not being made acquainted with her intention of depart- ing, (and indeed not having been present at that little fracas between Veer and Sere which had precipitated a removal, for he had taken French leave before) there is no possibility of my ascertaining whether he v/ould have preferred going with his lady,, to performing a journey without her, had the alternative been presented to him. Certain it is that, in my face, he followed a pedlar one day from the door, and I have every reason to believe that the pedlar was^ the head of a gang of gypsies, who then in- fested the neighbourhood, dwelling secure- ly in tents themselves, while they pillaged and robbed the whole countr}^ Quiz, in all probability, was soon tired of this wild and desultory life ; but, like many beings of a higher scale in creation, he did not evince his change of opinion, till it was too late to retrieve his former station in society. The gypsies were removed, the F 6 bared 108 THE REVEALEIi OF SECRETS. bared common, the ashes of their fires, a few stones, and a broken pitcher, only pointed out to the passenger the spot which had lately been their residence. I was shut up, and several days of thick misty rain in the latter end of November had made me appear gloomy without, and giving me a damp, chill feel within — not a star lighted the sky, when, a little foot was heard to scrape for admission at my front door, that door w^hich had hitherto always opened at its approach. A faint moan of distress was succeeded by a bark ; I recognized the bark — I knew the voice of Quiz ; I echoed his moaning and his barking — I could do no more. I was lock- ed up — Browning had the key, and I heard the wailings of the repentant truant through many a long and melancholy hour. Towards morning he walked away, and dirty and wet, his tail slinking behind him, his whole frame shaking, his coat shabby and rough, he strayed into a far- mer's THE EEVEALEU OF SECEETS. 109 mer's yard. The cows were just being milked ; it was not a siglit to which Quiz had been accustomed, and his mistress had never taught him to disguise his feehngs ; he advanced tow^ards one of the most gro- tesque and unsightly of the animals, and placing himself immediately before her, he appeared to have forgotten all his own misfortunes, while he barked out his con- tempt in no temporizing tone. The stranger animal stared at him a minute in silent astonishment, then putting her head close to the ground, she took up Quiz on her ** fantastically-wreathed" horn, and whii'led him up in the air, with a tossing swing of strength, which Vv^ould have been no disgrace to the dexterity of a merry- andrew's exhibition in a country village. Poor discomfited Quiz uttered a piteous moan, at thus being made the sport of such a clumsy animal, and would proba- bly have experienced some harder treat- ment, if a more gentle form and a softer heai't, had not been near to watch his de- scent 110 THE REVEALER OF SECRETS. scent on the other side of the thorn hedge^ over which he liad been thrown, and to afford him timely rescue. Behold him in the farmer's kitchen, fed and fondled, and petted by Anne Groves. The farmer too suffered the interloper to sit in his presence, and called him a " queer dog ;" but he did not like him from the bottom of his heart ; he did not think him thorough bred ; he would have preferred a good English mastiff, or a fine rough wa- ter-spaniel ; however, he gave him house- room by day, though he could never be persuaded to let him remain within doors at night. This was a great transition for Quiz, nursed in the lap of fortune, and Miss Veer, as fie had been ; but he knew not where to find a better home, and gra- titude towards his preserver held him fast, and enabled him to brave the winter's cold all night, and many a night, a houseless shiverer. My readers will hear more of Anne Groves ; hers was a gentle heart — a gentle nature THE IIBVEALER OF SECRETS. Ill nature too. Her story belongs not to me — it will be told by another ; suffice it now to say, that she saved the life of poor Quiz — saved him from '' The cow with the crumpled horn, That toss'd the little dog over the thorn, That worried the cat, That killed the rat. That eat the malt, That lay in the House that Jack built.'^ CHAP- 112 THE REVEALER OF SECRET.^. CHAPTER VI, With the succeeding spring came days of happiness and peace. I received a new inmate ; her name was never mentioned but in terms of respect or affection, for she was esteemed and beloved by all who knew her. The worthy clergyman of the parish^ with his wife, attended Agnes Carey when she came to look at me. " I have told you," said JNIr. Stanford,. " that strange stories are related of the persons who have lived in the house, and that it has got an odd name affixed to it^ so you are to chuse whether you will take it with all its imperfections on your head."^ Mr. Stanford smiled as he spoke ; Agnes smiled also — there was something angelic in her smile, and yet I had seen prettier women ; THE REVEALEU OF SECRETS. 113 women ; but her smile spoke of goodness and virtue, and it did not deceive. " I am able to stand the brunt of ridi- cule which the name of a house may ex- cite," said she ; " and as to any thing be- sides, my dear sir, your introduction and your countenance will prove that I am not an adventuress. I should be inclined to overlook many inconveniences to get into your neighbourhood ; but there really ap- pears nothing to object to here ; the house seems a very comfortable one, and it is in very good repair." Such sounds were pleasing to me ; and through the assistance of the Stanfords, Agnes Carey was soon settled as my mij;- tress. She brought her own servants with her. One was an old and faithful creature, who seemed the nurse and the friend, rather than the domestic of her lady ; the two others, one a female, the other a male, were respectful, obedient, and orderly ; and I had soon reason to bless the 114 THE BEVEALER OF SECRETS. the day which usheired in these pleasing inmates. Agnes Carey was past the bloom of youth ; imne had stolen some of its roses from her cheek, and had laid its line of care on her brow ; but it had taken nothing from her interest, to those who looked for something more than personal charms in the countenance of w^oman, for in her eountenance might be read a mind that was cast in no common mould — there might be seen an eye beaming with intel- ligence, or lifted up with a meek and un- pretending character of devotion — a brow open and candid — a smile — but I have spoken of that before. There was nothing affectedly sentimen- tal or romantic in Agnes Carey ; she had an active mind, and had acquired indus- trious habits, which she maintained with the strictest regularity; her disposition was strikingly benevolent, but not ostenta- tiously so ; she was not led away by her feelings^ THE REVEALEU OF SECRETS. 115 feelings, for they were under the guidance of principle ; and while she delighted in doing good, she set about doing it in the best possible manner; her refinement of intellect and nice perception did not make her fastidious, or indispose her for exert- ing her faculties, and interesting her mind on inferior objects ; in fact, she never lost sight of common sense, and her chief wish was to be an useful character, without pa- rade or display. I shall be accused of drawing a superhuman being ; but I am not conscious of exaggeration ; perhaps my perfect ease, under her auspices, might blind me to Miss Carey*s faults ; how it was, I leave the reader to guess, or to find them out at his leisure. Such a woman, with an independent fortune, was calculated to do a great deal of good in the neighbourhood of her resi- dence ; and Miss Carey's name was soon recognized in hers. My title seemed wholly lost; and it is not with houses as. with women, for I was not M the least jealoua 116 THE REYEALER OF SECRETS. jealous of her fame. If I was pointed out. and made the subject of inquiry — " What house is that?" was no longer answered by " The House that Jack built ;" but " it is Miss Carey's," or Miss Carey lives in it." Sociable amongst her neighbours, she seemed to unite them together by a con- necting link ; her own gratification was al- ways a secondary consideration to theirs; her own pursuits and studies were of a higher sort than are usually sought by women ; but tliese were carefully conceal- ed from every eye but mine ; and I have known her lay them by, when they have appeared to be most interesting, and might have been thought to have engrossed the whole povrers of her mind, while, with her own sweet smile, a smile not made for the occasion, but emanating from the heart, she has gone to receive a chance visit of a neighbour, from whose conversation she could derive neither improvement or plea- sure. Such uiianimity, such harmony as now reigned THE REVEALER OF SECRETS. 117 reigned throughout my structure, excited my surprise; when I observed the niceness of my present appearance, I began to dread a change. An old adage which I had heard Mr. Prune use, I now applied to myself — " New brooms sweep clean." I began to dread a change — a calm is some- times succeeded by a storm ; I remember- ed the " Mansion of Peace," and its versa- tile inhabitants ; and I suspected that my present trrnquiliity was not to last. The effect of Miss Carey's residence was so healthful, so beneficial, so good, that I looked for the cause ; and when I had dis- covered that, 1 entertained no fear of the result; I felt assured, that while she con- tinued to reside with me, " peace would be upon the house, and upon all who dwelt in it ;" for in all her thoughts, her words, and actions, she referred to the great first cause of goodness and of love. She never omitted, at the return of morn- ing and of evening, to beseech the conti- nuance of his blessings, joining in social worship 118 THE REVEALER OF SECRETS. worship with her domestics. " It is God," thought I, " who causes men to be of one mind in a house." Alas ! my former te- nants had few of them acknowledged him at all, and those who had had known nothing of that vitality of religion, which, without the effervescence of fanatic fer- vour, might be termed the " 'wake-lighf* of Agnes Carey's existence. She had met with trials in lier short life, v/hich were of no trivial kind ; but, as much as possible, she had concealed them from observation ; she considered them as the common lot, and therefore did not ex- pect to be exempted from them ; but as they arose from a source which was not necessa- rily obvious to the world, she did not at- tach a shadow of merit in keeping them to herself. Of conrse / knew what these trials were, for / alone was witness to her secret ardent pra^'-er for resolution and support — / only saw the tearful eye — the trembling frame — / only lieard the palpi- tatn)g heart in the silence and darkness of night THE RETEALEU OF SECEETS. 110 night — / only watched the vigils of Ag- nes; yes, she was seen by Him to whom the darkness and hght are botli alike ; and through his support alone slie began her morning orisons with a cheerful voice, and resumed her former smile on returning to tlie duties of the day. Perhaps my readei*s will not dislike a little outline of her story. Mr. Carey, the father of Agnes, had lost his wife within two years of their union ; she had died in bringing into the world two daughters, Agnes and Anne. The little girls had scarcely learned to lisp their father's name, when, attracted by the charms of Mrs. Kaby, a v/idow lady with an infant son, he forgothis lost wife, and gave a new mother to his babes. Mrs. Raby had the hand- some fortune of her husband settled upon her during her life; her son was wholly dependent upon her during that period ; but at her death the property w as to de- volve to him. Her ascendancy over her second husband was as great as it had been over 120 THE REVEALER OF SECRETS. over the fost. Mr. Carey died about ten years after his second marriage, and left his daughters under the sole guardianship and care of Mrs. Carey. His fortune he likewise bequeathed to her for life ; and at her decease it was to be equally divided betv/een his children. It seemed as if Mrs. Carey possessed some secret power of infatuation, by which she had thus mas- tered the reason and judgment of tv/o men, who, in most other respects, had conduct- ed themselves like persons of understand- ing. How few are there who are fit to be entrusted w4th the use of uncontrolled pov/er ! Mrs. Carey had been an only and a spoiled child ; her temper had been ruined by early indulgence; her beauty and for- tune had. attracted Mr. Raby, and after- wards Mr. Carey ; her disposition was self- ish beyond parallel; and when she no longer retained the hope, or the wish, of making man her slave, she devoted her whole thoughts to the government (not, alas! THE REVEALEU OF SECRETS. 121 alas ! of her own temper) but of the three innocent and unoffending beings who had fallen into her hands. Severe and autho- ritative, capriciously wayward, and chil- dishly whimsical, no species of vexation was left unessayed towards the twins; and if the seeds of virtue had not been latent in their breasts, and nurtured and expand- ed by the judicious culture of an early go- verness, it is much to be feared that their hearts would have been rendered callous to all the benevolent and soft emotions of our nature ; but a fond and fervent affec- tion for each other, whicli this v/orthy preceptress had sedulously encouraged, liad enabled them to bear all the cruelties of their situation, and to treat ]Mrs. Carey with the most attentive and dutiful re- spect. Henry Raby, honest, open, and impe* tuous, fond of the two girls, and belov- ed by them in return, could scarcely con- ceal his indignation, when he witnessed her unexampled tyranny towards them ; VOL. L G his 122 THE REVEALEll OF SECllEtS. his education had taken him from home, so that in his own person he had not had so much to contend with ; for such was the strange infii*mity of this unhappy wo- man's disposition,, that no relative situa- tion, natural feeling, or tie of affection, prevented its indulgence. The Careys were almost excluded from society as they grew up towards womanhood, and were capable of enjoying it, for Mrs, Carey then began to fancy that she had ill health ; and if it was her will, the girls implicitly be- lieved it their duty to attend upon her, through all the peevish and querulous complainings and imaginary ailments of a jaundiced mind. This never-ceasing, never-ending duty, could not extort a complaint or a regret from either in her own person, but for her sister. There was so much solicitude, so much anxiety, such a desire to stand before her, to screen her from every harsh word, and every im- posing and harassing fatigue which tyran- ny laid on, that affection appeared to in- crease THE REVEALER Ot SficUETS. 125 is restored to liberty, but who lias lost its mate." " You have lost one whom you w;ll never see equalled," cried he ; "but Agnes, G 4 sweetest. 128 THE llEVEALER OF SECRETS, sweetest, beloved Agnes ! let me be your future friend and companion ; let me live for you, and you alone ; let me try to expiate tlie errors of my unfortunate mo- ther's conduct ; if she blighted your happi- ness, let it be my care to nourish, to che- rish it, to cause it to blossom !" Agnes had nothing to urge against such a propasition, if Raby reallij felt for her that affection which, in the present mo- ment of excited sensibility, he fancied he did : for her own part, she believed she could never experience as strong an attach- ment for any other man, as that which she now felt towards him ; her feelings had long been sobered down by religion, and chastened by suffering ; she looked on this world only as a temporary abode, but she acknowledged to herself that the society and affection of Raby would render that abode more pleasant than she had ever ex- pected to have found it without her be- loved sister. Raby's dispositicai was of a diiFeren^fe kind ; THE P.EVE ALEIl OF SECRETS. 129 kind ; impetuous and ardent, he was sus- ceptible of sudden impressions, which were easily effaced by new objects ; that he had the warmest esteem and friendship for her, she was well aware, and these his enthusiastic imagination had now convert- ed into a passion. But Agnes talked to him in the language of sober reason ; she could have said — " Ob ! Time has chang'd Fne since you saw me last, And written strange disfeatures on my face." She did tell him that she had lost much of personal attraction, (but she told it in plain prose,) much of the gaiety and bril- liancy of youth ; that her manners, when compared with those of females who had had the advantages of mixing in the po- lished circles of society, would appear auk- ward and reserved; that he could meet with pleasanter women, and at the same time, with women who were equally ami- able, equally able to appreciate his worth,, to form his happiness ; in short, she urg- g5 ed ISO THE REVEALEU OF SECllETS, ed every thing tliat slie could think of agai?ist lierself, and every argument that she used seemed to rivet the regard of 11a- by more strongly to her. His leave of absence was nearly expired, and before he joined his regiment in Portugal, he en- treated and pleaded, with all the energy of liis nature, that Agnes would give him a legal claim over her, and accompany him abroad as his wife, Agnes would not listen to hurry on such an important event, to clog the arm of valour by her feeble presence ; so ^oon to forget her beloved sister ; to take ad- vantage of the present ebullition of Raby's feelings. — •' No," said she, " this absence, whicli I hope will be but a temporary one, is calculated to prove your constancy, or rather to prove whether you are novv' ac- quainted with the nature of your senti- ments for me ; you shall bind yourself by no tie ; if you continue in your present opinion on your return to England, this hand shall be yours, and yielded with a willins THE REVEALER OF SECRETS. 131 a willing heart ; but you must not, fancy that you are not free ; your happiness will 7WW be always my first earthly w^ish ; to greet your return, in honour, health, and safety, will be my ardent hope: but you are young, dear Raby ; you are in a new situ- ation : for the first time master of yourself, an ample fortune at your disposal, you will be sought, you will be courted, you will be admired. Let /no false notion of punctilious honour fetter your mind, and interpose between you and happiness. It is but very lately that any prospect has opened to me on this side heaven ; and I tJtink I could relinquish it without a murmur, if you were to wish " Agnes's voice was unsteady; she wa& interrupted by Haby with vows of eternal constancy and love; but these had no power to alter her determination ; she saw him depart, with a trembling frame and a sinking heart; her last words told iiim that " he was free," but he felt them doubly binding. G 6 ]Mr. 132 THE REVEAI.ER OF SECRETS. JVIr. Stanford had within the three last years been presented to a Hving in Glou-^ cestershire, to which he had removed. Having previously been the clergyman of the parish where Mrs. Carey had resided, he had been the friend, the comforter, the guide of Anne and of Agnes. Mrs, Stan-- ford had felt for them that warm regard which an intimate acquaintance with their amiable qualities was hkely to produce in a well-disposed mind. To these tried friends INIiss Carey applied, when looking out for a new abode, and through their kind recommendation of me, I stood in- debted for mv amiable inmate^ CHAP. THE HEVEALER GF SECRETS. J23 CHAPTER VIL Agnes Carey sought not, by an affected privacy and abstraction from the world, to give pubhcity to an implied engage- ment with llaby; neither did she avoid his name, or any allusion to him in con- versation. She met the subject when it was fairly brought before her; spoke of him in terms of respect and regard ; and,. by her natural candid manner, seemed to leave nothing for curiosity to pry into, or conjecture to build upon. / only saw the weakness, the anxious affection of her heart. If it has been said that a hero is no hero to liis valet de chambre, surely it is equally true, that a heroine is no hero- ine to her house. If a newspaper has been brought in, which Agnes has been prevented 13^ THE REVEAI.ER OF SECRETvS. prevented from looking into by company, how have I known the moment of depar- ture seized on as the signal for her anxi- ous scrutiny ! If the rumour of an en- gagement with the enemy has been aiioat, how has she paced my apartments from hour to hour of a tedious night ! and how^ hard has been the conflict ere she could appear to her family with her wonted com- posure! These were speaking facts, but they spoke only to me, for no engagements were set aside, no claims were overlooked, no duties were neglected. Agnes Carey was a human being ; she felt as one ; but her feelings were never suffered to com> promise with her principles. She heard frequently from llaby ; his regiment v, as stationed at or in the immediate neighbour-- hood of Lisbon : his letters were entertain- ing and pleasant ; he never omitted to re- mind Agnes of his hopes and expectations, but he left a .'jpace for lively anecdote and information concerning the country he v/as in. Agnes answered in the tone of steady THE REVEAL ER OF SECRETS, 135 steady friendship; nothing was overstrain- ed in her style, or dictatorial in her man- ner; she gave liim her thoughts as they arose in her mind; she had the power of making the most trivial occurrence inter- esting, not by flowery adornment, but the entire absence of it ; by the simplicity of her narration, and that sincerity and feel- ing to which we might apply the words of the poet, " thoughts that breathe," and which, in oriental language, might be more strongly characterized as the " pulse of the pen," It was one of ]Miss Carey's chief gratifi- cations to go into the cottages of the in- dustrious poor, and to try to make them contented with tlieir lot ; her benevolence was not of that modern sort which would content itself vvith shedding tears, open- ii ig a purse, and saying to people that they were indeed most miserable ; her primary business, on the contrary, seemed to be that of finding out some palliating cir- cumstances on which the sufferer might rest. 136 THE REVEALER OF SECRETS. rest, and which might be a source of thanksgiving and gratitude to Him who in " his judgments remembers mercy !" how to be of use to these children of po- verty was her first object; the indiscrimi- nate profusion which gives to those who ask, without stopping to examme whether the mere act o^ giving will benefit the pe- titioner, was not adopted by her. " Teach the poor to assist themselves, to depend on their own powers, and to make a provision for the day of necessity, and you do them a far more essential ser- vice than if you were to empty your purse to them," said she ; " if they are sure of receiving your assistance w^hen they apply for it, they will no longer have a stimulus to their own exertions ; they will be indo- lent, improvident, and careless. I have observed numerous instances of this sort, and I have known an whole parish, where the women never thoughrt of providing the necessaries requisite against the birth of a child, because they were certain of re- ceiving THE REVEALER OF SECRETS, 137 ceiving them on making an application (which might have been more properly- called a demand) to the lady of the great house." Agnes never indulged that murmuring spirit which is so prevalent am.ongst the lower orders of the community. ** If your enjoyments are few," she has said to them, " your temptations are circum- scribed also. Your pleasures, unless it be your ov/n faults, are pure and simple. The vices of the world you may escape, unless; you are resolved on copying them." " I am many years your senior, Agnes," had Mrs. Stanford said to her, " but I yet find myself considerably your junior in the art of conversing with the poor. I call it an a?% for you have a peculiar method of impressing wholesome argument upon their mmds, and by the simplicity of your manner, adapting it to their comprehen- sion. I question if one visit of yours is not of as much benefit as two of JVIr. Stan- ford's sermons, and appreciating the merit of 138 THE REVEAL EU OF SECRETS. of my husband as I am inclined to do, this is allowing you a great deal." " Not as much as you suspect, perhaps," replied Agnes, " if you will trace things to their sources, my dear friend ; for if I ever have a right mode of thiuKing, I can with grateful pleasure refer it to Mr. Stan- ford; and when I find that my opinions are most just, I can remember some con- versation or some discourse of his from which I caught the idea ; so that you per^ ceive there is nothing original in me." " You have found out an original w^ay of disclaiming it, my child," said Mrs. Stanford ; *' I should however feel a Kttle inclined to be jealous of your fame, if you did not go hand in hand with Mr. Stan- ford. I am not afraid of your breeding a schism in the parish, but if you were in- clined so to do, I suspect that the Carey- itcs would prove themselves a stronger party than the St a7i(Ifor elites'' My readers will probably call these de- tails foolish, stupid, and ridiculous,* but so partial THE REVEALEU OF SECRETS. 139 partial was I become to my new mistress, that not a crevice or cranny of me but was devoted to her ser\dce ; and she never trod on my floors but I felt honoured^ and their elastic vspring proved that they vibrated in unison with me. Miss Garey was fond of walking at " Blue Severn's side, Where waves tlie meadow's golden pride. On -whose banks the roguish zephyr pours, From apple-groveb, white blossom'd sbowerg-; Where, on the summer breezes, sail The soft trill of the nightingale ; Or echoing wide o'er the twilight plain. The milkmaid's simple evening strain. Or the cowboy's plaintive voice, as he calls his lowing train.'* A hut on the very edge of the river was her frequent resting-place ; it was the humble habitation of a man who kept a boat, and who gained his livelihood by fishing, and by crossing to and from the opposite shore, conveying a chance pas- senger, carrying articles to market* or pur- chasing 140 THE REVEALER OF SECRETI?. chasing provisions. Kud^, stern, and un- cultivated, his temper seemed adapted to the element on which he might be said to live ; in the heat of summer and amidst the storms of winter, he ploughed and beat his way on the Severn, and the calm breeze or the sweeping blast were to him alike. To a reflective mind, nothing is more impressive than the awful wonders of storm aiid tempest; but there are persons v/ithout minds, and Davy Griffiths was one of these. In a calm he sang, while he rested on his oars and mended his nets, or unfurled his sails, and whistled as if to call up the wind. In a storm, his voice was raised above the tempest, and oathis and imprecations were blasphemously, rni- -piously, power lessl I/, vittered — uttered from habit and custom, their meanings scarce- ly known, their awful and heinous im- port ?ieve7^ taken into consideration ! On the blunted soul of such a man, there was little hope of awakening serious impres- sion, but on that of his wife, whose bodily frame THE REVEALEU OF SECRETS. 141 frame was enfeebled, and who was render- ed almost helpless by a chronic rheuma- tism, Agnes tried her power, and not with- out effect. Drawino^ her convincinof arccuments from Him whose life was our pattern, her in- structions were, like His, exempHfied and adduced from those scenes which were fa- miliar to the eyes of her hearer, those sub- jects which came within the level of her capacity, and those circumstances in which she was interested. Without adopting the tone of a teacher, or appearing to come to the fishing-house for a decided purpose, her chance visits (for such they seemed) were made subservient to her primary mo- tive ; and dame Griffiths gradually be- came interested and anxious to hear more of those " great truths which came doubly minded" from the tongue of Agnes. As her own views of eternity expanded, she naturally wished those of her husband to be equally clear ; for " Davy Griffiths," she declared, was a good husband, except when 142 THE REVEALEU OF SECRETS. when in his cups ; then, to be sure, he did get in strange tantrums. " But now," said she, " he is not so apty to get in liquor when on t'other side of the water, or else I should be mortal uneasy. Miss, I'll pro- mise ye, in the dark hlistei^ous nights in the winter time. But he knows his dan- ger, and does not do it." "If he can have power over an evil habit at one time, it is evident that he can at another," said Agnes ; " if he was but impressed with an idea of alvcays being in danger, being in danger every hou7% every moment of his life, of a danger far, fai^ superior to that of darkness, storm, or tempest, a danger from which he might escape for ever, and that then he would feel secure, even in the fury of contending elements, his frail bark buffetting with the heaving waters, if we could make him sensible of this /" " Aye, aye, if we could /" said the dame, shaking her head, with no great ap- pearance of hope ; " but law. Miss, he will noi THE HEVEALER OF SECRETS. 143 not listen, he u:ill not hearken ; and yet in the Bible, and in the Testament too, you know, Miss, there is a great deal about ships, and storms, and fishermen, aye, and jmor fisliermen too. There you see, JMiss, 'tis plain enough that nobody is despised on account of their calling, let 'em be ever so mean and poor. Since you have put me upon reading my Bible, with my heart, and undei^standiiig it as it were, I feel I do not know how as I read it ; it gives me comfort, for I am doing my duty, and my duty is my good, you know. Miss ; and when I listen to the stormy winds, and hear the rising waves of a night, when Davy Ciriffiths is com- mcT from t'other side, I think of Him who once walked upon the weaves, and they were still." *' Think that he still does so," said Ag- nes, " for though no longer visible to our bodily eyes, his power is not lessened, his arm is not shortened ; the pious frame of your mind, your sincere and ardent, your humble 144 THE REVEALER OF SECRETS humble and unaffected prayer, may draw down an eye of mercy on your husband." Thus would Agnes pass her hours when she strolled out alone, instead of indulg- ing herself in the reveries of a romantic imagination, thinking of Haby, regretting his absence, anticipating his return, and rendering herself inert, imbecile, and as incapable of rational or steady pursuit as are some of her weaker sisters. Stran^je as to these sisters it may appear, yet to the unartificial ear and the unvitiated taste of Agnes, the hoarse tongue of dame Griffiths did *' discourse most eloquent music ;" and I am inclined to believe that she preferred it to one of the most im- passioned of modern love songs. A very few months had elapsed before I remarked that the man who brought the letters from Chizzle did not knock at my door as frequently as he had been accus- tomed to do when Miss Carey first took possession of me. She did not make any observ^ation concerning it herself, though I suspected THE RE VE ALEE OF SECRETS. 145 I suspected that she was well aware of it. I have seen her watch for the man from the window which Mr. Prune had opened to the road, and for no other person, and at no other than his expected time did 5he approach it ; her heart quickened in its beat as he drew near the door; her colour w^ent and came, and came and rvent, when a comparatively uninteresting letter has been put into her hand — and none from Raby ! But Raby did write sometimes ; he talked of the pleasure he. enjoyed at Cintra, of an English family to whom he had become known, of tiie interesting mother, and the delicate state of her health, of the kindness and dutiful attention* of her daughter. Agnes heaved a deep-drawn sigh ; I imagined, from the peculiarly-pensive ex- pression which pervaded her countenance, that the filial duty of this daughter called up the image of her departed Anne to her memory ; called up did I say ? it always existed there ! Still Agnes heard of the VOL. I. H declining 146 THE REVEALER OF SECRETS. declining mother — still of the amiable daughter ; and at length there came a letter, which I think I must have got by heart, for I have heard Agnes repeat it so fre- quently, that every wall of me would have eclioed to it, could echo have b^n called lip by the soft, sweet sound. THE LETTER, *•' The candour and liberality which always distinguished you, my be- loved Agnes, was the foundation of that warm esteem which, on my part, will end only with my life. I believe I have not forfeited yours, because you will not blame an openness so like your own; and yet, to any other woman, I should hesitate to dis- close my heart at this moment. But you have read it, yoti have seen it. Agnes, you understand it better than I do myself! This preface appears studied and formal, but if 1 should begin again, I fear I should not THE REVEALER OF SECRETS. 14T not be able to mend it. I have frequent- ly mentioned IMrs. Albany to you, and her daughter Clara. Sweet Clara ! but, Agnes, you shall one day know her and love her. In a foreign country, amongst strangers, surrounded with danger, and environed with difficulties, common hu- manity at first led me to pay them those attentions which the unhappy situation of Mrs. Albany demanded. She became gradually worse, and c\^ery day I became more and more interested for parent and child. Agnes, figure the hapless state of a very young and very lovely girl, with- out a protector, deprived of her parent, at a distance from her native land, in a coun- try convulsed with war. Grateful for my little services, it is vain to conceal it from you, I think I have gained an interest in the heart of Clara Albany ; and that I feel for lier a reciprocal, perhaps 7iiore than a reciprocal sentiment, I will not deny. Be- fore I make tlie appeal to you, Agnes, I knovc your decision, and my decision must H 2 be ^48 THE REVEALER OF SECRETS. be made ere I receive it. Mrs. Albany cannot linger many days longer ; to take upon myself the office of protector to her daughter, without giving her a legal claim to it, would be doing her the most palp- able injustice. There is only one way for me to pursue, and I confess that it is not repugnant to my wishes. If I could be so vain a fellow as to imagine that I w^s by tliis step giving serious uneasiness to a heart like yours but pardon such an idea; your correctness of conduct, your strength of intellect, your admirable self- government, (even at tlie m^oment of our parting), your steadiness, your — what shall I call it? let me say frie?id ship, iov a more tumultuous passion never found an en- trance in your peaceful bosom. I have often thought myself unworthy of you, Agnes. I think so still. I have always looked at your height as^ar removed from mine ; but through life I shall covet your regard, your esteem ; and in the possession of Clara aUbany, I shall still have a wish un- giatified, THE REVEALER OF SECRETS. 149 gratified, if I have not your cordial appro- val, and the assurance of your— foj^g've- ness, I was going to add, but I do not like the word. " Write to me immediately, and believe me when I say that your worth and your goodness were never more strongly im- pressed upon my heart than at this mo- ment, when I sign myself " Your sincerely and unalterably- attached friend, He^'ry Raby." At the first reading of this letter, I saw Miss Carey shake in such a manner, that when she leaned against the wall, I was assured that it supported her from falling to the ground. She passed her hand over her eyes, and pressed her forehead with it. She then r^-read the letter; her lip qui- vered, and a faint flush taok place of the pallid hue on her cheek ; but I think, nay, I am sure, tliat she shed no tears ; neither H 3 was 150 THE REVEALER OF SECRETS. was Agnes one of the heroine sisterhood, who break forth into a loud soUloquy up- on every occasion ; but she whispered to herself — " Your correctness of conduct, your sirengtR of intellect, your admirable ^^//-government — are these to be cal- led up against me? Is the practice of my duty— is the resolution which I tried hard to attain — is the fortitude I strug- gled to acquire — are these to make me wretch edV This was too strong a word for the correct feehng of Agnes ; she seem- ed ashamed of it as she continued — " No ! only my own misconduct, only the dis- pleasure of the Almighty, ought to make me wretched ! Why do I feel this so severely ? Did I not foresee — did I not foretell it to Raby ? or did my heart dis- credit what my lips uttered? foolish, blinded Agnes !" She read the letter again, she saw in it much inconsistency, many marks of the impetuosity which had ever distinguished Raljy, a consciousness of his own instabi- lity, THE REVEALER OF SECRETS. 151 lity, and a fear of having acted with injus- tice towards herself, which was but thinly- glossed over, by those praises of her cha- racter, which she did not at tliis moment feel at all gratifying to her vanity or soothing to her heart. But the heart of Agnes Carey was rightly disposed; slie soon reconciled herself to this sudden re- volution in all her future prospects, and her first business was to write to Eaby, To caution him would have been useless, for in all probability he had made Miss Albany his wife as soon as he had dis- patched his letter : nothing therefore was left for her, but an act of oblivion for the past ; and she couched it in such terms of friendly confidence and unrestrained kind- ness, of fi*eedom, and of candour, that no- thing was deficient, nothing was wanting on her part to reconcile Rabyto himself and to happiness ; and assurance from her must have been doubly sure to him of ]\Irs, Raby's being received when she shoidd H 4 come 152 THE REVEALER OF SECRETS. come to England, with the welcome and affection of a sister. All ladies (and gentlemen too) can be he- roic, all can be the perfect amiable upon pa- per ; but having signed it upon paper, Ag- nes determined on sealing it by her conduct. No asperity marked her behaviour; she did not seize any tlie most favourable op- portunity of railing at the fickleness and inconstancy of man ; and when INIrs. Stan- ford heard of Raby's marriage, and cauti- ously mentioned it to her, as if to feel the groimd as she w^ent, Agnes had answered — " I will not deny to you that he left England with other views, but he was bound by no engagement ; I have nothing to accuse him of; he has acted openly and candidly. If I had become his wife, I would have tried to promote his happi- ness ; but if he has otherwise disposed of himself, I must suppose that it is better for me that it should be so : my present trial (I do not deny that it is one) is no doubt THE REVEALER OF SECRETS. 153 doubt intended for my good, if I will use it as such : and now, dear friend, let us say no more about it ; think what numerous blessings are still within my reach ; think wdiat misery migJtt have aw^aited me in a married life. Suppose, for instance, that after Raby had become my husband, his profession should have called him away, diat circumstances had prevented my ac- companying him, that he had seen Miss Albany, in the situation, the same distress- ful and interesting situation in v, hich e saw her now; that thrown on his compas- sion, on that excess of feeling which dis- tinguishes him^ — I will not pursue the sub-" ject, but I can imagine a thousand situa- tions, which vvould have been infinitely worse than my prcvsent ; woi^se, did T say ? I am thankful, I am contented, lam hap- py in my present lot ; it is more than I desire or deserve !" Mrs. Stanford's eyes glistened — " Oh," said she, " that others did but know you, Agnes, as / know you ! that the world II 5 could 154 THE REVEALER OF SECRETS. could know bow bright an ornament is hidden here !" " Do you not remember a sentence in the Bahar Danush ?" asked Agnes, shak- ing her head, " or shall I repeat it to you? ** In the world I perceived no constancy; No one can expect fidelity from the inconstant; I ha\e left off depending on any intimates; Sufficient for me is union with the merciful God 1" Agnes turned away as she finished, to hide the strong emotion w^hich she could not conceal. I do not take upon me to say that Ag- nes Carey had no moments of regret and despondency, but she shortened them as much as possible by active and mental em- ployment. Fond as she was of needle- work, and of all the elegant pursuits which are confined to her sex, they did not suit her at this period. Reading, unless it was decidedly of a serious and argumentative cast, she avoided also. Poetry and works of THE HEVEALER OF SECRETS. 155 of imagination were put aside for " a more convenient season ;" she feared that tliese might enervate her mind and excite her sensibility ; and at present her chief wish was to throw her thoughts into a different channel than that into which they were but too apt to flow. Soon after Raby's maniage, Agnes heard again from him ; his letter acquainted her w^ith the death of Mrs. Albany, and of his happiness in having been able to com- fort his amiable Clara for the loss of her mother, kc, &c. Another letter followed, in which he informed his sister, as he now called Agnes, that his regiment was ordered to pursue its route into Spain ; that he feared to expose IMrs. Raby to the hardships and difficulties of such a journey; and that he was going to send her to England, wliere she would proba- bly arrive as soon as that letter. Agnes lost no time in making the ne- cessaiy inquiries, and on having ascer- tained that Mrs. Raby was arrived in H 6 London, 156 THE REVEALEll OF SECUETS. London, she immediately wrote to her, inviting her, in the most friendly and cor- dial manner, to come to me, and be her guest during the period of JMr. Raby's detention from England. To this invitation she received a few civil lines, thanking her for it, but giving as a reason for remaining near the metro- polis, the facility there afforded for receiv- ing letters from Mr. E.aby, and the speedy conveyance of answers. Mrs. Raby was young, lovely, and un- protected ; Agnes was not deterred from what she thought her duty, even by the repugnance which she felt at the idea of leaving me : she wrote a second time, offer- ing to become the visitor of Mrs. Raby : to this she received a formal and laconic refusal ; Mrs. Raby was herself the guest of a friend, and therefore it was wholly out of her power to accommodate Miss Carey. She concluded with thanking her for her proffered kindness, and a hope of availing lierself of it at some future time ; but she did THE REVEALER OF SECRETS. 157 did not hint a wish of continuing the pre- sent correspondence. Agnes could do no more ; she was not one of those who con- demned from appearances, or from sHght circumstances, but she heaved a bitter sigh at such instances of distant coldness from the wife of Raby. Her mind became in^ terested, and perhaps to its own benefit, in an event which excited compassion in every bosom in the neighbourhood — the death of Anne Groves^ ! Did I not tell my readers that they should have hei^ sto- ry from another pen? Agnes Carey could trace effects to their causes, quite as much to the purposes of general useful- ness as Oddson, to whom I introduced them in the first chapter. She saw the origin of Anne Groves's misfortunes in a love of finery, and that silly vanity which, if not timely repressed, will grow to an overwhelming height. She lamented the scenes of profligacy to which the lower orders are introduced, in wakes, revels, and fairs, and pursuing the subject, while the untimely 158 THE REVEALER OF SECRETS. untimely fate of poor Anne was yet fresh on her mind, she wrote her humble story, mtending it as a caution to all in her rank of life ; bttt when she had completed it, her modesty would scarcely permit her to shew it to Mr. Stanford ; at the entreaty of his wife, however, she at length con- sented, and the good clergyman returned it, saying — " You have made my eyes overflow." " To you, I dare say, the tale has been interesting, my dear sir," replied Agnes, " because the circumstances have fallen within your knowledge, but I question whether I have made it so for the class of persons for whom 1 intended it — to whom I wished to point the moral. There is a great difficulty in adapting language to their capacities, as few persons are suffici- ently aware of it, and if we were to do this, I believe we must infallibly disgust rea- ders of a different description." " I perfectly agree with you," said Mr. Stanford, " for it is a difficulty which I have to THE REVEALER OF SECRETS. 159 to deal with every Sunday of my life ; but as I preach to a country congregation, I purposely try to adapt myself to the bulk of my hearers ; and if the smaller portion refuse to hear the ' utile,' they cannot be gratified by the ' duke* from me." But for the reasons she specified to Mr. Stanford, Agnes had thoughts of giving the story of Anne Groves to the world ; but her pen imprinted it on the memories of those to whom she shew ed it ; and as she left the copy with me, I feel perfectly justified in giving it to my readers, but must at the same time inform them, that — ** Anne Groves was the maiden all forlorn, That milk'd the cow with the crumpled horn, That loss'd the little dog over the thorn, That worried the cat, That kill'd the rat, . That eat tlie malt, That lay in tlie house that Jack built." CHAP. 160 THE PvEVEALEPv OF SECRETS* CHAPTER VIIL BURNET FAIR. *' The sun had seldom shone on a prettier girl than Anne Groves ; she was the life of the village where she resided ; health and good-humour were blended on her coun- tenance. She was just seventeen. Seven- teen is a dangerous age, and Anne Groves had some weak parts in her charac-f ter which laid the foundation of much fu- ture misery. Happiness and misery are but too nearly allied. The happiness which springs from thoughtlessness and the want of reflection, is at best but negative, and hastens towards misery, with irresisti- ble violence. Anne Groves v>as an or- phan; she was very young when she lost both her parents, who were labouring pea- sants, and had lived in a cottage adjoining the THE REVEALER OP SECRETS. 161 the village of Elmwood. At their decease^ Mrs. Collins, the wife of the principal far- mer in the parish, had taken the little or- phan into her family. She had taught her to read and write, and had instiiicted her in her religious and domestic duties, to the best of her ability ; and at the period wh^ we open the page of Anne's history,, she was of great use to her benefactress, whose health was declining, and managed for her the whole business of a large dairy-farm, where most of the responsibility falls on the female, with equal activity and skill. Vanity and a love of dress, a desire of be- ing admired, and of going to see all the sights in the neighbourhood — these were the besetting sins of our humble village heroine: her principles were good, but they might be called the principles of the- ory, for they had never been reduced into practice. The good advice and wholesome precepts of Mrs. Collins were imprinted on her memory, but vain ideas floated on her imagination and dazzled her fancy; she 16^ THE REVEAI.'^E OF SECRETS. she was unconscioi:s of ill-iiitention, but she did not exert herself to place a guard upon her thoughts: and though she daily and nightly said with her lips — " Lead us not into temptation," yet she did not re- sist the tempter with all the powers of her soul. In the village of Elmwood there lived another farmer, of the name of Gibson ; he had been some : ime a widower ; his family was not as well directed, or as soberly ma- naged, as was that of his neighbour Col- lins. Mrs. Gibson herself had not been particular in this respect during her life- time. If her servants did their work, she did not care how they dressed, what company they kept, or what style of con- versation they adopted. Catherine Ben- son had been hired at a statute fair (a mop as it is called), without any character ; she was very capable of the place which she had undertaken; farmer Gibsoji's cheese had sold better since she had made it than it had done for some previous years ; hence Catherine THE REVEALER OF SECRETS. 163 Catherine became a great favourite of her master ; and when she had done her work of an evening, it was her custom to walk up and down the village with a flaunting air, and dressed in much too smart a man- ner for her station in life. The idle young men of the village, and even some of the young farmers, would stop and chat with her ; she had an answer ready for them all ; and Anne Groves had frequently wonder- ed how Catherine " could be so unabashed, and talk with such freedom to all w^ho ap- proached her," Catherine Benson had conversed with William Hardwicke the first time she had seen him, with greater ease and familiarity than Anne Groves had ever done, though «he had now served up his dinner during an whole summer that he had worked for farmer Collins. There was something smart about Wil- liam, and the girls all admired him. The men indeed called him artful and quarrel- some, and used to say that " if he had been 164! THE REVEALER OF SECRETS". been good for any thing, be would have staid in his own country;" but this the girls imputed to sheer envy and malice, for William was certainly much their superior in person and manner ; and even farmer Collins allowed that ** he could work very well, though he wanted good looking af^ ter." Anne Groves had never thought much about William Hardwicke till she had heard him speak in terms of praise con- cerning Catherine Benson ; but Kitty Benson had long seen that Anne Groves was likely to be her rival in the favour of many of the village swains, and particu- larly of Hardwicke. From that time she determined to leave no means unessayed to secure him as her own lover; and though she had no design or wish of be- coming his wife, yet she pursued her in- tention with just as much avidity as if she had entertained a serious regard for him. Coquetry is not confined to the higher ranks THE HETEALER OF SECKETS. 165 ranks of society; an observer of human nature discovers it in the cottage as well as the palace ; and if it be only taken no- tice of in the latter situation, it is because we do not think it worth our while to look for it in the former. A little pique, a little pride, a little partiality, contfi- buted to raise up a commotion in the hitherto-peaceful bosom of Anne Groves. Instead of sitting of an evening with Mrs. Collins, when the active labours of the ^day were over, she now took her work to a window above stairs, where she could dis- cern all that passed on the village-green. Frequently did she find a pretext for passing over tlie green herself, more especially when she had seen William fcon versing with Catherine, for certain it is that Catherine generally contrived to get him into conversation in fidl view of Anne's window. Insensibly too the chaste and modest attire of Anne C roves was altered; the close and plain cap became more spread and more whimsical ; it looked 166 THE REVEALER OF SECKETS. looked more like Catherine's. Long slee^TS were substituted for short; the neat hand- kerchief was no longer plaited in decent folds upon her bosom ; ill- worked and vulgar muslin (such as is vended at the door by hawkei*s, who impose upon the ignorance and credulity of their cus- tomers, in making them pay an enormous price for inferior goods) was converted into shirts, and changed her whole ap- pearance from a " neat-handed Phillis" to a nistic slattern aiming at fashion, Mrs. Collins one afternoon, having stu- died her some minutes through her spec- tacles, said — " Anne Groves, I am sur- prised to see how much you have neglect- ed your dress of late," Anne Groves started and coloured, for never had she so much attended to it be- fore, ** You used to be so tight and so t^^ig, it was a pleasure to look at you," con- tinued her mistress, ** but now I scarcely know what it is like ; but you are so loose and THE REYEALER OF SEv':'KETS. 16? and so squabby : why, iudeed, Anne, to say the truth, you do put me m mind of that bold girl over the way at fanner Gibson's ; and were such an one to be in my house, I must part with her, unless she would part with her wonderments ! — And these long sleeves, Anne Groves, do you think they are at all fitted for our country work ? How can you be up to your elbows in whey and curds with these on your arms, child — your arms, tliat look as wholesome and clean, and as red as a cherry, and need not fear to show them- selves any day in the week ?" ' Anne answered with more spirit than she usually adopted towards IMrs, Collins, and said — " Kobody had a right to tell hei^ about her dress — she was sure she was always fit to be seen — her dress was de- cent, and was got in an honest way ; every body wore long sleeves now when their work was done ; she was sure, for her part, she had gone on and dressed in such an old-fashioned manner, till she was most ashamed 168 THE EEVtlALEU OF SECRETS. ashamed to stir out, and was become the laughing-stock of, the village." Mrs. Collins was< a well-meaning wo- man, but she v/anted resolution. At this moment she did not exert her authority, but covertly yielded the point, by saying no more on the subject. Anne Groves continued to dress as she liked, and was not insensible of the victory she had gain- ed over her mistress. Although Mrs. Collins had been the early protectress of Anne Groves, and might have fairly called on her services as a debt of gratitude which was her due, yet she was too generous and too liberal- minded to take such an advantage — " No," she would say, " Anne Groves is now supplying the place of a capable and ex- perienced servant, she ought therefore to receive the wages of one ; the best and primest of her days shall not be spent in vain—* the labourer is worthy of his hire." But while she reasoned in this manner, and acted upon it, the sensible mistress saw THE KEVEALEll OF SECRETS. 169 «aw the propriety, not to say the necessity, of preaching economy to her youthful do- mestic. She recommended her to husband her wages against a rainy day, and for the hour of need ; but Anne thought not of the morroAV in the enjoyment of to-day ; and if she did not spend all hex wages v/ithin the year, it was because she did not see any thing which struck her fancy. VOL. L 1 CHAP. lYO THE EEVKAI.Ell OF SECKET.S. CHAPTER IX, ■^^■t^-r**^ The leaves vv^ere beginning to brown over with the rich tint of autumn ; the Sep- tember sun had been unusually bright, and the sky had been unclouded azure. All the village of Elm wood w^ere talking of Biunet fair, and all meant to go to it on the succ';v9ding Saturday, ail but Anne Groves; she had never gone to Burnet fair. Mrs. Collins had refused to let her go, year after year; she had ahvays told her that it was not tlie place for young girls — that no good could be learnt at fairs at any place ; and that in a large ma- nufacturing town like Burnet, a fair was the scene of every kind of intemperance and riot, *• Why should fairs be allov/ed then," asked THE llEVEALER OF SECRETS. 171 asked Anne, with somewhat of an angry doubt imphed in her manner, " if they are the scenes of such wickedness ?" " When they were first instituted, I have heard oiu' clergyman say," answered Mrs. Colhns, " it was because people had no means of getting at the things they ■\vanted ; there were no good roads from one place to another in those days, and no communication kept up; and an annual fair brouglit people together from all parts of the country, with all kinds of w^ares ^nd merchandize, and the buyers flocked thither to stock themselves with what they should want of every sort, till the next fair came round ; but now, you know, we have good turnpike roads, and there jire stage waggons and stage coaches from place to place; and besides, there are good shops in most towns, where every neces- aarif may be purchased ^ and as for finery^ you know, Anne, that there is no lack of that neither, for every day brings a hawk- er and pedlar to our doors.'* I 2 « But 173 THE KEVEALER OE SECKETS. " But every body goes to Burnet fair," said Anne ; " and it must be a nice place, for they do talk of it ibr ever." " Because every body likes a holiday, and an excuse for being idle." Anne Groves thought Mrs. CoUins turned out of the dairy in a quicker man- ner than usual; lier heiul half failed her; she still thought of Burnet fair; yet after, what her mistress had said, liow could she ask permission to go? In the evening she passed up the village ; Hardwicke was cliattinff and laufdiin^' v/ith Catherine Ben- sen; she was shewing him something v/hich she held in a parcel on her arm. As Anne approached, she heard him say — *'' You will be the smartest girl at the fair. I never saw any thing that was pret- tier in the whole course of my life ; and tliat colour too, so much prettier than blue, so hke a full rose, is my particular favourite.*' ** I am glad you like it, however," said Catherine, with an arch smile, as she ob- served the colour of the rose advancing and THE REVEALEH OF SECRETS. 173 and receding from the cheek of Anne Groves. " What do you think of my new gown; Anne? is it not a neat, cheerful-looking thing? aye, and I assure you it cost me a pretty penny too." Anne Groves look- ed at the new gown with a sickening feel- ing at her heart a little while. A few weeks since she would have thought it «howy and tawdry ; now that Catherine Benson was to wear it- — to wear it at Bur- net fair — now that William Hardwicke had admired it, she wished to have one like it, and she expressed her approbation — ** And with my new split straw bonnet, I shall cut a dash," said Catherine ; ** you will see how smart I shall be at the fair." " But Anne is not going to the fair," said Hardwicke, who had long been used to read her countenance, and knew the thoughts which were passing in her mind. " No, no, madam Collins wont approve that ; 'tisn't the place for sohe7\ modest, I 3 ^j/o2^,y 174 THE REVEALER OF SECRETS-. 'pious girls ;" and he winked at Catherine. " No, no; you and I may go, Anne; we may ask leave, or take leave ; ^ but folks who are kept under, and dare not say their soul's their own, or yes, or no, why they must be good girls, and stay at home ; aye, . must not they, my pretty Anne ?" and he tapped her shoulder. Catherine Benson did not like the fami- liar tap on the shoulder, any more thai% the " pretty Anne." She broke out into a coarse laugh, and, in a jearing tone, said to Anne- — " There's a good girl, * Come when you're call'd, ' Do what you are bid, Shut the door after you, And you'll never be chid.* • Isn't that what Mrs. Collins tells you, Anne? Before /would be kept under as you are, why I would see 'em all to Jericho." Anne Groves was not without grati- tude THE REVEALER OF SECRETS. lT-> tude or feeling, tliougli gratitude and feel- ing were sometimes both obscured by va- nity and self-will. " Mrs. Collins is a very good friend to' me, and a good mistress too," said she ; " I do not like to hear her ill spoken of" *' Well, and who does ?" said Catherine^' ** You are a good servant to her, and she ought to consider it, and give you a little liberty now and then. Why the Gibsons never ask me where I am going ; but then, to be sure, they know they cannot do without me," and she gave a consequential toss of her head ; " they hwzv my value." " And so, for that matter, does Mrs. ColUns yourSy Anne," said Hardwicke; ** and if you were to say you would go with us to the fair, she could not keep you at home." Anne Groves did not know what an- swer to make. She hastily bid good night to Catherine Benson ; but Hardwicke fol- lowed her, and urged her going to the fair with more earnestness, and in a more per- I 4^ suasive 176 THE llEVEALEU OF SECRETS. suasive manner than he had erer used be- fore. Anne ruminated the remainder of the night on the subject of the fair. " To go, or not to go?" was the question; if she went, she knew Mrs. ColHns would not be pleased — ** But, dear, how could there be any harm in going ? old and young people could not be expected to think always alike ; to be sure, it would be a toil and a hardship for Mrs. Collins to go, with her crippled feet and infirm health; but for herself, a walk of seven miles would be quite delightful, and a treat. Many per- sons would go, who were Mrs. Collins's^ betters ; and if all who went were to be called imprudent, tliere would be very few prudent people left in the country by next Saturday noon. Catherine Benson was going, and hoii) smart would she be, and in her new gown !'* Anne Groves had a new gown too, one that she had never worn — one that had cost her more than any gown which she had ever purchased; but it was not /Dis- coloured THE RfiVEALER OF SECRETS. 177 coloured — -it was blue — blue, the very co- lour which Hardwicke had condemned. " Nothing aould be more unfortunate, to be sure ;" and Anne's eyes filled with tears of vexation. " Had she known that blue was so very disguising — had she even known that Hardwicke disliked it, she might as well have bought a rose as a blue. How did Catherine Benson then contrive to find out his likes and his dislike,'^, imless indeed she was a witch, and certain was it, that she did seem to bewitch all the men;. "If/w^as to go to this fair," thought she, pur- suing her musings, " a very pleasant thing it would be for me to go in my blue-co- loured linen — to have Hardwicke making hiTS comparisons — and to feel so mortified and so uncomfortable — and to see Cathe- line so happy — and to hear her so praised^ by Hardwicke ; no, no, I had muck better stay where I am, and go on with my work, and not disoblige my good mistress, by asking to go to the fair: as to the blue gown> nobody ha^ seen it yet, and perhaps no- 1 5 body 178 THE REVEALEll OF SECRETS. body may — 'tis safe locked up in my box^ and there 'tis likely to remain." Anne Groves was on the point of making some good resolutions, had they originated from right motives; but the staying at home — the doing her work — and i\\e fear of displeasing her good mistress, might all be traced to William Hardwicke's con- tempt of a blue gown, and approval of a red. After a disturbed night, Anne Grov.es arose at an earlier hour than usual ; but she arose unrefreshed; she did not feel her usual zest towards employment, nor enter with her wonted activity on the morning duties of the daiiy ; and if she had whis- pered a prayer with her lips, it was not the offering of the heart, meek— patient — trusting — it was iinfelt — we fear it was unheard. Anne Groves was leaning over the court gate of the farmer's yard ; the " melodies of morn" were unnoticed by her ; but the well-known laugh of Hardwicke thrilled on THE REVEALER OF SECRETS. 179 on her ear ; she saw him cross the village green with Catherine Benson; Anne Groves became sick and faint. She was returning to the dairy, when a travelling pedlar came up to her, and offered to show her his goods.. Anne recollected the blue gown, and would have turned away; but the man was pressing for her to look onli/ on the linens, even if she did not buy ; and with the cunning of the hackneyed vender, casting his eye towards her, he said — " To have such a pretty girl look upon his goods of a morning, was to ensure him good luck for the remainder of the day," The pack was opened; and the first piece of printed callico which met the eager glance of Anne was of the same colour as Catherine Benson's, but infinitely prettier in pattern, better executed, and of a finer texture. She asked the price with liurried emotion ; it seemed an hopeless question, though she did so ; the wily pedlar marked her agitation, and hoped to profit by it. ••' I thought you could not fail to be 1 6 pl(?ased 180 THE REVEALEU OF SECRETS. pleased with this," said he ; " it was sent down to me from Manchester only last night ; 'tis most fashionable, and quite the go, I do assure you ; I had something like it last week when I was here before, but no more to be compared with this than chalk to cheese. You may easily know as I speak truth, for I sold one of 'em to Buxom Kitty over the way at farmer Gibson's; and when you wear 'em toge- tlier, as no doubt but you wall, Saturday to Burnet fair mayhap, I think I may ven^ ture a quart of ale on hers not being thought nothing of when seen along with yours." Anne Groves asked the ^price of the print ; she held it in her hands, and placing it in folds, w^as examining it at a distance, to see the effect it would have when made up. The man snatched it from her, and putting it over her shoulder, pretended to do the same. " Actually," said he, throwing himself back with the non-chalance (but not with the air) of a Bond-street draper, " acluaily T think THE llEVEALER OF SECRETS. 181 1 think this here print was manufactured for you entirely — 'tis so becoming to you; why it makes you look all over in a glow, as fresh as the morning." Anne did blush '* rosy red" at this com- pliment, for many combining sensations rendered it acceptable ; but the colour faded away, and even her heart grew chill, when the man added, as he carelessly folded the print — " Forty shillings is the lowest price." '• I do not want it," sighed out Anne, and she turned away, and was going into the house. But did she go ? Alas ! we are con- strained to add, that she did not. Vain was it that, in the simpHcity of her heart, she said she had not sufficient money to make the purchase. Mr. Cording (for so was he called) eagerly offered to trust her for half, for any part of it, till he should come round again, which would not be for six months. Anne Groves gave him a hoarded half- guinea in part of payment. Cording's countenance assumed a leer of satisfactic^yi as 18.^ THE REVEALEIt OF SECRETS. ^s he resumed his burden, and walked off. Anne Groves flew to her chamber with her ^ew purchase. CHAPTER X. Anne Groves, who had hitherto been a stranger to concealment and dissimulation, now went secretly to a mantua-maker, accounting to her mistress for her absence by a prevarication, which, though not a direct lie, was the same in intention and effect; and she who had felt easy and cheerful before Mrs. Collins hitherto, now dreaded to meet her eye, and felt her spi- rits sink as she heard her approaching step. The gown was made — by stealth brought in, as it had gone out of the house. Fri- day evening all the village assembled on the green, as if by common consent, to talk of THE REVEALER OF SECHETS. 183 of the morrow, and of Burnet fair. Sucli shows were expected as had never been seen before in this or any other country — lions with fine manes — meiTy-andrews with linen jackets — tygers and quack doc- tors — tumblers and fortune-tellers — -jug- glers and jackalls — fairies aiid giants — every mouth -opened to tell what was to be seen, and what they intended to see. Wilham Hardwicke met Anne Groves, and obtained her promise of meeting him at the fair, before she had asked the permis- sion of her mistress, or mentioned to her an intention of going. Anne retired to bed without having ventured to speak on the subject which filled her heart. An old woman who usually came of a Saturday to assist in cleaning the house, had -called to make an excuse for non-attendance on tlie morrow, Mrs. Collins had inquired the reason. " I^aws, mistress I have ye forgot that *tis Burnet fair ?" ** I am not likely to forget it, I tliink,' rephed 184 THE REVEALER OF SECRETS. replied Mrs. Collins, with unusual aspe^ rity, " when a woman, arrived at your time of life, Sarah, can be running after such folly, and losing a day's work for such a place as that." " Laws, mistress Collins ! why you know I shall never be younger.'^ " Nor older, I suspect, in regard to con- duct; Sarah ; but I have no right to keep you from going ; you are not my servant." This emphatic you was not lost upon Anne Groves ; she half repented that she had promised William Hardwicke to be at the fair, for she thought she could never summon resolution to ask Mrs. Collins to let her go ; and, could she have done so, she v/as convinced that her mistress's con* sent must be eoctorted — it could not be obtained. " And after all/' thought she, *' what should I gain by going? perhaps I should be tired and uncomfortable, and William Hardwicke might walk with Ca- therine Benson !" — a sigh ensued — " per- haps 'tis as well for me to be at home !" Perhaps THE REVEALER OF SECRETS, 18^ Perhaps it would have been as well if Anne Groves had not opened the box which contained her new gown ; but she did open the box — she did unfold the gown ; and then the idea of not wearing it — of not wearing it at the same time with Catherine Benson — of being laughed at by Catherine for not going to the fair — of hearing the reproaches of William for not keeping her promise — of resigning him for the whole day to her rival, now, w^hen she seemed on the point of fixing him hers for ever, it was too much ; and go she ratist — and go she woidd ;- and she got into bed with this determination. At the dawn of day, IMrs. Collins was sent for to visit a sister, wiio was seized with an alarafiing illness the preceding evening, and whose life was almost despair- ed of Anne Groves w^as not destitute of common humanity ; and while hastily as- sisting to prepare her mistress i'or the ride of ten miles, which she was going to take, she felt that it v/as not a time to prefer her petition. 186 THE EEVEALEE OF SECRETS; petition, and that it was incumbent on her to remain at home during the absence of Mrs. Collins, fot the farmer was seldom within doors, and interfered very little in the household arrangements. Anne Groves kmzv. what was right — many of us do the same ; but Vv^hich of us can be said to re- duce our knowledge into practice ? which of us then shall dare to point the finger of scorn at an offending sister ? The dairy did not adjoin the house ; thi- ther Anne Groves went to pursue her bu- siness. We must confess that she did not go with her wonted alertness ; shq turned away from William Hardwicke, who came to ask her what time she would be ready, for her heart was too full to speak; he flattered — he entreated^ — he . persuaded^ Anne's voice returned — she listened to his persuasions — she was reminded of Mrs. Collins's mild and forgiving temper — of her being out of reach — and consequently of the impossibility of asking her permis- sion to gQ to the fair : it was even suggest- ed THE REVEALER OF SECRETS. 18T ed that her absence might never be re- marked ; and if Mrs. Wilson should die, and her large, unprovided family should be thrown on Mrs. Collins's hands, it was not likely that she should have leisure to think of Burnet fair, or who went, or who staid away. And such sophistry, such rhetoric pre- vailed. Anne Groves h7iew her mistressV sentiments; but she had now a shallow pretence for not asking them. She half wished that Mrs. Wilson might pay the debt of nature, and leave four helpless or- phans on the w^orld, merely to have her own misconduct and disobedience screen- ed from observation. Such are the inroads which selfishness and duplicity — such are the hasty strides which they make on the human mind. Before the farmer returned to dinner, Anne Groves had departed for Burnet fair. Farmer Collins did not trouble him- self to make inquiries after Anne, suppo- sing that she had obtained his wife's con- sent 18S THE EEVEALEE OF SECHETS': sent previous to her going off to Mrs. Wit son in the morning. Even Catherine Benson seemed struck with the smart appearance of Anne Groves, and even she allov/ed that Anne's was the prettier gown of the two ; but Catherine took the arm of William Hardwicke, as though it had been her sale right, and v/alked away from Anne with a laughing air, which was not calculated to make Anne Groves in love with her walk,' neither to receive much enjoyment from the conver- sation of the companion on whom she was exclusively thrown. Thi^ vfas no other than old Sarah, the charwoman, of whom we have previously made mention. The day was hot ; the walk over tlie fields was in some places rugged, at others steep and slippery; the stiles were high and awkward ; old Sarah hobbled and clam- bered, and grumbled as she went along, holding fast by the arm of Anne, and lean- ing on her with little mercy. The nice long sleeve which Anne had prided her- \ self THE KETEALEE OF SECIIETS. 1811 self upon was soiled by her coarse un- gloved hand, and retained the impression of her snuffy thumb and finger ; but Anne did not like to walk away from her, more especially as she saw that Catlierine Benson was determined to engross William Hard- v/icke's attention ; besides, she knew that eld Sarah was of a very violent temper, was easily offended, and did not mind what she said when she v/as in a passion. Anne Groves tried, however, to make iier get on as fast as she could, fearing that the others v/ould get to the fair before her, and that not finding them in the crowd, she should be left to the society of old Sa- rah during the whole afternoon ; but slie every minute cried out — " Not so fast, not so fast ; why, mercy, child, one would think the fair waited for you afore it was to begin." Perhaps at the same instant, Catherine Benson would call out in a merry tone, from an adjoining field, or an eminence which she had just gained — " Well, liow d'ye 190 THE REYEALER OF SECRETS, d'ye come on ? how d'ye come on ? very pleasant walking, an't it ?" An hundred times already had Anne 'Groves wished herself at home again ; but she was gone too far to recede; it was in vain to try to persuade' Sarah to return, neither could she leave the old v/oman to proceed alone, so on she went; and at length to Burnet fair she came, but so heated, tired j and jaded, that when she found her- self in the thickest of the crowd, where Sarah presently pulled her, she felt stunned and deafened ; all her self-possession seem- ed to quit her ; even her powers of think- ing were suspended — she was on the point of fainting. Both Catherine and William vieve vanished. In a few minutes the per- ception of Anne returned to see bold faces pushed up against hers, as if for no other purpose than to enjoy her confusion, to hear oaths and curses such as she could never have imagined, and conversation as much beyond decency as the noise and tumult ei^ceeded her ide^s of mirth and gaiety, THE HEVEALER OF SECRETS. 191 gaiety. Trumpets and bells — the hoarse laugh of clowns — the forced one of meriy- andrews — the incessant cry of, " Wholl buy ? who'll buy ? choice and cheap here ! choice ajid cheap here ! Walk in and see the lions ! Gentlemen, treat the ladies with some of these nice sugar-plums! — • taste one of these gingerbread nuts, my dear, and welcome ! A nice ribbon for your sweetheart, sir ! Here's a fine fair* ing ! Come, walk this way, ma'am !" These, Tv^ith the shameless looks and dis- course (discourse most horrible to the ear of modesty) of girls dressed up for the day, and issuing from the manufactories, where they had long ago learned to contemn " all the decencies of life," these were the sights and sounds for which Anne Groves had ventured so much. Completely fagged by her walk, and deBpairing of finding the rest of their party, old Sarah proposed adjourning to the housei of a friend of hers, Anne had nothing, to urge against this proposal, for she did not know 1925 THE IlEVEALEIl OF SECRETS know a single inhabitant of the place her- self; but she felt the necessity of going somewhere to sit down. The Jiouse to which Sarah Grimes led the way was a miserable hovel, though it appeared to have been swept and garnished for the present occasion, and the bush at the door informed them that JMrs. Grigg sold beer during the fair. If the bush had not pre- viously notified this, the interior of the dwelling would have spoken it intelligibly enough ; for the barrels were placed in a row, and tv/o or three men held their pints in one hand, their pipes in the other. Mrs, Grigg approached the new comers ; and not recollecting her old friend Sarah Grimes at the instant, and being thus en- gaged in all the hurr)^ and bustle of busi- ness, she merely asked whether she should draw a pint or a quart? Anne Groves recoiled from the touch of the landlady's hand, as she would have pulled her through tlie doorway ; but a man, who was more than half intaxicated, eagerly came for- ward. THE REVEALER OF SECRETS. 19S ward, and pushing Mrs. Gngg on on6 side, cried out — " Let the youngSvoman alone, mother Grigg, I'll treat her myself ! I say, mother, I'll treat her my own self! Come in, my dear, and have as much as you like, and welcome; I'll pay for us both, that's what I will." Anne Groves trembled from head to foot; she clung to the side of old Sarah, as she shrank from the man, saying — *' Pray, Sa- rah, don't go in here — I'm sure this cannot be your friend !" " But I'm sure it be though," said Sarah, ^* and Mrs. Grigg do recollect Sarah Grimes ; now don't'ee, Mrs. Grigg ? — and how is it with ye this longful time ?" " Lord, if it ben't Sarah Grimes ! aye, that *tis ! I do know'ee now, Sarah, well enough ! Weil, who should have thought of seeing you, of all people in the varsal world, at our fair ! Well, well, do'ee come in, and have a bit and a drop, and wel- come with all my heart, and the young one too; for all she be so shy, and so Jlus- VOL. T. K trafed lO^ THE REVEALER OF SECRETfl. iraied like. I s'pose this is the first time «he's been to Burnet fair, for she looks but young, and so she's quite stounded like ?" " Dang it if she ben't a sweet pretty maid tliough !" said the man, who had be- fore spoken to Anne ; " and / likes her all the better for being so shaem-^^Qedi, for there ben't very many of them there sort here in Burnet." Anne Groves had no retreat, for Sarah Grimes v/as already sat down, and comfort- ably regaling herself with bread and cheese and beer, and entering into conversation •with her friend, and her customers by turns, and enjoying their vulgar and coarse jests, and answering them in the same free strain. Tears stood trembling in the eyes of Anne ; she could scarcely swallow the mouthful of bread which, by dint of per- suasion, she at length took; and though she put her lips to Sarah's cup, she did not drink. Customer succeeded customer into the close kitchen ; noise and tumult increased likewise — THE REVEALER OF SECRETS. 1 95 likewise — the spirits of Sarah Grimes in- creased — her thirst did not seem to abate — she praised Mrs, Grigg's ale, and Mrs. Grigg did not spare to her old acquaint- ance. Anne Groves had never seen Sarah Grimes drink so much before; but then slie had never before had an opportunity of seeing her in company where she felt no restraint ; but old Sarah's head was not a strong one ; her cheek became flushed — she lost the thread of her discourse, and in the utmost consternation, Anne saw her- self surrounded by the company we have described, the shades of evening beginning to close around her, and her sole protectress an old woman, in a state of intoxication. The man who had been so familiar with her before grew more so, on perceiving the state of her companion ; reeling towards her, he attempted to put his arm round her neck ; i\nne rushed to the door, and into the thickest of the crowd, followed by her persecutor, who, with a direful oath, swore she should not escape him. K 2 '* Save 196 THE IlEVEAI^Eft OP SECRETS. " Save me ! save me !" cried Anne. At that moment her arm was caught by Wil- liam Ilardwicke. — " Oh William !*' cried she, as her sinking head fell on his shoul- der, '' where have you been? Why did you leave me?" " Dearest Anne," said he, " I have been searching after you ever since 1 came to the fair. Why did you stay with that hobbling old woman, with one foot in the graA^e ? a pretty one to come to fairs truly!** " Where is Kitty Benson ?" " Oh, I have not seen her for ever so long ; I left her to look after you, Anne." William did not speak the truth here, for Kitty Benson had quitted him on see- ing her master's son; however, Anne Groves was not likely to find him out. Thrown entirely on the protection of William Hardwicke But we will turn over this blotted leaf — a leaf which blotted the happiness of Afine Groves for ever. Sarah Gi'imes remained all night at the house of JNIrs. Grigg ; Anne Groves return- ed THTE REVEALER OF SECRETS. IQf ed home with her seducer-, but how did she return ? alas ! the horrors of that night cannot be pourtrayed; all nature seemed to mourn the fall of innocence; the thun- der rolled through the heavens ; the forked lightning flashed incessantly on the marked features of Hard wicke ; the branches of the trees were reft asunder by the fury of the tempest ; their leaves strewed the paths of the woods as they passed along ; the rain descended in torrents. It was long past the hour of midnight ; the morning of the Sabbath had dawned, when Anne Groves, shivering, drenched with rain, humbled, nearly distracted, parted with William Hardwicke at the door of farmer Collins. The faithful house-dog had given notice of their approach ; he would have seized on Hardwicke, had he not recognised the voice of Anne. Her gentle knock for ad- mission was immediately answered ; Mrs. Collins herself appeared at the door with a light ; Anne threw a hasty glance towards her, but that glance was sufficient; the K 3 swollen 198 THE REVEALER OF SECRETS. swollen eyelids and pale cheeks of her mis?^ tress told a tale of suffering, of anxiety, of watchfulness ; while the serious displeasure marked on her features spoke volumes to her conscience-stricken domestic. " Come in and go to bed," said Mrs. Collins ; ** in the morning I will speak to thee." Anne shrank into notliing ; she felt that she deserved all, a thousandfold more than this, and she crept to her chamber in a state of comfortless anguish. Her limbs ached from fatigue ; a cold shivering seized her frame— her temples throbbed — her mind was distracted — her heart seemed breaking. CHAP- THE REVEALER OF SECRETS: 199 CHAPTER XI. At length sleep came to the aid of Anne; but it was not refreshing sleep ; distorted visions of the night pursued her ; now she was carried away by a crowd — now the thunder appalled her — thelightning scorch- ed her brain, while the tempest beat cold on her defenceless breast ; in vain she ran to the arm of Hardwicke for shelter ; he rudely pushed her from him ; old Sarah stood at a distance, laughing at her distress;, v/hile Catherine Benson walked gaily by, and would not notice her. From dreams like these she at length awoke; but in vain did she try to rise ; her limbs refused their office, her head grew giddy, and she sank on the bed without sense or motion. In this state Mrs. Collins found her on K 4 entering !200 THE HEVEALER OF SECRETS". entering the room to talk to her on her late misconduct ; but all anger was sub- dued on seeing her wretched state, for every humane and gentle feeling inhabited this good woman's bosom. She had almost a maternal affection for Anne Groves, the orphan of her care ; and while tears of sor- row fell in warm drops from her eyes, she folded the poor girl to her heart, and assist- ed in laying her in the bed. Before the end of the day, Anne was in a high fever and delirium ; Mrs. Collins never quitted her bedside ; but lately returned frond the sick room of her sister (whose life had been spared to her family by a sudden and pro- vidential turn in her disorder), she had now to witness the sufferings of another individual whom she dearly loved, and to see youth and beauty struggling with dis- ease, and momentarily threatened wdth . dissolution. The wild ravings of Anne Groves were incessant ; William Hardwicke's name was frequently invoked by her ; now she talked to THE REVEALEU OF SECHETS. 201 to him in the tender tones of affection — now she accused him of cruelty — at one moment she besought his assistance, the next she imprecated vengeance on his head. Thi3 was a fearful clue — it was a clue which Mrs. Collins cared not to unravel; but her office must be performed; and if the life of her charge was preserved, she must try to preserve her peace of mind. Of the dreadful circumstances which had ensued to Anne's visit to the fair, she could have had no suspicion; it was likely that fatigue, the fear of blame, and the teiTors of such a night as that in which she had walked home, might have prodviced such an illness as the present. Of her return with Wil- liam Hardwicke alone, Mrs. Collins was not likely to be informed ; for old Sarah had her private reasons for concealment, and with Catherine Benson she never held communication. At the end of ten days, Anne Groves was able to leave her bed ; but she was the shadow of her former self, and weakened K 5 both 202 THE REVEALER OF SECRETS. both in mind and body; all chiding was forgotten in commiseration and pity by Mrs. Collins. The kindness of her mistress was not lost upon Anne ; and while the imbidden tear rolled down her cheek at seeing the activity and cheerfulness with which Mrs. Collins, at her advanced time of life, endeavoured to supply her incapa- city, and to screen her from every exer- tion, she exclaimed — " Dear, good mis- tress ! I can never, never rcij^ay you ! I owe you every thing !" " You can pay all you owe me, Anne, by attending to my advice for the future ; we will say nothing of the past, except in regard to a circumstance on which I judge it my duty to speak to you. During your illness, my child, you frequently mention- ed the name of one person." Anne Groves started — the colour faintly tinged her cheek — it went again — her eyes fell to the ground — she dared not meet the eye of her mistress. " Whether this was purely the effect of vour THE REVEALER OF SECRETS. 203 your distempered brain, my poor girl," con- tinued Mrs. Collins, not seeming to notice her agitation, " or whether indeed your mind had been dwelling too much upon him, I know not ; but lest the latter should be the case, I must warn you, that I do not think William Hardwicke is a young man on whom a virtuous, maiden should set her affections." Anne Groves felt her heart sink within her at the mention of that name ; she had not heard it since the fatal night when he had quitted her — she scarcely thought she should have lived to hear it again ; but it Was a name which she still cherished, for she still hoped and trusted she should be- come the wife of Hardwicke, now that her life had been restored. Mrs. Collins proceeded — " Hardwicke, you know, is quite a stranger here in this neighbourhood ; and though he may have left his own country for no misconduct, yet we are not acquainted with his reason for coming amongst us. He is allowed to K 6 be 204 THE REVEALEll OF SECRETS. be a good workman certainly ; but, as our master says, he is an eye-sen^ant; and though he can be plausible with his tongue, and behaves with great propriety in our kitchen, yet I understand he is loose enough in his discourse in the field, when he gets with those amongst whom he can take liberties. The girls are pleased with him, I know, because he is smart, and live- ly, and rattling; but I have heard that he is wild and dissolute in his morals ; and though to you he may appear good-tem- pered, just while he is trying to make him- self agreeable, he is considered to be quite the contrary ; and then he seems to have little or no regard for religion." " He always goes to ," began Anne with some warmth, but she had forgotten herself. Who was she about to defend ? — her own seducer ! — the betrayer of her innocence \ She was silent. Mrs. Collins continued. — " I need not tell a girl of your good sense, Anne Groves, that the mere act of going into a church THE UEVEALER OF SECRETS. 205 a church once in seven days does not con- stitute religion ; and I ti^ust to that good sense, and to the propriety of your no- tions upon most subjects, to beware of Hardwicke, now that I have given you this caution. I should be grieved to see you so ill-assorted, my child, and indeed^ if farmer Collins had not engaged him as a labourer before your illness, / would have taken care that he should not have been put into your way for the time to come." Mrs. Collins did not w^ait for an answer; she did not seek to extort any confession or any promise from Anne Groves; she only hoped, that if she had hitherto enter- tained any preference for Hardwicke, she would, from her mild representations, be induced to conquer it ; and she wanted no pi^ofessions, for Anne's future conduct and deportment would exemplify her feelings without these. We will not speak of the soul-lowering emotions which were felt by Anne Groves when 206 THE REVEALER OF SECRETS. when she again met Hardwicke ; he seemed struck with surprise and momen- tary consternation at the alteration which her iihiess had produced, but'he presently- recovered himself, and talked to her in a tone of jeering and bantering familiarity which made his poor victim shudder. Without appearing to be over- watchful, the vigilance of Mrs. Collins contrived that Hardwicke should seldom have any opportunity of speaking to Anne Groves but in her presence, and Anne's own wishes in this respect were in unison with those of her mistress ; she trembled at the idea of a private interview with him, and dreaded to meet his eye— that eye w^hich seemed changed in meaning and in pur- pose since first she looked at it — that eye which wore the bold and tnumphant ex- pression of the practised libertine ! No more was Anne Groves to be seen on the village-green. The winds of autumn, and her recent illness, were cogent reasons for keeping within; even Catherine Benson was THE BEVEALEi;, OF SECRETS. 207 was not to be seen as formerly. Report said that the young farmer Gibson was always by the kitchen fire of an evening, and that Kitty no longer walked abroad in quest of admiration. So passed three months, *^ and cold De- cember came." Anne Groves's looks were not mended ; her eyes were sunken and hollow, traces of tears were frequently seen in them ; her pillow was unpressed at night, though her aching head required repose ; and now she sought an interview with William, and now Oh the shame of that humiliating moment! she be- sought him to make her his wife, ere her disgrace and infamy should be proclaimed to the world. " Bethink thee, William, of thy fault, Thy pledge, and broken onih, And give me back my virgin vow. And give me back my troth." William promised, and protracted, and swore — and swore, and protracted, and promised; 208 THE EEVEALER OF SECRETS. promised ; but he had his victim within, his toils, and she could not deny him any thing, in the hopes of being made his wife ; and to supply his secret extrava- gances, he drained her of every shilling which she possessed, and at length even of the gown which she had purchased for the fair — purchased to please his fancy — purchased with her ruin ! This gown had been resigned to him, to be disposed of as he liked, on his promising, with an oath, to make her his wife the ensuing week ; but that week, and another, and another passed, and still some pretext, some shallow pretext, served as an excuse for Hardwicke, while Anne Groves feared to meet the eye of every fellow-being, for she fancied that every one must see her misery and shame. She would steal away from the family, and from the cheer- ful converse in which she was wont to bear a part ; leave the blazing winter hearth and ample board, and at her cham- ber window watch the waning moon, as it THE REVEAX^iiit OF SECRETS. 209 it rode through the wintry sky, and feel^ in all the world, the most desolate of hu,- nian beings. On earth no consolation awaited her — to Heaven she dared not ap- ply. She remembered the storm of that fatal night — she thought of a God terriblb in his judgments — she had forgotten that mercy was his chief attribute. Mrs. CoUins's fears were again awak- ened, but they had a new channel. She saw that Hardwicke, instead of seeking, avoided Anne Groves ; and she feared that an hopeless passion for a worthless object had taken possession of her charge, and was fast sapping the springs of life. To notice this would be unavailing. She ex- pected, however, a good deal from the spirit and pride of Anne ; for though both seemed at present to be subdued, yet she judged that they were not wholly extin- guished. No ! both were now struggling within the agitated breast of Anne; they were striving to gain the mastery, and. urging her to dare even the Avorld's re- proach. mo THE REVEALER OF SECRETST proach, even the world's contumely, and brave its censure, rather than unite herself for life to a rnan who had first humbled her, and now treated her with contemptu- ous neglect. But when she thought of her imborn babe, of the infamy which would be entailed on its birth, on all her own days of early happiness, of the bright visions of hope which she had indulged in, and now, now to be pointed at by the finger of scorn, now to be the gazing- stock, and the by- word of the country !■ — she felt that she could throw herself on her knees before Hardwicke, and kiss the ground on which he stood, to be preserv- ed from such a degradation ! CHAP- THE REVEALER OF SECRETS. 211 CHAPTER XII. On a coldj a gloomy, a cheerless morn- ing, Anne Groves, with a heavy hear^, was pursuing her work, when she saw the man approach of whom she had purchased, and to whom she w^as still in debt for, the pink gown. A cold chill crept over her frame, her limbs trembled as he advanced towards her, and said, with an air of free- dom, and with a confidence v/hieh made her shudder — " Well, my little girl, how is it with you by this time ? — any thing wanting in my way this morning ?" Anne eagerly, and with much trepi- dation, answered in the negative. " Well, well, better luck next time, mayhap ; but how do you find the pink gov/n wear, hey ? I warrant you have figur- ed ^1^ THE REVEALER OF SECRET?. ed finely away in it ! haven't you, my pretty one ? and half worn it out too, mayhap ?" — and he looked up in the face of Anne, not at all intimidated by the now-retreat- ing and now-returning colour which dis- played the agitated state of her mind. — " As I may not chance to call this way again before spring, suppose we settle that trifling matter betwixt us two now." Anne Groves turned from him in order to summon courage to speak, but heima^ gining that she was going to fetch him the money, said — ** Here, my dear, will you just take this half-guinea wfth you> if you are going ; for, to say the truth, I had as lieve you had it as myself; it has been a pocket-piece ever since you let me have it last September, in part of pay- ment ; for, d'ye mind me, 1 saw in one mo- ment, with half an eye, as I may say, that 'twasn't worth a farthing. My dear, who- ever paid it you cheated you to your face; pretty as it is, 'tis nothing in the whole world but a bit of copper just lackered THE HEVEALElfl OF SECKETS. 21S lackered over r 'tis as^Higk brummagem a« I ever set my eyes on !" " A bad half-guinea !" sighed out Anne, in a tone of distress and surprise. ^■ " Bad enough, take my word for it ; I found it out the very minute after I turned away from the house, but I would tiot come back again; for why, thinks I to myself, 'tis hardly worth while, for I had as soon the young lass owed me the whole as a part, seeing as how she is of an honest (principle, and will pay me for the gown when I goes my rounds again ; and as 'tis plain that money is not very plenty with her now, why should I go for to go back for to tell her 'tis a bad half-gui- nea?" " I wish you had come back," said Anne ; " in that case, perhaps, I should not have had the gown." ** ISIarry come up ! if that ben't a wish indeed! No — no, your heart was bent upon that gown ; I know it was ; and no great wonder for the matter of that, since 'twas ^14 THE REVEALER OF SECRETS. 'twas really a beauty. Well, my dear, I had better be moving, for I must be trot- ting a good many miles to-day, and 'tis like to be wet.; and so, if you will just get me that there money, why I shall thank you." Tears rushed to the eyes of Anne ; but, ashamed of betraying her feelings, she hastily wiped them Bway, saying — " If you could wait a little for your money, Mr. Cording, I should be greatly obliged to you. I did not expect you quite so soon, and am not, to say the truth, quite ready with the money ; and now this misfortune of the bad half-guinea, which I did not expect, it is quite out of my power, in- deed it is, to discharge my debt ; but the next time ^" " Ho, ho !" interrupted Cording, in no ver}^ gentle tone, " the next time indeed ! there is no saying what may happen be- fore then ; I may never travel this round again ; and I don't know as I shall, for there is very little money to be met with ; all THE REYEALEU OF SECRETS. 21S tall trust-work — all trust- work, and that don't answer by no means. So, if you'll .be seeing about the money, why I'll be going, for blithesome Kitty over the way wall be looking arter me, for I promised to be with her betimes. That wench lays out a fine sight of money, it is my opinion, with one and the other." " If you will but trust me a few months longer," said Anne Groves, in a beseech- ing tone, " J shall feel so greatly obliged ,to you, indeed, Mr. Cording." "And indeed, Mrs. Anne Groves, I can't think how you can have the face for to go for to ask me, arter going to tick for so long a time, and palming me off with a counterfeit half-guinea!" " But I thought it was a good one," said Anne. "Yes, yes, you thought it so; and if you could have got me to have thought so too. Well, well, as the saying goes, * old birds are not to be caught with chaff,' so my ^16 THE REVEALEU OF SECRETS. my money or the print, if so be as you have not made it up." ^' But I have made it up, and I have worn it, and " Anne Groves was here overcome by the variety of bitter emotions which this sad retrospect awakened, and she burst into a passionate flood of tears ; but Cord- ing was too much used to such pleadings to be moved by them ; he heard steps approaching, and concluding that Mrs. Collins was coming into her dairy, he raised his voice, saying — " If you won't pay me my money, let me have the gown again in part of payment ; I'll try to make something of it : but d'ye suppose that I can live to be put out of my goods and my money so fashion ? no, no, 'tis quite out of reason — quite out of reason i" "What is the matter?" asked Mrs. Collins, alarmed at hearing the high tone of Cording, and on seeing the distress of Anne Groves ; " what is the matter, Mr. Cording? of whom are you complaining, and THE REVEALER OF SECRETS. 217 and why do you thus frighten the poor girl?" " I don't want to frighten her nor you, Mrs. CoUins ; and for all that you ne- ver lay out a farthing with me yourself, yet I defy you to say, or to prove, that I ben't an honest dealer; but when people takes our goods, and wears 'em out, as 'twere, without paying a farthing of money, why 'tis enough to make one talk, and I must talk, and I v/ill talk, JMrs. Col- lins." Anne Groves retreated to one corner of the dairy; she tried to escape from the eye of her mistress. " But as my young maiden has not thus injured you, it is hard that she should receive the punishment." " But she it be as has done so ; let her deny it if she dare, and as long ago as last September, she bought a new gown of me. Yes, Mrs. Colhns, a new p. itch for a gown, and a beauty it was ; the colour was the finest pink tliat was ever stamped, VOL. I. L and 218 THE REVEALER OF SECRETS, and she was to give only forty shillings for it, though Kitty Benson over the way gave me five-and-forty for one* l\o, 't wasn't near so good, but I axed her no more. No, I axed her no more, for I seed she took a fancy to it, and she v; anted it, and I seed she did. 1 told her over and over, 'twere better to wait till she had the money to pay for it, and that 'twas a bad thing for yovmg ^ girls to go trust, as you know, Mrs. Collins, it is ; but 'twas all as nothing •:=-the gown she'd set her niind upon, the gown she "mould have — nothing v^^ould do but the ^'own^ — and tl>e gown she had. She offered me half a guinea for part of payment, which was more brassy than your cheese-kettle there, when I come for to look at it; and I can't say I liked to sus- pect such a young-looking thing as she be of passing bad money." " I did not, indeed I did not !" cried the sobbing Anne, who could no longer re- strain her indignation at hearing a tale so misrepresented. " Indeed, mistiecS " *• Hoil THE RErj^ALEll OF SECRETS. 219^ " Hold your peace, Anne Groves," said Mrs. Collins; " don't I know the story I have been hearing is altogether a false one ; either this man has mistaken you for another young woman, or he is trying to extort money on false pretences ; for as to a pink gown which he talks of, I am sure I never saw you wear one in my life, to the best of my knov/ledge, and I think 'twas not likely that you, of all people in the v/orld, should buy goods at the door, after all that you have heard me say against it." *' What then ? would you go for to put me down for a cheat and a swindler then, madam Collins? there the girl stands — let her deny it, if she can. Bring the gown, bring the gown, I say, wench, or you shall be made to " " Indeed, indeed, I have not got it !" said Anne, clasping her hands, and falling on her knees in an attitude of supplica* tion. " I told you so, I told you so," said Mrs. Collins, in an exulting tone. *' Anne L 2 Groves, 220 THE P.EVEALEll OF SECllETS^. Groves, fie on you, child, to be frightened thus for nothing ! The man shan't hurt you, my dear ; I'll stand by you, and see that you shall not be imposed upon in this manner. So, ]\Ir. Cordingv if you please to leave the place, or I must call the far- mer to oblige you." The rage of Cording was at these words increased beyond all reasonable bounds ; in the moment of passion he advanced to- wards Anne Groves, .and seizing her by the shoulder, he gave it a violent shake, as he said — " Answer me, ansv/er me tliis moment, I say. Had you not got the gown of me?" '* Oh, yes, yes!" screamed the affriglit- ed girl, as she tore herself from liim, and ran towards her 'mistress. Her hair in the scafiie fell streaming and dislicvel- led over her neck; her heart beat witli agony, her arms were extended, but ere they were clasped round tlie neck of Mrs. Collins, ere her head rested on that breast where it would have soiiglU shelter, iMrs. Collins's THE UEVEALEU OF SECRETS. 221 Collin s's eyes had glanced at, had disco- vered, the altered form of this child of her care. The fearfiil, the horrible truth flash- ed on her mind ; a frown I'lirved the placid benignity of her matron brov/ ; she repel- led Anne Groves as she would have clung to her neck ; she c^xtricated lierself from her encircling arms, and letting her sink, rather than fall upon the ground, she did not offer to niise her. Only a moment's pause took place on the part of the asto- nished and mortified mistress ; she spoke in a serious, and tried to speak in a firm tone of voice ; but, alas ! it trembled on the ear of Anne. " Z>o you owe this man money ? speak, Anne Groves; name the sum, and that immediately." " Oh dearest mistress ! " " No words; tell me the sum?" Anne Groves sighed, rather than said — " Forty shillings." Mrs. Collins took out two pound notes from her purse ; she put them into tlio L 3 hands 222 THE REVlilALEIt OP SECRETS. hands of Cording; a leer of satisfaction brightened his features, he 'thanked her, and placing his pack on his shoulder, walked off. Mrs. Collins still remained standing before the prostrate Anne. At length her words found utterance. — " Anne Groves, I find you have deceived me; I find you have entailed upon your- iself shame, repentance, and misery." Anne started; her limbs seemed con- vulsed, she writhed on the ground. " Yes, unhappy girl ! I have too clearly discovered the guilty cause of your late melancholy, of tlie alteration in your spi- rits and your whole appearance; and can I wonder at it ? No ! the young woman w^ho has acted as you have done, who has fallen from the path of virtue, has ruined her peace of mind for ever !" Anne sobbed audibly. " But you, Anne Groves ! yotc thus to have acted ! — oh ! I could not have thought it; I could not have believed that you would thus have rewarded me for all my carCr THE KEVEALER OF SECRETS. 223 care. What was the use of my instruct- ing you in your duty? why was un- derstanding given to you ? why the knowledge betAveen good and evil ? It is a bitter stroke ! Sooner woidd I have followed you to your grave than have witnessed the shame of this day T' " Oh that the grave would hide me !" sighed out Anne, in the words of the lioly Job. '* Dare not pervert the words of sacred Scripture,' said Mrs, Collins, with unu- sual severity ; " the gi'ave would not hide thee from His all-seeing eye, who is of * purer eyes than to behold iniquity.' Live ! live and repent — repent with tears of bitter penitence for that deceitful conduct which has produced thy ruin. Hadst thou been candid and sincere with me, hadst thou openly confessed thy sentiments, I could liave guarded thee against their indul- gence ; but you have gone on in a course of deceit and sin, and see to what it has brought jou !" L 4. *' What ^24i THE REYEALEE OF SECRETS. *' What shall I-— what can 1 do?" sigh- ed Anne, in a tone of despairing anguish, which appeared to soften the heart of JSIrs. Collins. " Confess thy fault, and sin no more !" replied she, but not with that sternness which had previously marked her man- ner, Anne Groves hid her face, while she recounted her sad tale of folly and of guilt. " The steps are but short froai one de- gree of sin to another," said her mis- tress. " Thy story, Anne, would af- ford an awful lesson to thy young com- panions, if they would but mark it. Hadst thou resisted the incitements of vanity, and not plunged into debt for a gown, which thou didst not want, and which thou didst buy merely to please the eye of another, that other would not have accomplished thy ruin." Strong in her feelings, Mrs. Colhns's expressions had insensibly adopted a for- cible THE llEVEALER OF SECBETS. ^25 cible style. She continued — " I ¥/as read- ing in a book the other day at my sister's, and I met with a remark v/hich I remem- bered for its truth, and because it Lad never struck me before. It was said— * Our ovv'n eyes were not expensive to us, because, if they began to fail us, v/e could assist their defects with a pair of spectacles, w^hich would only cost us a few shillings; T)ut the eyes of our neighbours were ex- pensive to us. If our neighbours were bhnd, of what use v^^ould it be to have fi^e clothes or fine houses ?'* Oh Anne Groves ! at how vast an expence didst thou gratix^y the eye of William Hard- wicke !" With th-e contrite tears of a self-accus- ing sufferer, Anne Groves confessed that she believed (and her whole frame shook with agony while she spoke the scarcely- audible words) that William Hardwicke did not wish to make reparation for his crime by marriage. "And * The Works of Dr.- FranklHi, 226 THE REVEALER OF SECRETS. " And still you wish to be his wife, Arnie ?" asked her mistress. " Oh, to have my shame screened from the world ! — to be made an honest wo- man of! — to have my babe !'* She could say no more. *' I know what you would have said, Anne Groves, and only the last reason can have any weight in my estimation ; and in your state of life the last reason is not of great moment. I have always, as far as has been in my humble power, tried to op- pose those opinions which the lower class of people indulge on this subject, as I am convinced that it leads to much sin and misery. They imagine that if their sedu- cer marries his victim before a witness of her shame is brought into the world, that her fault is screened, and her fame retriev- ed : but this screen, on which they lay 60 great a stress, is only an imaginary one, believe me ; it is like a debtor who, by an act of grace, is loosed from confine- ment; he iif w^hite- washed and liberated, but THE UEVEALER OF SECUETS. 227 but his debts are still uncancelled. In my estimation, Anne Groves^Jallen as you.are, you would be more respectable if, in hum- ble penitence, you exerted your strength and your faculties for the support of your child, than if you were to seek a union with your unprincipled and barbarous reducer, airi w^ere to compel him to a marriage to which he is averse, and thus condemn yourself to a life of misery, and perhaps expose yourself to the danger o€ having every virtuous principle contami- nated and overturned, and of endanger- ing your immortal soul ; for what, I ask you, are the principles of WilUam Hard- w^icke ?" " Oh ! must I not marry him then ? must I not be his wife? say not so, my dearest mistress ; oh ! say not so !" cried Anne, in a tone of beseeching agony. " I will rise early, I will work late, I v^'ill cheerfully bear every hardship of poverty, to be Hardwicke's wife, to have my babe acknowledged, owned by a father ! Fear not 2$,8 THE KEVEALEK OF SECUETS, not for me, dear — dear Mrs. Collins. As William's wife I will do ihy duty, and pray to God for support, even though * I go mourning 4II the day long.' But if I was an outcast from society, left to myself, xmd to see from day to day, from v/eek to week, my innocent, my unoffending babe, looking at its mother, as if to reproach her for its birth — oh, then, how v/ould my whole nature be changed ! and if de- spair Here her voice assumed a tone of wild terror which seriously alarmed Mrs. Col- lins, v/ho sought to sooth and soflen her feelings by gentle expostulation ; bu.t no- thing could dissuade Anne Groves from the wish of becoming the wife of Hard- wicke ; yet love for her seducer had less weight in this wish than the dread of shame and of disgrace. Vanity, as we have said, had been her ruling foible ; the revulsion which this her besettinj^ sin would experience, if she were to meet her fate alone, was not to be thought of with- out THE REVEALER OF SECRETS. ^29 out the extremest agony. She fearfully, tremblingly acknowledged to herself, that she had little prospect of any thing like happiness witii a man of William's disso- lute manners and unfeeling character. The hope of rivalling Catlierine Ben.^on in iiis favour liad first induced her to listen to him, and to engage his notice, and now the dread of being exposed to the " world's dread Ian Mi" led lier to wish him for her o husband at the hazard of every conse- quence ! Finding her tlius firmly resolved, far- mer Collins was more inclined to fall in with the commonly-received opinion of patching np a broken character by mar- riage than vv'as his wife ; and as the bur- den on the parish would thus be lighten- ed, and some trouble spared to himself^ wlio was in a parish office, he left no means unessayed ; and at length saw Wil- liam Kardwickc take Anne Groves to church. But this had been a difhcult busi- ness to accomplish; many turnings and windings. 230 THE REVEALEU OF SECRETS. windings, many shufflings and shallow ex cuses, were exhibited ere the hard-hearted seducer could be brought to the point ; and when he was, his heavy, listless step, his frovvaiing brow, his cold and careless manner, forclbl}'- proclaimed a tale o^ fu- ture suffering to the grief-stricken Anne. Her countenance, divested of its bloom, was pale and wan ; her eyes, sunken in their sockets from long watching, sought the ground ; her step was feeble and un- steady, a large closk shaded her person, but the blue gown (hhie, the colour which William Hardwicke disliked) was seen beneath it. Alas ! the pink was gone, and so w^as her happiness for ever ! Another pair were going into the church at the samiC time. A joyous crowd v/ere following them. In a gay jozVzZ^-coloured linen, and a white shawl carelessly thrown over her shoulders, smiling and tripping, and scarcely touching the ground, walked Catherine Benson ! She gave a scornful toss of her head,' and brushed by Anne Groves. THE REVEALEU OF SECHETS. 231 Groves. The young farmer followed in trim array, William Hardwieke bit his lips; he muttered between his teeth. Anne Groves was near falling as she tot- tered tov^arcis the altar. She repeated the words — " love, cherish, and obey." Whom did she swear to obey? Obe- dience was due only to the commands of virtue. Was it hkely that William Hard- wieke would become a virtuous character? His new-made wife took his arm when they descended from the altar, according to established custom. He suffered, but did not invite her to the action ; tliey left the church in haste, not staying to hear the congratulations which were pouring in from all sides on farmer vnl Mrs. Gib- son. 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