HG^^/C 
 
 V 
 
 J 
 
 >,Jf 
 
 J 
 
 if* 
 
 
 /. 
 
^L I B R.ARY 
 
 OF THE 
 U N I VLR5ITY 
 or ILLINOIS 
 
 V.I ' 
 
The person charging this material is re- 
 sponsible for its return to the library from 
 which it was withdrawn on or before the 
 Latest Date stamped below. 
 
 Theft, mutilation, and underlining of books 
 are reasons for disciplinary action and may 
 result in dismissal from the University. 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS LIBRARY AT URBANA-CHAMPAIGN 
 
 OCT 21978 
 
 SEP 
 
 Z(\ 
 
 m 1 1 m 
 
 m 1 i ^^^^ 
 
 m 
 
 L161 — O-1096 
 
FORTITUDE AND FRAILTY ; 
 
 ^ :Nrob£i 
 
 IN FOUR VOLUMES. 
 
 INSCRIBED TO THE 
 
 REVERED MEMORY OF HER LAMENTED FATHER, 
 
 BY 
 
 JP^NNF HOLCROFT. 
 
 VOL. L 
 
 SonDott : 
 
 frinted ly TV. CLOWES, Northumberland-court, Stravd, 
 
 FOR W. SIMPKIN AND R. MARSHALL, STATIONERS'-COURT 
 
 LUDGATE-STREET, 
 
 1817. 
 

 FORTITUDE 
 
 FRAILTY. 
 
 \ 
 
 L CHAPTER L 
 
 ^' W H Y are you so dissatisfied, Leoline ? 
 
 ^What young man's prospects in life are fairer 
 than yours ? Our family is good ; your uncle 
 
 ^is a baronet; your education has been ex- 
 cellent; you have already made yourself 
 
 -known at the bar; and were you less re- 
 spectably protected, I cannot see why, with 
 your talents, you might not look forward to 
 
 ^:the highest dignities." 
 
 ■^ '' My uncle,'' replied Leoline, " has taken 
 care to provide himself an heir, a son who 
 
 iis already a miracle, for he is even a greater 
 booby than his father. As to legal dignities, 
 I do not think they are attainable by me. I 
 Vol. I. B 
 
2 FORTITUDE 
 
 am not always in a humour to profess my 
 admiration of knaves, and heap flattery upon 
 fools. 'Tis not that I think it any crime to 
 make knavery its own dupe, or folly subser- 
 vient to my pleasures ; but I cannot suffici- 
 ently disguise my sentiments : the attempt to 
 disguise them does but keep me silent, and 
 silence leads occasionally to sullen contempt, 
 in which I find myself apt enough to indulge. 
 When roused from my lethargy, I cannot al- 
 ways prevent myself from breaking out into 
 sarcastic sneers, and ironical panegyric, 
 which I have too often the misfortune to 
 make so intelligible that they cannot be mis- 
 understood." 
 
 " I thought," answered his sister, " you 
 had the good sense to make your general be- 
 haviour exacdy the contrary ; to wear a smile 
 upon your countenance, and give a smooth 
 complacency to your aiifcourse ?" 
 
 " So I do, theoretically, and should be 
 very successful were it not for these fits of 
 ill temper, which come upon me unawares ; 
 yet, naturally enough, for it is not till the pa- 
 
AND FRAILTY. 3 
 
 tience of forbearance is exhausted. When 
 the humour seizes me, I cannot resist, and 
 sometimes it will not disappear till I have 
 exposed knaves, made fools ridiculous, and 
 thoroughly exasperated both; and, though 
 I am conscious of the mischief I am doing 
 myself, I cannot help feeling considerable 
 pleasure in the task.'* 
 
 " I wonder, brother, to hear you talk." 
 " Well you may ; I wonder at myself; 
 nay, while I am doing it, I feel I rank my- 
 self among the fools whom I am deriding. 
 But, beside this, I have another inveterate 
 objection to the law." 
 
 " What do you mean, brother?'* 
 " I am now in the prime of life, at least 
 I am in that period of youth when pleasures 
 are most delightful. Shall I shut myself up 
 to pore over the jargon of the law, seek out 
 precedents, encumber my mind with cases, 
 and qualify myself to wrangle? Instead of 
 exerting my faculties clearly to state the jus- 
 tice of the cause I have undertaken, must I 
 hunt through folios for the possibility of 
 B 2 
 
4 FpRTITUDE 
 
 finding some other suit with which it ha^, 
 perhaps, a very slight resemblance, that was 
 tried in the reign of I know not what 
 Henry, Edward, or William, and before I 
 know not whom, except that, for legal know- 
 ledge, they never yet were equalled ? for so, 
 right or wrong, I must audaciously assert. 
 Indeed, sister, I would much rather pursue 
 the captivating pleasures of St. James's than 
 pass the spring time of my life in the ob- 
 noxious state of a grub, though I should 
 happen at last to flutter for a few days like 
 a butterfly." 
 
 " Why did you not take proper care, bro- 
 ther, to be born the richest heir in the king- 
 dom?" 
 
 " Very true, why did not I? That I 
 shall be rich, however, I have no doubt ; I 
 am only afraid the arrival of riches will be 
 too slow." 
 
 *' Pray, Leoline, tell me by what means ; 
 since you seem to have renounced the law ?" 
 
 " Not absolutely, I think, however, I 
 have hit upon a more expeditious method." 
 
AND FRAILTY. 5 
 
 ** Pray, name it." 
 
 " Marriage. If I do not mistake, I can 
 bring myself to submit to the whims and 
 caprice of an heiress, if she be but rich 
 enough ; at least till I have made her my 
 wife. I will not swear that I might not 
 after^^ard think of a curb, or a check 
 rein." 
 
 " Not, surely, for a woman of good sense, 
 brother ?" 
 
 " Oh no, if such a miracle could be found, 
 and provided her notions of good sense and 
 mine agreed." 
 
 " Leoline, I fear you will be a sad ty- 
 rant." 
 
 " Ah, that is the old story, every hus- 
 band, who is really the master of his family, 
 is so called. However, domestic disputes in 
 fashionable life are easily settled, and I'll 
 take care never to be a husband in any but 
 fashionable life." 
 
 " And pray, brother, have you yet deter- 
 mined who shall be the happy bride ?" 
 B 3 
 
b FORTITUDE 
 
 " You are excellent at irony, my kind 
 sister." 
 
 " I can scarcely allow the question to be 
 ironical, provided you have the least modera- 
 tion in your hopes : your person and under- 
 standing are such as can scarcely fail to capti- 
 vate any youthful female, if you be but fully 
 determined to be as agreeable as you very fre- 
 quently make yourself, especially to the la- 
 dies; though, I grant, it is almost always 
 plainly to be seen you consider them but as 
 a kind of agreeable play things, with whom 
 you may amuse yourself by giving chace to, 
 as boys hunt butterflies." 
 
 " I fear I generally do them too much 
 honor." 
 
 *^ Well said, vanity. But you have not 
 answered my question." 
 
 " You have not put it in an intelligible 
 form." 
 
 " Have you turned your thoughts to any 
 individual young heiress ?" 
 
 " There is one, who, as far as the main 
 
AND FRAILTY. 7 
 
 article, I mean her fortune, goes, might be 
 acceptable." 
 
 " Am I acquainted with her?" 
 
 " You are; nay, you have brought your- 
 self into good repute with her, and I have 
 sometimes thought it was done intention* 
 ally." 
 
 *' You mean Miss Fairfax ?" 
 
 " I do. Is my conjecture right ?" 
 
 ** What conjecture ?" 
 
 " That it was not without design you 
 have shown yourself to the uncle, to the 
 aimt, and especially to the young lady, no 
 less friendly than intelligent?" 
 
 " Leoline, I love you very dearly, and 
 am very desirous to see you the gentleman 
 that both nature and education seem to 
 have intended to make you. Of this I be^ 
 lieve you are convinced ; but, your propen 
 sity to sarcasm is so strong, you cannot 
 spare even your sister. My friendship for 
 the family of Fairfax is real ; how far my in- 
 telligence may be but apparent I must leave 
 to the decision of others, except that I might 
 b4 
 
3 FORTITUDE 
 
 reasonably object to my brother, as a 
 judge." 
 
 " Well said, sister ! I hope you will be 
 candid enough to allow sarcasm is a family 
 disease." 
 
 " Perhaps so ; but it is a mother's mark, 
 over which, when in company, I generally 
 remember it is my interest to throw a veil." 
 
 " Your prudence, sister, I know is con- 
 summate. I will do you the justice to ac- 
 knowledge your conduct, through life, has 
 been marked with this virtue. You might 
 have manied a ruined man of rank, and 
 fashion; but you prudently preferred a 
 wealthy merchant : you govern him like a 
 child, yet you prudently make him appear 
 to be the master of his ow n family. You de- 
 spise our uncle. Sir Christopher, and his fox- 
 hunting son; their company and conversa- 
 tion, you say, give you far more disgust than 
 pleasure ; yet you prudently spend an annual 
 week with them, and, though their vanity 
 never fails to impel them to sneer at your 
 mercantile marriage, you prudently affect to 
 
AND FRAILTY. § 
 
 laugh at their illiberal attempts to be witty, 
 nay, and are kind enough to give meaning to 
 jokes equally vulgar and rapid." 
 
 " While I live in the world, brother, I 
 must live with the world." 
 
 " Ay, ay ; you do not think it wise to 
 goad an ass, that you know will kick, if he 
 can." 
 
 " Do, you, brother?" 
 
 " No ; yet I cannot always forbear." 
 
 " Well, brother, I will candidly own, I 
 wished you to turn your thoughts to Miss 
 Fairfax, who is not only an heiress but 
 highly accomplished, beautiful, has a kind 
 heart, and an excellent understanding." 
 
 " I deny the understanding." 
 
 " Well, well, I grant you, in some in- 
 stances, she is very deficient." 
 
 " Had she been turned upon the world 
 without a fortune, sister, as you were, she 
 would never have possessed a tythe of your 
 prudence. I suspect she would never have 
 condescended to have married Mr. Jeremiah 
 b5 
 
10 FORTITUDE 
 
 Grafton, though he is generally allowed to 
 be a mighty good sort of a man." 
 
 " I admit, brother, that the ruined rake 
 might have been more to her humour. I 
 looked a little to the enjoyments of youth, 
 and to the comforts of old age. Still I 
 think her fortune, beauty, and accomplish- 
 ments, are sufficient to make her a very de- 
 sirable match for a certain young templar, 
 called Leoline Hargrave, who is conscious 
 of no want, that of a good estate excepted, 
 and whose family, person, and talents, may 
 rank him at least her equal." 
 
 " Modestly speaking, I think they may." 
 " Well said, Mr. Modesty. Pray let 
 me ask, are you acquainted with Mr. Fair- 
 fax's late ward, Archibald Campbel ?" 
 " Very slightly. But why that question?" 
 " Because I am well persuaded there is a 
 lurking partiality for him, in the pretty tender 
 heart of Miss Fairfax." 
 
 " And yeu therefore suppose I ought to 
 stand in awe of Mr. Campbel, as a rival?" 
 
AND FRAILTY. 11 
 
 ^* Whatever you ought, I do not suppose 
 you do." 
 
 " A Cambridge pedant! A mixture of 
 Scotch pride and English principle! A 
 would-be-boy philosopher, the humble imi- 
 tator of his wise guardian ! I should be 
 ashamed to enter the lists of love against 
 such a champion." 
 
 " With a good person, a better estate, 
 much reading, more enterprise, and an un- 
 bounded zeal for all that he thinks virtue, 
 he is allowed to be a youth of no little pro- 
 mise." 
 
 " He is at best but well-tempered clay, 
 from which an able artist may produce 
 whatever animal he pleases. I happened to 
 dine in company with him last week, and, 
 even before the cloth was well removed, in 
 the presence of the ladies, he began and 
 maintained a wrangling argument, though 
 every person present w£is his opponent, in fa- 
 vour of the native virtue of the human 
 heart ! His zeal was truly apostolic, his ob- 
 stinacy unconquerable, and his credulity 
 
t$i FORTITUDE 
 
 sufficient to have sent him to heaven on the 
 back of Mahomet's ram." 
 
 " Oh, as for his enthusiasm, I, however 
 extravagant, deny that it equals that of Miss 
 Fairfax, though hers is of somewhat a dif- 
 ferent kind." 
 
 " Yes, and still, if possible, more ridi- 
 culous. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha ! She believes in 
 the immaculate nature of female friend- 
 ship !" 
 
 " You will exaggerate, Leoline; she does 
 but believe in the immaculate nature of that 
 friendship, which any young Miss of her ac- 
 quaintance shall think proper to profess in 
 her favor ; and in defence of this faith she 
 would be a willing martyr." 
 
 " Do you not suppose it possible to in- 
 spire her with equal faith in the friendship of 
 man?" 
 
 " I think it not only possible but easy ?" 
 
 " I am almost sorry for it." 
 
 ** Why so.?" 
 
 " I mean myself to make the experiment; 
 
AND FRAILTY. 15 
 
 and I should begin my task with more alac- 
 rity, were the obstacles somewhat greater." 
 
 " Well, well, brother, I am glad you have 
 so far explained yourself. I shall take a 
 pleasure to promote your plan, for it is not 
 only honorable to you, but, in my opinion, 
 advantageous to Miss Fgiirfax." : • 
 
 The above dialogue will sufficiently inform 
 €very judge of the human heart what were 
 the general sentiments, characters, and 
 principles, of Leoline Hargrave, barrister at 
 law, and of his prudent sagacious sister, 
 Mrs. Grafton^ 
 
14 FORTITUDE 
 
 CHAP. II. 
 
 The dialogue that has been given in the 
 preceding chapter, happened in the spring, 
 and Miss Eleonor Fairfax, on whom the 
 brother and sister have declared they had 
 designs, arrived about a week afterward in 
 London. Perhaps it may be received as a 
 maxim, that no words can so well pourtray 
 the character of any individual, as those of 
 that individual himself. Presuming this to 
 be so, every opportunity will be taken, in 
 the present history, of suffering the dramatis 
 personae to speak for themselves, which will 
 be done by now and then reciting the con- 
 versations that passed between them, and at 
 other times by inseiting such of their letters 
 as are in the historian's possession, whenever 
 they will contribute to the main design, by 
 the elucidation of opinions, feelings, and 
 facts. 
 
 Of this kind is the following epistle, 
 written by the at present happy Eleonor ta 
 
AND FRAILTY. 15 
 
 the very dearest of her dear friends, Lady 
 Clarissa Follington, whom she had reluct- 
 antly left at Bath. At this period, Eleonor 
 Fairfax might well be called happy : her 
 person was beautiful, her temper enthusi- 
 astic yet cheerful, her fortune more than 
 adequate to the wishes of seventeen, her re- 
 lations equal, perhaps, even to herself in af- 
 fection, and, to the number of her friends 
 she delighted to believe that she had lately 
 added Lady Clarissa, whose family was an- 
 cient, whose talents were brilliant, and in 
 whose heart the ardent Eleonor had disco- 
 vered as many perfections as she herself 
 could imagine. Like the grand Michael 
 Angelo, or more properly like the divine Ra- 
 phael, she was an artist of the highest order; 
 for her forms were all of the beautiful ideal : 
 they were not accurate portraits, though she 
 mistook them for such ; but they were filled 
 up, or varied, as they were pictured in the 
 simplicity, purity, and benevolence of her 
 own heart. But her letter will give the best 
 picture. 
 
W FORTITUDE 
 
 '' To Lady Clarissa Follington, Bath. 
 
 " My dear dear friend, I sit down the 
 very first day after my arrival, that I may 
 chat with my Clarissa, and unburthen my 
 heart of a few of those sensations by which 
 it has been almost overpowered. Surely, 
 few pangs are greater than those that are felt 
 by separated friends ! Oh how^ happy have 
 been the days I have lately spent at Bath, 
 and how fortunate was the little incident 
 that drew your kind attention toward me I 
 Ah, Clarissa, how I adore such sweetness of 
 temper, and such goodness of heart ! It was 
 the first time in my life that I remember to 
 have been so overpowered by the heat of a 
 ball-room. My aunt Maiden was so bus]^ 
 in talk with her next neighbour, that she 
 did not observe me. I really feared I should 
 have fainted ; but your friendly eye saw my 
 distress, your commands were instantly 
 obeyed, for you are every where adored ; I 
 was taken into the air, and a cordi.il was 
 given me. Well might I recover in the 
 tender arms of my Clarissa, and smiled upon 
 
AND FRAILTY. 17 
 
 by features so expressive of benevolence ! 
 When my heart \^'roilgs uiy Clarissa, may 
 I — no, no: 111 make no ugly protestations : 
 I will leave the fidelity of my heart to the 
 test of time. 
 
 ^' Pray let me know the moment the day 
 of your departure from Bath is fixed : 
 within a fortnight, at farthest, I delight to 
 cherish the hope of receiving the sweet kiss 
 of friendship from you, in Broad-street, 
 Had you not kindly offered, I scarcely 
 think I should have ventured to request a 
 visit from you, while we remain in the city ; 
 but my uncle's house, in Baker-street, has 
 been newly painted and papered; and, in 
 compliment to me, the furniture is to be 
 greatly modernised. Such things are in 
 themselves very indifferent to me, but not 
 as they show the affection of my dear aunt 
 and uncle, and as they may contribute to 
 the pleasures of my friend. Oh ! they are 
 then delightful ! Not that I pretend to de- 
 spise whatever is pleasant, and gives one 
 agreeable feelings : I often find I can be 
 
18 FORTITL^DE 
 
 amused with trifles, and it would be very 
 dishonorable in me to deceive my friend, 
 and make her believe I have no foibles- 
 Mercy on me, I have more than I dare 
 own. 
 
 " I was in town, yesterday, time enough 
 for dinner, and I found at table several 
 friends, no doubt invited by my dear atten- 
 tive uncle and aunt, to welcome me on my 
 return to town. There were Mr. and Mrs. 
 Grafton, and the brother of that lady, Mr. 
 Leoline Hargrave, a young gentleman of 
 great good breeding, remarkably elegant in 
 his person, uncommonly witty, is said to be 
 a great orator, and, being called to the bar, 
 his friends expect to see him soar to I know 
 not what pinnacle of fame. There were 
 two or three other guests, but, as they were 
 only every day hum-drum citizens, I shall 
 be malicious enough not to attempt any de- 
 scription of their good qualities, or their bad; 
 for I do not expect from them that they 
 will either reform the world or set it on 
 fire. 
 
AND FRAILTT. 19 
 
 " I must not however forget one, who cer- 
 tainly does not belong to this class : he is 
 of totally a different race. I mean Mr. 
 Archibald Campbel, who was several years 
 the ward of my uncle, a young gentleman 
 of great good principle, which in my opi- 
 nion very nearly amounts to a proof of the 
 superiority of his understanding. Apropos, 
 I remember I once before mentioned him 
 to you ; and, because I spoke in his praise, 
 you concluded he had a deeper share in my 
 affections than I was willing to own ; but 
 that notion I again assure you was a mis- 
 taken one, and I hope you have a better 
 opinion of me than to suppose I would thus 
 deliberately write an untruth, without the 
 least motive. If my heart had any parti- 
 ality for Mr. Campbel, and if my silly af- 
 fections spoke louder in his favor than my 
 little understanding could justify, though I 
 might be ashamed of the weakness, I should 
 think it a sacred duty to deposit my secret 
 in the bosom of my friend. I yet know 
 nothing of the manner in which the affec- 
 
20 FOKTITUDE 
 
 tions of young people steal upon them. 
 Yet I cannot but conjecture that there is 
 something of sympathy in them : I cannot 
 conceive I could ever begin to have hopes 
 and fears of a certain kind, till I was first 
 thoroughly persuaded I had myself inspired 
 some such feelings. Mr. Campbel has 
 amiable manners ; he is obliging, far from 
 inattentive, and never says any thing that 
 would not become a man of good breeding; 
 but he has a kind of grave philosophical 
 turn : he and my uncle more frequently 
 discuss metaphysical points, which I do not 
 much understand, than subjects of taste and 
 the fine arts ; however the latter are more 
 nearly allied to the affections of the heart 
 I think however I need not discuss this 
 question with you, for I am persuaded you 
 are quite convinced that, whenever two 
 people are attracted towards each other, it 
 is by those harmonizing sympathies, which 
 I suppose are always felt, but which I 
 doubt whether wiser people than I can ex- 
 plain. 
 
AND FRAILTY. gl 
 
 " Mrs. Grafton is a very charming wo- 
 man ! I feel somehow sorry that she and 
 her husband are not of the same class, 
 though he is a very good sort of person, and 
 nobody can behave with more propriety as 
 a wife than she does. He is one of the 
 hum-drums. As for her, should you here- 
 after ever happen to meet her, when you 
 drop in upon me, I am sure you will be 
 quite charmed by the friendship of her man- 
 ner, and the good understanding she shows. 
 Prudence and precaution seem to guide both 
 her words and actions ; her mind is quite 
 fruitful in its remarks, which often surprise 
 one, they are so judicious, and now and then 
 so shrewd. Y ou will, perhaps, think this is not 
 a kind of companion you would chuse, but 
 that is my fault in not properly describing 
 her, for few people have a more winning 
 and amiable manner. Let me confess to 
 you, my dear Clarissa, that I am becom- 
 ing quite a favorite with her. I know the 
 pleasure it will give you, whenever I can 
 gain the esteem of persons of superior virtue 
 
FORTITUDE 
 
 and good sense, which I am quite sure she 
 possesses in a very delightful degree. I 
 dare say you will tell me this is one of my 
 flights, but when I myself am a witness of 
 the virtues of others, shall I forbear to give 
 them their due ? Shall I be cowardly enough 
 to doubt, and have the cold precaution to 
 be silent, lest I should commit myself? Oh 
 shame ! shame ! Never let such a heart in- 
 habit my bosom ! 
 
 " I cannot say that the brother of Mrs. 
 Grafton, Mr. Hargrave, has made the same 
 favorable impression upon me : he uttered 
 a sentiment, which I do not like, and which 
 I almost fear could not proceed from a good 
 heart. Forgive me : that was a harsh judg- 
 ment, I scribble whatever I first happen to 
 feel too hastily, yet I somehow fear I shall 
 never thoroughly like Mr. Hargrave, and I 
 am sorry for it, for his sister's sake. 
 
 " Somebody at dinner was saying that 
 Sir Gilbert Griffin had unexpectedly suc- 
 ceeded to the vast estates and tide of his 
 brother, who had fallen a sacrifice to his 
 
AND FRAILTY. 23 
 
 humanity by attempting to save his drown- 
 ing lady. ' He is a happy fellow,' said Mr. 
 Hargrave ! * Which brother/ Mr. Campbel 
 asked ? ' Which/ retorted Hargrave ! ' The 
 living one; the heir, to be sure!' I was 
 astonished 1 ' Good God,' excl|,imed I, ' Mr. 
 Hargrave, are you serious ?' ' Brother, you 
 forget yourself,' said Mrs. Grafton, very 
 gravely. ' Do not believe him. Miss Fairfax ; 
 I know him better : he is always showing 
 the worst side of himself; were he in the heir's 
 place he would be quite miserable.' ' Nay, 
 nay, ladies,' retorted he, ' can you blame 
 me for saying, he who succeeds to a fortune 
 of twenty thousand a year is a happy fellow?' 
 His sister looked quite angry, and Mr. 
 Campbel observed, ^ the ladies Mr. Hargrave 
 may be pardoned for blaming the selfish in- 
 sensibility which they conceive would be 
 inseparable from the feelings.' ' I own Mr. 
 Campbel,' answered I, ' the thing appears to 
 me just in the light you have placed it.' * I 
 bow and retract. Miss Fairfax,' said Mr. 
 Hargrave, ' I am myself quite a devotee to 
 
24 FORTITUDE 
 
 sentiment, and determine for your sake, to 
 think it better than twenty thousand a year/ 
 This you know, my dear Clarissa, was an 
 unmeaning and very unsatisfactory compli- 
 ment : but I was afterwards pleased to re- 
 mark the great pains Mrs. Grafton took to 
 show her brother had really a good heart ; 
 in which, to a certain degree, she succeeded, 
 and certainly proved the goodness of her 
 own. 
 
 " It seems like ingratitude in me to make 
 this attack upon young Hargrave, first, be- 
 cause he is not at my elbow to defend him- 
 self; and next, because, though he was al- 
 ways mighty obliging to me, I thought him 
 more so yesterday than ever. But you know 
 me, and how^ suddenly I am hurried away 
 by every trait of goodness of heart, or the 
 contrary. 
 
 " I felt, and shall always feel, and re- 
 member, both the justice and the benevo- 
 lence of your sarcastic raillery, when I took 
 my leave : you laughed, and cautioned me 
 to take care, and not to let any spark fall into 
 
AND FRAILTY. 25 
 
 and inflame my immense magazine of gun- 
 powder of sentiment, on my arrival in Lon- 
 don ; for if it did, the explosion would be 
 terrible. My dear aunt Fairfax, who is as 
 good a soul as ever breathed, when the 
 company had retired, warned me to be 
 wary how I should fix my first affections ; 
 otherwise, she foresaw, if I should happen 
 to place them on a man who had any 
 tincture of selfish and ungenerous principles, 
 I should make myself truly wretched for 
 life. She was veiy right, and there was 
 so much affection, both in her words and 
 looks, that I could not forbear, but flung 
 my arms round her neck and kissed her, 
 as I could have kissed the tenderest and best 
 of mothers. 
 
 " Bless me, here have I scribbled over 
 two full sheets of paper ! Do, my dear Cla- 
 rissa, give me the pleasure of an answer 
 twice as long ; that is the only possible way 
 to convince me I have committed no crime. 
 
 " My best respects to your honored aunt, 
 and to you everlasting fidelity, love, and 
 friendship. " Eleonor Fairfax." 
 
 VOL. I. c 
 
26 FORTITUDE 
 
 CHAP. III. 
 
 E LEO NOR, who was ardent to perform 
 her duties conscientiously, and whose con- 
 fiding heart delighted in showing how open 
 it was, would not seal up the letter we 
 have read, till she had first given it to her 
 aunt and uncle to read. In general, they 
 were both highly pleased with the contents ; 
 for they had good sense enough to perceive 
 the numerous traits they contained of an 
 excellent heart, and a mind worthy to be 
 its companion. Eleonor, however, now 
 and then perceived a smile on her uncle's 
 countenance, and, when he returned the 
 letter, could not forbear to ask him what 
 his smiling meant? Who can but smile at 
 gunpowder of sentiment, said he. 
 
 " Ah, you naughty uncle ! No, no," 
 said she, '^ you are a good uncle : I should 
 forget my chief fault, if you did not now 
 and then remind me of it, and then heaven 
 knows what other sad mistakes might spring 
 from that." 
 
AND FRAILTY. 27 
 
 " To mistakes, my dear," continued the 
 uncle, " add misfortunes." 
 
 " No, no, I do not think I am born to 
 be unfortunate," said the ardent Eleonor. 
 
 " So we both earnestly hope, my child, 
 for no one is more deserving of happiness," 
 rephed her aunt. " But pray tell us who 
 Lady Clarissa Follington is?" 
 
 " Dear ! Have you not heard of the Ear! 
 of Follington ?" 
 
 " Oh yes," answered her uncle, '^ often 
 enough. Is she his daughter?" 
 
 " She is ! I became acquainted with her 
 the night the master of the ceremonies had 
 his ball ; you will guess the rest from my 
 letter ; she introduced me to her aunt, and 
 I have besn ever since on terms of the most 
 intimate friendship, I believe vvith both, but 
 certainly, with Lady Clarissa. Oh, she is 
 the dearest, svv eetest, most delightful crea- 
 ture ! I cannot but consider this accident as 
 one of the happiest events of my life !" 
 
 *' Is your satisfaction so very great be- 
 c S 
 
28 FORTITUDE 
 
 cause Lady Clarissa is a person of rank 
 and fashion ?" 
 
 " Naughty uncle! But I am sure you 
 can only ask that question in joke. I be- 
 lieve I should never pardon myself, if you 
 could seriously tax me with having ever seen 
 me influenced by such paltry motives. They 
 are groveling, selfish ! I hope I am not 
 that!" 
 
 " Were I publicly noticed by rank and 
 fashion, I really believe I should think my- 
 self publicly honoured, if the virtues of the 
 noble persons befitted their station," said 
 Air. Fairfax. 
 
 " That is precisely my case," answered 
 Eleonor : " I felt myself honored, I know 
 not how much, because the virtues of my 
 friends truly befitted their station : they 
 would else never have been my friends. But 
 I shall soon introduce my charming Clarissa 
 to you, and you will then do her justice. 
 
 " Such wit, such candour, such a heart ! 
 and her understanding is uncommon. 
 
AND FRAILTY. 99 
 
 Though her father is an earl, she is totally 
 free from pride ! I am sure, dear sir, when 
 you see her, you will not be surprised at 
 my enthusiasm. It is impossible I should 
 ever change ; my heart can never cease to 
 cherish my sweet affectionate Clarissa !" 
 
 *' What proofs of affection has this 
 young lady given your, dear Eleonor ?" 
 
 " Oh, a thousand !" 
 
 '^ How long did you say you have been 
 acquainted r" 
 
 *^ An age, in friendship." 
 
 '* Well said, Eleonor! As I recollect, 
 you are just turned of seventeen." 
 
 " That is precisely the happy time when 
 ages in friendship rush upon us in such quick 
 succession." 
 
 " Well, well, you have known this young 
 lady how long?" 
 
 " Long enough to convince me I have 
 never known one I loved half so well; or 
 or who was half so charming." 
 
 " So I have heard you say of several : 
 but I ask, again and again, how long have 
 c 3 
 
30 FORTITUDE 
 
 you been acquainted with Lady Clarissa 
 Follington ?" 
 
 " The intercourse of a day, an hour — 
 pshaw! Five ''jinutes were more than suf- 
 ficient, but I have known her almost a 
 month !" 
 
 " And in the space of one month you 
 have received a thousand proofs of affection 
 from a young lady of fashion, to whom, 
 you inform me, you were accidentally in- 
 troduced, at a ball ?" 
 
 " I saw her almost every day ! we were 
 inseparable ! Her aunt, too, the honorable 
 Mrs. Altamont, is one of the most charming 
 women in the world ! She is not yet decided 
 whecher she shall spend the winter in town, 
 but I expect my dear Clarissa very soon, 
 or at all events in the spring, and then you 
 will judge whether I exaggerate. Beside, 
 you shall see her letters. I shall certainly 
 have an answer to-morrow." ^' I fear, Eleonor, 
 you are preparing disappointment for your- 
 self; you are totally ignorant of the manners 
 
AND FRAILTY. Si 
 
 of high life, and are not aware that the pro- 
 fessions of young ladies of fashion are little 
 to be trusted. I would not advise you to 
 put implicit faith in her ladyship's con- 
 stancy." 
 
 " Indeed, my dear uncle, you do her 
 injustice ! My Clarissa is no every day miss ; 
 she is incapable of being inconstant! I 
 would pledge my life on her sincerity !" 
 
 About the middle of this discourse, Mr. 
 Archibald Campbel came in. " What is 
 the matter. Miss Fairfax," said he ? " Is your 
 uncle severe upon a favourite friend, that 
 you are so warm in her defence?" 
 
 " Oh, he is unjust to the most amiable 
 lady on earth! He suspects my beloved 
 Clarissa of being fickle !" 
 
 " The fair sex have the privilege to be 
 fickle," said Campbel, smiling ; " but fickle or 
 constant, they are allowed to be charming 
 creatures." 
 
 " You flatter us, Archibald," replied 
 Mrs. Fairfax, gravely, " because you think 
 our sex are weak of intellect." 
 c 4 
 
$2 FORTITUDE 
 
 " The charge against you is true, Camp- 
 bel," said her worthy husband. " You think 
 too lightly of the intellectual powers of 
 women, my dear young friend; nor are 
 you aware it is by such injustice that those 
 powers are frequently prevented from being 
 called into action, when they might highly 
 benefit society, as well as the possessor." 
 
 " Indeed, my dear sir," answered Camp- 
 bel, "you wrong me in supposing I am un- 
 just to the fair sex ; no man has a greater 
 respect for their domestic virtues and 
 mniable qualities than I have." 
 
 ■' I believe you, Archibald ; but you are 
 not equally just to their mental endowments : 
 to those you are a heretic." . 
 
 Campbel bowed and replied, " I hope 
 neither Miss Fairfax nor your honored lady 
 are so unjust to their own merit as to sus- 
 pect me of heresy on the present occasion." 
 
 " A truce to compliments," interrupted 
 Mr. Fairfax, looking at his watch ; "we had 
 forgotten our engagement ; we must be 
 gone." 
 
AND FRAILTY. SS 
 
 " I am very unfortunate," said Campbel 
 rather emphatically as he followed Mr* 
 Fairfax ; " but I hope, dear ladies, you will 
 do me the justice to believe it is with re- 
 luctance I leave you under an iaapressioa 
 so unfavorable." 
 
 " Archibald is an excellent young man," 
 said Mrs. Fairfax, when he had quitted the 
 room ; " his principles are no less pure than 
 his manners are engaging, but he thinks too 
 lightly of the female understanding, and in- 
 dulges in trifling compliments which cannot 
 but mortify every woman of sense ; though 
 lie would scorn to be guilty of a dishonor- 
 able action, and triSe with the happiness of 
 those even who would Jaot scruple to trifle 
 with his. When experience has made him 
 better acquainted with women, he will 
 better know how to appreciate their mental 
 qualities, and he will then have the candor 
 to acknowledge he has hitherto done them 
 injustice." 
 
 With that good-natured smile, which 
 seldoiaj failed to embellish her lovely coun- 
 c 5 
 
34 FORTITUDE 
 
 tenance, when she ventured to differ in 
 opinion, Eleonor replied, " Why do you 
 suppose Mr. Campbel so unjust to our sex, 
 my dear aunt. Indeed, I think both you 
 and my uncle have been too severe on him." 
 " Perhaps we may have been so," an- 
 swered her aunt. " During the last two or 
 three years, whenever absent from college, 
 he has spent part of his time with us, and 
 I know not whether it was from books, or 
 conversation, but we found he had imbibed 
 the opinion that the female understanding 
 ought to be limited to the performance of 
 domestic duties : he seemed to doubt even 
 if accomplishments were not rather pre- 
 judicial than valuable. However, I must 
 own, I have myself gradually observed him 
 less strenuous in the defence of such opi- 
 nions; and, as I feel they are unjust, I 
 have been very anxious they should be en- 
 tirely renounced. Your uncle, in addition 
 to having undertaken the very important 
 charge of a guardian, feels for him all the 
 affection of a friend. His guardianship you 
 
AND FRAILTY. 35 
 
 know is ended, but not his solicitude to see 
 our worthy friend Archibald happy." 
 
 *^ I have heard my uncle speak with 
 great satisfaction of the friendship he for- 
 merly had for the father of Mr. Campbel." 
 " Oh, yes, he was a worthy gentleman ; 
 a merchant of high respectability. He left 
 Edinburgh to settle in London, bringing Mrs. 
 Campbel with him. She too was a native of 
 Scotland, a most amiable lady, but she un- 
 fortunately died when litde Archibald, her 
 only child, was in his infancy. Her hus- 
 band was carried off by a fever early in life, 
 at the age of one and forty : he not only 
 bequeathed the guardianship of his son, 
 then twelve years old, to your uncle, but 
 also left him his executor. You will not 
 therefore be surprised at the anxiety Mr. 
 Fairfax feels for a friend, who is the son of 
 a friend ; or the double satisfaction, I may 
 say, the unspeakable pleasure, he enjoys to 
 find the efforts he has taken so well se- 
 conded by the virtues of Mr. Campbel." 
 "^ Oh, dear aunt," said Eleonor, " to hear 
 c 6 
 
36 FORTITUDE 
 
 you describe them makes one participate in 
 those delicious pleasures. Pray did the 
 father of Mr. Campbel leave no relations ?" 
 " Only one, Mr. Dugald M'Donnald, 
 who was the brother of his deceased wife, 
 and his own cousin ; but for several years 
 all correspondence between them had ceased, 
 merely because of the eccentricities of Mr. 
 M^Donnald, who, though he is master of 
 a sufficient fortune, chooses to live secluded 
 in a remote corner of Scotland, where he 
 can freely indulge certain whimsical re- 
 veries, without being molested by a world 
 w.hich he appears to despise," 
 
AND FRAILTY. $7 
 
 CHAP. IV. 
 
 Such was the conversation that passed 
 between the amiable aunt and the lovely 
 niece, but that the events hereafter to be 
 related concerning Eleonor may be the more 
 easily understood, we will briefly recapi- 
 tulate a few facts necessary to be known. 
 Eleonor had lost her parents within a few 
 months of each other when she was in her 
 t\\ elfth year : the maiden name of her mother 
 was Maiden, and her aunt Maiden whom 
 ^he mentions in her letter, was the wife of 
 her mother's brother, who made Bath his 
 chief place of residence. oMr. Fairfax was 
 ker paternal uncle ; he had long been at the 
 head lof a banking house in the city, in 
 which the father of Eleonor had been a 
 junioi- partner, and in which Eleonor 's 
 fortune, by his express will, was vested, till 
 she should marry or come of age. He wsls 
 wealthy, but without an heir, and this in- 
 creased the strong attachment both he and 
 
38 FORTITUDE 
 
 his lady felt, as well for Archibald Campbel, 
 as for his niece, of ^\ horn he was left sole 
 guardian ; his integrity, understanding, and 
 conduct through life, had acquired him high 
 and general esteem, and his mild and social 
 virtues had made him no less beloved in 
 private life. 
 
 Eleonor paid an annual visit of six vv^eeks 
 or two months during the Bath season, to 
 her uncle and aunt Maiden ; but she re- 
 sided with Mr. and Mrs. Fairfax. Her in- 
 tellect was so quick, her principles were so 
 excellent, and she behaved with such un- 
 deviating propriety, that it was impossible 
 for so kind an aunt and uncle to keep her 
 under restraint, which she did not impose 
 upon herself, or scarcely to remember she 
 was yet but seventeen : she was trusted 
 with an almost unlimited power over her own 
 actions, for they found her to be worthy of 
 so great a trust. When she had doubts, 
 she communicated them without reserve to 
 her aunt Fairfax ; if she had visits to make, 
 permission was asked, and her freedom was 
 
AND FRAILTY. 39 
 
 fifty-fold increased, because her whole be- 
 haviour was circumspect, and showed she 
 did not consider herself as free. 
 
 In addition to an expressive countenance, 
 a sweet smile, fine eyes, a tall and graceful 
 figure, and a beautiful complexion, she was 
 very accomplished, and her disposition was 
 remarkably gentle and affectionate ; but the 
 romantic enthusiasm, against which her 
 worthy uncle impressively warned her, not 
 only subjected her to frequent disappoint- 
 ment, but, as we shall see in the sequel, 
 exposed her to no small degree of pain. 
 
 Possessed of all these advantages and a 
 fortune of thirty thousand pounds, be- 
 queathed by her father and left to accu- 
 mulate, beside the high expectations every 
 body, except herself, formed for her, as 
 the heiress to her rich uncle, Fairfax, no 
 wonder she should draw the attention of 
 Mr. Leoline Hargrave, and his prudent 
 sister, toward her; or that their plans 
 should be laid with all the art, and prose- 
 cuted with more than all the zeal, their 
 
40 FORTITUDE 
 
 conversation on the subject seemed to 
 imply. 
 
 By his discom'se with his sister, Hargrave 
 might have been supposed to have despised 
 Campbel as a rival ; but his vanity, though 
 of that he had no small share, was not 
 quite so great as he himself perhaps might 
 suppose it to be : he w^as conscious of 
 the mistake he had fallen into respecting 
 Eleonor, by the expression of his mercenary 
 wish when he dined with Mr. Fairfax : he 
 felt he had foolishly done himself an injury, 
 in the pure heail he was endeavouring to 
 ensnare, and would have profited by the 
 broad hint his sister gave him more effec- 
 tually, but that his propensity to sneering 
 satire w^as stronger than his presence of 
 mind. To obtain the hand of a young 
 lady of such fortune, to say nothing of her 
 other accomplishments, was a project not 
 foolishly to be neglected, nor slightly under- 
 taken : the more he considered it the more 
 seducing and grand was its appearance ; so 
 that, with the pMosophic Hamlet, he 
 
AND FRAILTY. 41 
 
 might say, *' it fooled him to the top of his 
 bent," as he designed to fool others. 
 
 One of his first efforts was that of obtain- 
 ing an early opportunity to converse with 
 young Campbel, whom he was determined 
 both to sound and to impregnate with cer- 
 tain ideas, such as he thought might most 
 effectually serve his purpose. The dialogue 
 that follows happened one morning at the 
 house of Mr. Fairfax, and contains, as here 
 given, the essential part of what then passed 
 between them. 
 
 " You delight a good deal in philoso- 
 phical studies, Mr. Campbel?" 
 
 " I have read books of that kind, from 
 which I have derived great instruction, and 
 consequently great pleasure." 
 
 " You are a happy man ! You have a 
 mind fitted for such pursuits, and a purse 
 that enables you to indulge your propen- 
 sities I I can boast of neither. I have ob- 
 served, you have a kind of aversion to the 
 marriage state." 
 
 '' Have you, indeed?" Campbel smiled 
 
42 FORTITUDE 
 
 as he spoke. " Then your observation, 
 sir, is much deeper than mine. I have al- 
 ways considered myself as holding that 
 state in what may much rather be called a 
 kind of peculiar reverence." 
 
 " Is it possible ! Ah, judging, as we ge- 
 nerally do, from detached hints and acci- 
 dental expressions, how frequently we mistake 
 the characters of our friends and acquaint- 
 ance. Philosophical research requires acute 
 talents, profound thought, and no little ap- 
 plication. I shall ne\er be a philosopher; 
 nay, indeed, I was ignorant enough on the 
 subject to suppose that philosophy and love 
 were almost incompatible." 
 
 " Why so?" 
 
 " Oh, love is usually considered as a 
 kind of vulgar passion." 
 
 " You are jocular." 
 
 " Not one of our desires more violently 
 disturb the mind, and philosophy delights 
 in calm contemplation. A lover is a con- 
 tinual dangler after his mistress, hears her 
 prattle nonsense with admiration, is eager 
 
AND FRAILTY. 43 
 
 to divine and gratify every capricious whim 
 her foolish fancy can suggest, patiently 
 submits to her sallies of ill temper, will 
 fondle her lap-dog, gambol with her mon- 
 key, and suffer himself to be pecked at by 
 her parrot, if her giggling does but show she 
 takes pleasure in his slavery. Now a phi- 
 losopher so employed !" — 
 
 " With the lap-dog, the monkey, the 
 parrot, and miss" — 
 
 " It would form a ludicrous gi'oup. I 
 rather think the lookers on would take the 
 liberty to laugh." 
 
 " I readily allow there are ladies, both 
 young and old, with whom neither philo- 
 sophers nor men of common sense could 
 fall in love ; but you do not surely mean to 
 assert that the portraits you have drawn, of 
 a lady and her lover, gives us the likeness 
 of all ladies and their lovers ?" 
 
 " I would not be too daring, yet I think 
 I might challenge you to show me a pair of 
 lovers, in whom I could not point out 
 some strong traits of general resemblance." 
 
44 FORTITUDE 
 
 " Consequently, you are determined 
 never to be in love r" 
 
 " By no means. I am a thoughtless 
 fellow, admirably fitted to be made the 
 Tom-fool of a girl ; but, did I possess phi- 
 losophic wisdom and gravity, I dare venture 
 to suppose I should determine to avoid the 
 follies that gingle in the brain of a lover, 
 and still more the misfortunes that enfix 
 themselves in the heart of a husband. You 
 are better read on the subject than I am, 
 you can reconcile love and philosophy." 
 
 " At least, I did not think them so inimical 
 as you seem to suppose." 
 
 " A philosopher is a superior being, 
 who devotes his talents, not to individuals, 
 but, to the human race : he seats himself 
 on an eminence, whence he contemplates 
 the world beneath him, remarks effects, 
 developes causes, and directs the march of 
 the muldtude. I have always supposed his 
 high employments engaged his whole atten- 
 tion, none of which he would condescend 
 to waste on the wants and the passions of 
 
AND FRAILTY. 43 
 
 the vulgar, or the common occuirences of 
 life. Though I do not pretend to aspire to 
 it, I yet love to contemplate the dignity of 
 the character. For instance, it pleases me 
 to fancy myself present, w^hen the servant 
 of sir Isaac Newton brought in his dinner, 
 placed it on the table, reminded him it was 
 w^aiting, and was ordered to leave the room 
 by a nod from his master, who, absorbed 
 in the consideration of we know not w^hat 
 profound problem, could not descend to the 
 paltry act of eating, but pursued the solu- 
 tion of some unknown law of nature, 
 no doubt; and, when the servant came 
 again, pointed to the meat, and told him to 
 take it away. The man exclaimed, " Lord, 
 sir, you have not dined !" How I should 
 have delighted to have seen him look at the 
 dinner, rub his eyes, and answer only three 
 words : " I had forgot !" I shall never be 
 a philosopher ; I love a good dinner too well." 
 " You seem to understand how to phi- 
 losophize with no little acuteness, though 
 
46 FORTITUDE 
 
 Still better perhaps how to banter. I make 
 no affectation of the want of capacity to 
 study philosophy, yet am far from thinking 
 I deserve to be called a philosopher ; though 
 by that name, could I truly deserve it, I 
 should think myself more honored than by 
 any other title." 
 
 " Yes, you look with a very proper con- 
 tempt on the pursuits of politicians, and the 
 dignides to which they aspire.'' 
 
 " Proceed, Mr. Hargrave," said Camp- 
 bel, smiling : " one man may be too intent in 
 the pursuit of bad arguments, and another 
 too eager in hunting after good jokes." 
 
 " Supposing the charge to be true, you 
 have your revenge; you have turned the 
 tables upon me : your wit is severe . How- 
 ever, though you perhaps may allow I have 
 talents that may qualify me to cross ques- 
 tion a witness, yet I do not believe you 
 have the least suspicion I should ever dis- 
 cover the longitude. On the question of 
 love and philosophy, I suppose I was 
 
AND FRAILTY. 47 
 
 wrong. To own the truth, Mr. Campbel, 
 I have with no little surprise seen you very 
 gallant to the ladies." 
 
 " If I do not mistake, I have seen you 
 much more so." 
 
 *' Oh dear, yes : to me it is quite an 
 amusement. I can take some pleasure in 
 laughing at my own folly, and in observing 
 how naturally it arises out of theirs. On 
 one point, however, I think our opinions 
 are much the same. 
 
 Campbel smiling, asked, *^ What can 
 that point be?" 
 
 " Nay, you need not remind me of my 
 presumption," said Hargrave, somewhat 
 piqued, " beside, on consideration, there 
 are more points than one, on which we 
 might happen to agree : for example, we 
 shall scarcely either of us deny that the sun 
 gives light, or that Miss Fairfax is a charm- 
 ing young lady." 
 
 " I certainly think, with you, the charms 
 of Miss Fairfax are as indisputable as the 
 light of the sun." 
 
4^ FORTITUDE 
 
 " I guessed as much. Her beauty, her 
 
 intelligence, her I must not attempt a 
 
 panegyric on her. I should do her in- 
 justice." 
 
 " What if you were to try to find out 
 her faults?" 
 
 " Do you think she has any?" 
 
 " Do not you ?" 
 
 " Must I be sincere ?" 
 
 " I leave that to your conscience." 
 
 ** Nay, if you tax me so closely, I must, 
 however reluctantly, confess I think she has ; 
 though, could faults be amiable, her's would 
 certainly be so." 
 
 " With that opinion I fully agree; for 
 I am greatly mistaken if they do not all 
 originate in the excellence of her heart." 
 
 '^ You have accurately expressed my 
 thoughts : were I her brother, as I own my- 
 self her admirer, I know not whether I 
 could wish the least alteration in her. But, 
 like me, you candidly own she has faults. 
 To be sure, her praise of her friends is so 
 extravagant that one can scarcely hear her 
 
AND FRAILTY. 49 
 
 and keep one's countenance ; yet, she her- 
 self, while she rushes forward in her fits of 
 affectionate exaggeration, displays herself, 
 as I may say, in such lovely attitudes, the 
 ignorance she shows of the world so fully 
 proves the simplicity of her heart, and 
 thoughts, that in themselves are so foolish, 
 do, notwithstanding, show such angelic pu- 
 rity, that one cannot so much as wish her 
 more prudent, or better informed. At pre- 
 sent, she is the only person in danger; 
 should she marry, I grant, her husband 
 must run the risk, and that daily, of stand- 
 ing sometimes very ridiculously, and at others 
 very seriously, committed. I doubt, he 
 must every hour, supposing him to be a 
 man of foresight and understanding, shud-. 
 der with apprehension, lest the next thing 
 he should hear should be some strange 
 freak, to which the burning zeal of the wife 
 he adored should have prompted her, that 
 might involve him — 1 know not how far ; 
 but duels, debts, ruin in various shapes, 
 force themselves upon the fancy." 
 
 VOL. I. D 
 
40 FORTITUDE 
 
 " Then Miss Fairfax would not be the 
 .wife of your choice ?" 
 
 " I do not say that. When I am in her 
 company, I am spell-bound ! It is absolute 
 necromancy ! I listen with my senses so 
 captivated that every thing she then says is 
 the best thing she possibly could have said, 
 every thing she does is divine, and every 
 thing she means to do cannot but be admi- 
 rable !" 
 
 " An appointment obliges me to take my 
 leave, Mr. Hargrave. I can only say, I 
 have heard you with admiration, sufficient 
 to convince me that, when you shall here- 
 after be perfectly well known at the bar, 
 you will become what is called one of its 
 greatest ornaments." 
 
AND FRAILTY. SI 
 
 CHAP. V. 
 
 Few people will be inclined to assett 
 that Mr. Leoline Hargrave was not a very 
 accomplished gentleman, in that peculiar 
 attainment which was his chief delight and 
 study; namely, cunning. It would have 
 been difficult for any master in the art to 
 have held discourse, which would have more 
 effectually produced that state of mind he 
 intended to produce in Campbel, than the 
 very words he had employed, accompanied 
 by the appearance of candor, with which 
 they had been delivered. The whole pic- 
 ture was, beyond all dispute, from the hand 
 of a master. It was his intention to cari- 
 cature, yet the likeness was so perfectly pre- 
 served, that not a feature, as he traced it, 
 could be mistaken. 
 
 Campbel saw far into the heart of Har- 
 grave, but riot far enough; of that, the good- 
 ness of his own heart would not admit : he' 
 understood, at least he felt, the malice of the-' 
 d2 
 
6Q FORTITUDE 
 
 sarcastic irony to which he had listened, 
 but was far from suspecting the plan that 
 gave it birth. The part that regarded IVliss 
 Fairfax, as was intended, misled him most: 
 he had not beheld so much virtue, embellished 
 by so many charms, with insensibility. 
 During the last half year, the image of the 
 lovely Eleonor had frequently dwelt in his 
 thoughts, and had excited those warm 
 wishes for her welfare, which were at once 
 natural to his age and his heart. Campbel 
 however, with respect to her enthusiasm, 
 was no less clear sighted than Hargrave, 
 the remarks made by the latter, therefore, 
 did but revive ideas that had passed through 
 his mind, not without considerable pain. 
 
 The worthy Mr. Fairfax had contributed 
 much by his discourse, more by his example, 
 and, indeed, by every possible means, to 
 give his ward the power of distinguishing 
 between good and evil. At every oppor- 
 tunity, he had led his pupil to observe the 
 consequences of actions, especially of his 
 •wn, and to beware of undertaking any se- 
 
AND FRAILTY. 63 
 
 rious thing before it had been seriously con- 
 sidered. Speaking of matrimony, as he 
 frequently had done, among the various 
 events of life, he described it to be that on 
 which happiness, or unhappiness, most de- 
 pended : other mistakes might admit of re- 
 medies, but a mistake in marriage was ir* 
 retrievable; it was generally the worst of 
 mistakes. 
 
 The picture, therefore, that Hargrave 
 drew, of the probable dangers in which the 
 husband of Eleonor might be involved, 
 rouzed all the fears of Campbel ; or rather 
 strengthened fears that had been previously 
 entertained, since its tendency was to shew 
 they were too real to admit of a doubt. He 
 had begun to cherish the hope that he might 
 gain the heart of Eleonor, that she might 
 one day become his consoling angel, and 
 that with her he might enjoy happiness, 
 such as no words can speak, and youth 
 only is visionary enough to expect. 
 
 Campbel ranked among the best of the 
 human race, and the best are the most vi- 
 
 D 3 
 
54 FORTITUDE 
 
 sionary; for, having no guile in their hearts^ 
 it is long before they can be convinced there 
 is any. He was himself an enthusiast 
 in the defence of certain systems and 
 principles, and even in the praise he be- 
 stowed on his favorite friends ; but neither 
 systems, principles, nor friends, had become 
 his favorites suddenly. Though his eulo- 
 giums might at last have no limits, they 
 could only be obtained by experience ; he 
 praised after he had proved, and not before. 
 Like Eleonor, he could easily, and some- 
 times eagerly, give credit to persons, who 
 professed friendship, but in one essential 
 point they differed : he never ventured to 
 call, even the warmest professors, by the 
 sacred name of friends, till their actions had 
 confirmed their words. 
 
 Men of ardent minds, be their pursuits 
 good or ill, are never satisfied w ith medi- 
 ocrity: they frequently fall into error by 
 doing too much ; but seldom are guilty of 
 sins of omission. Campbel felt no little 
 desire to appear amiable in the eyes of 
 
AXD FRAILTY. 55 
 
 ii<lconor; but his desire to see her perfect 
 impelled him to risk being thought hardly 
 of, even by her, rather than desert what he 
 considered as a sacred duty. He therefore 
 determined, not only to take every oppor- 
 tunity to enforce whatever her aunt and 
 uncle might in future say to discourage 
 that enthusiasm, which might give birth to 
 dangers so serious, but to seek some oppor* 
 tunity plainly to lay before her what her 
 best friends thought and said on that sub- 
 ject. 
 
 The design was virtuous, and w^orthy of 
 Campbel ; yet the worthy Leoline Hargrave, 
 could he hive transformed himself like Satan 
 at the ear of Eve, would have suggested it, 
 and have laughed, when he perceived it 
 begin to work, as heartily as though he had 
 beheld Don Quixote riding full tilt to the 
 attack of the windmills. 
 
 And here I must be indulged in asudden 
 transition, or if you will, a digression. It 
 is rather derogatory for a historian to con- 
 fess his weakness, yet am I obliged to make 
 D 4 
 
66 FORTITUDE 
 
 this confession. I have just now two things 
 to do ; but they cannot both be done at once . 
 Recollecting the ardor with which Eleonor 
 expects a letter from Bath, the reader, no 
 doubt, in a certain degree, participates in 
 her desire, to see a proof of the excellent 
 heart and warm friendship of Lady Clarissa 
 Follington. This proof, or more properly 
 speaking, this letter, I would immediately 
 and most willingly give him, but that I have 
 a very longing, and I may say imperious, 
 desire still more immediately to relate a few 
 anecdotes of Archibald Campbel, from 
 which he may thoroughly understand the 
 character of that youth. I think I can 
 partly promise they will afford him amuse- 
 ment, and shall therefore venture to give 
 them precedence; only requesting he will 
 not forget they are told to elucidate cha- 
 racter; that, in the mean time, the story 
 must stand still ; and that these anecdotes 
 once known to him, I shall then, without 
 further delay, proceed to lay before hirn the 
 answer which Eleonor had the happiness to 
 receive. 
 
AND FRAILTY. 57 
 
 Mr. Maiden, of Bath, the maternal uncle 
 of Eleonor, had a cousin, the Rev. Mr. Luke 
 Maiden, who, having in early youth disco- 
 vered a great love of learning, and a pecu- 
 liar facility in scholastic acquirements, had 
 been sent first to Eaton, and from thence 
 to Cambridge, where he was esteemed an 
 ornament to the university. His knowledge 
 here was greatly admired, but he had cer- 
 tain peculiarities that did not make him much 
 beloved. Though his erudition was great, 
 his mind independent, and his conduct ir- 
 reproachable, he was rigid of temper, re- 
 served in his manners, and intolerant on re^ 
 ligious subjects. He was a zealous, and, as 
 he believed, an orthodox, son of the church; 
 but he had lived much among persons of 
 puritanical habits, and, with all the severity 
 of a Calvinist, had imbibed a tenacious per- 
 tinacity of opinion, and a dogmatical preci- 
 sion. 
 
 He had long been accustomed to visit his 
 cousin annually, at the Christmas vacation, 
 and consequently had become familiar with 
 D 5 
 
58 FORTITUDE 
 
 Eleonor. The not understanding persons 
 and things exactly in their right light is one 
 of those domestic misfortunes which pursue 
 many of us through life, and often do us 
 V€ry essential injury. Even the sportive 
 and playful Eleonor, as she emerged from 
 childhood, and began to prattle her rising 
 thoughts freely, did not satisfy Mr. Maiden. 
 That the punishment, to which he most pe- 
 remptorily asserted those who differed from 
 him in certain points would be eternally 
 condemned, for their heretical opinions, 
 might not be quite so severe as he described, 
 she would sometimes venture to hope ; and, 
 as he was frequently addicted to hurl those 
 who dissented from him to the bottomless 
 pit, she was no less eager to endeavor to 
 stretch out a helping hand to them, or at 
 least to express her strong belief that things 
 would not turn out quite so bad as he sup- 
 posed. 
 
 He was a man far indeed from having 
 any malice at his heart ; there scarcely could 
 be a heart more upright; he only spoke 
 
AND FRAILTY. 59 
 
 from the excess of zeal, and a truly consci- 
 entious desire to turn the wicked from their 
 evil ways, for such he held a difference in 
 opinion with him to be : thus, while he often 
 appeared under the odious form of a merci- 
 less persecutor, his charitable intentions were 
 wholly christian ; for he would willingly have 
 incurred any danger, except the loss of his 
 eternal soul, could he but have worked the 
 salvation of sinners. 
 
 Having taken his degrees and entered 
 into orders early in life, he made a few at- 
 tempts to preach ; but they were unsuccess- 
 ful : his form was athletic, yet his voice w^as 
 not impressive, his speech inarticulate, his 
 appearance uncouth, and his whole manner 
 unpopular ; he had therefore confined him- 
 self to a college life, where a fellowship 
 was bestowed upon him, and where he con- 
 tinued to exercise his excellent talents very 
 beneficial as a tutor. 
 
 One Christmas time, Eleonor being then 
 in her thirteenth year, on twelfth day, the 
 drawing for king and queen was appointed, 
 d6 
 
60 FORTITUDE 
 
 and she, with a playfulness common to her 
 age, and peculiarly characteristic of herself, 
 among other ridiculous characters, had in- 
 serted the Rev. Peter Prim. Whether it 
 was chance or contrivance, matters little, 
 but so it was, that the Rev. Mr. Luke Maiden 
 drew this character, and, as the mirth of the 
 season is boisterous, all the young people 
 round the table were in a roar, till even 
 their elders could not forbear to join the 
 laugh. 
 
 The solemn propensities and serious tem- 
 per of Mr. Luke Maiden but ill fitted him 
 to partake their mirth ; he sat half an hour 
 silently, considering how it became him to 
 act, then took a light, retired to his chamber, 
 packed up his trunk, went off by the stage 
 before the family was awake, and Itft a note 
 on his table, half civilly, half indignantly, 
 apologizing to Mr. and Mrs. Maiden for the 
 abruptness of his departure, but intimating, 
 though not in direct terms, he would never 
 again trouble them with his visits at a season 
 that Miss Fairfax honored them with her 
 company. 
 
AND FRAILTY. 6l 
 
 In this he was guilty of great weakness ; 
 but he considered it as a conscientious dis- 
 charge of his duty to himself, and still more 
 to the dignity of the clerical character, which 
 no consideration whatever could have 
 tempted him to neglect. 
 
 From that time to the period at which 
 this history begins, he had never again met 
 Eleonor, who had indeed been guilty of a 
 great impropriety, for which she was heartily 
 sorry the next morning ; but it was a day 
 too late, the mischief was done. 
 
62 FORTITUDE 
 
 CHAP. VI. 
 
 What has been related of the Rev. Mr. 
 Maiden was purposely to introduce him to 
 the reader, and lead him readily to under- 
 stand how a gentleman so conscientious in 
 his principles and practice, having his habits 
 of thinking, might act as he did on the fol- 
 lowing occasion. 
 
 Being related to the family, and his scho- 
 lastic abilities being known to Mr. Fairfax, 
 when it was agreed that his ward, Archibald 
 Campbel, should finish his education at 
 Cambridge, it was thought adviseable, no 
 less by himself than by his guardian, to let 
 him belong to the college of which Mr. Luke 
 Maiden was the public tutor. It is a me- 
 lancholy truth, that difference of opinion has 
 excited greater enmities, and been made the 
 instrument of more mischief to mankind, 
 than any other of the most violent passions 
 of men ; nor will it be thought surprising that 
 Mr. Campbel and his public tutor should differ 
 
AND FRAILTY. 03 
 
 in opinion, or that they, having frequent inter- 
 course, should soon become acquainted with 
 each other's principles. On many particular 
 points, these principles were inimical, but 
 particularly on one : Mr. Luke Maiden was 
 a decided enemy to freedom of religious 
 enquiry, while Campbel was no less 
 thoroughly convinced its tendency was to 
 promote the divine morality taught by the 
 Christian religion, and, being equally ardent 
 and anxious to encourage and bear his part 
 in discussion, it v/as not surprising he should 
 be opposed, and his conduct openly con- 
 demned, by that gentleman. 
 
 Mr. ^lalden, under the bias of rooted 
 prejudice, considered him as a dangerous 
 innovator, took every opportunity to attack 
 and reprobate his opinions, and treated him 
 with forbidding hauteur, notwithstanding 
 Archibald, who admired the talents of 
 Maiden, and honored the moral integrity of 
 his character, paid the rigid disciplinajrian 
 unremitting respect, and endeavoured by 
 making every conciliatory effort to overcom* 
 
54 FORTITUDE 
 
 unjust prejudice. All his attempts, how- 
 ever, were rendered abortive by the firmness 
 with which the youth maintained opinions, 
 which the Rev. Mr. Maiden had resolutely 
 set his face against. 
 
 He watched the conduct of Campbel with 
 jealous vigilance, but for a considerable time 
 could not discover any thing which could 
 entide a conscientious man to make com- 
 plaints against the youth : the actions of 
 Campbel could bear the strictest scrutiny, 
 and he was cited by the master of the college 
 as a model of temperance and application. 
 
 It might have naturally been expected 
 that the constant failure of his uncharitable 
 expectations, added to the respectful for- 
 bearance of Campbel, would have conquered 
 the suspicious dislike of Maiden ; but pre- 
 judice, if once suffered to take root, is diffi- 
 cult to eradicate, especially when it origi- 
 nates in virtuous, though mistaken, zeal. Mr. 
 Maiden had persuaded himself that Campbel 
 was not the temperate and high principled 
 youth he appeared to be, but a hypocrite, 
 
AXD FRAILTY. 65 
 
 the more dangerous because he wore the 
 specious mask of virtue ; and deceitful ap- 
 pearances at length confirmed him in his 
 belief, and made him, as a conscientious 
 duty, institute serious complaints against 
 Archibald to the master of the college, the 
 cause of which will presently be known. 
 
 Archibald, whose habits were studious 
 and temperate, found no difficulty in con 
 forming to the rules of the college ; he was 
 no less regular in his hours than diligent at 
 his studies ; his conduct was open, and his 
 associates were youths of principle. 
 
 After watching for more than a year the 
 actions of Campbel with jealous scrutiny, 
 Mr. Maiden discovered one day, with little 
 surprise and great indignation, at the time 
 of the Newmarket races, that Archibald 
 had not only spent the whole of the preced- 
 ing night out of college but had been seen at 
 a late hour, in Newmarket, to go into a gam» 
 ing-house. Fully persuaded that no good 
 motive could lead the youth to such a place, 
 and more than ever dreading the influence of 
 
66 FORTITUDE 
 
 opinions which he held to be equally dan- 
 gerous and reprehensible, Mr. Maiden, with- 
 out previously questioning Archibald con- 
 cerning the transaction, made a formal com- 
 plaint to Dr. Herbert, the master of the col- 
 lege, against the youth, who, being sum- 
 moned to their presence, was mildly desired 
 by the latter to account for the apparent im- 
 propriety of his conduct. 
 
 " Appearances are, I acknowledge, against 
 me," replied Campbel, addressing the doctor 
 with the dignity of conscious innocence; 
 "but, if you, sir, will suffer me to give you the 
 address of Mr. Berril, the gendeman widi 
 whom I spent the greatest part of the night, 
 and will apply to him, either personally or 
 by letter, you will learn the motives of an 
 action ^hich you consider as reprehensible. 
 I do not hold myself at liberty further to ex- 
 plain myself, and I hope both yourself and 
 Mr. Maiden will acquit me of so heavy a 
 charge, and that you, sir, will excuse my 
 first deviation from those rules which every 
 student is bound to respect. 
 
AND FRAILTY. 67 
 
 " 1 fear, Mr. Campbel," said Maiden, not 
 giving Dr. Herbert time to speak in reply, 
 " this is not the first time you have infringed 
 the regulations of this seminary ; your prin- 
 ciples, sir, are dangerous, and I am sorry to 
 observe that they daily gain ground in the 
 college ; as a conscientious man, 1 hold it 
 my duty to express my warm disapprobation 
 of such principles, and to declare that I 
 cannot think the man by whom they are 
 professed can be a strict moralist. I hope, 
 sir, I may be mistaken, but, if in this in- 
 stance I should happen to be wrong, I must 
 repeat that the opinions you maintain are de- 
 lusive, and that I shall do my utmost to check 
 their baneful influence." 
 
 " If that is is your conviction, you will do 
 perfectly right, sir," answered Campbel,whose 
 feelings were considerably moved, but who 
 did not suffer them to conquer his equa- 
 nimity; "but, I hope, if Dr. Herbert receives 
 a satisfactory account of the transaction, you 
 will in future judge less unfavorably of my 
 morals, and believe me, when I give you my 
 
6'8 FORTITUDE 
 
 honor, that I never before either infringed 
 the rules of the college, or set foot in a gam- 
 ing-house. It grieves me to have incurred 
 the ill opinion of a gentleman I highly re- 
 spect, but I cannot be a hypocrite, and say 
 one thing while I think another." 
 
 Campbel then bowed and left the room. 
 
 " You judge that young gentleman hardly, 
 ^Ir. Maiden," said the doctor, "with whom 
 Campbel was a great favorite. " I would 
 pledge my life on his innocence." 
 
 " I hope he may be innocent, ' replied ]Mr. 
 Maiden, *' but, innocent or guilty, Mr. Camp- 
 bel is not only dangerous, for the innovating 
 doctrines he daringly maintains, but for his 
 specious manners, by which I fear you, 
 doctor, and many others, have been deceived; 
 and I confess I wish he were not a student 
 of this college." 
 
 Dr. Herbert, aware of the rooted preju- 
 dices and precise rigidity of Mr. Maiden, 
 knew it would be in vain to argue the point 
 further ; he therefore suffered that gentleman 
 to depart, and immediately wrote, as Camp- 
 
AXD FRAILTY. 69 
 
 bel had requested, to IVIr. Berril, whose ad- 
 dress the youth had left on the table, con- 
 fident that the inquiry would prove favorable 
 to Archibald, and feeling anxious to relieve 
 the mind of the latter, to whose keen sen- 
 sibility the doctor was no stranger. 
 
70 FORTITUDE 
 
 CHAP VII. 
 
 The reader no doubt is impatient to have 
 the innocence of Campbel cleared, and it 
 will be as just as it is pleasing to make the 
 virtues of that excellent youth better known. 
 
 The simple fact was this : Archibald had 
 ridden over to Newmarket with a letter, 
 which had been inclosed to him in one from 
 his guardian, and which he had been parti- 
 cularly requested to deliver himself as soon as 
 he received it, to Mr. Berril, who was per- 
 sonally known to Campbel, and who had 
 come to spend a month at Cambridge with 
 his nephew, a young officer of dragoons. 
 These gentlemen were gone for a few days to 
 be present at the Newmarket races, and 
 Archibald, understanding the letter was on 
 business, would not defer the delivery. 
 Young Berril, with whom Campbel was 
 likewise slightly acquainted, had a kind 
 heart, but he was self-willed, and his dissi- 
 
AND FRAILTY. 71 
 
 pation and irregularities gave his friends con- 
 tinual and serious alarm. 
 
 Mr. Berril, senior, who had brought up his 
 nephew from childhood, had spoiled the 
 youth by excessive indulgence ; and, like all 
 weak but good intentioned persons, had been 
 continually complaining of ill conduct, which 
 he had not the understanding resolutely to 
 check. Among other fashionable excesses, 
 the young comet indulged in the dangerous 
 vice of gaming, and was in a fair way of 
 dissipating a small fortune, just after he had 
 come of age. 
 
 This wild youth, when Campbel called on 
 Mr. Berril, senior, had been absent the whole 
 of the day, without even seeing or leaving 
 any message for his uncle, who, as evening 
 came on, began to be seriously alarmed, and 
 could not conceal his uneasiness from his 
 visitor, whose superior understanding and 
 excellent conduct made his youth be for- 
 gotten. 
 
 **I wish Arthur resembled you, Mr. Camp- 
 
72 FORTITUDE 
 
 bel," said the old gentleman, " I am under con- 
 tinual alarm lest he should fall into the hands 
 of sharpers, and be utterly ruined. Most 
 likely, he is now at a gaming-house. I have 
 not seen him the whole day, and last night 
 I know he had a considerable sum of money 
 in his possession." 
 
 Mr. Berril had scarcely finished speaking 
 when his own servant, whom he had sent in 
 quest of his nephew, came to inform his 
 master, that, after a long and almost ineffec- 
 tual search, he had found the cornet in a 
 gaming-house, which was notorious for 
 sharpers, hard by, playing with two suspicious 
 looking men; that he understood he had 
 been there all the afternoon; and that he 
 had vainly intreated him to return home. 
 
 This intelligence, though nothing but what 
 his fears had foreboded, was distraction to 
 the old gentleman, who again dispatched his 
 servant to inform his nephew that Mr. Camp- 
 bel was with his uncle, and that the latter 
 requested he would come home. In a short 
 time the man returned with the cornet's 
 
AND FRAILTY. 73 
 
 compliments to Mr. Campbel, he was sorry 
 he was particularly engaged, but he could 
 not have the honor to wait on him. 
 
 " What shall I do," exclaimed the unhappy 
 uncle. " If I go myself, my advice will be 
 disregarded by Arthur, and I shall probably 
 be exposed to the impertinence of his profli- 
 gate companions. Perhaps, he might yield 
 to the persuasion of a youth of his own age ; 
 for it is only when he thinks his independence 
 is called in question that he is obstinately 
 deaf to advice ; but who can I ask," con- 
 tinued the old gentleman, looking wistfully 
 at Campbel, "to undertake so delicate and 
 unpleasant an office?" 
 
 " You may freely command my services, 
 dear sir," replied Archibald, " but I fear my 
 success will not answer our w ishes ; my ac- 
 quaintance with your nephew is slight, and 
 our pursuits are so different that there is 
 little sympathy between us ; the trial, how- 
 ever, since you think my influence would be 
 greater than yours, ought to be made, and I 
 
 VOL. I. E 
 
74! FORTITUDE 
 
 shall be happy indeed if I can contribute to 
 relieve your anxiety." 
 
 The offer of Campbel was eagerly ac- 
 cepted by Mr. Berril ; not that he had much 
 expectation the embassy would prove suc- 
 cessful, but he was tormented by mingled 
 fear and indecision, and he caught at every 
 glimpse of hope, however faint. In follow- 
 ing the dictates of benevolence, Archibald 
 did considerable violence to his feelings. 
 Young Berril, at the beginning of the ac- 
 quaintance, had made cordial advances to 
 Campbel, who, being aware of his dissipa- 
 tion, had politely though resolutely avoided 
 a familiar intercourse, and a coolness na-^ 
 turally subsisted between the youths. Camp- 
 bel could hardly expect that, under such 
 circumstances, his intreaties could have any 
 weight on a young man unaccustomed to 
 yield to the salutary control of reason, and 
 by going he exposed himself to receive a n?or- 
 tifying repulse ; he could not, however, wit- 
 ness the wretchedness of the old gentleman 
 
AND FRAILTY. 75 
 
 without feeling strong compassion, and per- 
 sonal considerations never deterred him from 
 doing a kind or generous action. 
 
 Archibald entered the gaming-house, and 
 beheld what was passing with mingled pain 
 and disgust; shameless vice, profligate folly, 
 or fixed despair, seemed to be written on 
 every countenance ; at evei-y step his heart 
 recoiled, and deep sighs involuntarily escaped 
 him. He found young Berril, as the ser- 
 vant had said, engaged in play with men, 
 who had every appearance of being sharpers. 
 The room, which was large, was crowded, 
 and it was a considerable time before Ar- 
 chibald could approach near enough to the 
 young officer to speak to or attract his no- 
 tice: at length, having accomplished his 
 wish, he whispered young Berril, and begged 
 he would favor him with a short confer- 
 ence. 
 
 " On what subject, sir," asked the cornet 
 with cold civility. 
 
 " That I cannot publicly explain," re- 
 plied Campbel, " but if you will grant me 
 E 2 
 
76 FORTITUDE 
 
 your attention for a few moments in pri- 
 vate — " 
 
 " Excuse me, sir," said young Berril, 
 " I do not know that you have any claim 
 to my particular attention." 
 
 " I come on the part of your uncle." 
 
 " So I suppose, sir, but pray be kind 
 enough to inform my uncle that I am my 
 own master, and will be accountable to no 
 man for my actions." 
 
 ^* Let me intreat you, Mr. Berril," re- 
 monstrated Campbel, with increasing energy, 
 but still in a whisper, " to return with me to 
 your worthy uncle : he is, upon my honor, 
 under serious alarm." 
 
 *' Sir," drily, inteiTupted the cornet, " his 
 alarm is ridiculous, and I must beg leave to 
 obsei*ve that i/our interference is no less 
 strange. I will not quit this place till I 
 choose it, and, if I am molested with any 
 more messages or advice, I will stay here 
 till to-morrow night." 
 
 The cornet then made a slight bow to 
 Campbel, turned to his companions, who 
 
AND FRAILTY. 77 
 
 eyed Archibald with suspicious scrutiny, and 
 resumed his play. Campbel, who expected 
 to meet with no better success, seeing re- 
 monstrance would be vain, and probably 
 dangerous to both parties, quitted the youth, 
 with mingled pity and reluctance, and re- 
 turned with the unwelcome intelligence of 
 his ill success to the old gentleman, who was 
 so wretched, when he found that his nephew 
 was determined to stay, that Archibald, 
 much as he disliked to infringe the rules of 
 his college, could not resolve to leave Mr. 
 Berril, till the cornet should return, though 
 the hour Avas becoming late. 
 
 The time dragged heavily, and Campbel 
 used every soothing argument to console 
 the wTetched uncle till break of day, when 
 young Berril made his appearance, in a state 
 of mind truly pitiable, but fortunately 
 awakened to a sense of his folly ; he had 
 been stripped of five hundred pounds, and 
 just before he quitted the gaming-table had 
 received a warning lesson, which made a sa- 
 lutary though terrible impression on the 
 E 3 
 
7^ FORTITUDE. 
 
 youth. A young man, ^vho had a wife and 
 family, after losing his whole fortune, rushed 
 out of the house in desperation, and swearing, 
 with horrible imprecations, he would not 
 outlive the next five minutes : he had scarcely 
 gone two steps from the door when the dis- 
 charge of a pistol was heard, and the corpse 
 was found in the street by the affrighted 
 people of the house, who immediately closed 
 their doors, and dismissed their guests, 
 fearful of a justiciary prosecution. 
 
 Young Berril, as he passed the wretched 
 Suicide, shuddered, and, for the first time 
 in his life, felt the danger and vice of his 
 past conduct. The presence of Campbel, 
 though it surprised, no less affected the young 
 cornet : grieved at seeing his uncle in a state 
 so wretched, sensible of the humane at- 
 tentions of Archibald, he would not suffer 
 the latter to withdraw till he had solemnly 
 abjured his errors, and Campbel had the 
 satisfaction to see the uncle and nephew re- 
 conciled before he returned to college. 
 
 This account, which the two Mr. Berrils, 
 
AND FRAILTY. . 79 
 
 from a feeling of justice, empowered Dr. 
 Herbert to make public, though it cleared 
 the character of Campbel, did not eradicate 
 the prejudices of Maiden : being a truly 
 conscientious and worthy man, he confessed 
 himself in that instance to have been mis- 
 taken, and rejoiced that the youth was in- 
 nocent; but he maintained a cold reserve 
 toward him, and still continued to hold his 
 morals and character in suspicion, till the 
 following circumstance dispelled the mist of 
 prejudice, and extorted his warm esteem. 
 
 About t^vo years before Campbel quitted 
 the university, the mastership of the college 
 became vacant by the resignation of Dr. 
 Herbert : it was in the gift of the Bishop 
 of * *, who to exemplary piety added a 
 fine understanding, and no less liberality of 
 mind. Mr. Maiden applied for the place, 
 but application was likewise made to his 
 lordship by another person, the Rev. Mr. 
 Welthorp, a man by no means so well in- 
 formed or capable of fulfilling the duties of 
 such a station as Mr. Maiden; he, however, 
 E 4 
 
80 FORTITUDE 
 
 had the art of making himself popular. 
 Maiden, on the contrary, owing to his rigid 
 preciseness, religious intolerance, and proud 
 independence, was not in favor either with 
 the fellows of the college or the persons in 
 power; while the partisans of Welthorp 
 were numerous, and he had little doubt of 
 obtaining the preference, because he had 
 gained over the only son of the Bishop. This 
 son was a fellow commoner in the college ; 
 he disliked Mr. Maiden, and had great in- 
 fluence over the mind of his father, which 
 he zealously exerted in behalf of the in- 
 triguing clergyman. 
 
 Campbel, indignant at the injustice likely 
 to be inflicted on a virtuous and highly me- 
 ritorious man, exerted himself with generous 
 zeal to serve the rigid censor, who had treated 
 and continued to treat him with mistaken 
 but unrelenting severity. After vainly at- 
 tempting to induce Augustus * * *, so the 
 son of the Bishop of * * was called, at least 
 to remain neuter, and endeavouring, un-t 
 known to Mr. Maiden, to promote his in- 
 
AND FRAILTY. 81 
 
 terest, Archibald determined to write him- 
 self to the prelate, with whom he had no 
 personal acquaintance, but who was then at 
 Cambridge, and whose liberality and amiable 
 character he had heard highly extolled. Such 
 a step he felt on a less urgent occasion would 
 be unbecoming in so young a man, and even 
 now was liable to be thought presuming; 
 but he ardently wished to serve a worthy 
 gentleman. He besides placed much reli- 
 ance on the exalted virtues by which his 
 lordship was distinguished, and hoped that 
 a modest, though manly statement of facts, 
 would make an impression favorable to 
 Mr. Maiden. Without confiding his in- 
 tentions even to the few who sympathised in 
 his feelings, he wrote the following letter : — 
 
 E d 
 
%^ tonritvDt 
 
 CHAP. VIII. 
 
 ^'^ College, 17**. 
 " My Lord," 
 
 " As a young man and a stranger, I am 
 conscious the step I now take must Appear 
 extraordinary, if not indecorous, till I shall 
 explain the imperious motives that have 
 made me presume to trespass on the time 
 and attention of your lordship. Impelled 
 by every claim of justice, as well as personal 
 respect, and encouraged by the known libe* 
 rality of your lordship, I beg leave to make 
 your lordship acquainted widi the virtues of 
 the reverend Mr. Maiden, whose character 
 I fear has suffered misrepresentation. Men 
 like him, of superior talents, must in- 
 evitably have enemies; especially when to 
 genius they add incorruptible integrity of 
 heart, and an inflexible determination to 
 make all who come within their jurisdiction 
 act with moral rectitude. 
 
 ** I am, my lord, a student of ** college ; 
 
AND FRAIl'TY. 83 
 
 for more than two years, I have witnessed 
 the irreproachable conduct of Mr. Maiden, 
 and, in common with the other students, 
 have derived the benefit of his invaluable 
 instructions. No vice can be alleged against 
 him, his talents are allowed to be eminent, 
 and he has conscientiously discharged the 
 duties of his office : he is a vigilant guardian 
 of our nK)rals, and an arduous promoter of 
 knowledge. The severity, of which his 
 enemies complain, though carried perhaps a 
 httle too far, originates in motives of the 
 purest virtue, and, surely, my loinJ, is pre- 
 ferable to that baneful indulgence which 
 frequently arises from indolence, and which 
 suffer^ vice to creep imperceptibly into the ha- 
 bits of youth. Forgive me, my lord, if my 
 feelings hurry me into unbecoming wartifith ; 
 had your lordship, by any circumstance, 
 become as intimately acquainted with the 
 worth of Mr. Maiden as I happen to be, it 
 would excite little surprise, though I will 
 not attempt to excuse its impropriety. 
 " it would be presumptuous, perhaps, to 
 E 6 
 
84 FORTITUDE 
 
 imagine that the testimony of a young man, 
 who is totally unknown to your lordship, 
 could influence your decision, on a subject 
 of such public importance ; but I flatter 
 myself I may be allowed to hope that it 
 will induce your lordship to inquire, de- 
 terminately, into the truth of what I have 
 the honor to submit to your consideration, 
 and to be cautious in giving credit to the 
 statements of persons, who would not in- 
 tentionally deceive your lordship, but who 
 are themselves deceived by their preju- 
 dices. Well assured that Mr. Maiden will 
 find warm advocates in the justice and libe- 
 rality of your lordship, I trust, to your 
 lordship's indulgence to acquit me of inten- 
 tional impel tinence, and remain with great 
 personal respect, 
 
 " Your lordship's obedient, 
 " humble servant, 
 
 " Archibald Campbel," 
 
 This letter, while it excited no little 
 
 surprise, made a lively impression on the 
 
 learned and amiable prelate to whom it was 
 
AND FRAILTY. 85 
 
 addressed. The partisans of Welthorp had, 
 as Campbel had justly surmised, been ac- 
 tive in exaggerating the faults of Maiden, 
 and had set every engine at work to warp the 
 judgment of his lordship, in favour of his 
 opponent, and Augustus had zealously 
 joined the cabal. In short, the good bishop, 
 beset on every side, notwithstanding his libe- 
 rality and wish to be just, was inclined to 
 decide against Maiden, at the time that he 
 received the letter of Archibald. An appeal 
 so manly, yet modest, could not fail to 
 produce the intended effect on a man like 
 the bishop of * ''^ : the scale was now turned, 
 his lordship began to fear he had suffered his 
 judgment to be unfairly biassed, and he 
 was not too proud to retract. Wishing 
 however to proceed upon sure grounds, 
 and avoid all possibility of falling a second 
 time into mistake, without consulting his 
 son, he sent immediately for Mr. Maiden, 
 having fixed on an expedient to satisfy all 
 remaining doubts. 
 
8d FORtlTUDE 
 
 Mr. Maiden, who had been informed of 
 the sti'ong interest formed against him, but 
 who was too proud to attempt to counteract 
 the mischief, was surprised at receiving a 
 polite note from the Bishop of ^ ^, requesting 
 a conference. Not knowing what to fear 
 or what to hope, that gentleman obeyed the 
 unexpected summons. 
 
 After some preliminary conversation, in 
 which his lordship mingled the amenity of 
 the well-bred gentleman with dignified seri- 
 ousness, the bishop showing the cover of 
 Campbel's letter to his guest, asked him if 
 he knew the hand writing? 
 
 " Yes, my lord," replied Mr. Maiden, 
 ** and I guess the purport of the letter ; it is 
 written by a young man, who, if the late 
 nfiaster of ** College had been of my 
 opinion, would not have been suffered to 
 remain a student : he is not ignorant of my 
 sentiments, and, no doubt, has written to 
 prejudice your lordship against me." 
 
 " Read this letter, sir," said the prelate, 
 
AND FRAILTY. 87 
 
 presenting it, " and then tell me whether or 
 no I ought to place confidence in the ve- 
 racity of the writer. 
 
 Mr. Maiden, persuaded that he should 
 fed himself censured, if not slandered, with- 
 out mercy, and that Campbel had put the 
 finishing stroke to his rejection, took the 
 letter with proud resignation, mingled with 
 an indignant sense of injustice. The reader 
 will easily imagine what were his feelings, 
 when he read the zealous defence and ani- 
 mated praise of the generous Campbel. 
 Mr. Maiden, though rigid in his habits and 
 intolerant on religious points, as before 
 has been said, was a truly good man : such 
 a letter, written under such circumstances, 
 was calculated to excite deep regret in the 
 upright heart : it dropped from his trembling 
 hand, tears started to his eyes, and he rose 
 in agitation, scarcely conscious where he 
 was, or what he did. When he had re- 
 covered from his emotion, the bishop, kindly 
 taking him by the hand, said — " Well, my 
 dear sir, do you still think the writer of that 
 
88 FORTITUDE 
 
 letter is your enemy ? You have enemies, 
 Mr. Maiden, who have endeavoured to in- 
 jure you in my opinion. I confess they had 
 nearly succeeded in making me give the pre- 
 ference to Mr. Welthorp ; this letter," con- 
 tinued his lordship, " greatly staggered my 
 belief; yet I had not come to a decision, on 
 either side, when I requested an interview: 
 I still had fears and doubts ; the praise of 
 friends, sometimes, like the censure of ene- 
 mies, is exaggerated, and I took it for granted 
 that a mu^^ual and strong attachment must 
 have subsisted between yourself and Mr. 
 Campbel : you have convinced me that no 
 such bias existed, and I am no longer under 
 embarrassment. The testimony of a young 
 gentleman, whom you dislike, and who you 
 say is not ignorant of your sentiments, is 
 unquestionable ; it is the most honorable and 
 flattering your merits could receive. What- 
 ever his faults may be, that letter proves 
 Mr. Campbel to possess no less elevation of 
 soul than goodness of heart : it displays that 
 sound understanding, and high moral rec- 
 
AND FRAILTY. 89 
 
 titude, which are so rarely to be met with in 
 youth. Keep it, dear sir, as a just tribute to 
 your virtues, and let me prevail on you to 
 esteem the author." 
 
 " Oh, my lord, I can never forgive my- 
 self for having so long been wilfully blind to 
 the noble qualities of that generous youth ! 
 He has always met my injustice with the 
 most admirable forbearance, and made every 
 effort to conciliate my esteem ! Oh, shame ! 
 jshame !" 
 
 Again the eyes of Mr. Maiden were suf- 
 fused with tears of bitter self-reproach, and 
 his countenance betrayed the strong emotions 
 of his mind. 
 
 *' The best of men," said the bishop with 
 soothing kindness, " are liable to err, and 
 your present feelings prove, dear sir, that 
 Mr. Campbel knew the value of your good 
 opinion ; but few indeed like him will have 
 the candor and understanding to appreciate 
 its worth : nay I must be candid enough to 
 say that unless you relax in that rigidity 
 which, when earned to excess, defeats its 
 
9t) iPOfeTITUDE 
 
 object, which has undeservedly raised you 
 so many enemies, the excellence of your 
 heart will never be truly felt. You have, in 
 this instance, received demonstration that 
 virtuous men may differ in opinion. I need 
 not, I am sure, urge you to let all unpleasant 
 recollections sleep : the oblivion of injuries 
 is one of the highest duties of the Christian." 
 
 It is almost needless to inform the reader 
 that Mr. Luke Maiden, notwithstanding the 
 intrigues of the reverend Mr. Welthorp 
 and his patron, was appointed master of 
 * * College, and that he made ample atone- 
 ment for his past injustice to Campbel, who 
 sincerely rejoiced in the fortunate success of 
 his application. 
 
 Archibald, however, as it too frequently 
 happens in such cases, made himself enemies 
 by performing an act of virtue, which his 
 modesty would have concealed, but which 
 the overflowing gratitude of Mr. Maiden 
 made public. Augustus * * =^ in particular, 
 conceived high offence at the step which 
 Campbel had taken, and, though his father, 
 
AND FRAILTY. 91 
 
 before he returned to his diocese, exhorted 
 him to cultivate the friendship of the youth, 
 he shunned all intercourse with him. Mr. 
 Maiden, warned by this salutary lesson, 
 relaxed his severity, though not his zealous 
 attention to the morals of the students ; and 
 exerting the superior talents he possessed 
 with increased ardor, worthily attended to 
 the duties of his new station. 
 
92 FORTITUDE 
 
 CHAP. IX. 
 
 Archibald Campbel is destined to act 
 so conspicuous a part in this history, and 
 has already so far ingratiated himself in our 
 favour, that another affair, in which he be- 
 came — no — not a principal, but a mediator, 
 must be related, and the letter her Bath 
 friend sent to Eleonor must still wait. 
 There can be little doubt but there are per- 
 sons who w ill say this is all wrong : but what 
 can be done ? The following story must be 
 told now, or never ; therefore, the shortest 
 way will be to submit to censure, and with- 
 out more waste of time to proceed. 
 
 Just after Mr. Maiden was appointed 
 master of ** College, a young West-Indian, 
 of good fortune, became a student in that 
 house. Frederic Delmore, so the youth 
 was called, w as rather older than Campbel : 
 he had promising talents and some applica- 
 tion, joined to many other worthy qualities, 
 but he had likewise all the pride and irrita- 
 
AXD FRAILTY. 93 
 
 bility peculiar to his countrymen. In many 
 of his habits and opinions, he widely differed 
 from Campbel ; but, as the latter saw he 
 possessed a good heart, he bore his frequent 
 petulance and pride with good humor; 
 though he attacked his prejudices, and never 
 failed to warn him against the baneful con- 
 sequences of indulging the angry passions. 
 
 Archibald, owing to his moral and in- 
 tellectual superiority, and the forbearing 
 kindness of his temper, acquired greater in- 
 fluence over the young West-Indian than his 
 other fellow-students enjoyed. Delmore, 
 however, was guilty of frequent injustice 
 toward his friend, in moments of offended 
 pride and ungovemed passion, to which 
 Campbel generally opposed a calm but firm 
 resistance. 
 
 Delmore, about eighteen months after he 
 went to the university, returned with his fa- 
 mily to the West-Indies, being recalled thither 
 by the death of a distant relation, who left 
 him co-heir to a large estate. A few weeks 
 before his departure, he invited Campbel 
 
94 FORTITUDE 
 
 during the long vacation, to make a tour, 
 through the beautiful county of Devon, with 
 himself and another friend. Archibald as- 
 sented, and they accordingly set out on their 
 journey. They first took the direct road to 
 Exeter, where they proposed staying a fort- 
 night, to oblige Melford, their fellow-tra- 
 veller, who had an uncle in that city, to 
 whose house he was invited. 
 
 Delmore and Campbel took up their 
 abode at a hotel, and, being willing to 
 amuse themselves with observing variety of 
 character, dined and supped in public. 
 Among the guests, who chiefly consisted of 
 merchants, there was a youth, who in 
 manners and education seemed to be superior 
 to the rest ; his family was respectable, but 
 he was a younger son, and head clerk in a 
 mercantile house in Exeter. 
 
 This youth happened to sit near Delmore 
 and Campbel, frequently addressed them in 
 conversation, and seemed desirous to form 
 an acquaintance with the two friends, which 
 overtures the West-Indian, who was very 
 
AND FRAILTY. 95 
 
 tenacious of his dignity, coldly and some- 
 what haughtily decUned. Archibald, on 
 the contrary, being pleased with his coun- 
 tenance and manners, and having no false 
 pride, took every opportunity to treat Eus- 
 tace, that was the youth's name, with respect, 
 conversed whenever they met, and found 
 he had a good understanding, with principles 
 apparently no less excellent. 
 
 This liberality gave secret dissatisfaction 
 to Delmore, who at moments suffered the 
 disapprobation he felt to escape him, though 
 he knew, from experience, that his arrogant 
 opinions could not influence the conduct of 
 Campbel. Eustace, finding his friendly 
 overtures repulsed, had too much proper 
 spirit to intrude his conversation on the 
 proud West-Indian, and they maintained a 
 studied and mutual reserve, till wine threw 
 the young clerk off his guard, and an un- 
 lucky moment of familiarity brought on a 
 quarrel, which was productive of qpnse- 
 quences the most serious. 
 
96 FORTITUDE 
 
 The evening before the friends intended 
 to quit Exeter, which happened to be of a 
 Sunday, between the hours of seven and 
 eight, Del more was sitting in the coffee- 
 room with Melford, Campbel being gone 
 to take a solitary stroll ; the other guests 
 had dispersed, and the young men were 
 engaged in conversation, when Eustace, 
 who had not been there all day, reeled into 
 the room unobserved by the friends. The 
 clerk immediately drew near, and placed 
 himself by the side of Delmore. 
 
 " Good evening, sir," said Eustace, ad- 
 dressing the West-Indian; *^ I am very 
 happy to see you." 
 
 Delmore, ill pleased at this intrusion, 
 coldly bowed, and then continued his dis- 
 course. 
 
 " I tell you, my fine fellow, I am very 
 happy to see you," interrupted Eustace, 
 slapping Delmore on the shoulder, " Does 
 not that deserve a sociable answer ?" 
 
 " Sir, I beg you will be familiar where 
 
AND FRAILTY. 97 
 
 it is more agreeable," said the West-Indian, 
 whose pride rose up in arms ; " I am not 
 accustomed to such liberties." 
 
 '* Not accustomed to liberty in the land 
 of freedom ! Why, that is a downright libel 
 against our king and countiy ! But no 
 matter; if you are not used to liberty, I 
 will give you a lesson out of pure good na- 
 ture." 
 
 Delmore, scarcely able to restrain his 
 rising passions, bit his nails in contemptuous 
 silence ; and Melford, who began to suspect 
 that Eustace was not perfectly sober, ad- 
 vised the youth in a whisper to go home. 
 
 " Excuse me, sir," said Eustace aloud, 
 " I am no such unmannerly puppy : I 
 know my company is agreeable to i/oUy 
 though this gentleman thinks proper to 
 draw up his head, knit his brows, and af- 
 fect the consequence of a nabob, when 
 perhaps he is only a travelling clerk." 
 
 " Sir," answered Delmore, firing at so 
 degrading a supposition, — " Sir, I must in- 
 form you I am a gentleman, and a West- 
 
 VOL. I. F 
 
^8 FORTITUDE 
 
 Indian, and I would not advise you to 
 provoke me." 
 
 " Gentle or simple," retorted Eustace, 
 " I am a better gentleman than yourself, 
 for I can behave "with civility to every man." 
 
 '^ Sir, I say, beware of provoking me^ 
 though you are my inferior." 
 
 " That is false," said Eustace, who now 
 began to get angry ; " and if you were ten 
 West-Indians, and ten times more proud, 
 I would maintain that I am a better gentle- 
 man than yourself." 
 
 An angi'y altercation now ensued, and 
 Delmore conducted himself with such 
 haughty contempt toward the youth, that 
 Eustace, thrown entirely off his guard by 
 this supercilious treatment, and the wine 
 which had mounted into his head, struck 
 the West-Indian, calling him a proud cox- 
 comb. Delmore, though he would have 
 thought a clerk unworthy to receive the 
 honor of being shot through the head by a 
 gentleman, knowing from report the family 
 of Eustace to be respectable, and deeming 
 
AND FRAILTY. 99 
 
 the insult he had received, notwithstanding 
 the palpable inebriety of the young clerk, 
 mortal, and only to be washed out in blood, 
 gave the youth a challenge, and the latter 
 agreed to meet him with pistols and a 
 friend early on the following morning. 
 Eustace then staggered out of the house, 
 and Delmore was followed to his room by 
 Melford. The latter, a good-intentioned 
 but weak young man, who had not the 
 courage to steer against the tide of popular 
 prejudice, feebly opposed the resolution of 
 Delmore. He would willingly have con- 
 sented to be his second ; but he was in- 
 tended for the church, and resided at the 
 house of his uncle, a dignified clergyman, 
 from whom he had great expectations, and 
 he dared not, being thus circumstanced, 
 engage in such an affair. Delmore there- 
 fore impatiently waited the return of Camp- 
 bel, whom he hoped he should persuade 
 to be his second. He was well aware that 
 Archibald was a professed enemy to the 
 practice of duelling ; but, as he was always 
 F 2 
 
loo FORTITUDE 
 
 confident of his own success in whatever he 
 undertook, he flattered himself that his 
 eloquence would overpower the scruples of 
 his friend. 
 
 About half an hour after the fray had 
 happened, Melford, who was returning to 
 sup with his uncle, met Campbel coming 
 back to the hotel, and stopped to make the 
 latter acquainted with what had passed 
 during his absence. Archibald received the 
 intelligence with anxiety ; he not only was 
 alarmed for the personal safety of Delmore, 
 but felt serious concern for Eustace, for 
 whose intoxication he was at a loss how to 
 account, having remarked his rigid tem- 
 perance at table with no less approbation 
 than pleasure, and whose ruin, even should 
 he escape unhurt, he knew, from hints that 
 had casually dropped from the youth, must 
 be inevitable, should he meet the West- 
 Indian. 
 
 The master of Eustace, by whom the 
 latter had hopes of being in a few years 
 taken into partnership, was a very generous- 
 
AND FRAILTT. lOl 
 
 hearted worthy man ; but he was a quaker, 
 and a rigid sectary, who held duels and 
 duellists in horror, and would certainly dis- 
 miss Eustace with disgrace from his hospi- 
 table roof, should that young man commit 
 an act which he considered to be highly 
 criminal. 
 
 Aware of these consequences, Campbel, 
 before he returned to the hotel, went to the 
 lodging of Eustace, that he might, if pos- 
 sible, persuade the youth to accept of his 
 mediation with Delmore. Fortunately, the 
 young man was at home, and admitted 
 Archibald, who found him completely so- 
 bered, by the excruciating reflections which 
 forced themselves on his mind. Though 
 sensible he had been the iirst and the deep- 
 est aggressor, and well aware that a duel 
 would involve him in ruin, Eustace could with 
 difficulty brook the humiliation of offering 
 an apology to a man by whose haughty 
 contumely he had been severely stung, and 
 who most probably would reject his con- 
 ciliatory overtures; but Campbel exerted 
 f3 
 
102 FORTITUDE 
 
 all the energy of benevolence, and, after a 
 short conflict between mistaken honor and 
 duty, the young clerk yielded to his earnest 
 entreaties. 
 
 " I feel," said he, " that I was a rash 
 fool ! I should despise myself, were I ad- 
 dicted to the vice of drinking ; but I was 
 obliged to dine with a party of gentlemen, 
 who pushed the bottle with despotic au- 
 thority. In despite of my resistance, I was 
 forced to drink more freely than I liked ,* 
 my head is weak, and my spirits were high. 
 When the party broke up, I went to your 
 hotel, where I found your friend with an- 
 other gentleman; I cannot remember all 
 that passed, I only have a confused recol- 
 lection that my conduct was that of a mad- 
 man, and that I struck Mr. Delmore : if 
 he will accept a manly apology I am ready 
 to acknowledge the impropriety of my be- 
 haviour : if he reject it I must give the 
 sanguinary satisfaction he demands, for I 
 cannot stoop to indignity, though by my 
 folly perhaps it may be justly deserved." 
 
AND FRAILTY, 103 
 
 " I will pledge my word," eagerly inter- 
 rupted Campbel, " that indignity shall not 
 be offered. Delmore is proud and irritable, 
 but he has a good heart ; if he accept your 
 conciliatory offers, which I think I may 
 venture to promise he will, be assured you 
 will have no cause to repent of your con- 
 cession." 
 
 F 4 
 
104 FORTITUDE 
 
 CHAP. X, 
 
 Campbel, having gained his point, 
 left Eustace, fearing the prejudices and 
 proud irascibility of Delmore would be dif- 
 ficult to conquer, but trusting greatly to the 
 goodness of his heart, and determined that 
 no personal consideration should make him 
 swerve from his duty ; which was to prevent, 
 if possible, the duel from taking place, and 
 to save a worthy young man from ruin, or 
 his friend, perhaps, from a premature grave. 
 
 With these laudable resolutions he re- 
 turned to the hotel, and immediately sought 
 Delmore, whom he found alone, and who, 
 without giving him time to make his pacific 
 overtures, informed Campbel of what had 
 passed with angry exaggeration, and, after 
 expressing implicit reliance on his friend- 
 ship, requested Archibald to be his second. 
 
 " Delmore," said Campbel, " I am no 
 friend to duelling ; it is a practice I abhor ; 
 it is forbidden by the laws of God and man ; 
 
A\^D FRATLTV, iO.'> 
 
 besides, even according to the prejudices of 
 what is called honor, it is in this case un- 
 necessary. I have seen the young man, 
 and he is willing to make an apolog^\" 
 
 *' I can accept of no a}X)logy; I have 
 been grossly insulted, nay, have received a 
 blow, and I ^^ill have satisfaction." 
 
 '^ Delmore, listen, I conjure you, to the 
 simple facts I have to relate/' 
 
 " I will Hsten to nothing. I see you 
 have been made the dupe of some artful 
 tale of distress, and I have long remarked 
 your partiality to this insolent clerk ; but my 
 determination is fixed." 
 
 " So is mine, Delmore." 
 
 " Then you will not oblige your friend ?" 
 
 '* With heart and soul, in a worthy 
 cause ; but I will not aid to promote a san- 
 guinary practice, involve a poor youth in 
 ruin, and bring wretchedness on the in- 
 nocent." 
 
 " These may be very exalted sentiments, 
 but I make no such lofty pretensions to 
 virtue. I would serve my friend, right or 
 F 5 
 
106 FORTITUDE 
 
 wrong, at the peril of my life. Since you 
 refuse me, I shall go alone ; but here all 
 intimacy between us must end, Mr. Camp- 
 bel." 
 
 Thus speaking, Delmore walked toward 
 the door, angry and agitated. 
 
 " Stay, Delmore," remonstrated Camp- 
 bel, still preserving his temper. " As your 
 sincere friend, I seriously Avarn you against 
 the guilt into which you would blindly 
 plunge." 
 
 " Guilt, Mr. Campbel ! It is fortunate 
 I have been your friend ; but have a care ! 
 do not try hiy forbearance too far !" 
 
 *' Do you beware of yourself, Delmore ! 
 Your passions, if indulged, will hurry you 
 into frantic and dangerous acts, — will leave 
 you a prey to agonizing remorse ! You 
 seek the life of a young man, who is de- 
 sirous to atone for his temporary forget- 
 fulness, who was not the master of his 
 actions when he struck the blow, and who 
 is an useful and respectable member of so- 
 ciety! You would bring desolation into 
 
AND FRAILTY. 107 
 
 families, nay, endanger your own life, and 
 wantonly brave the divine wrath, to gratify 
 the odious passion of revenge !" 
 
 " Mr. Campbel, this is language to 
 which I will not submit." 
 
 " It is the language of sincere friendship. 
 Delmore, j^ou stand on the brink of a pre- 
 cipice ! Shall I see you fall, and drag down 
 the innocent, rather than brave temporary 
 injustice ? No ! Were I even to lose your 
 esteem, I would leave no effort untried to 
 awaken you to a sense of your danger." 
 
 " All this sounds very fine, and no doubt 
 would be admirable in a pulpit ; but I beg 
 leave to remind you, Mr. Campbel, I am 
 a West-Indian, who would rather die than 
 brook indignity." 
 
 " And have you never inflicted it, Del- 
 more? Put that question conscientiously 
 to yourself, answer with the honesty of 
 a man, and then decide whether you ought 
 to be implacable." 
 
 Delmore coloured, and, conscience- 
 struck, remained silent. 
 6 
 
108 FORTITUDE 
 
 " Your countenance," continued Camp- 
 bel, " does honor to your heart ; it makes 
 a manly confession. Rise superior to false 
 pride, conquer your passions, and do not 
 persist in fatal error !" 
 
 Delmore, moved and partly convinced, 
 but still under the influence of haughty in- 
 dignation, continued silent, irresolute, and 
 ashamed. Campbel, having so far gained 
 his point, made a forcible appeal to the 
 filial piety of his friend. 
 
 " Delmore," said Archibald, approach- 
 ing the West-Indian, who no longer re- 
 pelled his advances, '' I have heard you ex- 
 press all the piety of a good son ! You are 
 tlie only child of your idolizing parents ! In 
 you they centre every joy, every anxious 
 hope! Would you, setting every other 
 consideration apart, wantonly incur the risk 
 of bringing misery, nay, perhaps premature 
 death, on those honored parents ? If you 
 should meet Eustace, and fall, who would 
 cherish their declinincr as^e, and smooth the 
 thorny pillow of disease ? W^ould you ab- 
 
AND FRAILTY. 109 
 
 jure duties both human and divine, whicli 
 you have hitherto held sacred? Would 
 you entail misery on all who love you? 
 Not because, should you follow the dictates 
 of humanity, you must incur the world's 
 contempt; not because you have sustained 
 real injury, which, even under the present 
 circumstances, could not justify your per- 
 sisting in relentless revenge — No ! It is be- 
 cause your dignity has received, as you 
 suppose, a mortal wound, Delmore, I 
 know^ you better than you know yourself; 
 should you suffer temporary passion to 
 overpower your better feelings, should you 
 become a homicide, or involve a worthy 
 youth in ruin, you could never again be at 
 peace with your own heart ! Be not then 
 inexorable ! Conquer feelings unworthy of 
 a Christian ! Receive the apology of Eu- 
 stace, and let me feel increased respect for 
 my friend !" 
 
 Delmore, though a proud, hot-headed 
 young man, was capable of generous feel- 
 ings. Though he did not always practise, 
 
110 FORTITUDE 
 
 he zealously revered the divine morality 
 taught by the Scriptures ; he was, beside, an 
 affectionate son : his filial piety was awaken- 
 ed, his religious scruples roused, and his pride 
 soothed, though his prejudices in favor of 
 duelling were too rooted to be easily eradi- 
 cated. 
 
 Conscious of the wrong he had done 
 Campbel, in doubting his friendship, he 
 held out his hand, in token of reconciliation. 
 " Campbel," said he, " I feel I have been 
 guilty of culpable injustice toward you, but 
 I will make atonement: duelling is, and 
 ever will be, in my opinion, a necessary 
 check upon encroaching insolence. I hope 
 I am a Christian, but I confess I have not 
 that Christian patience which will make a mar- 
 tyr. Duelling is the only redress a gentleman 
 has against personal insult : since, however, 
 the young man is willing to make an apology, 
 and you tell me, if I insist on his keeping 
 the appointment, it will be his ruin, I shall, 
 against my judgment I must own, overlook 
 the extreme provocation I have received. 
 
AND FRAILTY. Ill 
 
 No man but yourself could have induced 
 me to give up the highest prerogative of a 
 gentleman. I am not, however, sorry that 
 the affair has taken this turn ; it might in 
 the end, as you allege, have given my fa- 
 mily and myself more pain than I was at 
 first willing to suppose." 
 
 Archibald did not attempt further to argue 
 with Delmore, on prejudices which were 
 rooted, and which, if again attacked, might 
 only irritate and produce fatal mischief. 
 He expressed warm approbation at his com- 
 pliance, endeavoured to bring his mind into 
 a soothing tone, roused his generosity by 
 describing the self-indignation yet gallant 
 spirit of the young clerk, taking care to re- 
 mind^the West-Indian, that, by birth, Eu- 
 stace was a gentleman, and then hastened 
 to the lodgings of the youth. 
 
11£ FORTITUDE 
 
 CHAP. XI. 
 
 It was near ten o'clock when Campbel 
 reached the lodgings of Eustace ; he there 
 found an elderly quaker, whom he immedi- 
 ately guessed to be the master of the youth. 
 His conjecture was right ; it was Mr. Job 
 Gilson, whom business had brought thither 
 just before. 
 
 The quaker, who had a considerable 
 share of penetration, had remarked the 
 embarrassment his unexpected appearance 
 excited, as well as the internal agitation 
 which the countenance of Eustace be- 
 trayed. Gilson, as already has been said, 
 was a worthy man, but rigid in his prin- 
 ciples and temper: before Archibald en- 
 tered the room, he had severely questioned 
 the youth, with whose veracity he was well 
 acquainted, and had just learned that, in 
 a state of inebriety, he had struck a gentle- 
 man, and received a challenge. His dis- 
 pleasure was extreme, and his determination 
 
AND FRAILTY. 113 
 
 fixed to part with Eustace, should the latter 
 meet Delmore. 
 
 At seeing the quaker, Campbel was 
 alarmed ; but, immediately recovering his 
 presence of mind, he bowed, and in a col- 
 lected tone asked Eustace if he did not in- 
 tend to sup at the hotel ? 
 
 Gilson, who had observed the momentary 
 embarrassment of Archibald, notwithstand- 
 ing his calm manner, w as persuaded he was 
 the person who had challenged Eustace: 
 eyeing him therefore with stern gravity, he 
 said — " And who art thou, friend?" 
 
 " My name is Campbel, sir." 
 
 *' Verily, thy name soundeth fair ; but thy 
 deeds, friend, I fear, are unchristian." 
 
 Campbel, astonished, and partly suspect- 
 ing the mJstake, yet fearful of doing uninten- 
 tional injury to the youth he wished to serve, 
 remained silent. 
 
 " This gentleman, sir," pleaded Eustace 
 eagerly, " is not the person you suppose ; 
 he is — " 
 
 " Put a seal on thy lips, unrighteous 
 
114 FORTITUDE 
 
 youth," interrupted the quaker with stern 
 gravity, ^' thou hast strayed from the paths 
 of grace, and thy word bringeth not weight." 
 
 *^ I perceive, sir, here is some mistake," 
 said Campbel. 
 
 " Yea, verily ; there is wilful and sinful 
 mistake ; so I advise thee, friend, to depart 
 in peace." 
 
 " Allow me, sir, to state the simple fact; 
 I came here — " 
 
 " Verily, friend," interrupted the positive 
 quaker, who, when he conceived himself to 
 be in the right, was very eager, I say unto 
 thee, depart in peace ! Thou art a man of 
 blood, but, if the workings of Satan be not 
 too mighty for the Spirit, thy hopes shall be 
 as vain as they are unrighteous." 
 
 " My dear sir," remonstrated Campbel, 
 half vexed and half amused by the obsti- 
 nacy of the good quaker, " on my honor, 
 you mistake both my intentions and my cha- 
 racter." 
 
 " Friend, thy worldly honour is a quick- 
 sand, wherein Christian faith and charity are 
 
AND FRAILTY. 115 
 
 lost! It stampeth not conviction on the 
 righteous. This youth hath grievously sinned 
 against himself and thee, but, in seeking to 
 take his life, thou wadest more deep in 
 shame. Let him be humbled in the eyes of 
 men, let him taste the bitter fruits of folly 
 and transgression, but let him live to repent 
 and make atonement." 
 
 " That he is eager to do," said Campbel, 
 *^ and it is accepted." 
 
 The solemn visage of the quaker, at this 
 unexpected denouement, brightened almost 
 into good humor ; and Eustace, shaking 
 Campbel by the hand, exclaimed vi^ith fer- 
 vent energy — "Oh, sir, how shall I express 
 my gi'atitude ?" 
 
 " Thy contrition, thou shouldst say, un- 
 righteous youth," interrupted Job Gilson, in 
 a milder tone of voice. " Verily, friend," 
 continued the quaker, addressing himself to 
 Campbel, " it grieveth me that I sinned 
 against Christian charity, and cast upon 
 thee, unprovoked, the upbraidings of an 
 imbittered spirit, yea, and waxed wrath. 
 
\16 FORTITUDE 
 
 taking up a scourge Avherewith to strike 
 myself/' 
 
 " No apology is necessaiy, sir/' replied 
 Campbel, with good-humored cordiality; ''but 
 it was not I that challenojed iVIr. Eustace, 
 as you seem to suppose ; it was a friend of 
 mine, who, being now convinced he did not 
 give premeditated olience, is willing to ac- 
 cept his apology/' 
 
 " Yes, sir, it is to Mr. CampbeFs generous 
 mediation/' said Eustace, addressing the 
 quaker, '' that I am indebted perhaps for 
 life, and, what is more precious still, the con- 
 tinuance of your esteem !" 
 
 " Nay, do not annex such importance to 
 a simple act of duty ! I hold the practice of 
 duelling in horror, and, independent of per- 
 sonal friendship, would take eveiy means to 
 check its pestilential progress/' 
 
 '• Friend, thv words brino; consolation, 
 and thy work is that of a Christian ! Verily, 
 thou art read deep in the book of wisdom ! 
 ]\Iay this charitable deed weigh heavy in the 
 balance of thy good and evil works ! And 
 
AND FRAILTY. 117 
 
 mayst thou," continued the worthy quaker, 
 addressing himself to Eustace, " hke unto 
 the repentant prodigal, take shame unto 
 thyself, and, being absolved by an indulgent 
 Master, walk henceforth erect in the ways of 
 righteousness. Go, humble thyself in the 
 eyes of men, and thou shalt be exalted ! 
 Friend Campbel, verily I say unto thee, 
 thou treadest the paths of wisdom I Be not 
 led astray by the allurements of worldly va- 
 nities, and thou shalt attain the crown of 
 immortal glory !" 
 
 With this speech, which was delivered 
 with all the solemn formality of his sect, 
 Job Gilson, somewhat better reconciled to 
 his clerk, left the young men, who immedi- 
 ately repaired to the hotel. 
 
 Eustace, without stooping to servile mean- 
 ness, in the presence of Campbel and Mel- 
 ford, made a proper apology for his conduct; 
 and Delmore, greatly softened by the ge- 
 nerous exertions of Archibald, and having a 
 latent conscientiousness that he had himself 
 been somewhat to blame in the atFair, re- 
 
118 FORTITUDE 
 
 ceived the young man in a manner which did 
 honor to his heart. 
 
 Eustace parted from Campbel with fer- 
 vent gratitude and esteem ; he redoubled 
 his zeal and application, resolutely shunned 
 the society of bottle companions, and, after 
 receiving many solemn lectures and pious 
 exhortations from the rigid but worthy 
 quaker, at length succeeded in completely 
 regaining the confidence of his master. 
 
 On the following morning the friends, in 
 company with Melford, quitted Exeter, and 
 proceeded on their tour. After spending 
 another fortnight in social and rural plea- 
 sures, they made a pleasant circuit to London. 
 Campbel there took leave of Delmore, and 
 returned to college, and the West-Indian 
 almost immediately went with his family to 
 Portsmouth, from whence they sailed for 
 Jamaica. 
 
AND FRAILTY. 119 
 
 CHAP. XII, 
 
 How far the reader may willingly accept 
 the foregoing anecdotes of Campbel, as a 
 proper compensation for delay, must be left 
 to his judgment ; it is however hoped he is 
 so far acquainted with a gentleman, for whom 
 the historian ventures to profess he entertains 
 a very high esteem, as to wish to hear what 
 afterward befell him, which in the due course 
 of events will most probably be related. 
 
 From what has been said in favor of 
 Campbel, the reader is requested not so far 
 to mistake as to suppose he, Campbel, is in 
 greater favor with us than even the lovely 
 Eleonor. That is by no means the case : 
 she has failings, it is true ; who, alas ! has not? 
 but her virtues and her charms so far pre- 
 ponderate, — the music of her voice, the mild 
 vivacity of her eye, and the candor of her 
 benevolent heart, are so enchanting, — that to 
 find her equal would be no easy task; nor 
 are we willing to allow even Campbel, highly 
 
120 FORTITUDE 
 
 as we think of him, and dearly as we love 
 him, to be her superior. This, however, is 
 a delicate point, on which each will decide 
 for himself. 
 
 So once again we are in Broad-street, 
 in company with sweet Eleonor, the second 
 day after she had written to Bath, who, her 
 spirits at this moment being too much flur- 
 ried for any more serious task, employs her- 
 self in nothing. How quick her fingers go ! 
 Every five minutes her watch is out, to know 
 when the postman's accustomed hour will 
 come. Child of flowing affection, be still ! 
 it yet wants several minutes of the time, and 
 just enough to say a few words concerning 
 the Honorable Mrs. Altamont, and her 
 charming niece. Lady Clarissa Follington, 
 of whose friendship the innocent Eleonor 
 had received a thousand proofs in less than 
 one month. 
 
 The Honorable Mrs. Altamont was a 
 woman of high fashion and breeding ; her 
 manners were affable, her understanding was 
 good, and her heart kind ; but she had a 
 
AND I'RAILTV. 121 
 
 rigid sense of eti(|uette with all the pride of 
 noble birth, and highly disapproved the 
 equality which fortune is now allowed to 
 share with rank. Though her fear of in- 
 fringing the rules of good breeding, to wliich 
 she had through life been rigidly devoted, 
 and the natural kindness of her heart, made 
 her exti'emely cautious in giving pain, to 
 those even whom she deemed her inferiors, 
 she had studiously avoided a familiar inter- 
 course with such persons ; and, whenever 
 she perceived symptoms of encroaching in- 
 timacy, she had taken care to check its pro- 
 gress, by dropping the connexion ; but, if 
 her prejudices were violently offended, and 
 she deemed those ^^ho gave that offence 
 worthy of so great a sacrifice, a conscien- 
 tious sense of duty, mingled with real be- 
 nevolence, made her break through the strict 
 rules she had prescribed to herself, and 
 frankly state her sentiments. 
 
 Her niece. Lady Clarissa, who was in her 
 one-and-twentieth year, though not without 
 pride, was uncommonly vain, had an un^ 
 
 VOL. I. G 
 
Ii2£ FORTITUDE 
 
 bounded thirst of admiration, and, Avith a 
 quickness of understanding, a ready lio^v of 
 wit ; but her tongue was satirical, her temper 
 was fickle ; and, owing to the extreme in- 
 dulgence of a weak father, who suffered her 
 to follow every new whiin, and exercise a 
 despotic dominion over himself and every 
 creature in the house, (though, when pleased, 
 nobody could be more agreeable,) if her va- 
 nity took the slightest alarm, or any favorite 
 wish were counteracted, her ill humor was 
 not the least restrained by good breeding. 
 By her aunt, however, with whom she oc- 
 casionally staid on a visit, she ^Aas held in 
 some kind of awe. 
 
 In addition to the qualities before men- 
 tioned, she had v/hat young ladies call, or 
 rather miscall, a love of innocent mischief; 
 that is, she humored the follies of lier ac- 
 quaintance, whenever they contributed to 
 her amusement, afterward to turn them into 
 ridicule. Of friendship her heart was in- 
 capable, though she constantly practised its 
 mimicry, and persuaded herself that she felt 
 
AND FRAILXr. 125 
 
 all she so volubly expressed. We shall pre- 
 sently see in what estimation the amiable 
 Eleonor was held by these two ladies. 
 
 About a week after the conversation, in 
 which her kind uncle put those distressing 
 doubts concerning her eternal friend, as 
 Eleonor was sitting in the parlor at work, a 
 postman's rap was heard. 
 
 " This is a letter for me, no doubt," ex- 
 claimed the warm-hearted girl, starting from 
 her seat, and clasping her hands with delight; 
 " and it must be from the amiable Clarissa ! 
 Kind good creature, to write so soon, over- 
 ^v helmed as she is with engagements !" 
 
 Eleonor was not deceived in her expec- 
 tations of a letter; but it came not from the 
 amiable Clarissa. Eagerly breaking it open, 
 to her great surprise Eleonor found her 
 own letter enclosed. " This is very strange," 
 said she : "I suppose my dear Clarissa has 
 suddenly quitted Bath without her aunt, and 
 that Mrs. Altamont has kindly answered my 
 letter. Yet, why enclose it ?" 
 
 Eager to satisfy her curiosity, Eleonor 
 g2 
 
124 FORTITUDE 
 
 put her own letter into her ^\ork-bag, and 
 read or rather devoured the contents of the 
 other. Just as she had finished, Mr. Fairfax 
 and his lady entered the room. 
 
 " Well, Eleonor," said the uncle, " I 
 suppose you have received a letter from your 
 friend, and are quite happy." 
 
 " I have received one from the aunt of 
 Lady Clarissa FoUington," replied Eleonor, 
 blushing deeply, and expressing something 
 like strong indignation. 
 
 " Heyday, Eleonor ! Is your dear ajfcc- 
 tionate Clarissa changed to Lady Clarissa 
 FoUington T' said J\Ir. Fairfax, iujitating 
 the tone in which she had spoken of her 
 fashionable friend. " You blush too, and 
 look disturbed !" 
 
 Eleonor, w^hose heart \vas too full almost 
 for utterance, cast her eyes on the ground 
 in silence. 
 
 " I doubt you have found my fears {)ro- 
 phetic, dear Eleonor," continued the good 
 uncle, kindly taking her hand. " Tell us, 
 my love, what is the matter ?" 
 
AXD IRAILTY. 125 
 
 Eleonor, bursting into tears, gave the 
 letter of Mrs, Altamont to her uncle, and 
 that gentleman read as follows : — 
 
 " My dear INIiss Fairfax, 
 
 *^ You will no doubt be surprised at re- 
 ceiving a letter from me, when it was from 
 my niece you expected an answer. As I 
 would not for a moment appear intrusive, 
 which neither my age nor even my rank in 
 life could authorize, I must solicit your in- 
 dulgence, and be explicit. 
 
 " I should not have trespassed on your 
 attention, had not the very extraordinary 
 epistle with which you have favored my 
 niece compelled me, much against my in- 
 clination, to the oainful task of undeceivins; 
 you as to the erroneous, and, allow me to 
 say, strange notions you have formed, re- 
 specting your slight acquaintance with Lady 
 Clarissa and myself. 
 
 " Permit me, my dear Miss Fairfax, as 
 your sincere well-wisher, to remark, that, 
 notwithstanding you possess a good under- 
 G 3 
 
126 FORTITUDE 
 
 standing and great sensibility, you have still 
 to acquire that nice discrimination, which 
 will not permit us to mistake or overlook the 
 feelings of the persons around us, and that 
 you suffer romantic enthusiasm to completely 
 blind your better judgment. 
 
 " You accidentally became acquainted 
 with Lady Clarissa in a city where perma- 
 nent connexions are rarely formed, owing 
 to the different pursuits and conditions of 
 those who are promiscuously brought to- 
 gether by the love of pleasure, or in search 
 of better health. 
 
 " Though such transitory connexions 
 had never my approbation, as you were re- 
 markably attentive and polite to my niece, 
 good breeding required she should return 
 the civilities she received ; but it w as far 
 from my supposition that this would lead 
 to familiarity, to which, it must be owned, 
 though it is now more or less tolerated be- 
 tween persons of different ranks in society, 
 I had been little accustomed, and decidedly 
 disapproved. As, however, you were going 
 
AXD FRAILTY. l^f 
 
 boon to leave Bath, and as no thin cr is more 
 painful to well-bred persons than to risk 
 ^\ounding the feelings of others, especialK 
 when they possess qualities, which, if blended 
 with good sense, would make them no les^ 
 envied than admired, I forbore, I now fear 
 wrongly, to express the surprise, and allow 
 me to say the pain, which this familiaritv 
 excited ; though my reserve, and the opinion 
 you have occasionally heard me express, re- 
 lative to the proper distinctions which ought 
 to be maintained in society, I lioped would 
 suggest the truth. Forgive me, however, 
 for observing, you must have been utterly 
 ignorant of the world, when you mistook the 
 common routine of courtesy, and the un- 
 meaning professions of a flighty girl of 
 fas] lion, for tlie effusions of esteem and af- 
 fection. The mistake ^vould have been un- 
 pardonaljle in a young lady less bewildered 
 in the regions of Romance. 
 
 " I was not a little surprised, after the 
 genlle attempts I made to undeceive you, 
 G 4 
 
128 FORTITUDE 
 
 when my niece informed me, that, on taking 
 leave, you had solicited a correspondence, 
 and pressed her to visit you at your uncle's 
 house in London ! Had I been present, 
 painful as the task would have been, I should 
 not have suffered you to continue under a 
 mistake, which was becoming serious ; but 
 my niece, who has no mother to direct her 
 judgment, and from her infancy has been 
 spoiled by a too-indulgent father, has little 
 sense of propriety, when her own gratifica- 
 tion is in question. Still, however, un- 
 ^villing to mortify a young lady, whose sin- 
 gularities rather excited pity than anger, I 
 forbore to take any notice of a request, 
 which, after the genUe hints I had given, 
 appeared to me extraordinary ; hoping that 
 your natural good sense would, on reflection, 
 spare me so ungrateful a task. When, how- 
 ever, Clarissa received your still more ex- 
 traordinary epistle, in which you not only 
 overlooked all form of etiquette toward her- 
 self, and, pardon my frankness, indulged 
 
AXD FRAILTY. 129 
 
 in the most extravagant romance, but spoke 
 of me in terms of familiarity, which neither 
 my rank nor our slight acquaintance could 
 authorize, this step became absolutely ne- 
 cessary. 
 
 " I have, I believe, convinced Lady 
 Clarissa of the impropriety of her own 
 conduct, in suftering you to suppose she 
 partook of that romantic enthusiasm, which, 
 behind your back, she was the first to satirize, 
 I am sorry that candor obliges me to ac- 
 knowledge any thing to the disadvantage of 
 so near a relation, and of a young lady now 
 under my care ; but I must own the levity of 
 my niece is highly unbecoming her birth and 
 education. She now, however, agrees with 
 me that I ought at once to rectify the unfor- 
 tunate mistake, to which your own romantic 
 ardor, and her voluble professions, have 
 given birth. Excuse me, therefore, my dear 
 Miss Fairfax, if, in her name, I express sin- 
 cere concern that such a mistake should have 
 arisen, and, with every acknowledgment for 
 G 5 
 
130 FORTITUDE 
 
 your polite attentions, decline the honor of 
 a future^ correspondence. 
 
 '' As your sincere well-wisher, I enclose 
 the letter with which you favored my niece. 
 Let me prevail on you, my dear Miss Fairfax, 
 to read it again. I am sure, if you will de- 
 termine to exert that understanding, which, 
 though bewildered by a romantic imagina- 
 tion, you really possess, you will feel sorry 
 for having so committed yourself to a 
 stranger, who, had not her aunt awakened 
 her to some sense of moral rectitude, would 
 not only have suffered you to continue in an 
 error so injurious to good sense, but, while 
 she encouraged your extravagance, have 
 amused every fashionable circle in Bath at 
 your expense. 
 
 " Hoping the pain I so reluctantly inflict 
 will contribute to your future advantage, 
 and guard you hereafter against yielding to 
 romantic enthusiasm, yet scarcely daring to 
 expect you will forgive the liberty I have 
 taken, which nothing but the interest your 
 
AND FRAILTY. 131 
 
 amiable qualities excite could have induced 
 me to take, I remain, 
 
 ^' My dear Miss Fairfax, 
 *' Your sincere well-wisher, 
 " And very obedient 
 " Humble servant, 
 
 " Caroline Altamont." 
 
 *' P. *S'. — My niece will soon again be 
 under the care of the Earl, her father, and 
 iny influence over her conduct will be en- 
 tirely lost. Let me advise you, my dear 
 Miss Fairfax, should Lady Clarissa ever 
 seek to renew the acquaintance, which, if 
 the whim take her, she is very capable of 
 doing, not to believe the excuses and vo- 
 luble professions she may think proper to 
 make ; for I again must repeat, that, when- 
 ever her own gratification is in question, she 
 has little sense of propriety." 
 
 " The lady who wrote this letter, my 
 dear Eleonor," said Mr. Fairfax, returning 
 it, " is certainly your well-wisher j and, 
 g6 
 
132 FORTITUDE 
 
 though she has been somewhat guilty of ex- 
 travagance, in attaching so much importance 
 to the forms of etiquette, and those distinc- 
 tions which are daily wearing away, the 
 letter upon the w^hole is written with good 
 sense, and displays real kindness of heart, 
 and rectitude of mind. I would have you, 
 my dear, seriously reflect on the excellent 
 advice it contains, and impartially examine 
 whether you have not been somewhat to 
 blame in the affair. As to her niece, she 
 does not merit a moment's regret." 
 
 " Oh, dear uncle, you do not know her! 
 Notwithstanding the cruel tTeatment I have 
 received from Clarissa, I can scarcely per- 
 suade myself but that she is innocent !" 
 
 " The conduct of Lady Clarissa certainly 
 does not give one a favorable opinion of her 
 heart," said Mrs. Fairfax. 
 
 " No," replied her husband; "but much 
 allowance is to be made for a young lady, 
 whose actions have not been placed under 
 judicious control." 
 
 '^ I shall never love any other female 
 
AND FRAILTY. 133 
 
 friend as I have loved her ! I am sure, I 
 can never foro^et her !" 
 
 " You deceive yourself, Eleonor; your 
 heart is affectionate, but your spirits are 
 youthful and light. Supposing, even, this 
 young lady had possessed real claims to your 
 esteem and regret, you must, in the very, 
 nature of things, be happy, should an oppor- 
 tunity offer, to sooth your wounded feelings, 
 and replace her loss. But let me conjure 
 you, my dear child, in future, to be less en- 
 thusiastic in 3'our attachments, and, before 
 you form any intimacy with strangers, to 
 consult the judgment of your more expe- 
 rienced friends. Above all things, be on 
 your guard against rene^^ing an intercourse 
 from which you can receive no benefit, and 
 which has inflicted pain so severe." 
 
 " Oh, be under no apprehension, my 
 dear uncle," eagerly interrupted Eleonor; 
 '' though I still love her, and should be de- 
 lijihted to find she has been calumniated, the 
 formal prohibition which IVIrs. Altamont 
 has given would prevent me a second time 
 
134 FORTITUDE 
 
 from exposing myself to receive such a 
 letter." 
 
 " I hope it would, my love," ^aid Mr. 
 Fairfax ; " but, though I have the highest 
 opinion of your heart, and know that your 
 understanding is excellent, I doubt your 
 prudence, and fear that the romantic en- 
 thusiasm and yielding sweetness of your 
 temper v. ould banish all recollection of con- 
 sequences, should you again meet with 
 Lady Clarissa, who, from all you have told 
 us, and what her aunt has said, is exactly 
 the kind of person to take an unfair advan- 
 tage of them. On this occasion, and on 
 every other, recollect, dear Eleonor," conti- 
 nued the kind uncle, " that rashness in either 
 sex is dangerous, but more especially to 
 women, whose inexperience and easiness of 
 behef place them too much in the power of 
 the artful and designing. A young lady of 
 fortune is peculiarly exposed to the snares 
 of the selfish and unprincipled; she, there- 
 fore, should be more than commonly guarded 
 in her actions, and prudent in the con- 
 
AND FRAILTY. 135 
 
 nexions she may form. You think me, per- 
 haps, a dull preacher, my love ; but your 
 happiness is not only inexpressibly dear to 
 us, but is a pledge which we must ever hold 
 sacred. How to secure that happiness is our 
 most anxious care : should we tail, our own 
 would receive an incurable -wound !" 
 
 " Yes, dear Eleonor,'* said Mrs. Fair- 
 fax, '* your disposition is so frank and 
 engaging, your heart so affectionate, and 
 your temper so amiable, that, independent 
 of the claim your near relationship to my 
 husband gives you to my regard, I have a 
 AAarm affection for you, and sympathize in 
 your uncle's anxious solicitude. Look on 
 us as your adopted parents, and be assured 
 that we will conscientiously fulfil a parent's 
 tender duties !" 
 
 " Oh, my honored uncle, my dear aunt, 
 how gratefully my heart pays you a child's 
 love and respect," exclaimed Eleonor, throw- 
 ing herself in the arms of her excellent re- 
 lations. " In your tenderness and judgment 
 
136 FORTITUDE 
 
 I place implicit confidence ! May I ever be 
 worthy of your indulgent cares ! JMay I never 
 give you a moment's pain !*' 
 
 " Dear enthusiastic girl ! If you occasion 
 us momentary pain, it will be amply atoned 
 by the affectionate gratitude of your dispo- 
 sition ! I only fear lest yout unsuspecting 
 heart should fall a prey to designing selfish- 
 ness; lest your pure affections should be 
 insnared by specious and insinuating art 1 
 Grant, oh Heaven, we may be spared af- 
 fliction so great ! Oh, grant we may see tiie 
 child of our adoption united to one who can 
 appreciate her worth, guide her inexperience, 
 and by his virtues dignify the social pleasures 
 of life !" 
 
 Mr. Fairfax, greatly affected by hopes 
 and fears that crowded impetuously to his 
 mind, wiped away the starting tear, and 
 retired to his own room. Eleonor, no less 
 affected by what had passed, wept on the 
 bosom of her kind aunt, who spared no 
 effort to sooth and calm her agitated spirits; 
 
AND FRAILTY. 137 
 
 and she received these affectionate atten- 
 tions with glowing gratitude : but her feel- 
 ings had been severely wounded, and it was 
 some time before her mind could recover 
 its wonted serenity. 
 
138 lOUTITUDE 
 
 CHAP. XIII. 
 
 If the reader Mill please to recollect the 
 discourse that passed between Leoline 
 Ilargi'ave and Archibald Campbel, it ^vill 
 lead him further to remember the virtuous 
 resolution the latter made to perform a pain- 
 ful duty ; which was to take every oppor- 
 tunity of reminding Miss Fairfax that Iier 
 best friends thought her enthusiasm not 
 only too great, but, in no inconsiderable 
 degree, dangerous. His attention was 
 thoroughly roused : the strong terms in which 
 Eleonor expressed her own friendship for, 
 and her implicit faith in, the friendship of 
 Lady Clarissa, with the doubts and the warn- 
 ing of Mr. Fairfax, dwelt in his memory, 
 and excited his inquiries concernincr the 
 letter, that was to remove all doubts. 
 
 In one point, and perhaps in more than 
 one, the conduct of Eleonor but little re- 
 sembled that of ladies in general : whenever 
 she found she liad unexpectedly fallen into 
 an ciTor she scorned disguise, and the prac- 
 
AND FRAILTY. 139 
 
 tice of every art by which her mistakes 
 might be concealed. In the presence of 
 Campbel, she uttered the anguish of her 
 heart at the letter of Mrs. Altamont, and 
 blamed herself for her too-easy credulity. 
 This blame, however, was always accom- 
 panied by expressions of hope, amounting 
 almost to conviction, that Lady Clarissa 
 could not but partake of that friendship 
 which w^as still, and must ever remain, so 
 deeply engraven in her own heart. There 
 was sympathy between them ; it could not 
 be otherwise. 
 
 Time rolled on; the vacancy of friendship 
 was painful ; and no one will be surprised 
 to be informed that Mrs. Grafton, Avhose 
 behaviour and conversation had gained her 
 no small degree of favor in the family of 
 Fairfax, should take frequent opportunities 
 of being in the company of Eleonor ; or 
 that she should have gained a very con- 
 siderable des;ree of influence over a heart 
 so circumstanced, and so unsuspecting. 
 One morning, when she just dropped in to 
 
140 FORTITUDE 
 
 inquire after the health of her " sweet 
 young friend," they had fallen into agreeable 
 chat. It so happened that Campbel en- 
 tered, and, though it was in the common 
 sitting-room, he was immediately going to 
 A\ ithdraw ; but the well-bred and engaging 
 Mr?. Grafton insisted he should come in, 
 to which Eleonor added, with a smile, 
 ^' Ay, ay, pray do;'' and, as he had been 
 seeking an opportunity to be with her when 
 only a single friend might be present, he 
 ^vas glad of the invitation, and obeyed. 
 
 Though he had not yet found a proper 
 time to give Eleonor those serious hints, 
 which he had resolved to suggest, he had 
 more than once ventured to express very 
 decided doubts of the friendship, and even 
 the friendly intentions, of Lady Clarissa. 
 I know not when it happened that the heart 
 of Eleonor indulged resentment, or her lips 
 betrayed ill Immor ; but the disapprobation 
 of Campbel never escaped unnoticed, and the 
 gentle Eleonor began to suspect, with some 
 little pain, she vras not one of his favorites. 
 
AND FRAILTV. 141 
 
 I could have -svished she had not fallen 
 into this error, for it led to other mistakes 
 and afflictions, which it will give me no 
 pleasure to relate. 
 
 After a few trilling inquiries and remarks, 
 such as generally introduce better conver- 
 sation, Mrs. Grafton, no less artfully for 
 promoting her own plan than opportunely 
 for Archibald, as he supposed, thus began 
 the followincr dialogue : — 
 
 O c5 
 
 " So, my dear Miss Fairfax tells me, 
 Mr. Campbel, you do not think very highly 
 of her friend Lady Clarissa.'' 
 
 " I am unacquainted with the lady," an-- 
 swered Campbel, '' and therefore dare not 
 venture to form any opinion of her, except 
 that which has been given me by IVIiss 
 Fairfax." 
 
 " Nay, Mr. Campbel," replied Eleonor, 
 " you will surely allow I have expressed 
 very different sentiments from those you 
 seem to entertain : her aunt, I am 
 thoroughly persuaded^ and only her aunt, is 
 to blame." 
 
142 fortitud:^ 
 
 '^ You condescended," said Campbel, 
 " to let me see her aunt's letter." 
 
 " Well," interrupted Mrs. Grafton, 
 " what stronger proof can you require? I 
 should think that was quite sufficient." 
 
 " It is quite sufficient, madam," replied 
 Campbel, " in my opinion, to shew that, 
 though some of the ideas of Mrs. Altamont 
 may be a little erroneous, there is much m.ore 
 of sound sense in them, and that they are 
 under the guidance of great rectitude of 
 heart." 
 
 " Oh," exclaimed Eleonor, " far be it 
 from me to deny the rectitude of her heart." 
 
 ** No, no ; only permit us to doubt the 
 soundness of her understanding," continued 
 Mrs. Grafton; but, feeling the weakness of 
 that pretended doubt, added, " or, suppos- 
 ing it as sound as you please, how does that 
 disprove the friendship of Lady Clarissa r" 
 
 " Miss Fairfax," replied Campbel, "ex- 
 presses her conviction of the rectitude of 
 Mrs. Altamont : has she not honesdy given 
 you the character of her niece? and can we 
 
AND FRAILTY, 143 
 
 suppose she would assert dangerous and in- 
 jurious falsehoods r" 
 
 " The visual rays of morality are dif- 
 ferently coloured in different minds," said 
 Mrs. Grafton, " and she does but paint as 
 she sees." 
 
 " Yes, indeed," added Eleonor, " I must 
 say her pencil is very broad. I am sure she 
 cannot have given the true features of Lady 
 Clarissa, for she has made them almost — 
 I was going to bring out the terrible word 
 hideous P' 
 
 '' Mrs. Altamont," repHed Campbel, 
 " I plainly perceive, is no favorite with you, 
 ladies. I have reason, perhaps, to fear you 
 will think me a bigot to my opinions, if not 
 rude, for so openly declaring them ; but, 
 whenever moral character is canvassed, I 
 have been taught to consider it as a serious 
 duty never to be silent, if my thoughts are 
 favorable. I own, the letter of Mrs. Alta- 
 mont has impressed me with a strong con- 
 viction that she is a lady of great discern- 
 
144 FORTITUDE 
 
 ment, who is acted upon by intentions no 
 less pure than they are firm." 
 
 Mrs. Grafton, with a gracious smile, an- 
 SAvered, ''We must not hope- to make a con- 
 vert of you, Mr. Campbel; but, pray be kind 
 and just enough to us to remember we have 
 neither of us said one word against Mrs. 
 Altamont : we have only supposed that she 
 does not see correctly, while she supposes 
 she is giving a true portrait of her niece.'' 
 
 " That certainly is all that either of us 
 can mean," added Eleonor. 
 
 Campbel rose, and, with a countenance 
 as serious as countenance could be, that 
 wore the smile of kindness upon it, addressing 
 himself to Eleonor, said, " My dear Miss 
 Pairfax, it is seldom indeed that I am so 
 unfortunate as to differ in opinion with you ; 
 but, pardon my frankness, there is one 
 question on which, though the difference at 
 first appears to be but slight, follow it far 
 enough, and it becomes essential. Instead of 
 blaming the enthusiasm of friendship, I an? 
 
AND FRAILTY. 145 
 
 persuaded it is a virtue that is always found 
 to be the strongest in the purest hearts; 
 but friendship is not a hot-house plant; 
 like the forest oak, it is solid, but slow 
 of growth, and, when it is mature, majestic. 
 The facility which induces us to believe 
 that all, who make great professions, mean 
 every thing they profess, denotes an innocent 
 and a benevolent mind, but often leads to 
 fatal mistakes ; it springs from an excess 
 of virtue, but is as pernicious in its effects 
 as though it were the very reverse.*' 
 
 The voice and manner of Campbel, 
 while he delivered the admonition that meant 
 so much, were as emphatical as the kindness 
 which dictated his words would admit, and, 
 having ended, he respectfully bowed, and 
 withdrew. 
 
 Mrs. Grafton was peculiarly careful not 
 to lose that favorable opportunity for for- 
 warding her own designs which the scene 
 afforded ; she was a great actress, therefore 
 in perfect possession of her part. ^' Mr. 
 Campbel," said she, " quite surprises one ! 
 
 VOL. I. H 
 
146 FORTITUDE 
 
 he is so clear-sighted ! so remarkably sin- 
 cere ! and his heart is so good !" 
 
 " There cannot be a better," answered 
 Eleonor. 
 
 *' Oh, impossible ! He is thought so by 
 the most discerning and best-meaning people. 
 I know no young gentleman who can be at 
 all compared to him — except one — and very 
 likely I am partial ; Leoline. I suppose it is 
 sisterly affection. To be sure, he has one 
 trifling fault, that sometimes makes him 
 appear, to those who don't know him, very 
 different indeed from what he really is ; he 
 never stays to recollect himself before he 
 speaks, especially if there be any thing 
 whimsical in the thought. You cannot 
 imagine the pain he felt when he found (I 
 mean on the day you came from Bath) that 
 what he had meant merely as a sportive 
 sally was understood seriously. Talking 
 over the matter with me on the morrow, he 
 absolutely shuddered when I informed him 
 I was really apprehensive you had supposed 
 he had seriously entertained so horrid a 
 
AND FRAILTY. 147 
 
 wish. He has a very great respect for your 
 opinion : "No," said he, "I cannot believe the 
 innocent heart of Miss Fairfax could accuse 
 me of being unprincipled, and inhumanly 
 wicked. She could not think me such a 
 wretch ! That any person, whose esteem I 
 value, should have been led, by my own 
 thoughtless folly, into a mistake so hu- 
 miliating, would have given me great pain ; 
 but that Miss Fairfax — ! I assure you, I 
 was under some apprehension, he so changed 
 colour, and his look expressed so much 
 more than his words. I endeavored to sooth, 
 and promised to explain the matter to you, 
 but all I have yet been able to say has not 
 set his mind at ease on the subject" 
 
 " Oh, he surely cannot pay any serious 
 regard to the opinion of so young a creature 
 as I am." 
 
 " Not regard your opinion! Ah, 
 
 Eleonor, my sweet young friend ! — But I 
 will be silent ; the overflowings of the heart 
 might be misinterpreted." 
 
 " Shall I think injuriously of you be- 
 H 2 
 
148 FORTITUDE 
 
 cause you think too kindly of me? No, dear 
 madam," said the generous Eleonor, catch- 
 ing the hand of Mrs. Grafton, and pressing 
 it to her lips, " I am not that monster." 
 
 " You are an angel ! Well may your 
 aunt and uncle adore you ! You do not 
 know, dear Eleonor, the pleasure with 
 which I enter this house ! Your aunt and 
 uncle are such uncommonly worthy people ! 
 
 there are none like them ! And you ! 
 
 Oh that I had been Lady Clarissa ! I must 
 run away from you ; I shall grow foolish. 
 Then Mr. Campbel I Oh that all young 
 gentlemen were like him ! Mr. Fairfax has 
 most honorably discharged the duty of a 
 guardian ; you are not yourself, perhaps, 
 fully acquainted with the whole extent of 
 Mr. CampbeFs virtuous system." 
 
 " No, indeed ; and I should doubt if any 
 body is, except himself." 
 
 " That is very true : however, while your 
 uncle and he were conversing the other 
 morning, he declared himself very openly 
 •n one point: he does not mean, he says, 
 
AXD FRAILTY. 149 
 
 to live and die a bachelor ; yet his taste in 
 a wife is — is — so singular, that certainly 
 I cannot tell where he will find one. She 
 must be all perfection !" 
 
 " So indeed I should have supposed," 
 interrupted Eleonor, smiling. 
 
 " Oh, his determination, he says, is never 
 to venture on a wife, till he has a thorough 
 conviction that her opinions, principles, and 
 conduct, so entirely coincide with his own, as 
 to all but secure their mutual happiness." 
 
 " Well, and don't you approve this re- 
 solution r" 
 
 " ]\Iost certainly I do, my dear! the 
 only difficulty will be to find the lady ; for, 
 though nobody can object to the principles, 
 character, or conduct, of so excellent a 
 young gentleman, yet I have thought some 
 of his opinions now^ and then a little singular ; 
 and, though both his temper and heart are 
 so good, they are rather frequently bor- 
 dering on the severe. You must know, 
 except on that point, I find a great resem- 
 blance between him and Leoline. Apropos — 
 H 3 
 
150 FORTITUDE 
 
 pray have you ever been acquainted with 
 the young widow Dacres ?" 
 
 " I never heard her name before." 
 " She is very beautiful, and has a large 
 fortune left her in the three per cents. 
 Between ourselves, Leoline met her some- 
 where in the north, during the long vacation : 
 they danced together : every other couple 
 in the room was eclipsed. Leoline, I be- 
 lieve, took her fancy : it is not above a week 
 ago since I thought they were going to make 
 a match of it ; but, on Friday morning, I 
 hinted the matter to Leoline, and was quite 
 surprised at the serious tone with which he 
 begged / would never mention the subject 
 more! Soon after, he gave a deep sigh, and 
 looked so grave — I am afraid he has some 
 new crotchet in his head ! I suppose you did 
 not see the Edinburgh paper? In the ac- 
 count it gave of the ball, the widow Dacres 
 and Leoline were particularly mentioned, 
 and he was declared to be the handsomest 
 youth in Britain : but he has often been so 
 called. His dancing, they said, was inimita- 
 
AND FRAILTY. 151 
 
 ble. I was silly enough to believe every 
 word. If I were single, and he any thing 
 but my brother, I should— Dear, how 
 strangely I run on ! I open my whole heart 
 to my sweet young friend, for I know she 
 listens patiently to my prattle, and will for- 
 give its little mistakes." 
 
 Eleonor fell on her neck, and kissed her. 
 
 ^' Dear affectionate girl I Oh, that I was 
 Lady Clarissa ! — Did you observe the very 
 emphatical manner in which Mr. Campbel 
 described the essential and total difference 
 between your opinions and his on friend- 
 ship, and how immediately he left the room ? 
 He would hear no answer. I know the 
 whole world will declare him right ; yet I 
 find, on this subjject, all appeal to reason is 
 vain : I cannot shut my heart, or my arms, 
 on the sweet enthusiast that would fall into 
 them. I acknowledge Mr. Campbel's su- 
 periority : his resolution to adhere to his 
 principles and opinions is delighful; but, do 
 you know, I am persuaded it must be just 
 such an excellent and gentlemanly youth as 
 H 4 
 
152 FORTITUDE 
 
 himself not to make the — the — what 1 should 
 almost call the rigor of his system, repulsive. 
 Dear, what a while I stay I I am quite in 
 a gossiping vein ! However, I have precau- 
 tion enough to say but little, when I am 
 among people of ti'ifling or weak minds ; 
 my thoughts only flow when my heart feels 
 itself secure. Good bye, good bye ! don't 
 stir. Remember your promise: you are 
 to accompany your uncle and aunt to our 
 house to-morrow. We shall spend a happy 
 day ! Good bye !" 
 
 Some short answers from Eleonor now 
 and then interrupted this fluency, but she 
 said little ; yet her eyes denoted how much 
 her thoughts were under the control of her 
 artful visitor, and how they wandered, now 
 doubting, now conjecturing, and now forming 
 suppositions that were little short of con- 
 clusive, obedient to the magic wand of the 
 enchantress. 
 
 In less than five minutes after the depar- 
 ture of Mrs. Grafton, the good aunt entered, 
 and, addressing Eleonor, said, *' I met your 
 
AJ^D FRAILTY. 153 
 
 friend at the door, my dear ; she tells me 
 she has had half an hour's chat with you of 
 the most agreeable kind: it has put her in 
 spirits, she says, for the whole day." 
 
 " She is a very charming lady," answered 
 Eleonor. 
 
 " And so friendly, i ly dear." 
 
 " I really don't know which to admire 
 most, her understanding or her heart." 
 
 " She is a general favorite, and all her 
 friends speak no less favorably of the pru- 
 dence of her conduct than the sweetness of 
 her temper." 
 
 " What I, perhaps, most admire in her," 
 said Eleonor, " is the justness, I should 
 rather say the niceness, of her feelings : she 
 so truly distinguishes between the guite 
 enough and the too muchr 
 
 " That, my dear, is the very quality she 
 has just been praising in you." 
 
 " Ten thousand thanks, my dear aunt, 
 for having procured me so valuable, I should 
 rather have said so inestimable, a friend." 
 
 " Well, well, my dear, do not be guilty 
 H 5 
 
154 FORTITUDE 
 
 of your old mistake : though, I confess, in 
 the present case, I do not think there is 
 much danger. But Mr. Fairfax desired me 
 to come here, and consult with you." 
 
 " About what, dear aunt ?" asked Eleonor. 
 
 '^ Our removal into Baker-street. Every 
 thing is ready." 
 
 " Then so am 1 ; all I wish is that my 
 dear uncle should entirely consult his own 
 convenience." 
 
 " It will give you no regret, I dare say, 
 to leave the city r" 
 
 " Nay, dear aunt, you know I am happy 
 any where , though I own I shall be rather 
 sorry to be so far from dear Mrs. Grafton." 
 
 " Luckily, my dear, that will not 
 happen." 
 
 " What do you mean, dear aunt ?" 
 
 " IVlr. Grafton has taken a house in the 
 same street." 
 
 " Why, has he?" 
 
 '* Though I rather think it was at the 
 .suggestion of your friend ; for he is a good 
 kind soul, and they are mutually happy to 
 oblige each other in every thing." 
 
AND FRAILTY. 155 
 
 " Ah, my dear aunt, I have two ex- 
 amples before me, which are so delightful ! 
 Should I ever marry, you have shewn me 
 the way to make the marriage state a bless- 
 ing ! But, how kind this is of Mrs. Graf- 
 ton !" 
 
 " I assure you she has told me she should 
 be miserable were she entirely cut off from 
 our society; though I believe she ought 
 rather to have said from yours." 
 
 " Nay, dear aunt, do her justice; she 
 describes you and my uncle just as you truly 
 are — quite matchless ! But she is a discern- 
 ing dear good creature. 
 
 H 6 
 
156 FORTITUDE 
 
 CHAP. XIV. 
 
 The removal to Baker-street, and the 
 whole management of Mrs. Grafton, will 
 lead the reader to understand the fixed pur- 
 pose she had formed, to take every means 
 in her power to carry her point. Nor was 
 this all ; the handsome Hargrave must have 
 lodgings in the same neighbourhood, and ac- 
 cordingly elegant apartments were taken 
 for him, in the house of an apothecary. 
 
 The two families removed to these habi- 
 tations about the same time, and the inter- 
 course between them became very frequent. 
 Of this Mrs. Grafton very readily took 
 charge ; though it was an affair, the manage- 
 ment of which did not require any great 
 dexterity. As men of business, Grafton 
 and Fairfax stood high in the esteem of each 
 other : the first as a merchant, the latter as 
 a banker, had justly acquired the character 
 of being strictly honorable in all their deal- 
 
AND FRAILTY. 157 
 
 ings. Add to this, Mr. Fairfax was pru- 
 dent ; yet, like all men of enlightened un- 
 derstandings and excellent hearts, he was 
 unsuspicious, and not only admired but de- 
 lighted to associate with people of worth. 
 Mrs. Grafton was careful to make herself 
 appear to him, what she did to many others, 
 a woman not only of the most winning 
 manners, but of consummate prudence ; no 
 wonder, therefore, that he should wish a 
 niece, whom he so dearly loved, to profit 
 by the conversation of that lady ; which she 
 took care plentifully to interlard with re- 
 marks that insinuated worldly wisdom, of 
 which she too well knew poor Eleonor had 
 much to acquire. 
 
 The barrister did not fail to second the 
 plans of his amiable sister : one part of the 
 plan was, that his visits to the house of 
 Fairfax should not be too frequent; they 
 could only be obtained by repeated invita- 
 tion, and, when in the company of Eleonor, 
 he suffered nothing more than the most re- 
 spectful attention to escape him, though he 
 
158 FORTITUDE 
 
 would occasionally assume something like 
 an oppression of spirits and deep reverie, 
 while an occasional sigh would break from 
 him, that spoke an increasing propensity to 
 melancholy, which in him was quite a novel 
 appearance. He likewise became very sen- 
 timental, made occasional speeches in favor 
 of philanthropy and benevolence ; and 
 whenever any acts of humanity, such as 
 Mrs. Grafton took proper opportunities to 
 introduce were recounted, his approbation 
 and admiration of the authors of them were 
 high indeed. 
 
 Hargrave chose his occasions to visit when 
 he thought them most favorable, and en- 
 deavoured to avoid coming in contact with 
 Campbel ; but, when the latter happened to 
 be present, he treated him with what he made 
 appear to be unaffected respect; and seldom 
 contended with him in argument, except he 
 could find some accidental opportunity of 
 appearing to surpass him in charitable for- 
 giveness of the frailties of human nature, or 
 in any enlargement of principle reduced to 
 
AND FRAILTY. 159 
 
 practice ; and, if such by chance occurred, 
 Mrs. Grafton was no less anxious than him- 
 self not to let them slip profitless away. 
 
 But the conduct of this worthy pair will 
 be more perfectly seen in the following little 
 adventure, than by any dd'scription it is pos- 
 sible for words to give. 
 
 Shortly after the removal to Baker-street, 
 Eleonor was standing with Mrs. Grafton at 
 her drawing-room window, from which they 
 could plainly see the shop-door of the apo- 
 thecary, at whose house Hargrave lodged. 
 A young girl, of a fine figure, good com- 
 plexion, and very pleasing countenance, 
 plain but clean in her dress, and with a 
 charming simplicity of appearance, caught 
 the attention of Eleonor. " Bless me," 
 said she, " look at that pretty young woman ! 
 I declare, she quite takes my fancy." 
 
 " While they were praising and following 
 her with their eyes, they saw her go into 
 the apothecary's shop. " Perhaps," said 
 Eleonor,, " the poor thing has got some sick 
 relation at home; some young sister, or, 
 
160 FORTITUDE 
 
 may be, a mother, or father; who knows? 
 How I should hke to be a man ! I could 
 then run after her, and inquire." 
 
 " Ah, my dear," said Mrs. Grafton, 
 *^ those are inquiries you have often made, 
 notwithstanding you are but a timid young 
 lady." 
 
 They continued the dialogue till the young 
 woman had obtained what she w ent for, and 
 came out of the shop with a phial in her 
 hand; but she was soon after followed by 
 Leoline, who made two or three hasty 
 strides, and, just before he came up to her, 
 slackened his pace. Mrs. Grafton, knowing 
 that Eleonor saw all this, was alarmed, and 
 still more so when the amiable youth came 
 side by side with the girl, and evidently 
 stooped to whisper something in her ear. 
 Feeling it was too late to call off the atten- 
 tion of Eleonor, Mrs. Grafton exclaimed, 
 " Bless me 1 what can be the meaning of 
 this? Leoline, to be sure, must be acquainted 
 with her! I never knew him guilty of — 
 Lord, how soon ugly suspicions come into 
 
AND FRAILTY. l6l 
 
 one's mind ! I am really ashamed of myself! 
 However, I'll know what it all means ; of 
 that I am determined." 
 
 Eleonor, unwilling to say a word, for she 
 scarcely indeed knew what she thought on 
 such a subject, made no reply. This did but 
 increase the alarm of Mrs. Grafton. '' I 
 cannot believe," said she, '^ Leoline would 
 indulge any — IVIen, to be sure, are licentious 
 — That — of that we have too many proofs ; 
 but men of principle — I have always found 
 Leoline a man of the best principles, and 
 the purest conduct. A young creature so 
 engaging in her appearance ! Oh, I'll stake 
 my life, Leoline is intent on some praise- 
 worthy pursuit. 
 
 The young woman turned the corner of 
 a street, Leoline having hold of her arm; 
 and Eleonor, having lost sight of them, re- 
 tired from the window, rather dissatisfied 
 with herself. She had begun to change her 
 opinion, and to expect she knew not well 
 what, but something very extraordinary, of 
 our barrister, moulded as her mind had been 
 
162 FORTITUDE 
 
 when she so often witnessed the great ad- 
 miration in which he was held by the dis- 
 cerning and candid Mrs. Grafton. 
 
 The latter, however, had formed her plan, 
 and, taking her handkerchief from her pocket, 
 appeared to be deeply affected, and to re- 
 strain her tears with great difficulty. Her 
 Christian name was Eliza, by which she had 
 insisted her sxveet young friend should call 
 her : the formality of * Mrs. Grafton' was 
 very well from common lips; but, from her 
 dear Eleonor, " Oh there was no affection 
 in it ; it was not to be endured !" Eleonor, 
 seeing her distress, pressed her hand, and 
 exclaimed, " My dear Mrs." — a kind re- 
 proachful look was given her — " I forget 
 myself," said she, " do not think me unkind; 
 nor do not, my dear, dear Eliza, give vi ay to 
 suspicions that may be all false. Mr. Har- 
 grave is your brother." 
 
 "Oh yes," intennipted the sobbing Eliza, 
 " the brother of my heart ! I have watched 
 him from his childhood ; we have grown up 
 together without disguise : I have always 
 
AND FRAILTY. 163 
 
 supposed our intercourse was as open as it 
 was affectionate. Should he — Well, well — 
 I will know the whole truth ! Were I to 
 discover any thing — any thing very — very 
 monstrously wicked — it would break my 
 heart." 
 
 Eleonor offered every consolation the over- 
 flowings of affection could afford ; but the 
 anival of visitors put an end to the scene, 
 and she departed with a deep conviction of 
 the stern and unrelenting virtues of her 
 friend. 
 
 The first leisure moment Mrs. Grafton 
 could obtain was employed in writing a note 
 to the gallant and accomplished Leoline, ex- 
 pressing her impatience to see him immedi- 
 ately. In the evening he came, and, finding 
 her alone, with that self-confidence which 
 seldom forsook him, desired to know what 
 great question was now before the house ; 
 for he saw something indignant in the eye 
 of Mrs. Grafton. 
 
 " I have no words," replied she, " to 
 describe my feelings ! Pray, who was that 
 
164 FORTITUDE 
 
 young woman you followed out of the shop, 
 stooped to whisper in her ear, and took so 
 familiarly under the arm yesterday ?" 
 
 Leoline burst into laughter. " Why do 
 you ask?" said he, " Surely, she is no protegee 
 of yours ?" 
 
 " I must insist on knowing who she is?" 
 
 " Oh, by all means : pray insist upon 
 that." 
 
 " Sir," answered his sister, " if you have 
 no tenderness for the characters of such poor 
 young creatures, I hope you have some for 
 your own." 
 
 "Which way is my own called in question, 
 good sister?" 
 
 '* You are taking the most certain way 
 possible to ruin yourself with Miss Fairfax." 
 
 " Bless me, the poor thing cannot be 
 jealous of such a rival !" 
 
 " She is jealous of principle, jealous of 
 honor, jealous of happiness !" 
 
 *' Oh, they are three excellent things. 
 However, I am very glad she is jealous of 
 any thing : it is a favorable symptom. But 
 
AND FRAILTY. 1^5 
 
 pray how came she to know any thing of 
 such a matter?" 
 
 ** She herself saw you, from our drawing- 
 room window; and, I could well perceive, 
 saw you with astonishment, as well she 
 might." 
 
 " I am heartily glad of it ; nothing could 
 have been more fortunate." 
 
 '^ Fortunate, indeed ! — It is true 1 have 
 been forming a scheme." 
 
 "You have ! Your invention I know, my 
 dear sister, is excellent ; yet you must for- 
 give me if I would rather trust to my own." 
 
 " Pshaw ! I can't bear your conceit." 
 
 " You are to blame ; you should be in- 
 dulgent to all family failings." 
 
 " Leoline, you have been to blamcy 
 greatiy to blame. Such things in men are 
 really very odious; don't make them still 
 worse, but hear what I have to propose." 
 
 " I will, dear sister, some evening next 
 week ; but, for the present, do just listen a 
 word to me. Do you know when you shall 
 see your sweet young friend again ?" 
 
l66 FORTITUT^E 
 
 " She has promised to spend the evening 
 with me to-morrow : I have engaged to be 
 alone. I make every sacrifice for your 
 sake" — 
 
 " Without the least consideration or re- 
 membrance of the additional respect you 
 will acquire, should your brother possess not 
 only talents, birth, and breeding, but that 
 which will prove him to be, in every sense 
 of the word, a gentleman." 
 
 " I declare, Leoline, you are a very pro- 
 voking creature !" 
 
 " I have been told that so often, it must 
 be true. But you are sure Miss Fairfax will 
 be here to-morrow evening?" 
 
 " I am sure she has promised, and I never 
 yet knew her to break her word." 
 
 " She is a divine creature, perfection 
 itself, and deserves the most accomplished 
 and best husband the world can afford. I 
 will h^ve her. Say not another word ; you 
 shall see what will happen. Good evening, 
 sister : three friends are waiting for me at 
 the Smyrna. I am no galantee-show man, 
 
AND FRAILTY. l67 
 
 yet ' you shall see what you shall see.' Good 
 bye !" 
 
 Punctual to her appointment, at seven 
 o'clock on the morrow evening the rat-tat 
 of Eleonor's footman was heard at the door 
 of Mr. Grafton. No sooner were the tea- 
 things removed, and the friends quite tite-a- 
 tite^ than, confiding in the assurances Leo- 
 line had given her, his virtuous sister began, 
 as she with a dejected air declared, very ho- 
 nestly to confess her fears that all was not 
 right. 
 
 " This thing, my dear friend, quite preys 
 upon my spirits." 
 
 " Have you then heard any thing?" 
 
 " Not a syllable." 
 
 " Then you have not seen Mr. Har- 
 grave ? 
 
 " Oh, yes, and that is what distresses 
 me. 
 
 " What has he said?" 
 
 " Nothing: he would give no answer. 
 I attempted to reason with him, and to shew 
 how shockingly appearances were against 
 
l6S FORTITUDE 
 
 him, but he was still silent ; except that ho- 
 very coldly observed, if people were always 
 to be judged by appearances, he knew not 
 who would escape censure. I told him very 
 plainly I could not be satisfied with such an 
 evasive answer. He said he was sorry for it: 
 and seeing me look, I believe, a little out of 
 humor, for which I confess I was to blame, 
 he took his hat, and bad me good evening. 
 I have not seen him since, and you cannot 
 think how uneasy I am." 
 
 While all these expressions of anxiety 
 were going on, a single knock w as heard at 
 the door, and presently afterward up came 
 the footman, to inform his mistress a young 
 woman desired to know if Mr. Hargrave 
 would be there that evening; or if she could 
 be told where to carry a note to him ? 
 
 *' A note !" said Mrs. Grafton ; " Pray 
 shew her up. I declare," added she, the 
 moment the footman was out of the room, 
 " I am all in a flutter : perhaps this may 
 lead to some discovery. Who can this 
 young woman be ? Surely there are no more 
 
AND FRAILTY. l69 
 
 of them ! If Leoline should prove as inno- 
 cent as I have always till now thought him, 
 I never should forgive myself ! Be it good 
 or ill, I hope we shall come at the truth." 
 
 The door opened ; the footman, shewing 
 the way, said, " Please to walk in;" and the 
 very same form, clean, simple, and pretty, 
 that had been seen to enter the apothecary's 
 shop, stood before them. " Pray, child," 
 said Mrs. Grafton, " w^hat did you want 
 with Mr. Hargrave?" 
 
 " Only to give him this letter, ma'am." 
 
 " How came you to suppose he was 
 here?" 
 
 " Because, ma'am, of you being his sister." 
 
 " Who told you I was his sister ?" 
 
 " He himself, ma'am." 
 
 ^' I like that," whispered Mrs. Grafton 
 to Eleonor. 
 
 " Is the note from yourself to my bro- 
 ther?" 
 
 ^' Dear no, ma'am ; I should not take 
 such a liberty." 
 
 " Then who is it from ?" 
 
 VOL. I I 
 
170 FORTITUDK 
 
 " My mother. To be sure I wrote it, 
 because she can't write ; but it is as if from 
 herself, being she told me what to say." 
 " Then you know what it contains ?'' 
 " Oh, yes, ma'am : my poor father is ill 
 of a fever, and so I went yesterday for some 
 stuff for him ; and so the young gentleman, 
 seeing me in the shop, and hearing my father 
 was very bad, why he came home with me, 
 and was so good as to give my father money, 
 and to promise to get him into the hospital; 
 and that is what this letter is about." 
 
 " Well, my good girl, leave it with me : I 
 know where my brother will spend his 
 evening, and my servant shall carry it to 
 him directly." 
 
 " Could I have an answer, ma'am ?" 
 " Oh, you may be sure he will take care 
 of that." 
 
 " Thank you, ma'am ! We shall all be 
 very much obliged to you, ma'am." 
 '' Is your father in any want?" 
 " No, ma'am, not now. Mr. Hargrave 
 has been very good. I am sure he has my 
 
AND FRAILTT. 171 
 
 mother's prayers, and mine too ; so, ma;am, 
 I must run home, else my poor mother will 
 be uneasy." 
 
 The girl dropped a curtsey and left the 
 room, while the delighted and compassionate 
 Eleonor had drawn her purse to make a 
 charitable offering ; but Mrs. Grafton had 
 given a significant negative look, and laid 
 hold of her hand. 
 
 No sooner were they quite alone than 
 the handkerchief was out, the eyes were 
 hidden, and Mrs. Grafton exclaimed^ " Oh 
 what a load is suddenly taken from my 
 mind !" while the eyes of Eleonor spoke all 
 that happiness which her delicacy forbad 
 her lips to express ; but, when her friend 
 hung upon her shoulder and pressed her to 
 her bosom, the embrace was most affection- 
 ately returned. " Oh my dear friend," con* 
 tinued Mrs. Grafton, '^you were kind enough 
 to take some small share in my distress, and 
 you now are kind enough to feel a part of 
 ^y joys ; your eyes tell me you do, and my 
 satisfaction of heart is complete.*' 
 I 2 
 
172 FORTITUDE 
 
 " But why did you refuse to let me con- 
 tribute to the support of this poor family ?'* 
 Eleonor asked. 
 
 " From motives of delicacy, which I am 
 sure you will approve : my brother has been, 
 with shame I say it, suspected by me of I 
 know not what, while he was acting just as 
 became him : this poor family is under his 
 protection, and, after I have done him so 
 much wTong, it is but just that he should 
 enjoy the whole pleasure of conduct so proper 
 quite undisturbed." 
 
 It must be acknowledged the virtuous and 
 gentle Eliza played her part most admirably, 
 considering that the self-sufficient hero of 
 the tale would condescend to give her no 
 further instructions ; they were indeed mu- 
 tually conscious of so perfectly understand- 
 ing each other, that neither of them felt the 
 least hesitation. 
 
 The innocent heart of Eleonor was quite 
 alive to all those delicious pleasures that con- 
 tinually accompany the admiration of virtue. 
 The fine form of Leoline condescendingly 
 
AXD FRAILTY. 175 
 
 stooping to whisper comfort in the ear of the 
 distressed, entering the chamber of the sick, 
 consoling the wretched, relieving their wants, 
 and aiding to restore the father to his afflicted 
 family, was a picture that she filled up with 
 all the fine tints that philanthropy could 
 afford, and beheld with that enthusiasm 
 whicli was at once so lovely and so fraught 
 with danger. 
 
 With respect to tliis sick father, the hos- 
 pital he was sent to, the charities that were 
 so humanely bestowed upon him, with the 
 gratitude of the mother, the virtues of the 
 modest pretty-looking daughter, and the 
 blessings they all showered on the philan- 
 thropic Leoline, we have not time just at 
 present to give them in the detail, but must 
 leave them to the reader's imagination. 
 Should it happen hereafter that we should 
 find some opportunity to be more explicit, 
 we shall willingly take it; but of this we 
 give no promise. We must, at present, 
 make a momentary inquiry after one whom 
 I 3 
 
J74r FORTITUDJC 
 
 we should think it wrong indeed to forget, 
 and to whom, speaking generally, we no less 
 delight to listen than to find him the subject 
 of our discourse. 
 
AND FRAILTY. 175 
 
 CHAP. XV. 
 
 Tpie picture that Mrs. Grafton, after the 
 *lialogue that passed between herself, Eleonor, 
 and Mr. Campbel, had given of that gen- 
 tleman, had been somewhat overcharged; 
 yet he took such delight in the very purity 
 of moral principles, and so ardent is youth 
 in the pursuit of its pleasures, that he cer- 
 tainly expected rather too much, both from 
 himself and those he most loved* 
 
 It was this that occasioned him to speak 
 as he had done to Eleonor, and that still 
 induced him to reiterate the same doctrine, 
 w^henever he found a proper opportunity, 
 Eleonor, whose gentle nature could seldom 
 feel displeasure, patiently listened, and ra- 
 ther answered with smiles, than with w^ords 
 that denoted her feelings were in the least 
 wounded : they certainly, however, were 
 not soothed, though her lips were silent. 
 
 Eleonor was just at that happy age when 
 beauty receives daily additions ; and she al- 
 I 4 
 
176 roRTiTuDi: 
 
 ready possessed such symmetry of form, 
 such loveliness of feature, a voice so sweet, 
 an eye so clear, and a countenance so in- 
 telligent, that it is not wonderful if they 
 made a deep impression on a heart like that 
 of Campbel, affectionate and susceptible as 
 it was. 
 
 But for the baneful influence of Mrs. 
 Grafton and her brother, Eleonor would 
 most likely have better understood what was 
 passing in the bosom of Campbel. Har- 
 grave was nearly as handsome as his sister 
 had said, at least to all who were not deeply 
 read in physiognomy : he was finely pro- 
 portioned, tall and slender, pale of com- 
 plexion, had hazle eyes, and could assume 
 the most seducing manners ; and, while in 
 conversation, he displayed no common force 
 of intellect. Was it wonderful that Eleonor, 
 innocent of heart, and believing all to be 
 good that seemed good, should begin to 
 have those tender feelings which so many 
 things concurred to inspire ? 
 
 Campbel was not himself aware of the 
 
A>ID FRAILTY. 177 
 
 deep root that love had taken in his heart. 
 He supposed indeed that love was a passion 
 easy to be subdued, for hitherto his passions 
 had been obedient to reason. One day he 
 made a discovery that did not tend to lessen 
 his love. 
 
 While Eleonor was at Bath, she heard 
 much talk of Miss Hannah More, and of 
 the benefits that lady aided to bestow on 
 society by the zeal with which she pro- 
 moted Sunday schools. Eleonor conversed 
 on this subject with the partner of all her 
 then thoughts, Lady Clarissa, and on the 
 means that could best be taken to promote 
 so beneficial a plan. The money allowed 
 her to expend on herself was five hundred 
 a year : she rejoiced to find she had already 
 the power to be charitable ; and her friend, 
 Lady Clarissa, though inwardly laughing at 
 what she supposed to be Eleonor's sim- 
 plicity, very seriously advised her to have a 
 school of her own. 
 
 Eleonor had not quite confidence enough 
 for this ; however, she ruminated so often 
 I 5 
 
178 FORTITUDE 
 
 and so seriously concerning what her guar- 
 dian had taught her were the duties of the 
 rich, that at last she wrote to her aunt 
 Fairfax on the subject. So full of zeal was 
 her letter, and she described the benefits 
 which would arise to the poor children with 
 such force, that the good Mrs. Fairfax was 
 herself delighted, first that her dear Eleonor 
 should already form plans so virtuous, and 
 next to reflect on all that might be done. 
 More letters passed, and, when Eleonor 
 returned to town from Bath, Mrs. Fairfax 
 had, by inquiry, procured a list of eight 
 young girls, which Eleonor soon increased 
 to a dozen. They thought their purses 
 would not at present authorize them to go 
 farther. 
 
 The prosperity of all public institutions^ 
 on a great or a little scale, depends much 
 more on the agents to whom the conduct of 
 them is intrusted than on the principals 
 from whom the funds to establish and main- 
 tain them are derived. Eleonor, who was 
 very attentive to the performance of her re- 
 
AND FRAILTY. 179 
 
 ligious duties, had remarked an elderly woman, 
 who was no less constantly at church than 
 herself, and who, though she sat among 
 the poor, had something about her that 
 seemed to claim association with those who 
 called themselves her betters. Eleonor had 
 often wished she could find an opportunity 
 of speaking to her, for she thought it was 
 possible this decent-looking person might 
 want a friend ; but the good woman acted 
 as if she seemed rather to avoid than to seek 
 being noticed. 
 
 Fortunately, the plan of the intended 
 school suggested the possibility that this 
 woman might be employed agreeably to 
 herself, and for the benefit of the little se- 
 minary. Eleonor, therefore, communi- 
 cated her thoughts to Mrs. Fairfax; and, 
 as in things of this nature they generally 
 agreed in opinion, on the next sabbath 
 the footman of Eleonor was sent to this 
 good woman as she came out of church, to 
 request she would be kind enough to call on 
 Monday morning at the house of Mr. Fair- 
 I 6 
 
180 FORTITUDE 
 
 fax, in Baker-street, as the ladies wished to 
 speak with her. 
 
 Though she received this message with 
 some surprise, she readily promised to come. 
 Accordingly, the following morning, one 
 gentle knock announced her arrival : the 
 servant shewed her up stairs ; and she ap- 
 peared at the breakfast-table of Mr. Fairfax 
 with something of additional neatness and 
 respectability, that spoke still further in her 
 favor. 
 
 She was kindly requested to sit down, 
 and, if she had not breakfasted, to partake 
 with the family. A tear started to the good 
 woman's eye : she wiped it away, and an- 
 swered, *' she rose early, and had generally 
 breakfasted before eight o'clock." Eleonor 
 and her aunt had kept their design undi- 
 vulged, yet had so introduced the subject of 
 Sunday schools, in the way of discourse, as 
 not only to know Mr. Fairfax approved of 
 them, but to learn what he considered as 
 the best manner for their management. Per- 
 ceiving they had something to say to the 
 
AND FRAILTr. 181 
 
 'woman, and perfectly confiding in the well- 
 tried prudence of Mrs. Fairfax, he quickly 
 ended his breakfast, and left the room ; after 
 which the following dialogue passed. 
 
 " Perhaps we have intruded upon your 
 time, madam, and have called you from 
 the employment by which you gain your 
 livelihood," said Mrs. Fairfax. 
 
 " No, madam," replied the stranger, '* I 
 should be glad to find employment." 
 
 " Pray have you lived long in this neigh- 
 bourhood ?" 
 
 " About three years, madam." 
 
 ** You follow some business, no doubt ?" 
 
 ** I take in plain work, and have the 
 good fortune now and then to be sent for 
 to help a poor mantua-maker, with whom I 
 am acquainted, when she is in a hurry ; but 
 she has not always work enough for herself 
 and her daughter." 
 
 " All girls," said Eleonor, " should be 
 taught the useful parts of needle-work." 
 
 ** Oh, yes," added the good woman, 
 
182 FORTITUDE 
 
 with a deep sigh ; " in the decline of life it 
 may keep them from either starving or being 
 burdensome to a parish." 
 
 *' In your time," said Mrs. Fairfax, " you 
 may have had children under your care ?" 
 
 *^ Yes, madam, I have had eleven of 
 my own; seven of them were gkls, and 
 those I thought it my duty to educate my- 
 self." 
 
 <* Perhaps you yourself could teach them 
 to read, write, and cast up small sums ?" 
 
 " Yes, madam," said the good woman, 
 with a faint smile. 
 
 " Should you be willing, if you were 
 paid for your trouble, to teach a dozen 
 poor girls, twice of a Sunday ; once before 
 church time, and once after?" 
 
 " Very willing, indeed, madam. I 
 should be thoroughly glad to make myself 
 so useful. It might help to relieve me from 
 fears that begin to prey upon my mind 
 rather too often ; for, now the hopes of my 
 youth are all gone." 
 
AND FRAILTr. 183 
 
 " Every thing you say, and your whole 
 appearance, lead me to think you have seen 
 better days." 
 
 " I have, indeed, madam." The good 
 woman turned her head aside, to hide the 
 emotions of her countenance. 
 
 " We must not be too inquisitive," said 
 Mrs. 'Fairfax. 
 
 " Ah, madam," answered the stranger, 
 ^* I must not be too intrusive ; it is kindness 
 in those who listen to the unfortunate." 
 
 " Your language leads me to think your 
 education has been very good." 
 
 " Thanks to Providence, and to my once- 
 afFectionate parents, it has been tolerable : 
 to that I owe many, many comforts ; other- 
 wise, I know not what my sufferings might 
 have been." 
 
 *' You make me long to hear yoiu* his- 
 tory, dear madam," said Eleonor, while her 
 eyes glistened through the dews of com- 
 passion. 
 
 " My story may be told in a few words, 
 madam : — My father was a clergyman ; my 
 
184 FORTITUDE 
 
 mother the daughter of a decayed baronet, 
 I was married honorably and happily to Mr. 
 Fenton, a mariner, who, by his talents and 
 conduct, rose to be captain of a ship in the 
 East-India Company's service. Till that 
 time every thing had smiled upon us, and 
 then every body supposed our family Mould 
 have been well provided for ; but a reverse of 
 fortune came, my husband's mercantile ad- 
 ventures failed, losses were incurred, debts 
 accumulated, and, to complete our min, 
 my poor dear husband was shipwrecked and 
 perished, because he determined not to for- 
 sake his vessel, which he had hopes might 
 still be saved. After his death I was ha- 
 rassed, I cannot tell you how much, by his 
 creditors, and found myself with nine re- 
 maining children to support, I knew not 
 how. Two of my three boys entered young 
 into the king's service, in which they both 
 died. I obtained a place for the third in a 
 merchant's 'compting-house, and he, being a 
 youth of very hopeful talents, was sent to 
 Smyrna ; but whether he was taken by a 
 
AND FRAILTY. 185 
 
 corsair, or what became of the poor fellow, 
 I never yet could learn. I struggled for my 
 daughters to the best of my power, and en- 
 deavoured to teach them to struggle for 
 themselves ; but Providence has been 
 pleased to deprive me of them all, by taking 
 them to a better world, except one, and she 
 married a foreigner, with whom she resides 
 somewhere in Italy ; but at what place I do 
 not know." 
 
 Eleonor could not hear this simple nar- 
 rative with a tearless eye ; and Mrs. Fairfax 
 exclaimed, " Dear madam, your ti'oubles 
 have indeed been great !" 
 
 " I cannot say I do not sometimes think 
 so," replied Mrs. Fenton ; " but surely that 
 is a wrong way of thinking. How many 
 blessings have been bestowed upon me ! how 
 many pleasures have I enjoyed ! and even 
 now, that I am most reduced, and seem 
 almost forsaken, how enviable is my situa- 
 tion, compared to that of many, many 
 thousands of poor creatures around me ! 
 Fortunately for me, my most worthy father, 
 
186 FORTITUDE 
 
 and that dear mother, whose love of me I 
 shall never forget, took thorough pains to 
 instruct me in my duties to God and man : 
 while I continue to perform these, I ought 
 not to think I am unhappy." 
 
 The overflowing affections of Eleonor 
 were irresistible ; she caught Mrs. Fenton's 
 hand, pressed it to her heart, kissed it with 
 rapture, and exclaimed, ^' Dear, good, pre- 
 cious soul !" 
 
 Mrs. Fairfax was scarcely less moved, 
 and added, " We are very fortunate, Mrs. 
 Fenton : you sue one of the fittest persons 
 on earth to help us in our little plan. But, 
 pray tell me, did you never wish to keep a 
 day-school ?" 
 
 " Yes, veiy often, and veiy earnestly." 
 
 " And why did not you, my dear 
 madam," said Eleonor, hastily ? 
 
 " Because I had neither money nor 
 scholars." 
 
 " Oh, you shall have both ; sha n't she, 
 dear aunt? 
 
 " Most assuredly," answered Mrs. Fair- 
 
AND FRAILTY. 18? 
 
 fax, with pleasure sparkling in her eye : 
 " Mrs. Fenton will be able to manage our 
 Sunday school just the same." 
 
 " I can only return you my most sincere 
 thanks, ladies, at present ; but I hope that 
 I shall hereafter do every thing in my power 
 to benefit those poor young creatures your 
 charity shall commit to my care, and this 
 I am sure you will think the best way in 
 which I can repay your very unexpected 
 kindness." 
 
 " My sweet Eleonor, you are a dear 
 discerning girl," said Mrs. Fairfax; and, 
 turning to Mrs. Fenton, added, ^^if, madam, 
 we should be of any service to each other, 
 we shall both be indebted for it to the pe- 
 netration of this young lady : 'twas she that 
 recommended you to me ; 'twas she that 
 noticed the decency of your appearance, the 
 unassuming propriety of your behaviour, 
 and the constancy of your appearance at 
 church." 
 
 " And I, madam," replied Mrs. Fenton, 
 " have perhaps as often noticed, and surely 
 
18S FORTITUDE 
 
 with Still much gieater admiration, a young 
 lady, who — I am afraid to speak : indeed I 
 am not a flatterer ; but, when we are in the 
 sanctified temple of God, and imagine our- 
 selves among saints and angels — " 
 
 ^' I love you dearly, Mrs. Fen ton, al- 
 ready, and I hope I shall prevail on you to 
 love me. I am sure the opinion we have 
 of each other is very favorable, so don't 
 let us say another word on that subject : 
 we will now think of all our little arrano;e- 
 ments." 
 
AXD FRAILTY. 189 
 
 CHAP. XVI. 
 
 Mrs. Fenton having been consulted on 
 the project of the Sunday school, and all 
 that Eleonor and her aunt had imagined to 
 make it flourish, gave them many useful 
 hints and much information ; after which, 
 for the present, she departed. It was dif- 
 ficult to exceed the satisfaction she had given. 
 Mrs. Fairfax very justly observed, that her 
 whole discourse proved she had not only re- 
 ceived an excellent education, but possessed 
 an understanding such as might have fitted 
 her for almost any employment. " How 
 much is it to be regretted," added she, " that 
 many such fine understandings both in men 
 and women remain unknown, unemployed, 
 and lost to the world !" 
 
 *^ Indeed, dear aunt," answered Eleonor, 
 " inexperienced as I am, I have sometimes 
 had that thought myself. Isn't it a cruel one ? 
 Whenever it has come over me, it has quite 
 made my heart ache. Oh, virtue and ta- 
 
190 FORTITUDE 
 
 lents should always be known, always em- 
 ployed, always held in the highest honor. 
 What a happy world would it then be ! — 
 Why do you smile, aunt ?" 
 
 " I smile at the general propensity of 
 our short-sighted sex : we most of us wonder 
 why things are not as you say ; why are not 
 virtue and talents continually promoted ? 
 why is not the world made happy ? It 
 seems to require nothing but plain common 
 sense ; yet Man comes, with all his sagacity, 
 and answers, — The thing is impossible." 
 
 " I do not think I could like any man 
 whom I should hear argue in that manner." 
 
 " Why, my dear, should you dislike any 
 person for telling you the truth ?" 
 
 " I cannot believe it is the truth." 
 
 " Oh, were you to listen to a man who 
 knows the world ; for instance, were Mr. 
 Hargrave here" — 
 
 " Nay, dear aunt, there you are wrong,'* 
 interrupted Eleonor with warmth, Mr. Har- 
 grave would take the other side of the 
 question : of that I am very sure," 
 
AND FRAILTY. 191 
 
 " Are you, indeed ?" 
 
 " Oh yes, indeed, am I." 
 
 " I have heard you express your doubts 
 of the purity of Mr. Hargrave's principles." 
 
 '^ For which I am very sorry. I was 
 never more mistaken. When one judges 
 too favorably, there is charity in that mis- 
 take, and one's heart finds some consolation ; 
 but, when we find our suspicious ill thoughts 
 are wholly unfounded, I scarcely know any 
 thing more painful. I am conscious of 
 having done Mr. Hargrave this injustice, 
 and I am called upon to take every oppor- 
 tunity to retract." 
 
 " Well, my dear, you are well assured 
 I cannot be displeased with honest candor. 
 I think very highly of Mr. Hargrave, though 
 I have not always privately acquiesced in his 
 sentiments ; that can scarcely be expected. 
 But have you had any proof your opinion 
 was hasty, that induces you to make this 
 declaration ?" 
 
 *' Oh, yes, yes, yes !" exclaimed Eleonor 
 with increasing emphasis. " Evil thoughts 
 
192 FORTITUDE 
 
 have wronged Mr. Hargrave more than once; 
 but he is a good, an excellent gentleman ! 
 I have read of one who wished his bosom 
 were of glass, that every secret of his heart 
 might be read. Mr. Hargrave might well 
 form that wish, for he was injuriously sup- 
 posed to have had improper motives at the 
 very moment he was exercising the great 
 duties of benevolence." 
 
 Here the animated Eleonor told all that 
 she knew of the neat young girl, the physic 
 she fetched, the father in a fever, the letter 
 of the mother, and the whole charitable pro- 
 ceedings of Mr. Hargrave, every where 
 adorning the picture with all that spirit and 
 pathos which in her enraptured eye it pos- 
 sessed. Mrs. Fairfax listened with scarcely 
 less pleasure than her niece spoke ; for they, 
 good souls ! had hearts that made them both 
 very sincere believers in virtue. 
 
 Every thing for the Sunday school was 
 in such readiness, that on the very next 
 sabbath it was in full activity. Twelve 
 poor girls received their lessons first, and 
 
AND FRAILTY. 193 
 
 then their breakfast ; after which, having 
 been previously washed and combed, each 
 had a brown stuff gown and petticoat, new 
 shoes, white stockings, apron, tippet, and 
 cap, with a straw bonnet, so that they were 
 in perfect uniform. Mrs, Fenton attended 
 them to church, brought them back, gave 
 them a wholesome but cheap plain dinner, 
 took them to church once more, again heard 
 them theii" lessons, and dismissed them in 
 the evening with a charge to return the 
 next morning and leave their Sunday clothes, 
 for which, in addition to what they had 
 brought, they received such sti'ong cheap 
 ai'ticles as they most stood in need of. 
 
 An appearance so novel in the neigh- 
 bourhood could not but excite inquiries. 
 Under whose patronage were these poor 
 children r where were the funds that sup- 
 plied them, and who were the persons? 
 were questions frequently asked. Except 
 Mrs. Fenton, nobody knew ; and she, fol- 
 lowing her instructions, refused to tell. 
 They had immediately caught the attention 
 
 VOL. I. K 
 
194 FORTITUDE 
 
 of Campbel, who frequented the church to 
 which Eleonor and her friends went. He 
 was delighted a\ ith the benevolence of the 
 plan, and the perfection with which it was 
 carried into execution. He did not often 
 wish to know secrets, but here he felt that 
 desire strongly, and, other attempts having 
 failed, he was at last impelled to call on 
 ]\Irs. Fenton. 
 
 Not presuming upon his rank and riches, 
 he introduced himself by apologizing for the 
 freedom he was about to take : then said — 
 " Pray, madam, am I guilty of any in- 
 discretion, in asking you whether it can 
 possibly be from your own funds that you 
 have instituted the very delightful little 
 Sunday-school which is under your direc- 
 tion?" 
 
 " By no means, sir : I should be sorry 
 any mistake should get abroad, and there- 
 fore answer you with plain sincerity. I am 
 what I seem to be, — poor, and incapable of 
 doing the good I am glad to see done." 
 
 ^' The school must have founders : it is 
 
AND FRAILTY. l^i 
 
 a very good action, and, were the pro- 
 moters of it known, might excite emulation 
 in others. Do they wish their names to be 
 kept secret ?" 
 
 ^' They wish it earnestly, sir." 
 
 " I am Sony for it. Are the subscribers 
 in this neighbourhood ?" 
 
 Mrs. Fenton made no reply. 
 
 '^ Are they many or few ?" 
 
 " I can only say, sir, I am not at liberty 
 to answer any questions on this subject." 
 
 " If so, madam, I will ask no more. 
 Had it been an open charity, I should will- 
 ingly have been a subscriber myself, and 
 think I could have procured additional names 
 to the hst." 
 
 The few replies of Mrs. Fenton were so 
 proper and firm, yet delivered with a de- 
 meanor so unassuming and so obliging, that 
 Campbel, though disappointed, could not 
 but think very favorably of her when he 
 departed. The subject, however, still dwelt 
 upon his mind : few spectacles, indeed, 
 K 2 
 
1^6 FORTITUDE 
 
 make a greater impression on a heart that 
 delights in the gentle charities of nature, 
 than a number of children, especially fe- 
 males, assembled in order, clean in their 
 appearance, uniform in their dress, and under 
 the guidance of those who are endeavouring 
 to secure their future happiness. In this 
 case, 'tis true, the number was but small ; 
 but, in all other respects, their appearance 
 was singularly pleasing. 
 
 As the safest supposed method, it had 
 been agreed that Mrs. Fen ton should come 
 every Saturday morning into Baker-street at 
 six or seven, according to the season. 
 Campbel did not reside in Baker-street, but 
 Mr. Fairfax, one Friday, had a party that 
 supped and staid late, of whom Archibald 
 was one. For some reason, he had not 
 ordered his carriage ; the night was remark- 
 ably rainy, and he was pressed to stay. 
 Several friends would have set him down, 
 but he had a pleasure in accepting the in- 
 vitation. Whether it was that to sleep 
 
AXD FRAILTY. 197 
 
 under the same roof with Eleonor was con- 
 genial to his feelings, or "whatever else the 
 cause might be, is immaterial. 
 
 Though he w^ent to bed late, he aw^oke 
 early, for early rising was become habitual 
 to him. As he left the room, to take a 
 walk before breakfast, and came down the 
 hall-stairs, he had a glimpse of Mrs. Fenton, 
 who, ^vhen she heard footsteps, hastily 
 followed the housekeeper into her room. 
 
 Suddenly the right train of ideas was ex- 
 cited ! Mrs. Fenton — her haste to avoid 
 him — the benevolence which he knew was 
 an inmate of that family — and the early visit 
 of the conductress of the school — to a mind 
 so apt at combination as that of Archibald 
 could not but more than half-reveal the 
 secret. His heart glowed while he pro- 
 ceeded from conjecture to conjecture ; nor 
 did he miss one that Avas equally true and 
 acute : it was the pious work of the females 
 of the family, and not of his guardian ; for, 
 had it been his, the scheme would have been 
 communicated, and he, (^ampbel, would 
 K 3 
 
19S FORTITUDE 
 
 have been consulted, and allowed to con- 
 tribute, as he knew from experience. 
 
 All this passed with such rapidity through 
 his mind as to airest his progress, and in- 
 duce him to stop a moment in the hall and 
 consider, yet not till the hall-door was half- 
 open in his hand. Though he had as little 
 doubt as possible, yet he could not say to him- 
 self he had absolute proof that all he divined 
 was true ; and, as his feelings at that moment 
 were too powerful to be disobeyed, he yielded 
 to their commands, shut the door, and 
 stepped lightly back up stairs to his bed- 
 room, panting with the hope of some chance 
 elucidation. 
 
 It so happened that the fatigue of the 
 evening had overcome Mrs. Fairfax, who 
 overlsept herself, and forgot, for once, the 
 weekly chanty of Saturday morning : but 
 Eleonor was awake ; her youthful spirits 
 never slumbered when she had the favorite 
 vision of her Sunday-school to call them 
 into action. She had heard IVIrs. Fenton in 
 the hall, and, without the least recollection 
 
AND FRAILTY. 199 
 
 of Archibald, rang her bell ; then went to 
 the landing-place, and in a sweet under-voice 
 said, " Come up, madam, if you please." 
 
 Mrs. Fenton, ^^hen she heard the hall- 
 door shut, had no doubt but that the person 
 who was going down stairs had gone out. 
 Being on the watch, she had heard Eleonor, 
 and immediately hastened up stairs. 
 
 Campbel, no less watchful, and never 
 once suspecting there could be harm in even 
 secretly endeavouring to discover the virtues 
 of those we love, heard all that passed, and, 
 though he could not be mistaken in the well- 
 known music of Eleonor's voice, yet curiosity 
 imperiously obliged him to look from the 
 door, that stood a-jar, and enjoy the beatific 
 vision of Eleonor and Mrs. Fenton, as they 
 passed from the landing-place into the draw- 
 ing-room. How did his heart beat when 
 he heard the latter give so kind a good morn- 
 ing to the former, and saw her take her by 
 the hand, and, with an angelic smile, add, 
 " I hope you are very well, my dear Mrs. 
 Fenton !" 
 
 K 4 
 
200 FORTITUDE 
 
 Oh ! at that happy moment, who Mould 
 not have envied the feeHngs of Campbel ? He 
 needed no more ; his conviction was certain, 
 his heart was satisfied; it throbbed with 
 sensations the most delightful that heart 
 could feel. 
 
 He would not disturb their charitable 
 conference ; no, it was of a sacred nature. 
 He shut his door, drew a chair, and sat for 
 a time entranced by his cogitations. It was 
 Eleonor, sweet Eleonor, that was the be- 
 nevolent angel, after whom he had vainly 
 inquired I This one thought, repeated in a 
 thousand different forms, occupied him 
 wholly. 
 
 At length he heard the drawing-room door 
 open and shut, and the voice in whose sweet 
 sounds his heart delighted : "Good morning, 
 Mrs. Fenton, good morning; a thousand 
 thanks! Every thingis so proper, so charming, 
 I cannot tell you how happy you make me. 
 But you are a dear soul ! Good morning." 
 
 The prudent Mrs. Fenton said not a 
 word; but her looks and demeanor were 
 
AND FRAILTY. 201 
 
 amply loquacious : she hastened down stairs, 
 dropped a curtsey as she passed the expecting 
 housekeeper, and, shutting the hall-door, 
 turned a corner into the first street. 
 
 Campbel, as soon as he saw the passage 
 clear, hurried after her ; not to make any 
 more inquiries, — he now had none to make ; 
 but to gratify his feelings, to contemplate 
 again her happy dwelling, and, while he 
 breathed the free expanse, to inhale with 
 the morning air ideas of fresh delight. 
 
 He soon was far in the fields, subject to 
 no obsei'ving eye, except some chance 
 straggler, and there he indulged the full flow 
 of youthful happy spirits : he walked, he 
 ran, he leaped, he revelled in every innocent 
 vagary, accompanying each new antic with 
 some favorite air, that he had heard from 
 his beloved Eleonor. 
 
 But what was the most extraordinary of 
 all this was, he did not know, he did not 
 believe, that love had any thing to do in the 
 business, except the love of virtue should be 
 meant ; it was all pure admiration, such as 
 K 5 
 
202 FORTITUDE 
 
 the most severe philosophy must not only 
 approve, but most willingly partake ; an ad- 
 miration which such beauty, joined to such 
 benevolence, drew from us irresistibly. 
 Very ti'ue, Mr. Campbel, not a syllable of 
 this can be denied ; but, when love is just 
 what you and I suppose it to be, pray what 
 is it more or less than this ? 
 
 Such, perhaps, is the entrance through 
 which love gains admission into all young 
 and innocent hearts ; at least if they be 
 hearts of honor, hearts of worth. Campbel 
 had much faith in the power of reason. 
 Mrs. Grafton had not greatly misrepresented 
 him when she told Eleonor of his determi- 
 nation not to marry till reason was fully 
 satisfied that happiness would be the result. 
 Experience had not yet taught him that Love 
 and Reason always suppose themselves to be 
 one and the same thing. Love discusses 
 each point over with Reason sove ry adroitly, 
 that there is no possibility of denying one of 
 his arguments. If we can but remember to 
 give it, the time will come when the dis- 
 
AND FRAILTT, £03 
 
 sertation between Love and Reason will be 
 acknowledged to be of a very animated kind. 
 
 Wild as he was for a time in the exalta- 
 tion of his spirits, Campbel did not forget 
 the approaching hour of breakfast. Could 
 the tea-table, where Eleonor presided, — 
 where she, stretching out her perfectly- 
 formed arm and delicate hand, sweetened 
 the cup, handed the cates, and delighted 
 the social circle by her urbanity and lier 
 smiles, — be forgotten ^ He was at home a 
 full quarter of an hour before the summons 
 to breakfast was given. 
 
 And how did he spend so large a portion 
 of time ? Oh, believe me, not wholly in 
 idleness : with the help of his man he re- 
 paired those little derangements of a gentle- 
 manly appearance which his field excursion 
 had occasioned ; and the care he took of 
 this trifling affair, though quite unconscious 
 to himself, was some how or other much 
 greater than usual. 
 
 Thoroughly to express all the delightful 
 K 6 
 
204 FORTITUDE 
 
 associations, that succeeded eacli other in 
 the mind of Archibald at the breakfast- 
 table this morning, would be no easy task. 
 The image of the twelve children, first as he 
 had seen them walking to church, and after- 
 ward modestly seated in it, under the watch- 
 ful guidance of the unassuming yet respect- 
 able Mrs. Fenton, while, not far off, the un- 
 known author of their happiness was viewing 
 them with silent complacency, hovering 
 over them like their guardian angel ! Oh, 
 it was inexpressibly delightful ! 
 
 " What is the matter, Archibald ?" said 
 Mr. Fairfax ; " you have scarcely opened 
 your lips this morning : you are not usually 
 so very silent." 
 
 " Oh, sir 1" exclaimed Campbel, " I 
 have been so lost in thought, I have not 
 once recollected speech." 
 
 " From the brightness of your eyes," 
 added Mr. Fairfax, " I cannot but suppose 
 you have been indulging some pleasant 
 dreams." 
 
AND FRAILTY. 205 
 
 '' Pleasant, sir ! they are rapturous." 
 
 " If so, Mr. Campbel," said Eleonor, 
 surely you ought to tell them." 
 
 " I cannot, madam," answered Campbel. 
 
 ^' Oh, I warrant you," replied Eleonor, 
 smiling ; ^' come, pray try !" 
 
 " I would do any thing to oblige you, 
 madam," said Campbel, with something 
 rather remarkable in his emphasis, " had I 
 the power ; but no one, I believe, is more 
 conscious than you are, that those peculiar 
 images of the mind, which give uncommon 
 and supreme pleasure, are such as words 
 cannot express." 
 
 " Well, well," rejoined Mrs. Fairfax ; 
 " but at least you can tell us the subject of 
 these charming dreams." 
 
 " Very willingly, madam," answered 
 Archibald ; " it was nothing less than the 
 contemplation of an angel on earth !" 
 
 Mr. Fairfax smiled. 
 
 " Nay, sir, when common words are 
 wholly incapable of expressing our thoughts, 
 surely we may be allowed to use bold me- 
 
206 FORTITUDE 
 
 taphors. Are not you of that opinion, 
 Miss Fairfax ?" 
 
 *' Oh, certainly," said Eleonor, " cer- 
 tainly". 
 
 " And do not you think that those who 
 clothe the naked, feed the hungry, and pro- 
 vide for the future welfare of the weak, may, 
 without any just offence to truth, be called 
 angels upon earth ?" 
 
 The picture of Leoline, the sick father, 
 and the distressed family, immediately rose 
 to view before Eleonor, and she ardently 
 answered, " Oh, yes ! angels upon earth ! 
 Those who relieve the miseries of the af- 
 flicted may justly be called angels upon 
 earth !" 
 
 Unacquainted as he was with what was 
 then passing in the mind of Eleonor, Campbel 
 concluded her heart was frankly, because 
 secretly, applauding its own virtues. Till 
 that moment, he was far indeed from having 
 had the smallest propensity to scrutinize or 
 indulge one thought that could impugn the 
 perfection of Eleonor; but, so subject is 
 
AND FRAILTY. 207 
 
 the mind to associations that take birth 
 it knows not how, a train of thinking 
 was suggested, that made him again appre- 
 hensive lest the enthusiasm of Eleonor might 
 lead even her virtues into excess. 
 
 Now, it so happened, he himself fell into 
 that very fault he was just at this moment 
 so fearful she might commit : his love of 
 virtue led him to excess : he w ished for an 
 impossibility in man or woman ; he wished 
 to see Eleonor perfect. This is the error only 
 of high minds, and one from which they never 
 Avholly escape ; all such, more or less, re- 
 semble the Adam Overdo of Ben Jonson. 
 Again his evil genius prompted him to give 
 several very intelligible hints on the danger 
 of enthusiasm, and in such a manner as he 
 supposed would best warn Eleonor to be- 
 ware of it. 
 
 Alas, Campbel knew not what he did ! 
 He counteracted all that afterw^ard became 
 the most ardent wishes of his soul ! He cooled 
 and diverted the rising affections of a heart 
 that once was strongly bent to throb only 
 
208 FORTITUDE 
 
 for him ! He spread a net for the enthrai- 
 nient of that lovely creature, whom he would 
 have lost his life to preserve ! He led his best 
 friend, Fairfax, to believe that the hand of 
 Eleonor, had it been offered to him, would 
 have been refused ! 
 
AND FRAILTY. 20^ 
 
 ^CHAP. XVII. 
 
 Whether the reader will or will not be 
 sensible of the obligations he has to us is 
 more than we can divine ; nor should we, 
 by any means, take the liberty to remind 
 him of them, were it not for the mutual 
 convenience of him and ourselves : we there- 
 fore beg permission just to observe, that we 
 have led him a little through the recesses of 
 the heart of Campbel before they were 
 known to Campbel himself, in order that he, 
 the reader, might comprehend the workings 
 of that heart, its feelings and affections ; 
 all of which gave timely though misinter- 
 preted intelligence of the danger that hovered 
 over Archibald, and over the innocent un- 
 suspecting Eleonor. 
 
 Respectful as he was to his honored 
 friend and guardian, and to the worthy 
 Mrs. Fairfax, who delighted in his virtues 
 and loved him like a son, and happy as he 
 had ever found himself in the company of 
 
^10 FORTITUDE 
 
 Eleonor, no wonder that he was a frequent 
 visitor in Baker-sti'eet. Nor can it excite 
 any great surprise that he and Hargrave 
 should occasionally meet ; that the admira- 
 tion which the supposed virtues of the latter, 
 resident in a form so uncommonly attractive, 
 added to all the assiduities of a couple so 
 capable as himself and his sister, should 
 make a very perceptible impression upon 
 Eleonor; and that the wakeful friend- 
 ship of Campbel (for he was perfectly con- 
 vinced it was nothing but friendship) should 
 take the alarm. Eleonor was as little aware 
 of which way her affections tended as 
 Campbel was of the tendency of his own ; 
 but, in her case, he was far from being so 
 blind as in the estimates he made of him- 
 self. It was a duty of conscience with her, 
 when she thought well of any one, to speak 
 those thoughts, and it was by no means a 
 habit with her to express herself by halves. 
 Campbel had lately, more than once, heard 
 expressions from her that indicated her in- 
 creasing admiration of ^Ir. Hargrave ; and 
 
AND FRAILTY. 211 
 
 one evening, artfully incited by Mrs. Graf- 
 ton, Campbel being present, he, with some 
 surprise, heard her declare, ^' She did not 
 believe there was a more benevolent or more 
 virtuous-minded gentleman than Mr. Har- 
 
 to" 
 
 grave 
 
 He was so accustomed to the raptures of 
 Eleonor, that, had she made this avow al of 
 any one else, he would have thought it 
 nothing unusual ; but of Hargrave, a man 
 who he plainly perceived was endeavouring 
 to ingratiate himself in her affections, that 
 she should publish her opinion of him so 
 undisguisedly inflicted a secret pain, which 
 all his philosophy could not repel. 
 
 He still, however, continued to persuade 
 himself that he only felt benevolent anxiety 
 for the future welfare of Eleonor, and that 
 he did not view Hargrave, whom he had 
 never liked, with increased disgust ; but he 
 deceived himself. The society of the bar- 
 rister daily became more irksome to him, 
 and love made him doubly clear-sighted to 
 the odious selfishness and specious arts of 
 
212! FORTITUDE 
 
 that gentleman. Jealousy gained strong 
 though unconscious hold over his heart, 
 and made him observe every action, how- 
 ever trivial, of his fortunate rival, with ri- 
 gorous scinitiny. 
 
 Eleonor, on the contrary, while she art- 
 lessly betrayed the rising inclination of her 
 heart, acquired additional charms, and ex- 
 cited increased interest in the young sage. 
 Her eye beamed innocence and love ; truth 
 and benevolence exhaled from her lips ; every 
 motion was harmony and grace ! To Camp- 
 bel she appeared something like celestial. 
 
 If I could ever fall in love without the 
 full approbation of my own understanding, 
 thought Archibald, as he gazed on the dan- 
 gerous syren, it would be with such an 
 angel ! But, till I am convinced marriage 
 would make happiness secure, Philosophy 
 shall be my mistress ! The puie delights of 
 friendship alone shall have charms for me ! 
 Eleonor, thy guileless simplicity, charming 
 candor, and unaffected benevolence, make 
 thy happiness dear to my heart ! Oh, that 
 
AND FRAILTY. i213 
 
 thou wert indeed my sister ! I would not 
 exchange the brotherly affection I feel for 
 all the boasted transports of love. Oh, 
 may this Mr. Hargrave be fully sensible of 
 thy worth ! May thy pure tenderness meet 
 a sincere return, and thy gentle nature 
 never experience the rude shock of severity 
 or unkindness ! Mayest thou ever thus en- 
 chantingly smile ! 
 
 These and similar reflections, which daily 
 passed through his mind, induced Campbel 
 to treat Eleonor with increased kindness 
 and respect. Though, at moments, his anxiety 
 for her future welfare made him express 
 himself with all the energy of feeling on the 
 subject of romantic delusion, he attacked 
 her foibles with more than usual lenity. 
 The female understanding rose gradually in 
 his estimation ; and he forbore, particularly 
 in the presence of Eleonor, to utter a word 
 that could be thought derogatory to the un- 
 derstanding of women. 
 
 Indeed, the partial knowledge he had ac- 
 quired of Mrs. Grafton contributed toward 
 
214 FORTITUDE 
 
 effecting some change in his opinion respect- 
 ing the intellectual weakness of the fair sex. 
 She had not, however, gained the unbounded 
 influence over his mind which she seldom 
 failed to exercise over those of her friends 
 and acquaintance. He admired her know- 
 ledge of the world, and found her conversa- 
 tion agreeable, and on some points instruc- 
 tive ; but her manners, though they too were 
 very pleasing, had not that artless simplicity 
 which he considered to be one of the greatest 
 charms of woman. Neither did she appear 
 to him to possess that quickness of sensibility 
 and genuine sweetness, which Archibald 
 almost adored in the romantic but amiable 
 Eleonor. 
 
 Mrs. Grafton, in short, though her su- 
 perior endowments, personal attractions^ 
 and prepossessing manners, commanded his 
 admiration, did not interest his feelings, or 
 inspire that confidence which her intimacy 
 with persons he so highly honored and loved 
 seemed to claim. 
 
 Eleonor, though absorbed in the delight- 
 
AXD FRAILTY. 215 
 
 ful illusions of romance, could not help re- 
 marking the increased respect and studied 
 forbearance of Campbel : regarding him as 
 the adopted son of her excellent guardians, 
 and the friend of the admirable Leoline, she 
 continued to treat him with cordial kindness 
 and her wonted unreserve ; little suspecting 
 that, by so acting, she gave secret but mor- 
 tal offence to the pride of Hargrave. Though 
 he thought too highly of his own merits to 
 fear even the possibility of rivalship, that 
 amiable gentleman, as has been already said, 
 was of a haughty temper : he, beside, Avas 
 meanly envious of the high esteem in which 
 Campbel was held by Mr. Fairfax and his 
 family. He was far, however, from once 
 venturing to express dissatisfaction at the 
 friendly behaviour of Eleonor at present, 
 nor till he had obtained an absolute dominion 
 over the mind and actions of that young 
 lady, as will be seen. 
 
 The following incident, which happened 
 about this time, is among those that we 
 think it incumbent on us to relate, as it will 
 
12,16 FORTITUDE 
 
 tend to make the reader still better ac- 
 quainted with the virtues of the less artful 
 but generous and noble-minded Campbel, 
 and as it becomes faithful historians to re- 
 cord all actions that are remarkable as good 
 or great. 
 
 It was the custom of Archibald to some- 
 times spend an hour or two of an evening at 
 a coftee-house, where a select company of 
 literary friends assembled, and where every 
 thing bespoke order, propriety, and good 
 sense. The master was a plain-spoken but 
 sensible man, and very obliging to his guests. 
 
 For several evenings Archibald remarked 
 that an Irish officer, in the prime of life, 
 whose countenance was handsome and in- 
 telligent, but strongly marked by ill health 
 and melancholy, and whose appearance did 
 not bespeak him rich, placed himself in a 
 solitary corner, took no refreshment, and, 
 after reading the papers, walked out of the 
 coffee-room with proud despondency. 
 
 The interest of the young philanthropist 
 was strongly excited, and his curiosity was 
 
AND FRAILTY. 217 
 
 raised by observing that Wilson, the master 
 of the coffee-house, was particularly at- 
 tentive to the stranger, and that, when he 
 addressed him, his countenance and voice 
 assumed an expression of deep respect, 
 mingled with emotion no less singular than 
 vivid. 
 
 Accident, one evening, much to his sa- 
 tisfaction, gave Campbel an opportunity of 
 conversing with the officer, and he was no 
 less pleased with the liberal sentiments 
 and warmth of benevolence which he dis- 
 played, than amused by the national pecu- 
 liarities which frequently escaped him : still, 
 however, he was sorry to remark that the 
 officer made evident effiarts to abstract his 
 mind from some painful subject that seemed 
 to engross his thoughts, and that his natural 
 vivacity had apparently been undermined by 
 worldly misfortunes and hard service. 
 • When the officer had retired, Campbel, 
 impelled by the additional interest which 
 conversation had inspired, waited till the 
 guests gave him an opportunity, and then 
 
 VOL. I. L 
 
218 FORTITUDE 
 
 asked Wilson if he could inform him who 
 that gentleman was ? 
 
 '' Oh yes, sir, nobody better,'* replied 
 Wilson. '' He is a brave Irish officer, of 
 a good family, who, though he bears the 
 best of characters, cannot, for want of 
 interest, obtain promotion. In addition to 
 being obliged to support the rank of a 
 gentleman, he has had an aged father and 
 mother to maintain for several years. His 
 income is very narrow ; and, though he sub- 
 mits to the most rigorous self-privation, the 
 infirmities of his parents, that accumulate 
 with age, and the increasing dearness of 
 every article of life, unless he meets with 
 unexpected good fortune, must inevitably 
 involve him beyond the hope of retrieving 
 his affairs. To complete his misfortune, he 
 expects his regiment to be sent again to the 
 West-Indies, where, most probably, poor 
 gentleman ! he will find an early grave." 
 
 A deep gloom overspread the counte- 
 nance of Wilson, and his voice faltered 
 as he spoke the concluding sentence. 
 
AND FRAILTY. 219 
 
 ** Has he been long in London ?" said 
 Campbel, who truly sympathized in the 
 concerns of the worthy man. 
 
 " He arrived here a month since, and 
 was brought up to town by the delusive but 
 fair promises of some great man, a distant 
 relation ; but, finding him neither a parasite 
 nor a mercenary duellist, his lordship has 
 meanly broken his word, and the lieutenant, 
 still rising superior to adversity, is preparing 
 to return to Ireland, indignant in spirit, but 
 with unshaken fortitude." 
 
 " I wonder I did not see him here till 
 within this last fortnight," said Archibald ; 
 " I wish I had met with him sooner !" 
 
 " He was so engaged in military business 
 at first, that he never came till a late hour." 
 
 " You seem, INlr. Wilson, to be person- 
 ally interested in this gentleman's behalf !" 
 
 " I am, indeed, sir ! I 6we him obliga- 
 tions which can never be cancelled I My 
 poor boy, who is now dead and gone (here 
 Wilson wiped away the starting tear), served 
 abroad in the same corps. There is not a 
 L 2 
 
€!20 FORTITUDE 
 
 more brave and humane officer in his ma- 
 jesty's service than Mr. Fitzpatric. He 
 was idolized by the regiment in which he 
 served. Many a time, in the feverish cH- 
 mate of the West-Indies, to which my poor 
 son owed his death, has he exposed his own 
 life in taking care that the sick were properly 
 attended, and paying the last duties of hu- 
 manity ! Often has he braved the odium of 
 the proud and tyrannical in defence of the 
 oppressed ! To his generous exertions my 
 dear boy was indebted for honor and life !" 
 
 The eyes of Wilson filled with tears, and 
 Campbel was little less affected. After 
 giving the worthy man time to recover him- 
 self, he proceeded to gain the remaining 
 information he wanted. 
 
 " Will you be kind enough to favor me 
 with the name and address of the worthy 
 officer, Mr. Wilson?" 
 
 " His name, sir, is Fitzpatric, and he 
 lodges at No. 88, round the corner." 
 
 " When does he quit London?" 
 
 *^ To-morrow, or the next dav, at the 
 
AND FRAILTY. 221 
 
 farthest, I believe, sir. Oh, sir, if you or 
 your friends have interest in the War-Office, 
 you cannot employ it more worthily than 
 in bringing a brave man, who has seen boys 
 and coxcombs put over his head, into no- 
 tice !" 
 
 Campbel thanked Wilson for the infor- 
 mation he had given him, took down the 
 address of Fitzpatric, and immediately re- 
 turned to his place of residence, which was 
 in the neighbourhood. The plain but af- 
 fecting tale, which the coffee-house keeper 
 had told, could not fail to make a strong 
 impression on the mind of Archibald. 
 Wealth, abstractedly, was held in little es- 
 timation by Campbel; but, whenever he 
 found occasion to worthily employ riches, 
 he felt truly happy that he was enabled to 
 follow the dictates of enlightened benevo- 
 lence. Such were his feelings on the pre- 
 sent occasion ; and, with a glowing heart, 
 he wrote the following letter to Lieutenant 
 Fitzpatric : — 
 
 L 3 
 
222 fortitude 
 
 '' Sir, 
 
 " Though ahiiost an utter stranger to you, 
 I trust to the liberality, which so conspicu- 
 ously displayed itself this evening, in the 
 conversation I had the honor to hold with 
 you, to excuse the liberty I now take. 
 
 " I should not have thus abruptly intruded 
 upon your attention, did I not understand 
 that you intend to quit this city to-morrow, 
 or the next day : this intelligence obhges me 
 to be guilty of what the world might deem 
 an impropriety ; but I hope you will believe 
 me, sir, when I assure you that nothing 
 could induce me, intentionally, to fail in re- 
 spect toward a gentleman, whose character, 
 from what I have heard and seen, I so 
 highly esteem. Permit me, sir, to speak with 
 the sincerity which is due from man to 
 man 1 
 
 " The worthy Mr. Wilson has made me 
 acquainted with those virtues, which must 
 command the veneration of all men ; he 
 likewise indignantly lamented the unmerited 
 military neglect, and ungenerous treatment, 
 
AND FRAILTY. 225 
 
 you have experienced. If tny interest was 
 before excited, imagine, sir, how warmly I 
 sympathized in his grateful admiration ! 
 Once more, let me entreat you to allow me 
 to wave the cold ceremony, which stifles our 
 better feelings. I am a young man, have no 
 family, and my existence hitherto has been 
 comparatively useless : I have a large fortune, 
 and sacred duties to perform ; the noblest 
 and most exquisite of which is to repair, as 
 far as it lies in my power, the injustice 
 which virtue and merit too frequently have 
 to encounter. 
 
 ^' In the eyes of the world, I have no 
 claim to your attention ; but surely, sir, 
 you, who fulfil the highest social duties, 
 and who nobly brave injustice rather than 
 barter your principles and independence, will 
 have some indulgence for one, who has an 
 ardent ambition to render himself worthy 
 the esteem of men like yourself. 
 
 " Dare I hope you will not think me to- 
 tally unworthy of your friendship, but ex- 
 cuse the liberty I have taken, and admit me 
 to the honor of an immediate conference? 
 
224 FORTITUDE 
 
 I shall be the bearer of this myself, and 
 anxiously wait your decision. 
 
 " I am, sir, 
 " With heartfelt respect, 
 " Your sincere admirer 
 " And humble servant, 
 
 ^'Archibald Campbel." 
 
 Having finished the letter, Campbel hast- 
 ened to the lodgings of Fitzpatric, fearing 
 the least delay might frustrate his benevolent 
 intentions. The lieutenant was at home, 
 and in a few moments Archibald was con- 
 ducted to that gentleman : the embarrass- 
 ment was mutual, and the feelings of both 
 were roused. After they were seated, and 
 the customary salutations had passed, Fitz- 
 patric, in a tone of voice which betrayed his 
 internal emotion, thus addressed himself to 
 Campbel: — " Your letter, sir, speaks the 
 thorough-bred gentleman, and I shall be 
 proud to cultivate your friendship ; but, with 
 respect to pecuniary obligations, you must 
 excuse me, sir, if I decline, while I gratefully 
 acknowledge, the favor you would urge me 
 
AND FRAILTY. 225 
 
 to accept, and request that it may not again 
 be mentioned/' 
 
 " There is nothing, sir, I would more 
 carefully avoid, than to wound the feelings 
 of a man of worth ; but the favor, dear 
 sir, w ill be conferred on me ; and, if you per- 
 sist in a refusal, you will inflict severe pain, 
 though it will be no more, perhaps, than the 
 just punishment of my presumption." 
 
 " Sir, were it in my power to return the 
 obligation, I would not reject your offer, for 
 I am well aware that a true gentleman will 
 not see another gentleman in distress, without 
 offering to give him a friendly lift: but the 
 life of an officer is precarious ; he may be run 
 through by the bayonet, or despatched by a 
 bullet, before he knows where he is, and in 
 that case there would be no time to settle ac- 
 counts." 
 
 ^' The duties of men, Mr. Fitzpatric, are 
 reciprocal : were I in danger of drowning, 
 would not you stretch out an arm to save 
 me, — you, who have so often risked your 
 life from motives of humanity ? Is tlie risk 
 
^£6 FORTITUDE 
 
 of money, of which I have so much more 
 than I want, equal to the risk of hfe ? You 
 are too generous to wound an enemy who 
 throws himself on your mercy. 1 earnestly 
 seek your friendship ; do not wound me by 
 a refusal!" 
 
 The feelings of the lieutenant could scarcely 
 be concealed : he turned his head aside, drew 
 his handkerchief, and, after a short pause, 
 replied, — '^ Sir, I am an Irishman, and 
 an officer. Though my country is infest- 
 ed with fortune-hunters and profligates, I 
 hope you w ill believe that I am a man of 
 honor, and that I am not insensible to 
 your generosity; but I would scorn to 
 abuse it." 
 
 " Every country, sir, unfortunately, is 
 more or less infested with selfish and unprin- 
 cipled men; but those who could for a mo- 
 ment suspect that Mr. Fitzpatric was of the 
 number must be grossly ignorant of the sci 
 ence of physiognomy. The Irish nation is 
 characterised by virtues that are every where 
 honored, but not every \^ here practised ; by 
 
AND FRAILTY. 22? 
 
 hospitality, cheerfulness, and benevolence. 
 Let me have still greater reason to respect 
 the Irish ! Put yourself in my place, and 
 treat me as you would wish to be treated." 
 
 " I never can treat you as well as you 
 deserve to be treated ! You are a true gen- 
 tleman, sir ; and as such, I repeat, I shall be 
 proud to cultivate your friendship." 
 
 " Then, sir, as a proof that we are essen- 
 tially friends, accept what I do not want, 
 and what it will make me truly happy to 
 place in your hands. It is a request which 
 a friend cannot refuse to a friend." 
 
 From the first moment Fitzpatric had been 
 greatly affected, but he was now wholly over- 
 come : he clap tone hand to his eyes, stretched 
 out the other to Campbel, and exclaimed — 
 " Sir, could I ever forget your noble and 
 disinterested conduct, I should esteem myself 
 a despicable poltroon ; nay, I hope the world 
 would treat me with merited contempt, and 
 that the brave corps to which I belong would 
 turn me out as unworthy to associate with 
 
1828 FORTITUDE 
 
 men of honor. If I accept your generous 
 offer, it will not be to escape from suffering 
 myself, because it is a soldier's glory to suffer ; 
 but when I think of the good old gentleman, 
 my father, and my dear kind-hearted mother, 
 whom I shall be forced to leave, if I refuse 
 your kind assistance, with little more than a 
 lieutenant's limited income can afford, to live 
 upon, — and when I recollect that I shall be 
 sent back to the West-Indies, where so many 
 brave men have found a premature grave, 
 and from whence I may probably never re- 
 turn to receive their last blessing, and dis- 
 charge the pious and heart-breaking duties 
 of a son,-— my proud heart yields to the 
 sympathies of natural affection. Mr. Camp- 
 bel, I accept the loan you offer, but must 
 insist on your taking my bond, though at 
 present it will be of little use. I am sure 
 you will not deny a poor officer the only sa- 
 tisfaction that he has in his power, that he 
 may be at peace with his own conscience." 
 " You shall act in that, dear sir, just as 
 
AND FRAILTY. 229 
 
 you please ; though the only bond I require 
 is one which your former conduct proves you 
 will always be eager to discharge." 
 
 " What bond sir, are you pleased to 
 hint at ?" 
 
 " The bond of humanity. Whenever you 
 have the power, I am sure you will eagerly 
 repay me, by aiding and supporting merit 
 and worth." 
 
 " You are a noble gentleman ! Though 
 I always held my species in high estimation, 
 I never thought so highly of human nature 
 as I do at this moment." 
 
 The conclusion of this scene was, that, 
 having thus far prevailed, Campbel received 
 the worthy lieutenant's bond for two thou- 
 sand pounds, payable at a distant period, 
 for which he gave him a draft, to that 
 amount, on his banker ; and Fitzpatric 
 purchased a captain's commission in a regi- 
 ment that was stationary in Ireland. Camp- 
 bel aftei-i^ ard introduced him to several of 
 those friends whose interest might hereafter 
 
 VOL. I. M 
 
^30 FORTITUDE AND FRAILTY. 
 
 serve him ; and, when Fitzpatric departed 
 for Ireland, his gratitude was no less glow ing 
 than were the kindness and friendship of 
 Campbel. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 PrintedbyVV. CLOWES, 
 Northuiaberland-court, Strand, London. 
 
LINES 
 
 TO THE MEMORY OF THE LATE 
 THOMAS HOLCROFT 
 
 O SACRED THEME ! most sacred to my heart ! 
 
 With eloquence divine infuse my pen, — 
 Teach me the meed of glowing praise t' impart, 
 
 Due to the best of parent^, best of men ! 
 
 Oh ! that description masterly could trace 
 Th' exalted virtues of that mighty mind, 
 
 Gifted with ev'ry intellectual grace. 
 
 Genius and Wit with Fortitude combin'd ! 
 
 How can 1 paint that sweeping flow of soul. 
 Flooding atfection, eloquence, and truth ? 
 
 His gen'rous zeal for virtue spurn' d control ; 
 He liv'd the friend rever'd — the guide of youth ! 
 
 Proudly I'll guard a Father's sacred trust, — 
 That rectitude his actions nobly prov'd, — 
 
 Exult, that he, so great, so good, so just. 
 Thro' life was houor'd, reverenc'd, and lov'd! 
 
 FANNY HOLCROFT 
 
lUUN0>9-URBANf 
 
 ^& 
 
 '/■