Mll^ifc M^ "LIB~R.AR.Y ^^~ OF THE U N IVER5ITY or ILLINOIS S23 K38^w V. 1 WILLOUGHBY; OR REFORMATION THE INFLUENCE OF RELIGIOUS PRINCIPLES. BY THE AUTHOR OF " THE DECISION," " CAROLINE ORMSBY,' " VILLAGE COUNSEL," &C. &C. IN TWO VOLUMES. VOL. I. LONDON : C. AND J. RIVINGTON, ST. Paul's church-yard, and waterloo-place, pall-mall, 18^3. LONDON : PRINTED BY R. GILBERT, ST. John's square. 855 TO THE READER. To enforce the necessity of true Reli- gion on the conduct of man, and to shew that no repentance can be perma- nent which is not founded on the Doc- trines of Revelation, are the leading objects of the following story ; and how- ever imperfectly such momentous opi- nions may be expressed, the forbearance of a rigid criticism is earnestly suppli- cated by THE AUTHOR. WILLOUGHBY. CHAPTER I. In all the vicissitudes of life, whether of fortune fame, heAlth, or of dear and domestic depriva- tions, what is the mind's support? Whence that energy of spirit which best guards it from presumption or despair, which leads it to rest on a firmer basis for unchangeable happiness, than sublunary joys can supply? Where is the charm that can soften the keenness of disap- pointment, proceeding from the delusions of human friendship, from the " spurns which patient merit of the unworthy takes," from " the pangs of despised love," or from the destruction of those air built fabrics so continually raised by the anticipating spirit of man ? A firm con- viction of the wisdom, the justice, and the mercy of an over-ruling Providence, can alone render us resigned to the will, and acquiescent to the purposes of God. VOL, I. B 2 AVILLOUGHBY. The recollection of some painful events had led to this subject in the mind of an affectionate husband and father — he had given expression to his thoughts, and his words were ever trea- sured by the two dear companions of his life. But Mr. Coventry never delighted to dwell on the gloomy side of things, religion had taught him to be cheerful, and the more deeply he was affected by its truths, the more manfully he could bear the pressure of any worldly disap- pointment, or enjoy the blessings with which he was surrounded. One bitter drop in the cup of life too deeply mixed, sometimes called forth all the fortitude of his nature : the thoughtless and extravagant conduct of an only son — his neglect of home, more from the pernicious habits he had acquired in the world, than deliberate vice, had touched the fortune, and wounded the hearts of his parents ; his neglect of home had led him into the society of gay unprincipled men, and to vie in expence with the inconside- rate and extravagant had been the means of accumulating debts of which even his father was totally ignorant. Mr. Coventry, willing to give a turn to conversation which had led to the unavailing regrets of a mother, and the kind excuses of a sister, for the continued neglect WILLOUGHBY. S ai^d absence of his son, took up, as was his usual evening custom, a favourite author, for their joint instruction and amusement. After closing the book, and making some appropriate remarks on the subject in question, and previous to the hour of rest ; Mr. Coventry said, " Now tell me Elizabeth of the gay plans you are devising for to-morrow's festivity, the birth-day of my child is no unimportant celebration." With all the naivete of a light and innocent heart she play- fully trifled with her father's curiosity : the fond parents smiled, and giving her their blessing with more than usual fervour, they parted with different anticipations of the pleasures for the following day. At the hour of breakfast, Elizabeth received a letter from her brother, requesting her to make every proper excuse to his parents, for being obliged to absent himself on such a gala day, adding all that could soften her own disap- pointment, and convince her, that his inclination accorded not with an unforeseen but inevitable engagement. Elizabeth endeavoured to sup- press her own regrets ; and giving the letter to her father said ; " See, my dear Sir, how philo- sophically I bear this disappointment: Wil- 4 WILLOUGHBY. loughby, our dear Willoughby, cannot be here to-day ; I could indeed have dispensed with the attendance of the most obsequious of my slaves, rather than with his. I am sure his engage- ment must be a very absolute one, to oblige him to write such an excuse. But come, dear father, (affectionately pressing his arm, as he left the room in silence,) we will not be uncomfort- able on this day ; Elizabeth could not trust herself to speak of Willoughby to her mother, and she purposely sought occupation in the ar- rangements of the day; arrangements not con- fined to feed her own vanity, or exclusively to decorate the ball-room for her evening party ; her poorer neighbours were not forgotten, she devoted the first hours of the morning to bene- volent purposes; she gave employment to the young and healthy, and rewarded the indus- trious for proofs of their diligence. Mr. Trelawny, a near neighbour, and inti- mate acquaintance of the family, was among the guests of the evening. He had paid Eliza- beth more than usual attentions, but he was a man of the world, " grave or gay, lively or severe," as seemed to be most consonant to the taste of those with whom he associated ; and WILLOUGHBY. 9 Miss Coventry, being the presiding star of the evening, was no small attraction, no small in- ducement for his distinguishing preference. One part of his conversation became most interesting to her. He talked of Willoughby, endeavoured to excuse his errors ; and then kindly added all that could soothe her uneasi- ness to account for his absence. When mark- ing the sweet intelligence of her countenance, when lost in admiration of her elegant form, and enchanted by the simplicity of her man- ners, he thought she was the only woman he could ever marry, but not having sufficiently made up his mind to offer her his hand and heart, he again fell into the art of trifling, and set at nought some serious hints he had invo- luntarily given her of everlasting regard, and never-ending passion. The seeming interest with which at times they conversed, was not unobserved by Mrs. Coventry, and the next day, while amused by Elizabeth's describing some little perplexities of the evening, Mr. Trelawny's attentions were not forgotten. Eli- zabeth, ever candid and sincere, related all that had passed; and perhaps the maternal wish to see a daughter well settled in life, made b3 6 WILLOUGHBY. Mrs. Coventry indulge the hope that Trelawny had been more serious in his attentions. Ehzabeth suspecting her mother's mental reservations, coolly said, " Mr. Trelawny could never be the man of her choice." As time passed on, Mr. Trelawny became however more domesticated at Coventry lodge — fascinating in manners, elegant in person — a mind stored with intellectual knowledge, of a good family, and in the possession of a large unincumbered for- tune, no reasonable objection could be alleged on the side of prudence to wish that his visits were less frequent; but although the rumour of the day had confirmed to many that he was the accepted lover of Elizabeth, Trelawny had been too cautious to commit himself in any way, should he waver in his newly-formed hopes and resolutions. Thus temporizing, as it were, with his own conscience, by not openly avowing his partiality, by talking of friendship instead of love, jand ungenerously endeavouring to gain her affec- tions, without resolving on a fair and honour- able conduct, Elizabeth had always considered Mr. Trelawny as an agreeable, intelligent com- panion : and as she saw that her father liked WILLOUGHBY. 7 his society, she continued to treat him with her accustomed unreserve ; but sedulously avoided all opportunities of encouraging any particular attentions. She was on some points dissatisfied with his religious principles, nor would she have listened to a prince, if the same God which she worshipped was not the object of their mutual adoration. Trelawny was soon caught in the snare which he heeded not to weave for another ; he had defied danger, and fell a victim to his temerity. He became in the common acceptation of the word, so much in love with Ehzabeth Coventry, that he determined without deky to offer her his hand and heart. Her discouragement of his pretensions he attributed to that inherent spirit of coquetry which he had so often laughed at and subdued in others, nor for a moment ima- gined that any woman could hesitate to receive his addresses, when unequivocally and honour- ably offered. Who therefore can conceive his astonish- ment, that Miss Coventry was not tremblingly alive to the honour he meant to confer on her : that she did not sink with timidity, or stammer out a reference to her parents, when in all the rhapsody of passion he was addressing her as B 4 8 WILLOUGHBY. an angel, as the guiding star of his future destiny ! Who can paint his surprize when she appeared neither flattered nor elated, but with a good-humoured smile reflised the titles he offered her, and avowed that she was too happy in the simplicity of her present character to wish to exchange it for any that existed in his imagination alone. He with gentle violence detained her — became more rational, and ex- torted the promise, that she would not imme- diately decide on so important a subject: but the conference ended unsatisfactorily to both parties. In Trelawny's mind love and vanity were at variance. In Elizabeth's, the wish to please her parents, and the wish to forward her eter- nal interests in an union for life, were the pre- dominant feelings. She considered marriage as an awful, an indissoluble engagement ; that the more she became attached to a being whom next to God she should think it her duty to obey, with less resolution she might be enabled to subdue her faihngs, or her growing preju- dices, if the man on whom her heart rested, instead of confirming her faith, directly or indi- rectly set it at nought, by either indifference, scepticism, or ignorance on religious subjects. WILLOUGHBY. g Mr. Coventry for worlds would not have urged her to marry an immoral man, but Mr. Tre- lawny, by well-timed silence, and an apparent deference to Mr. Coventry's opinions, had never given any cause for suspicion that he was not altogether a Christian ; and so brilhant an esta- blishment for Elizabeth was not to be relin- quished without just grounds for its rejection. Once, when conversing with her parents on the subject, she said, " I will candidly allow that Mr. Trelawny's apparent attachment might lead to a more tender interest on my part than I at present feel for him. I do not expect to meet with a perfect character, but till I am convinced that his principles are untainted with modern scepticism, I cannot give him the encourage- ment you wish, and therefore as I do not think it is very honourable to hold any one in sus- pense, let me intreat you, my dearest father, to write him a decided refusal." " I am not surprized, I am gratified with your caution," Mr. Coventry answered, " all I ask is, that you vnll take time ; Mr. Trelawny himself requests it : desirable as it would be to see you so amply provided for, — lessened as is my power to give you, whilst I live, a fortune equal to my wishes, (alas ! must I say it, even from b5 10 WILLOUGHBY. the extravagance of your brother !) not for the wealth of India would I urge you to marry the man you could not love." " Then, my dear father, keep me still under your eye. Where shall I meet with such a home as this ? — with such incentives to good ? — with such an absence of all evil ? — with " Mrs. Coventry interrupted her, " These sel- fish considerations are unworthy of you — we were not placed in this world to remain for ever in a contracted circle. Where talents and op- portunity are given, we should extend the practice of our duties, and if your heart is really free from any predilection for another, where could the circle of your duties be better extended than in an union with a man whose generosity seems to be as unbounded as his fortune ?" The conversation was interrupted by the en- trance of Trelawny himself The day being Sunday, he praised the preacher — talked of the gratifying decent appearance of all the neigh- bouring poor — that independent of religious motives, the appointment of the Sabbath was not only a political, but a general blessing — that for example sake he always went to Church, and having done so, he did not think WILLOUGHBY. 11 it requisite to be praying all the rest of the day. Elizabeth had left the room to prepare for the afternoon service, and returned equipped for the walk. Mrs. Coventry said, " We do not apologise, Mr. Trelawny, for thus turning you out." He bowed and accompanied them to the Church door. His horses were waiting at some little distance. " Pray for me, dear Miss Coventry, in this your work of supererogation — do not look grave, or I must take refuge in the sanctuary — it is in your power to make me all you wish — I really am half inclined to give up my engagement ; but no, he added more seri- ously, I will act from principle. You would naturally attribute my going to Church this afternoon to my fear of your animadversion — from my soul I detest hypocrisy. When I am convinced (and I will give the subject fair play) that Religion commands it, I will be a constant attendant. In the mean time, loveliest of hu- man beings, I repeat, pray for my conversion." Elizabeth certainly did not place the perfec- tion of Christianity in going to Church; she knew that religion must be seated in the heart, but she also knew that the safest path to gain that perfection to which we are allowed to as^ b6 12 WILLOUGHBY. pire, was an unremitting observance of the ordinances of God. She could not reconcile it to her simple perception of right and wrong, why rank, fortune, health, and happiness, should render their possessors so peculiarly privileged, that the ceremonies and ordinances which God himself had sanctified, might be safely ne^- glected by them, and the religion which the Gospel taught, abridged or altered, according to the suggestions of human reason. There were moments when Trelawny's vanity was so much wounded at Miss Coventry's man- ner, that he was almost tempted to give up the contest, and withdraw his addresses. When absent, he made a thousand resolutions to this effect ; when present, he discovered some new beauty in her mind or person, some acquire- ment he had hitherto disregarded, and the very coldness that wounded his pride, was often a powerful incentive to induce him to become master of her warmest affections. Trelawny took the earliest opportunity to efface the impressions his Sunday afternoon's conversation might have left upon Elizabeth's mind. She allowed him credit for sincerity; and all he asked was, that she would take WILLOUGHBY. 13 time before she gave him her final answer. Ever accustomed to confide to her brother her httle perplexities and pleasures, for in happier times he had been her counsellor, her guide, and her esteemed and beloved companion, she wrote to him with all the anxiety and affection which a sister could feel. She gently com- plained of his continued absence, of her heart- felt disappointment that any engagement should have prevented his being at home on a day it was once his joy to celebrate with all a brother's affection. She urged him to come without delay to give comfort to the best of fathers — to tranquillise the affectionate heart of a too anxious mother, and to delight by his presence a sister, who required, particularly required, his support and counsel. " Dearest Willoughby," she concluded, " however you may be engaged in business, in pleasure, or in the various avo- cations of a world you love too well, do not forget that you are a rational and an account- able being; rational, because you have the power to choose good or evil, and therefore accountable to God for all your actions. My dearest Willoughby, how often in times past have you observed to me that an immoderate pursuit of pleasure unfits the mind for any 14 WILLOUGHBY. thing that requires dihgence and reflection; that continually agitated by the tumult of un- worthy passions, it loses that acute perception of right and wrong, which as rational beings, but above all, as Christians, we are bound to retain unvitiated and pure. But I know not, I cannot positively know the reasons of your continued estrangement from home. I would not by ill-timed censure or unjust accusations wound your feelings, or induce you to accuse me of impatience and severity. It may be that your professional duties engross a large portion of your time, and that engaged in praise-wor- thy occupations, you know not the silent lapse of time, nor feel the thousand anxieties which we all feel in so long and tedious an absence. " My father never utters a reproach, but he looks ill, and seems to have something on his mind. My mother, and your mother, Wil- loughby, trusts to the God of all mercies for your health and welfare : she is however thin and pale, and while she endeavours to make excuses for your neglect of us, and our letters, with pain I mark the deep drawn ^igh from her bosom, and the trembling accents of her voice. As to myself, dearest brother, " I am weary of conjecture;" perplexed as I also feel on one WILLOUGHBY. IlST subject, your society would just now be of the greatest comfort. Your favourite Trelawny has made proposals of marriage. My father and mother are I think strangely pleased with the offer, but till my mind is satisfied on one point, I will not exchange the certain happiness of their dear society, for the uncertain prospect which is held out to me. I know you will an- swer, that I am an insensible girl, and that endeavouring so to guard my heart against the encroachment of love, I shall become fasti- dious, if not ridiculous ; that I am not formed to feel the tender anxieties of passion, and that, in short, I shall live in single blessedness all my days. Perhaps I am not alarmed at the idea of this much dreaded " single blessedness" — per- haps I have not so insensible a heart as you have ever given me credit for : perhaps I think I am capable of feeling those sacred affections which should be inseparable from real love, and that were I convinced of a man's attachment founded on better principles than worldly inte- rest, or the prepossession of features and com- plexion, that reason pointed the choice and religion confirmed it ; I think I could give my whole heart to such a being, and whatever l5 WILLOUGHBY. were the changes of this mortal life, be happy in the hope of our eternal union. " But enough, dearest Willoughby, say you will come soon to us once more, the companion of my walks, and we will take no retrospect of the past. My father has lately had a dehghtful letter from your friend Donavan. Why does he not as usual mention you? Your name is not in the letter. Again, and again, let me urge you to hasten here, where aiFection waits to welcome you. " Elizabeth Coventry." CHAPTER II. WiLLOUGHBY had just made something Hke a determination to set out for Coventry lodge, when he received the ahove letter. He had not been insensible to the feelings of remorse that he had so long neglected that home, once the seat of all his happiness. He loved his family — he felt the liberality and indulgence of their conduct, and the early religious instruc- tions he had received from his mother, some- times gave a momentary check to the unsatis- factory career he was pursuing. But a blame- able indecision of character, and the fear of this world's ridicule, too frequently frustrated the performance of good resolves, and set con- science and pleasure continually at variance. He was profuse, without any natural propensity to extravagance ; and dissipated, without feeling- gratified with a life of vanity and folly. When he gamed, it was more from the prevalence of example than the love of play ; and when he drank, more from habit than inclination. He was irreligious without daring to adopt the 18 WILLOUGHBY. creed of the sceptic, and in the hour of illness or solitude, he reprobated the spell by which his senses seemed to be enslaved; and there were moments when he thought himself ac- countable to God for all his actions, and de- termined at some future day to stand firmly against the world's temptations. But he never considered that the present moment only he could call his own. " What will the world say?" was ever a momentous question, and when ba- lancing between pleasure and duty, his newly formed resolutions rose lightly in the scale against the power of habit, and the fear of ridi- cule. During an extraordinary hour of serious meditation the above letter from his sister was given to him, and he instantly determined to set oiF for Coventry lodge. Before some necessary arrangements could be settled, and while he was re-perusing the letter, two gentlemen with whom he was particularly intimate were announced. They came to ask him to join a shooting party in Hertfordshire. He excused himself with firmness ; one of them seeing the letter and the address in a lady's hand-writing, began in a strain of raillery to guess the reason of his refu- sal ; his avowal that the letter was from Coven- try lodge, gave a new direction to the persua- WILLOUGHBY. 19 sion and ridicule of his companions. The visit to Coventry lodge was again postponed, and a few lines were immediately written to his anxious and affectionate sister in the common place style of urgent business, deep regrets, and promises for the future. Mr. Coventry's fortune was reputed to be a much larger one than he could in reality boast of. He was of a good and respectable family. In early life he had derived from a lucrative employment the wealth he was now enjoying, and had for some years past, invested it in the firm of a banking-house, which was ge- nerally considered as secure as the Bank it- self. He had also some considerable property which he daily expected to be remitted to him by the sale of a West India estate, and thus, though he could command a handsome in- come, it was not always convenient to answer the extravagant demands of his son, and all the ready money he had been in possession of had been appropriated in paying many of Wil- loughby's debts. Willoughby was professionally bred to the law; his natural good abilities and superior talents might have done honour to the calling ; but he had made a far slower progress in hia 20 WILLOUGHBY. studies than others with less brilliant capacities, but with perseverance and industry to crown their labours. Had Donavan, the friend of his early youth, been continually associated with him, incalculable had proved the advan- tage ; they were at school and at college toge- ther, where the persevering spirit of Donavan, his strict adherence to the duties of religion, and his unshaken honour and rectitude of con- duct in all worldly transactions, checked the volatile and unsteady disposition of his friend, and gained him the esteem of the good, and even the respect of the unprincipled. On their last visit at Coventry lodge Donavan was pre- paring for holy orders, and since that period, had taken possession of a small but desirable living. Till the above-mentioned visit, Dona- van had not seen Elizabeth for two or three years ; he had been accustomed to caress her as a beautiful child, and sportively to call her his little wife : and when on this meeting she received from him the respectful salutation, in- stead of the fraternal and affectionate embrace, she for a moment forgot the great change a few years must have made in her appearance; she for a moment accused him of unnecessary reserve, and only remembered the childish rap- WILLOUGHBY. ^l hire with which she used to greet the arrival of both her brothers. Whatever were Donavan's sentiments, from that hour he behaved to her with great kind- ness and respect, but never by any indirect raillery or pointed attentions reminded her of their former intimacy, or sought to increase their habits of confidence. Elizabeth some- times felt hurt without being able to assign any just or reasonable cause, she was however de- lighted with his society, and to note the wisdom (as she innocently termed it) which fell from his lips. Her conclusions were, that though as a little girl he might have been pleased with her questions and remarks, and amused with her playful disposition, as a young woman she did not interest him, and therefore feared to encou- rage what her inexperience might construe into partial admiration. She once thought she would never marry while he remained single, but reason and good sense soon conquered all romantic resolutions; and her useful studies, her more elegant recreations, and her works of charity left little leisure to ruminate on future visionary events, and self-created expectations. When perusing any of Donavan's letters, ad- dressed to her father or brother, *' How happy 22 WILLOUGHBY. the woman who engages his affections," was almost an involuntary exclamation; but, that love could ever exist without the conviction of a mutual partiality, never for a moment agitated her feelings ; and certain now of Mr. Trelawny's unequivocal regard, she determined to com- mune strictly with her own heart, and abide by its decision. On one point she would endea- vour to be satisfied before she was swayed by her father's persuasions — she would be con- vinced what were Trelawny's real sentiments on the subject of religion, and after a long and tender conversation with her parents, feeling that she could not allege any reasonable excuse for refusing a match in every way so apparently eligible, not even with truth could she profess a dislike either of Trelawny's person or man- ners, she determined to send him the following letter. On the preceding evening he had been more than usually urgent for her decision in his favour, in open and manly terms had de- clared she was the only woman in the world formed to insure to him the blessing of domes- tic happiness, that her coldness drove him to despair, while the beauties of her mind and person made him resolve never to rehnquish the hope of interesting her affections, but with life WILLOUGHBY. 23 itself. Overpowered by his earnestness, she blamed herself for a timidity she could not con- quer, yet felt that he evaded any thing like seriousness ; and weighing the momentous ba- lance of temporal and eternal happiness, she also felt how insecure the latter would probably prove were her heart's affections irrevocably engaged to a man only mindful of the former. Her letter therefore ran thus. " Accustomed to consider you as a friend and companion with whom I have ever con- versed without restraint on various and inte- resting subjects, why should the feelings of a deceptive timidity now conceal from you the doubts which agitate and disturb my mind? May I not, without meaning the shadow of a compliment, candidly acknowledge, that had I been prone to that sort of captivation which a pleasing exterior gives rise to, ere this you might have pleased my fancy, perhaps have interested my heart; but it has ever been my unalterable opinion, that love, without the most perfect esteem — that love, without a recipro- city of sentiment and opinion, can neither be sincere nor permanent. I am not now about to call you to an account for your principles or 24 WILLOUGHBY. opinions, but to ask you with all interest and seriousness what they really are? whether the frivohty with which you sometimes seem to treat the most serious subjects is real or af- fected. If you think rightly, you will not here stop in derision, and reprobate my questions, but you will appreciate the motives which give rise to the important inquiry. It is to me a very awful thought, Mr. Trelawny, that from the moment I become your wife, I am your's to all eternity! I shudder at the possibility of weakening that faith in Revelation, which it has been the business of my life to mark, to learn, to understand — of weakening it by the example and the principles of the man to whom I am eternally bound. I now, it is true, think such a fatal change impossible, but of this I am certain, with a heart naturally grateful and affectionate as mine is, I should ever lament in secret despair the errors and apostacy of a husband, to whom I had solemnly pledged my love, my reverence, and obedience. " If you and I should ever come to a right understanding, you will be convinced that one Faith must sanction our religious opinions, one Hope animate our minds, one principle of Cha- rity mark our actions, or not for the wealth of A^ILLOUGHBY. 25 worlds would I bind my future fate with your's. I therefore intreat you as a friend, I call upon you as a fellow being, I rely upon your honour to consider what I have said, and not to answer me in a light or trifling manner, but as you value your own peace and mine, to answer me with unfeigned sincerity. Call this an unmean- ing rhapsody — term my earnestness the cant of methodism, the prejudice of bigotry — say I am aiming to be eccentric, and I have succeeded in becoming ridiculous, and I am unequivocally answered. But if I am dear enough to you to render the sacred feelings of my heart worth your attention, give me in return the whole transcript of your's. I can now bear with firmness your censure or your praise ; but were I even only your affianced wife, vain regrets for any diffe- rence of opinions and sentiments might embit- ter the present hour, and give rise to much future disappointment. And had we pledged our vows at God's sacred altar, and worldly arrangements had been our only interest, what would you have said if I had then asked you the nature of your religion? It were indeed well if I had received a satisfactory answer, but what redress could I have had against a light or trifling one ? against your want of can- VOL. I, c 26 WILLOUGHBY. dour and of confidence ? You are now free as air, no blame can be attached to your reced- ing from your late proposals ; no blame can be attached to me for urging you to speak the truth from your heart. You will probably again accuse me of coldness and indifference, but it will prove to me that you cannot com- prehend the higher motives by which I am actuated ; perhaps you will also accuse me of a melancholy foreboding spirit, of a mind tinc- tured with the delusions of enthusiasm, but while my own heart acquits me of either, while my unbroken spirits permit a full enjoyment of the innocent recreations of life, and I trust to the protection of the Author of all good for a continuance of his blessings ; I think I shall be neither influenced by your unjust accusations, nor offended by your ridicule. But I hope better things of you, and on the candour and sincerity of your answer, to what I know you will term an extraordinary epistle, I fully rely. " Elizabeth Coventry." " Extraordinary indeed," Mr. Trelawny ex- claimed, as he impatiently perused Elizabeth's letter. " What cold hearted methodistical ideas ! She is too sentimental for me." Then reading WILLOUGHBY. 27 the letter a second time, he said; " And a preaching wife who could bear ? Why is she so gay, so lovely, so fascinating in her manners ! so unlike all that is formal and severe! She may be right, but on my soul I beUeve this is an unrivalled composition, as an answer to a lover's proposal of marriage." He attempted to write, but soon tearing the paper, determined to see Elizabeth immediately, and in general terms to answer for his " faith, hope, and cha- rity." The result of the meeting may be easily imagined, and both parties were mutually dissa- tisfied. Willoughby was enjoying, we should rather say was appearing to enjoy, the gay hilarity of a convivial party ; for just before he left Lon- don two letters had proved the cause of irre- mediable uneasiness ; the one announced the loss of the vessel in which his father's property had been entrusted, the other contained a pressing demand for money from an impatient creditor, with threats that a harsher method would be resorted to, if the preseijit application should be unsuccessful. The first letter gave him the most serious concern and heart-felt remorse. Mr. Coventry had requested him to have the expected property insured, and had c 2 28 WILLOUGHBY. every reason to believe that the business was properly transacted; but from a blameable procrastination, it had either escaped Willough- by's memory, or ceased to appear of conse- quence to attend to. He at length determined to present himself at Coventry lodge, suppli- cate the forgiveness of his father, and exert every faculty of mind and body to retrieve his own credit and his father's loss. Just at this period Trelawny was obliged to absent himself on very particular business in town, nor had he much advanced in Elizabeth's good opinion since their conference after her letter. She was frequently shocked at his igno- rance on religious subjects, and had on the morning of his departure entreated her father to speak explicitly to him, and to decline his addresses without farther delay. She could not quite understand why her father was so anxious that she should be united to Trelawny ; it never entered into her mind to suppose that the fear of another attachment was an ostensi- ble reason. In the immediate neighbourhood there lived a gentleman, who wanting the re- commendation of fortune, could not be a suit- able match for Ehzabeth Coventry, at least such was the opinion of her father, and the WILLOUGHBY. 29 apparent eligibility of Trelawny's addresses threw him still farther in the back ground ; and although Frederick Vincent had never dared to breathe the sigh of love in the presence of so valued a family, nothing could erase the suspicion of his growing attachment to Eliza- beth. She herself both esteemed and under- stood his character, but entertained not the most distant idea that she was regarded by him with more than friendly partiahty. His atten- tion to an aged grandfather, who seemed to live but in his presence ; the very narrow income which contributed to the support of both ; his superior taste for literature ; his unremitting exertions for the good of others ; ensured to him the esteem and friendship of Ehzabeth, and ever induced her to pay him more than usual attention when in the company of those whom the world and custom termed his supe- riors. Until Mr. Coventry began to fear him as a dangerous rival with Trelawny, he had always been a welcome guest at the lodge, and the various opportunities he had enjoyed of Elizabeth's society, caused him to regard her as the most lovely and amiable of human beings. Nor was he in a very enviable state of mind when marking the lover-like attentions of a c 3 30 WILLOUGHBY. man, with whom, unprejudiced by selfish mo- tives, he was convinced could not make her happy ; and the general report that his addresses had been accepted, too fatally discovered the secret passion he himself had unconsciously cherished. His own want of fortune he consi- dered as an insurmountable bar to being per- mitted to gain her hand, and he romantically, we must not say reasonably, fancied, that had she met with a kindred soul, he could have wit- nessed the union not only with fortitude but joy. He had long observed the even tenour of her conduct under circumstances which would have proudly elated many a female mind ; the cheerful gaiety of her temper, her strict adhe- rence to every form of propriety, and, that though humble as the village maid, she was the kind friend and affectionate adviser of all who. sought her counsel. He had also observed how unostentatiously she performed the practi- cal and charitable duties of life, how consistent in her conduct, in her dress, and in all her actions. He was convinced that the strength of her mind proceeded from no unfeminine pre- tensions — that its foundation was religion, and that though she complied with the innocent cus- toms of the world she never allowed them to WILLOUGHBY. 31 interfere with her Christian duties, and had often willingly relinquished selfish gratifications, rather than disappoint her poorer neighbours in some act or gift of benevolence. And as he had thus marked the beauties of a mind culti- vated, not warped by education, unpresumingly adorned by every ornamental acquirement, he had also marked the loveliness of her face and form, and the beauty of a complexion which he had often with other poets and other lovers compared, and put in competition with all the roses and lilies of the universe. In a word, he enthusiastically worshipped the image which fate had proscribed him from loving. A thou- sand times he resolved to fly the danger he had almost unconsciously braved; but some little occurrence, some chance engagement, more se- cretly riveted the chain he had not the fortitude to break. And now considering her as the destined wife of another, he was still less anxious to avoid her society ; his high sense of honour, whilst it enshrined her in all that was pure and lovely, completely destroyed those illusions which hope in spite of reason had momentarily encouraged. Trelawny and Frederick Vincent were not upon terms of intimacy; the haughty conde- c 4 32 WILLOUGHBY. scension of the one, and the calm dignity of the other could not assimilate, and yet there were moments when Trelawny was jealous even of the man he pretended to despise. Now, absent from Elizabeth, and reviewing her conduct, he at times thought it not only eccentric, but absurd, and he pictured to himself, that instead of being the envy of his friends by sporting his wife and his curricle together, he should become the object of their pity and ridicule from the preciseness of domestic arrangements, starched looking servants, and family prayers. Then he would console himself with the idea of letting her enjoy in the country all her extraordinary prejudices, and that London and liberty would ever be his own resource and privilege. She might however think it her duty to conform to the taste of her husband : she was new to the world — he never yet met with a woman insen- sible to admiration and popularity ; and if love, rank, and riches could ensure them ; Ehzabeth Coventry as his wife would in an eminent degree be the reigning star of fashion. He would not permit himself to imagine that her indiffe- rence either to him or to the brilliant career before her was real; he attributed her self- command, her serious reasoning, her extraor- WILLOUGHBY. 33 dinary letter, to the confinement of her educa- tion, and little intercourse with the gay world ; and was convinced, that when mixing more in society she would gladly relax those rules of precision in the distribution of time, and those eternal visits of charity which he could not bring himself to consider as necessary. He deemed it right and proper to give money to the poor, nor could he resist the supplication of distress, if it happened to meet his ear, but to be charitable on principle as well as on feeling, to make any exertion in behalf of a suffering fellow creature, or practise self-denial for the good of others, was not in the fashionable creed of the circle which he acknowledged. He considered that a casual act of charity would indemnify him for the daily extravagance of his habits ; that the season of youth and health was the season of enjoyment ; and that the great Creator was too merciful to take cog- nizance of those errors which were the result of passions he himself had implanted in the mind. He endeavoured to argue, he could not reason, but deceived himself into the belief that he was no worse than his neighbours, perhaps better than those who professed more than they practised, and were not consistent in the c 5 34 > WILLOUGHBY. general tenour of their actions. And thus, how often does a too partial examination of ourselves lead to a conviction of self-righteous- ness, rather than to an increase of that Chris- tian humility vy^hich should be the grand foun- dation of rehgious faith and moral practice. CHAPTER III. But to return to Coventry lodge. Elizabeth's anxiety about her brother daily increased, she had charged Trelawny to see him, and to use the influence he possessed to induce an early visit at the lodge. Trelawny promised all she wished, but as Willoughby had left town, of course they never met, which gave a momen- tary concern to Trelawny, he being convinced that Willoughby would have been just at this crisis a powerful advocate in his favour. Wil- loughby had determined to see his parents, and without delay to begin the work of refor- mation. Alas! he had ever found it much easier to make resolutions for the future, than reduce them to immediate practice, and though he despised himself for infirmity of purpose and instability of mind, he had permitted con- science to increase a long account against him, without the power of examining it with an earnest and laudable scrutiny. A few days before his arrival at the lodge, Elizabeth had been induced to accompany c6 36 WILLOUGHBY. some of her young friends to a beautiful rural cottage in order to visit an amiable and afflicted woman, and to partake of the simple refresh- ments she could oiFer them. The day turned out unusually warm, and after walking home in the mid-day sun, she very imprudently, not only drank a draught of iced water, but sat for some time heedless of a current of air which blew directly on her face. In the evening she complained of cold and shivering, and the next morning was unable to leave her bed. Rest and proper remedies soon rendered her c