^^: ty?*^^ LI E) RAR.Y OF THL ©2-3 6997en6 v.l <^ t: THE ENGLISHWOMAN. A NOVEL* Lane, Darling, and Co. Leadenhall-Strcet, ENGLISHWOMAN. 12^ FIVE VOLUMES. BY MISS BYRON, AtJTKOR OF THE ENGLISHMAN > HOURS OF AFFLUEKCB AKD DAYS OF INDIGENCE; MODERN VILLA AND ANCIENT CASTLE, &;C, ^C, MTioever thinks a faultless piece to see, Thinks what ne'er was, nor is, nor e'er shall be. In every work regard the writer's end. Since none can compass more than they intend ; And if the means be just, the conduct true, Applause, in spite of trivial faults, is due. SbecontJ (JBtiition* VOL. I. LONDON : PRINTED AT THE TOR A. K. NEWMAN AND CO. LIADENIIALL-STREET. 1812. Digitized by tine Internet Arciiive in 2010. with funding from University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign http://www.archive.org/details/englishwomannove01byro oo ^' (^'> a yf 7.:,, THE ENGLISHWOMAN. CHAP. I. Oh speak the joy ! ye, whom the sudden teir Surprises often, while you look around. And nothing strikes your eye but sights of bliss. All various nature pressing on the heart : An elegant sufficiency, content. Retirement, rural quiet, friendship, books. Ease and alternate labour, useful life. Progressive virtue, and approving Heaven, Thomson. '' J-iONDON must be a charming place/' said Selina Asgill^ as she read to the vene- rable sir Eldred Miliington a long detail of a splendid party recently given by a ce- lebrated lady of fashion — ^' Chalked floor?. VOL. 1. s ^ ~ THE ENGLISHV/OMAN. artificial parterres, brilliant lustres, and ravishing music ! — Dear uncle, how inge- nious ! how delightful ! and will you ne- ver go to London again ?*' " I think not, Selina ; this haven of won- ders has ceased to have charms for me.** '^ Well, that is astonishing ; such variety as it seems to contain must be at least amu- sing/* " It is that very variety which disgusts/* resumed sir Eldred ; ''it is so evidently the work of art, to killj or rather destroy time, that it must create languor in a mind disposed to reflection. I will allow, my Selina, that, to a young recluse like your- self, it may appear, from description, a most charming place, to use your own words; but ask your cousin Mary's opi- nion ; see how calmly she hears the de^ scription of that which exhilirates you so much." Selina looked towards lady Mary, and would have sought her opinion, but ob- serving a more than usual thoughtfulness in her countenance, she repressed her cu- THE ENGLISHWOMAN. 5 tiosity, and taking her hand/ tenderly in- quired what caused the dejection so evi^ dent ? " Reflections on past events^ my love," said her ladyship ; " you awoke them, by your youthful ardour, not unnatural at your time of life. Just so did I feel, when at seventeen, the countess and my beloved father took me to see this alluring fashion- able world — but I found thorns in it, Se- lina, the wounds from which can never be healed." — A flood of tears choked further utterance. " Oh, forgive me, my dear lady Mary,** sobbed the sympathizing Selina. — " Odi- ous newspaper, would I had never seen thee ! I shall never look into one with satisfaction again." " That w^ould be silly, my love/' rejoin- ed her ladyship; 'Mhe security and tran- quillity of my present happy life should not make me supine : these little memen- toes to past sorrows are actual comforts, and help us on to something better/' B 2 4 THE ENGLISHWaMAN. Sir Eldred, who had grown thoughtful by contagion, now, to change the sombre scene, gaily recurred to the beauty of a chalked floor; but after much sportive irony, brought our fair Selina to confess, that the verdant carpetting which Nature bounteously spreads, and the fragrant blos- soms that spring-tide season gives, were more deserving her enthusiastic praise than all that luxury or fashion could invent; nor did the baronet omit to expatiate on the various advantages that arise to man, from the multiplied blessings of a well- clothed earth : so that before our Selina had pressed the pillow of forget fulness, she had brought her well-directed mind to co- incide that such unnecessary expenditures were offences to common sense. The pale and interesting appearance of lady Mary Millington at the breakfast-table next morning, convinced her fair cousin that sleep had not been her companion ; ' and when, after a silent meal, her ladyship affectionately bade her take a few turns on tk€ lawn, as she wished to converse with THE ENGLISHWOMAN. 5 sir Eldred for half an hour, the blushing- girl complied, there was so visible an un- easiness in her manner, such a conviction of having (though unknowingly) awaken- ed sorrow in the bosom of her valued re- lative, that though London had a few hours before been an object of great interest with her, she felt a sort of antipathy to- wards it at the present moment — so strong- ly do the casualties of the day act upon the ardent fancies of youth. Selina closed the glass door, and deject- edly paced the lawn ; while lady Mary, resting mournfully on her hand, raised her eyes to sir Eldred — '' I think, my dear fa- ther/* said her ladyship, '* that our Selina is now of an age to be acquainted with her mother's story. — Lady Asgill will ere long claim the sweet girl's promised visit. I would, with your concurrence, like her to learn all family particulars from myself. In the integrity and honour of lady Asgill, I have the firmest reliance ; but she might be induced to spare one person in her re- THE ENGLISHWOMAN. cital. I must be the narrator/' continued her ladyship, while a blush passed over her cheek. *' And will not you spare him?** said sir Eldred, looking incredulously. *' I will endeavour to be just," said the weeping daughter. '' I have but one ob- ject in view, that of retaining to myself the affections of ours^veet charge." " And you are assured of that, Mary,*' assuming a stern air ; " she is the child of your adoption — to her you have devoted days and years which might have been *' " Never so well employed in any other way,'' rejoined lady Mary. '' I have no regrets— my firm resolution was in one moment made, never to place my hap- piness a second time in the power of man. The task of rearing this beloved girl has been a soothing and lovely pro- gress, and if the superstructure but honour the foundation, (for Nature had been pro- digal in giving her virtuous qualities) my happiness will be complete. Does not her THE ENGLISHWOMAN. 7 countenance indicate every thing that is expressive and charming?" An animating glow enlivened the fair enthusiast. " I would have liked it better/' said sir Eldred, *' had it been more like her mo- ther's or thine, Mary, for at times her eyes recall painful images to my mind." ** Indeed!" sighed )ady Mary ;^Mhat' is not like my father." ** I will ride to the farms," rising, " and you, Mary, will seek our dear girl : but remember, my love," continued the- affec- tionate sir Eldred, *' you must, in retra- cing your sorrows, spare me, by respect- ing yourself, and do not indulge in too minute a detail." With thoughtful eye, and languid step^ her ladyship joined Miss Asgill on the lawn; linked arm-in-arm, they traversed the grounds silent. At length Selina, looking anxiously at her cousin, burst into tears. ''My dear child,** said lady Mary, ''you' are too susceptible. Do you know, Selina, I had it in contemplation to disclose to you THE ENGLISHWOMAN, some family ocGurrences, with which it is proper you should be acquainted ; but if you catch sorrow, as it were by instinct, I must give up the idea." **^ Rather disclose it, my dear cousin, and lt3t me, by participation, lessen your grief. Never may I so disgrace your tutorage, as> to be indifferent to the feelings of huma- nity. And oh ! if to your anguish I was indifferent, would not the heart of your Selina be a truant to all that is amiable and good ? Where the advantage of your fair name and society, if, when age places the child of your adoption as the happy companion of all your little enjoyments, she is to be excluded from your griefs? Indeed your Selina will not be shut out from your heart, until she prove unworthy your confidence.*' *' I will, I v^ill. niy loved pupil/' said her ladysliip :— *' henceforth, my sweet girl, we will mutually confide in each other, for I will venture to anticipate that my Selina has a little hoard oi reserves foi her friend." THE ENGLISHWOMAN. 9 Selina looked surprised, and somewhat confused. Lady Mary smiled, and bidding her fol- low to the dressing-room, withdrew, leav- ing our young heroine mute with conten- ding feelings — she wished, yet dreaded to hear the anecdotes alluded to ; the little treasury of her heart was discovered — but how? that was impossible to guess; but, in endeavouring to suggest how it had been discovered, she found it more than ever certain, that she had secret feelings, hopes^ and fears. CHAP. II. Of those who sleep in earth so cold. No more the rising sun shall view. Shall many a tender tale be told. For many a tender thought is due. Langhornb. " I WILL not apologize, my love,'* said lady Mary, '^ for the locality of the occurrences bS JO THE ENGLISHWOMAN. I have to narrate, to a girl brought up so domestically as mySelina; such relations. do not want the aid of tinsel. The seclu- sion of your life has not,. I am persuaded, so entirely frozen the genial warmth of your heart, as to make you unacquainted with the indispensible necessity of being in love; it is with females brought up in retirement thought a matter of course; while a town-bred lady is actuated only by fashion, and seldom falls in love, but where it would prove highly advantageous she should do so. Suppose not, my blushing culprit, that I am ridiculing one of the no- blest feelings of which our nature is cap- able, when felt with tenderness, and ex^ pressed with delicacy ;, it makes our sex irresistible, and to the generous dispositionr of man, adds an interest, an attempered softness, that a hero may unblushingly admit. " But every puerile attachment that strikes the youthful fancy is not to be termed Love. — Love is not the growth of iin hour;, it is — in short, I will not attempt to define it, nor would I thus preface my THE ENGLISHWOMAN. 11 Story, Selina, but that I fear for your heart. — The happiness of our sex depends on the prudence of our election ; and in the recital I have to make, you will see that hasty prepossessions have been the chief cause of all the misery I must wound your feelin^s^ by dwelling on ; as such, you will forgive my apparently fastidious no- tions; nay, I am assured, ere I conclude, I shall have a lovely convert to my opinion in this particular. /'When sir Eldred imparted to you the very nobleand advantageous offer made you by sir John Owen, you did not hesitate to decline it at once.'* '* Certainly,*' said Selina. " Your heart, ray love, took no interest in the proposal ; and I think," continued lady Mary, " that you would have acted in the same way, had any other of our neigh- bours sought your favour.** "Oh! }es, certainly," stammered Se- lina. " I hope so, for though^ at nineteen, ^ome females are sufficiently fixed in prin« 12 THE ENGLISHWOMAWo eiple to form an union for life, still F should wish my Selina to see a little of the world, ere she sat down a matron." Selina bowed, and lady Mary proceeded. '' vSir Eldred Millington, at the age of twenty-seven, became (by the rather sud- den death of his parents) the possessor of the estate now our residence, with a per- sonal property of three thousand pounds per annum. At the same period there fell to him a tender bequest, an only sister, then in her eighteenth year — young, lovely, and ardent in disposition, her grief knew no bounds. To divert her melancholy, sir Eldred (with a female relative, who had undertaken x\\e double charge of su- perintendant of his family and monitress to Miss Millington ) quitted Worcestershire, and' made an excursion into Wales. His temper, naturally accommodating, acquies- ced in a wish of his sister to visit Ireland: they crossed from Mil ford Haven, and pas- sed some pleasant months among the hos- pitable inhabitants of that cheerful people. From Ireland they proceeded, by the way THE ENGLISHWOMAN. IS of Donaghadee, to Port Patrick ; but in Scotland, they were doomed to meet with an unexpected detention. " The charms of Mildred Millinglon had made more than one captive in Ireland ; but she had resisted all overtures of the sort, alledging, beside the wonted, prefer- ence requisite, that she would not marry until two years should have elapsed from the death of her parents. Her brother, whose affection for her was tender in the extreme, laid no restraint on her inclina- tions ; he had so often been an unsuccess- ful ambassador on this important negotia- tion, that he began to despair of seeing his Mildred in the care of a worthy pro- tector, when his mind became sensibly pained, by observing a settled melancholy had taken possession of his beloved charge. Alarmed, he anxiously sought the cause, when throwing herself into the arms of sir Eldred, she confessed her heart was no longer indifferent. ' Why this distress, my sister?' cried the fond brother ; 'Mildred never had a 3 ]4r THE ENGLISHWOMAN. thought she need blush to confide to her brother. Who is the envied being ? he has sought your love, and your delicacy delays his happiness. Come, Mildred, is it Cecil, or Montgomery, that I am to call brother ? I thought my friend Montgomery always was . honoured by your esteem ; absence has at last effected what his perseverance and merit justly deservCi' ' Alas, you are wrong, Eldred/ said Miss Millington, with a sigh' — ' my feelings are pained, by being obliged to name a subject to you, which should come from another; but I feared on one account, and resolved myself to tell my brother. Eldred/ laying her hand on that of my father, ' he isa Ca^ tholic' ' Heaven farbid !' said sir Eldi*ed, starts ing; ' not that 1 could possibly object to any religion which a good man professes^ but in married life, it is highly essential to the happiness of the parties that their re^ ligion, like their mind, should be similar. — Mildred, I need inquire no further — sir Hector Dunbar is the approved lover of my THE ENGLISHWOMAN.. 15 skter-^Good Heavens ! nay ^weetlove, how coukl this happen ?* '' My father hastily retired to recover the shock her avowal had given him, and to conceal the disgust he felt towards the object of her regards— that his religion was distinct from that professed by my father, was an objection that might have been obviated, had every other point co- incided — but in a visit of four months, during which they had res-ided in the house of sir Hector's mother, he had made ob- servations so little advantageous to Dunbar, that he could not suddenly bring himself to consider him as a brother, and that brother the husband of his beloved Mil- dred.. >'roi>.i3 . " Sir Eldred's acquaintance in the Dun- bar family was but the revival of an old friendship of, his father's — be had no per- sonal knowledge of them* Lady Dunbar, a meek and eharming woman, was a dis- tant conneKion of my grandfather, sir Hugh Milh'ngton's'. On my father's arrival at Edinburgh, :his name beiag a^nouJ^q^d, 16 THE ENGLISHWOMAN. he was visited by sir Hector the next mor* ning, who claimed the privilege of rela- tionship, and insisted on taking them ta Kirkaldy Castle, distant from Edinburgh more that forty miles. Sir Eldred, anx- ious to give his sister every amusement in his power, acquiesced — It was early spring: lady Dunbar's character was known to him ; and to gain for his sister an amiable female relative was desirable. He accompanied Dunbar ; and during their residence at the castle, the fate of Mildred was cast. ^' Dunbar was the only son of his mo- ther — young, rich, handsome, and accom- plished ; but with a spirit so ungovernable, not to say a bad heart, that sir Eldred Gould not conceive how his sister's affec- tions could be given to such a being. — He did not know that sir Hector could adopt sentiments as readily as he could change his habit; that, while to his domestics and dependants of every sort, he was arbitra- ry and tyrannical, to Miss Millington he was the fond attentive lover, watching her looks, and living but in her smiles. Once, THE ENGLISHWOMAN. }t it is true, she had felt a sort of horror^, when, in a morning ride, he dismounted and horse-whipped a small spaniel most un- mercifully, for barking and jumping in his pathway ,* but on perceiving the terror of Miss Millington, checked his passion, and vowed he could not bear to lose an accent of his sweet Mildred's. Self-love reassured the entangled girl — she could not allow herself to reflect on the circumstance; at least, if she did, she thought only of the unlimited indulgence his fond mother had allowed him, and formed plans^ of the most persuasive sort, for subduing this passion- ate foible. So artfully had the haughty Dunbar won on the gentle nature of Mil- dred, that she could not now separate the idea of an union wTth him, from the first and only pleasurable feelings of her mind. "' Sir Eldred in the evening held a long conference with his sister; but he soon learned with regret that she was no longer undetermined ; and though he suppressed his feelings, with regard to the ill qualities which he had marked in sir Hector, yet he J8 THE ENGLISHWOMAN. could not conceal the anguish her decision occasioned him. — Taking advantage of her former declaration, that she would not marry until two years from the period of quitting Millington should elapse, he claim- ed her adherence to that resolution, secret- ly hoping that as eight months of that time yet remained, some fortunate interposition might prevent an union, in which he saw nothing but misery. " Dunbar, penetrating and proud, saw" himself but half esteemed by sir Eldred ; conscious that he had discovered some traits in his character he would have wish- ed concealed, he delayed to ask his con- currence to his passion — yet he did ask; and my father candidly gave his sentiments on the occasion. Dunbar disguised his resentment ; the passion he at that mo- ment felt for Miss Millington made him wave his usual haughtiness; but dearly did bis victim suffer for this at a distant period. '''The travelers quitted Kirkaldy, with vai ous sensations — my father with a fixed disIU:* to the union — Mildred determined THE ENGLISHWOMAN, iJ> on its completion ,* while Mrs. Lawson, who was the echo of her young friend, wept and sighed in unison. Sir Hector quitted them not until they arrived at Edinburgh, The arrangements made for the marriage of the young people were partly adjusted. Lady Dunbar and son were to go to Lon- don in the ensuing autumn ; my father and Miss Millington were to join them in London, where the nuptials were to be celebrated. — This arrangement met not the wishes of sir Eld red ; he grieved internally, and lamented the depressiork Mildred's spirits evidently sustained, from the moment of her separation from sir Hector. " On their arrival in London, the family town-house received our relatives. Sie Eldred found himself disposed to pass a few weeks in the metropolis ; his ac- quaintance and connexions were of the most eligible sort ; elegant and hospitable in his mind and manners, he was visited only by the more desirable part of society ; for as h^ excluded from his house all the $0 THE ENGLISHWOMAN. fallacious allurements that vitiated taste or- fashion required, he was sought only by the intellectual few. " The novelty of this charming place, Selina, effected a temporary cheerfulness in Mildred; and here it was that the ami- able Mr. Cecil again made a tender of his hand. The bosom friend of my father, sir James Montgomery, came from Ireland, still wearing the chains of Miss Millington. These two deserving and charming yx)un^g men -were doomed to be rejected for the worthless Dunbar. *' Sir Eldred indirectly placed the good qualities of these worthy men in competi- tion with him who was too evidently her choice. Mildred was silent. ' At least, Mil- dred,' continued the anxious brother, 'you will not object to their being my visitors a few weeks at Millington. Montgomery is too high-spirited and too tenacious to possess the entire affections of my sister, to wait, after she has from her own lips given him a decisive answer ; but Cecil is persevering, and insists that you are too ill THE ENGLli^il WOMAN. M at ease, too visibly dejected, to be exactly situated as I assured him you were in re- gard to Dunbar ; he has therefore accept- ed my invitation, while Montgomery he- sitates.' '' Miss Millington started — ' Good Hea- -x^ens ! Mr. Cecil will not go; Eldred, oh prevent it, I beseech you.' ^ ' Why this agitation, my love r what is there so dreadful in the society of my excellent friend Cecil, that you should express yourself thus alarmed?' ' They are all goodness, my brother ; I value both your friends; they are too good for your sister ; she was not doomed to be so happy as to gain your approba- tion, and judge wisely for herself. — I am alarmed lest Dunbar should hear of it — He would never forgive me. I promised him/ said Miss Millington, while she hid her confusion in the bosom of her bro- ther, ' I have promised him that I would not receive the attentions, in fact, that I would avoid the society of your sex al- together/ g-^ THE ENGLISHWOMAN. ' Unworthy despot 1* muttered sir EI- dred, ' well may he fear to lose a treasure of which he knows himself unworthy. Un- fortunate was the day in which we visited Scotland.* * Alas ! say not so/ sobbed Mildred, ' for I am his wife/ ' His wife !' repeated my father, as he involuntarily put her from him. ' Mildred, have I deserved this?* " The wounded girl fell at his {e^i; she embraced, and implored his forgiveness. — My father, unused to deny a request from her who now was a suppliant at his feet, could not stand her tears— he raised and forgave her. ' Alas 1* said he, 'it is you that are the sufferer, my poor lost girl ; but was it generous to deceive me, for such a being ? — tell me, Mildred, have I been a harsh guardian ?* * No, no — wound me not by such an idea,' said the weeping girl, again flinging herself on the neck of her brother, and perhaps repenting her temerity. ^' Mrs. Lawson was called upon to ex- THE ENGLISHWOMAN. 23 plain particulars, at the desire of Miss Mil^ lington ; she appeared at first unwilling to enter on the explanation, but at the re- quest of Mildred to use no reserve, she confessed that from the time of sir Hector's avowal of his passion for her young friend, and her acquiescence, the former had al- ways been conjuring up some obstacles that might be thrown in the way of their union — ' and you must be assured, cousin,' continued Mrs. Lawson, * that sir Hector could not but perceive he was not favoured with your esteem : he has often expressed his conviction that you would never con- sent to his union with Miss Millinston * in short, he prevailed on her to be united according to the forms of the Catholic Church, on the evening previous to our quitting Kirkaldy. God knows, he was long ere he could 'get my young friend to consent; and indeed he appeared to suffer so much from the idea of separation, that I was induced to be present at the cere- mony, but not until I had learned from 24 THE ENGLISHWOMAN. Miss Millington that your approbation to his addresses had been asked/ ' I wish, madam/ said my father, ' that you had thought more of being a 'prudent rather than a tender friend/ '' Mrs. Lawson withdrew discomfited ; it was the first harsh expression that had ever fallen from the lips of sir Eldred towards his unoffending relative — nor was she, in fact, to blame; she had long been impor- tuned by sir Hector ; him she could have withstood, but when Miss Millington he- sitated not to say that she acceded, and that it was merely a form, to ease the agonized bosom of Dunbar, and that their union would certainly take place in the ensuing autumn, the yielding nature of Mrs. Law- son gave way, and she witnessed the fatal union, with a heart but little conscious of error. ' I am sorry, Mildred,* said my father, when they were alone, ' that you knew me so little as to use clandestine measures; they were certainly beneath your rank. TUB ENGLISHW0MAN% 25 and dishonour my affection for you. — I forgive you, from my heart, and Hea- ven grant that I may be the only person \vho may have cause to regret this ill-con- ceived union !* *' Embracing the overwhelmed Mildred, he left her to recover her disordered spirits and sought his friends,, Montgomery and Cecil. CHAP. III. ** Count all th' advantage prosp'rous vice attains, 'Tis but what virtue flies from and disdains; And grant the bad what happiness they wou'd. One they must want, which is, to pass for good." " Montgomery, heart-wounded, departed for Ireland, nor did my father hear of him more than by letter for some years. — Cecil lived but a short time after the period I name. , ** Sir Eldred and sister, taking leave of VOL, I. r 26 THE ENGLiSHWOMAN. their town friends, returned to Millington, to pass the Ciiristmas. Mrs. Lawson hnd, by her connivance in this hasty marriage, lost a portion of that confidence my father had always shewn her. Mildred, self-ac- cused of ingratitude^ could not feel as hi- therto in the presence of her brother. It was not the disposition of sir Eldred to bear resentment; on the contrary, the liveliest compassion took place of his anger, and frequently would he fold the astonished Mildred to his bosom, and shed the silent tear, while she would wonder at his disor- der, but felt a reluctance to seeking the cause : — Yet still the happiness of the baronet's fireside was destroyed ; mutual confidence, that band of society, was bro- ken — distrust would sometimes pervade. *^*^ The festive season of Christmas pass- ed over languid and uninteresting : the month of March had just opened a lovely promise of a blooming spring, when the little party (for Mrs. Lawson still retain- ed her situation) went to the Malvern sp rinsrs for a ^ew weeks. It was here that ■& TiiK ENGLISHWOMAN. 27 my father recognised a college friend and early companion in Lewis De Lancy : a cheerful friend was an acquisition highly desirable ; they became inseparable. Sir Eldredj on entering De Lancy's lodgings one morning, called his attention to ob- serve an elderly gentleman supported by a young and elegant female, who passed slowly beneath the window. ' h siie not lovely, Lewis ? I confess my admiration of her has almost led me into rudeness-— how amiable ! what a treasure to her sick parent ! what interesting fea- tures i I do not l;now that she is perfectly handsome, but the ioul cnsonhle is beyond beauty.' ^ Ah I my poor Millington/ said De Lan- cy, laughing, ' that father and daughter, as you would htive it, are husband and wife ; yes, Ekired, forbidden fruit, upon honour; die is the wife of that emaciated peer.'' * What a despicable mind she must i}ave/ snid my father, * to barter that fine person for the insignificant advanta.^es of rank and. ^8 THE ENGT.ISHWOMAX. title ! Great God, that so fine a creature should be so sordid !' ' When you will descend from your stilts, my good Eldred, I will prove to you she is not quite such a criminal/ cried De Lancy. ' Know then, m.y dear love-sick Millington, she is the daughter of the duke of Ellesmore, to whose gambling notoriety vou are no stranger — chance threw him in the way of yon sick lord (who, to do him justice, is no gamester), when a sud- den turn of fortune left the whole of his possessions in the hands of the earl of Winterton : it is supposed that a great part ( f it would have been restored in the most generous way, had not the earl called the next morning, and unexpectedly met the lovely woman you saw just now — a sudden passion took possessioii of him ; he forgot his purposed generosity, and v.hen he met her father, rnade his daugh- ter's hand in marriage the mediuir. for restoring his property : she suffered com- paratively all the rigour of an inquisition ere she would consent ; and her mother^ THK ENGLISHWOMAN. "29 n disinterested and charming woman, con- tended warmly against it — the victim was Jed to the a!rar. The duchess survived this marriage but three months, while the love- ly countess of Winterton has been two years chained to her sickly lord. — The duke continues his depredations on his daughter's purse — who is an exemplary wife from principle — nor was the earl of Winterton, except in that one instance^ ever known to do a dishonourable thing; and as love admits of stratagem,s, we must forgive him, E'dred. — But, my dear Mil- lington, the earl cannot hold long, though I can assure you, you will have a host of competitors to contend with^ and some very formidable ones.' ' Spare me, De Lancy — this charming woman I can admire ; but as the wife of another, believe me I shall cease to think of her — but as an interesting woman. .I will own that yesterday and to-day, con- sidering her as an angelic dutiful daughter,^ I did pay some casual compliments on the amiable way in which she was employed, / 30 THE ENGLISHWOMAN. while sauntering %vith our friend Moreton ; but, when I have apologized for my im- pertinence, I will forget her: your infor- mation, my dear De Lancy, accounts for the confusion that crimsoned her cheek when 1 spoke.* '•'Though my father had said he would forget her, he soon found it impracticable; for so much had the expressive counte- nance of the young wife fascinated him, that he never quitted her idea — her walks were his; and a few evenings after, chance giving him the opportunity of making the wished apology, he obtained her forgive- ness, but left her the unconscious direa- tress of his fate ; her manner was so void of prudery, yet properly dignified, that it made him the willing captive to her com- bined virtues. ** When my father quitted her, he se- cretly vowed no woman should ever share his heart, if she did. not. It seemed mad- ness thus to give himself up to a preposses- sion so transient. — To Mildred he told his little griefs — she blushed at being made^ THE ENGLISHWOMAN. SJ unsolicited, th^ treasurer of his tender an- guish, yet felt that such confidence was more consistent than the reserve she had used. *' Thoii4r. Cecil's acquiescence to the charge. With much concern the worthy pastor discovered the passion to be mutual, and Miss Cecil was in consequence remov- ed to Millington. The tutor hurried to town, to acquaint lord Glastonbury of the painful discovery^ he had made, and to request that the young man mi^ht be recalled, as the most effica- cious means of doini>- awav a youthful im- pression. " 1 lament, Mr. Cecil/' said his lordship, ^^ that you have so ill acquitted yourself of the trust reposed in you.'' " How, my lord !" replied Cecil warmly, '' could I possibly foresee ?" '' Yes^ sir^ if you liave so corrupted the THE ENGLISHWOMAN. 43 natural goodness ofHarry's heart, as to make him unworthy of your daughter, I can have little happiness in him as my son/' The astonished Cecil, with a look of mild, yet dignified gratitude, pressed the himd of his lordship — " And so, sir, you are offend- ed that your pupil had sense enough to see the beauty ot* virtue, and select for himself without your interference. Cecil, 1 always said you were a pedantic dog, and so 1 find you. Go back to Worcestershire, and tell the young no, no^ we will go toge- ther '' They swallowed a hasty meal, and were on their return to the parsonage, ere the anxious Mrs. Cecil could have believed it possible. The most agreeable feelings succeeded to the before painful tumult in the worthy Cecif's bosom ; the connexion was ho- nourable only, in his eyes, when he reflect- ed on the amiable qualities of his favourite pupil. ^Had any one exceptionable quality marked his character, worlds would not 44 THE EKGL!SMV.'OMAN. have iridnced him to unite the fate of his child with him. Lord Glastonburv was the soni of ^ill get my letter this day, and his answer will, I trust, approve my love, and quiet your scruples : but should he not accede, no power on earth shall make me give her up — in fact, we have agreed on that point." '' Surely mv Marian would never enter into contracts, or be content to be smug^ gled into a great family ! Believe me, Har- ry, that to call your father brother, and yow son, would cease to be jjieasing to mv ear, if the innocence and virtue of my child were not deemed an equivalent for the unstable and adventitious advantages that fortune might give. I grant th.at it re- quires some worldiv sacrifices, some renun- ciations, as familv, titles^ ^o. Sec to receive Into a great family the daughter of a coun- try parson ; but your father is a generous being, one v»?hom fashion never could se- duce ; as such, having acted honourably, we will leave the result to his pleasure." '' Ivi uch as my h.appinei^s rests with Ma« rian," rejoined BrookvS, " believe me, sir^ THE ENGLISHWOMAN. 47 I would never ofTend her delicacy by the idea of a clandestine union. We have only resolved, if it should, at this period, not. meet the wishes of my father, that we would await a more favourable crisis for the concurrence of all parties But you judge rightly, my dear sir; lord Glaston- bury is liberal — nay, I have his promise, never to oppose my union with anv woman whom my heart approved, and to whom my reason did homage, and I have found her in vour daughter." '•' You are a lover/' replied Cecil, smi- ling ; '' you see through a fine-spun veil.'^ ** At all e\cx\X'?., it is a lovely perspec- tive/' cried Brooks gaily ; '' and I ?AWiX has- ten to my devotion, I am going to Miss Cecil early in the morning, and this even« ing, I have a translation to make at her request," *' Did Marian sanction your visits Vit Millingtdn ?" '' You laid no restrictions, sir, nor even said where you were going ; as such, I have 48 THE EKGLISHWOMAJ^. not omitted paying my respects to lady Mary, and all friends at the Hall.'* "Cunning artificers!" smiled Cecil; '^but ycLi are at liberty to keep your word, sir/* Brooks shook the hand of his reverend teacher and retired, while Cecil, in a few words, quieted the agitated m.ind of his beloved partner, by a just eulogium on the character of his noble friend. Lord Glastonbury, on his arrival at Mil- lington, requested an audience of sir El- dred. — A few words explained his wishes ; the baronet cheerfully entered into his views. It was a stratagem, the denouement of which was easy to develop. Lady Ma- ry was previously informed, and in a few minutes his lordship was introduced as lord Moreton. It was evening ; the party were variously engaged, and Mi^s Cecil, unconscious of their guest, never appeared to more advan- tage ; unaffected, easy, and interesting, the warm heart of lord Glastonbury could scarcely withhold tlie approbation it fondly THE INGUSH WOMAN. 49 accorded her. The knowledge of Marian was derived froTii choice reading — her opi- nions were ventured with diffidence^ yet so evidently founded on mature delibera- tion of her subject, as gave proof of her reflective powers — music and singing were introduced ; she sang with feeling, and exe- cuted with taste. *^ Can you draw, madam ?" said his lord- ship. '' A little, my lord." '^ Beautifully 1" said the young Selina (then only twelve years old); '^ I will ^hew you a head, my lord;" and away the Httle champion ran, and returning, placed 3 portfeiiillein his lordship^s hand, display- ing, with all the graces of infantine ardour, n striking resemblance of Henry Brookl, ^Ms it not a nice head, rriy lord:? and so like the gentleman, if you were but to see him, only he has lost his colour lately ; but perhaps he will get it again, as the summer is coming.'* '^ Oh lie 1" said Marian ; ''how ?illy vou VOL. I, n .50 THE pNGLKSIiy/OMAN. are ! give me the picture — you will oblige me, my lord," said the trembling girl; '^ it is the first attempt I ever made at like^ iicss; it is a friend — a particular friend of my papa's.*' '' He is an ill-looking fellow,** said lord Glastonbury, looking attentively ; " what a vacant eye !'* '' I would thank you, sir,** with an air of anger, '' for that picture." *^ Oh ! certainly, madam. ; I perceive I ^m wrong.'* Marian, overcome with confusion, re^ tired, under pretence of a head^ach, whilo Selina, who had unconsciously occasioned her disorder, accompanied her; nor did the little friend omit to remark on the rudeness and stupidity of lord Moreton. who could call Mr. Brooks ugly. THE ENGLISHWOMAN. 51 CHAP. V. (( A heart that almost breaks to be rebuk'd, A mind jnform'd, yet fearful to be seen, Kept by a tongue, that never but at home, AncJ cautious then, its golden trust betrays ; These are thy charms, and they are charms for rae." TiiE result of this little stratagem was such as might be expected. The enthusiasm of ,Jord Glastonbury found ample field for ad- miration; he had heard himself termed rude and inquisitive by a charming young woman, whose love for his son had alone induced her to wave her usual politeness, Ifcr warmth pleaded — it was congenial to his feelings^— his Harry was the object. The following morning brought Kenry to the breakfast-table of sir Eldred; Miss Cecil met him, with the chastened sm.ile of approving love ; her heart bounded to tell m little secrets ; she was oif the point of expressing her disgust to the noble visitor, then their guest^ when the door openedj, D "2 and the supposed lord Moreton entered ; Brooks turned intuitively tov/ards him — but what was the astonishment of the blush- ing Mariah, when she saw her lover rush into the extended arms of lord Moreton ! " I know it all, Hal — love you for your choice, though she has a high spirit, my boy — you must beg her to forgive me.** " She will love, she will honour you as I do, sir/' said the overjoyed Brooks, as he led the trembling girl to the embrace of his father. Ma-rian would have knelt, but the whim- sical peer declared she should kneel short- ly, but it should be in church. Marian turned to lady Mary, and with an enchanting confidence, asked why she had been deceived into the folly of the preceding night? " My prudish little girl,'* said lord Glas- tonbury, '' do you already repeiTt ?*' ^ *' Pardon me, my lord,** assuming a se- riousness; '' had I been openly called on for my sentiments, conceiving that I had THE OENGLISriWOMAN. 53 rmed my regards worthily, I shonld not have hesitated to avow them candidly/' " Noble girl ! exactly what I would have wished my daughter to be. Harry, give her up to me,* I must positively have her my- self. — Come, my Marian, weigh the matter well — with me you are immediately placed in the rank to which your virtues would do honour, but if you marry Hal, you will have little chance of rank, for, between you and I/' lov/ering his voice, " I shall be so proud of my daughter, that I shall be the most systematic fellow in existence, live by the strictest rules imaginable, in order to keep this boy out of my estate, that I may have the happiness to see half a thousand little Henrys and Marians." Lady Mary, whose social heart rejoiced in the fair prospects of her yoitng friend, proposed walking enfamille to the parson- age. Selina soon began to esteem, as lord Glastonbury, the man she had been disgust- ed with, as the odious Moreton. To pass over matters irrelevant to our history, a few weeks saw Marian the happy 54' THE ENGLIStfWOMAI?. wife of Mr. Brooks. The voung Soliffa was bridemaid ; and lady Mciry promised; fhat when the period of Miss Asgill's intro- duction should arrive, she should pass a portion of her time in Ilarley-streer. The expanding mind of our heroine had, on each visit of Mrs. Brooks, (for she paid an annual visit to the parsonage) en- deared them to each other; the difference of seven years in their ages made none in their sentiments ; the lively sallies of Selina were engaging ; and salutary beams which played on the maternal heart of Marian, the mild energy of whose character gave a lus- tre to all her actions, that made her the idol of her husband. She was the mother of three lovely babes, whose opening charac- ters v^ere the delight of the happy couple. Lord Glastonbury would sometimes break in upon their little system of educxation, a d with an irresistible tenderness, do away their plans — in short, he was the nursery visitor, always received with enthusiastic affection, and parted from with deep re- gret. THE ENGLISHWOMAN. 55 Mr. Bfooks, from the age of sixteen to nineteen, had been a student at Cambridcre ;^ during this period, he had kept up a con- stant correspondence with Mr, Cecil. Previ- ous to making the tour of Europe, he visit- ed his tutoc* Miss Cecil was at home. Brooks saw with astonishment the little playfellow of his youth rising into the engaging wo- n^an : his stay was short, yet he remember- ed the form and features of Marian as high- ly pleasing. During his tour, however, not being infallible, he fell into some extrava-- gancies: his father, alarmed at his silence," pursued, and surprised him on the eve of forming an alliance that must have proved miserable : no violence marked the charac- ter of the parent; he reasoned as a friend, and Brooks, softened by his kindness, yield- ed to his judgment. It has been said, that this unfashionable man of fashion was so af- fected at seeing his father shed tears ( occa- sioned by his misconduct), that he solemn- ly renounced his errors, and vowed never in future to act without his concurrence; while the affectionate father as decidedly dcela- 5-6. TKEENGLISHWOMATs, red, he would never oppose any rea^onible view his dear Hal might siiggest : thus was the happiness of these amiable relatives fix- ed on a certain and durable foundation- affection guided by reason. ; Brooks returned to England in his twen-x ty-second year; he had taken a resolution to enter the army, and hastened soon after, to Worcester, to advise with his tutor: an affectionate welcome was accorded ; he was resolved on residing with Mr. Cecil another year, and to devote his studies to a military life. Mr. Cecil would occasionally ride to P to see Marian. In one or two of these rides, Henry saw the charms of Miss Cecil with surprise and awe; she was now in her eighteenth year; and though he had been in the habit of addressing compliments to the sex, had written love verses to an Ita- lian countess, and been the constant toilet companion of a French marchioness, his elo- quence in the present case failed him; and he could not, to the daughter of a country clergyman, express his surprise, his admira- tion of her charms : it is true, he took her THE ENGLISHWOMAN. Sf7 hand, and said she was grow n, while Marian bhished and curtsied to his half-lbrmed compliment. The fond Cecil, not perceiving his pu- pil's embarrassment, gave joy to Brooks, by telling hisdaughter she should pass the en- suing vacation at the parsonage ; she came, and the result was a mutual affection. Mrs. Cecil first discovered the attachment, but the parson was incredulous. A little timp developed the secret ; Mr. Cecil took his measures; the ha^py denouement has already been related. The visionary mania of a sol- dier's life was given to the winds; and the honourableMr. Brooks, in his twenty-fourth year, commenced a career, from which he had never deviated, an affectionate husband and exemplary master ; to this was now added the paternal character, the tender- ness of whose claims gave a softness to the fire of his youth, at once captivating and graceful. The eldest son of the worthy Cecil had just taken orders, a young man of interest- ing mind and manners ; accustomed to pass 3> 3 58 THE EN(?MSHVVOMAN. much of his lime at Millington, he had be- come insensibly attached to Miss Asgiil; %vhile she, used to his society, and in the habit of consulting him upon all points of learning and information, knew not that he was more toherthanany otheracquaintance, until sir Eldred made proposals to her from sir John Owen : she found no difficulty in declining at once the honour of the alli- ance, as she termed it ; but, in her even- ing walk, she accidentally met Francis Ce- cil, who seemed unusually out of spirits, when, tenderly inquiring the cause, he started, and, seizing her hand, cried, '' Tell me, Selina, was sir John successful }*' ^' Could you suppose, "said Selina, '* that I could approve of such a man ? In point of fortune, no doubt, he honours me ; but tfiink, my friend, how distinct his ideas of hapriness are to mine : ail his pleasures are in horses an;! dogs, and mine in domestic life" - *' Enough, enough," said Cecil, as he drew the arm of Selir.a through his; *' my :i\A,ect fritnd, I did you wrong in supposing THE ENGLISHWOMAN. 59 it ; forgive mc, I cannot always command my feelings.*' Selina, abashed, and now conscious that she felt unusually inclined to pity the pale countenance of Cecil, would have withdrawn her hand ; but Cecily whose spirits^ rallied by her decisive rejection of sir John, had ta- ken a more pleasing turn, became at once so animated and entertaining, as to leave his young friend no wish but to listen. Their path lay through the woods which encircled Millington. '^ See howbeauteously the hand of Nature designs her work ! the knotty oak shelters its ivy friend ; the lofty pine shields the yet growing fir: 'tis evident/* continued the enraptured Cecil, " that she gave these si- lent beauties to our view, not only for use, but emulation.'* ^' No doubt,'* said Selina, *' every thing in the vegetable world speaks forcibly to the heart; there is a link in the animal, as in the rational chain, which needs only to be reflected on to be adored. — But are we not straying, Cecil?" said Miss Asgi If, whc/ftHt 60 THE ENGLISHWOMAN. that their conversation was taking a forbid- den track: so deep had lady Mary's words sunk into her heart, that she feared to trust her voice on any other than common topics. /' I see/' said Cecil, '' that I have much to suffer — you are going to London soon ; Ma- rian will engross your thoughts, and perhaps you will meet those whom you may approve — may select." *' I trust," said Selina, ** that my friend Marian is so generous in her choice of friends, that I may venture to promise my- self a portion of their esteem." *' I wish you would allow me to see you to-morrow morning at the rustic bridge in the lane," cried Cecil. *' Forgive me, Francis," said Selina^ with ^ steady look. '' I honour, I esteem you as a brother — I will not define my feelings; they are too much, perhaps, disposed to lis- ten to you, and I feel you will not afflict me by desiring it. Not two days ago, I would unhesitaliiigly have granted your request : my sentiments are not changed, but my actions are more particularly ac- ■ THE ENGLISHWOMAN. 61 countable at this moment, than at any other period of my lile. Lady Mary is now relating to me some interesting family anecdotes, I might say, sorrows ; she has prefaced her story by some advice, which, from the liberality of her character, I feel as- sured she is justified in offering. Think of me as you have ever done — as a sister, who esteems — who loves you." '' Your candour, at least/' said Cecil, as he resigned her withdrawing hand, '' must be m.y consolation." From this evening, a thoughtfulness un- usual in our heroine had been visible. Lady Mary touched slightly on it, but resolved that the intercourse between persons so cal- culated to esteem each other should be as little encouraged as was consistent with their esteem for the Cecil family. Lady Ma- ry had felt persecution, and learned mercy. A young man of twenty, in the navy, completed Mr. Cecil's family. It was after a little concert at Millington, at which Francis had assisted, that sir Eldrcd fan- cied he discovered the consuming pang 69 THE ENGLISHWOMAN. which agonized their bosoms ; to his daugh- ter he imparted his suspicions — they were her own — a nuitual passion exis:ted between them. Sir Eldred^ v;hose mind was as len- der as generous, soon suggested what he deemed a virtuous disposition of affairs. '' Were we to question these children/'* said the baronet, ''. they would plead guritv, and throw themselves on our clemencv, while we, asjust judges, must see their m.crits, and sanction their love ; but as I think them both young enough^ and have other views for Selina, we must separate them, if possible, without seeming to see their partiality. Time will, I doubt not, efface this puerile passion ; should it prove otherwise, we have always the power to make them happy. But/' continued the baronet, " we must consult with Cecil and Eliza, and acquaint them with our plan.** Mr. Cecil coincided, that the}:^outh of his son, and his present unprovided state, made him wholly unqualified to become the suitor of Miss Asgill. Sir Eldred stopped the rector — '' He is THE ENGI.ISIIWOMAN. 63 not SO ill-provided," said the amiable friend, "for the living "of L , in Berkshire, is his from this moment ; therefore the boy could keep a wife ; but we must give them both a trial of the world; if they remain unshaken at the eud of a year or two, we will make them happy in their own way. I own to you, Arthur, that I have a little map of happiness dravvn out for Selina, but should she think fit to draw her own plans, I will not oppose it ; never could she prove her discernment more than in a union with the family of my friend." The young rector was soon apprized of his preferment; the former incumbent, who had been tutor to sir Eldred, gladly retired to his native mountains, Wales, and enjoyed an income equal to his wishes, and more congenial to his declining health. The grateful heart of Francis was torn by con- flicting passions, as he contemplated the ge- nerosity of the deed, and the certainty of his almost immediate departure from Wor- cestershire. .,, The following evening brought Cecil to WL the englishwoman. the well-known haunts of Miss Asgill. Chance or sympathy, we know not which, had caus- ed Selina to wander earlier. She started. — To have refused the interview when so- licited, and now to find herself uncon- sciously in the presence of him who had sought it of her, was a coquetry from which her candid nature shrunk : assuming, there- fore, a courage foreign to her feelings, she replied, to the ardent expressions of grati- tude that Cecil would have uttered, '' that on her ptwt the meeting was accidental ; but/' continued the ingenuous girl, ":\s\ve have met, I will ask your patient hearing for a few minutes, and by acquainting you with my feelings, leave you at liberty to decide, whether caprice or duty influences my conduct. Lady Mary, my friend, as she unfolds the family story, leaves me more than ever to regret having listened to you, unauthorized by my generous relative. Nei- ther my principles or education permit me to recede from what I have said. My es- teem is yours — the words have passed my lips — nothing but your voluntary resigna- THE ENGLISHWOMAN.- (5^5- (ton of me, could make me consider myselE free to — — " " Ah i mv generous, my candid Selina/- interrupted Cecily " never shall this ami- able condescension be forgotten^ by your grateful, your adoring Cecil." " Hush !'* said vSelina^ *' ]^t me entreat from you that moderation which I so high- ly estimate. Henceforward we meet a^3 friends, till time, and the approval of our relatives, shall make reserve unnecessary.'' " Did I not feel assured of your (irmness, Selina, I should tremble at the fate w^hich awaits me. How have I fallen under lady Mary's displeasure, that she should decline an alliance with my family ; she whose mag- nanimous disposition has heaped on us all such unsolicited benefits? Sir Eldred, too, gives me independence, affluence, and then robs me of my most valuable treasure/' '' Alas !" said Selina, blushing at the ar- dency of his manner, '^ mistake^me not; they have laid no injunctions, they have drawn from me no promise, but have sim- ply expressed their wish that I would never 60 THE KNGLIiTlWOMAN. conceal from theiv. a sorrow or a joy — r\oT will I; for even this interview, and all that my memory furnishes me with, relative to oi • friendship, shall be poured into the bo- som of my cousin this ni/^ht." " V.hat may 1 exj>ect from lier decision, Selina?" '' To the liberality of sir Eldred and my cousin you do justice ; 1 know they esteem and value you highly. But even 1," said Selina, '* am averse (averting her head) to all ideas but those of friendship. — We will drop the subject/* continued she. Ce- cil acquiesced, and they pursued their way in silence, till arrived at a romantic hermi- 1a^';e, formed bv the woven branches of old trees, whose friendly boughs had united to form a most beautiful retirement. Fatigued and melancholy, Selina seated herself, and remained thoughtful for some moments. " It is amazing to me," said Cecil, '' that lady. Mary, whose elegant taste directed the construction of this recess, should have so unaccountable a dislike to it." *' Has she.?" said oclina, starting. THE EKCUSHWOMAN. 67* '• Why so much surprise^ iny sweet frietid?'* Gontinued Cecil. ** Oh ! telj tvie> tell me all about if/' said SelinaJookingnnxioiiJily at her companion, '' I can tell yon no more," said he, " fhan that I have frequently escorted her through the grounds, and more than once requested" her to rcst^ after a long walk ; but on my naming the hermitage, she grasped my arm, and begged me never to name that place to her." '' I Wonder/' said Selina; " that it never occurred to me before, that she has often declined passing beyond the rustic bridge. But I am sure / have no reason to like this spot/* looking around her with a fearful countenance, as if in expectation of seeing some unpleasant intruder. *' Oh God !" con- tinued she, with a supplicating look, " why am I obliged to observe concealment ?'* " Heavens ! what do I hear ?" said Cecil, aghast. '' Selina, do I live, and believe this? — believe what ? — Vv'hat have I said ?" " Believe me inca})able of deception, yet strict to my word. — Yesjn this place I vow- 6% THE EKOLIStt WOMAN. ed to keep secret the sorrows of a wretched wanderer, whom, in fact, I know not. But n«k me no more, Cecil, Jest I become cul- pable in my own eyes, and unworthy your esteem.*' " Forgive me, my Selina ; I am a strange, incongruous beintr; honoured by yourcon- fidence, Mattered by your esteem, yet jea- lous of your tears." " Such ever must be tiie pangs attendant on unsanctioned — love,'* she would have said, but the word died on her tongue, while it glanced over her cheek ; — " and from this moment, Cecil, and in this place> where I have sworn concealment, not re- lative to my own grief, but thatof others dear to me, I solemnly declare, I will never lis- ten, ior one moment, to the voice of pas- sion, though it comes under the garb of friendship, till the previous approbation of my valued i^rotectors make it proper. Nor does this alter my determined intention of forbearing to have the subject named to them, till time shall have softened the pre- sent uneasiness of lady Mary, and your ab- THE ENGLISHWOMAN, 0^ sence from this shall assure them thar no pre- concerted plan has been suggested by us." Cecil knew too well the steadiness of his young friend, to attempt arguing her from her purpose. He acquiesced reluctantly to her proposal, which had wholly deranged his plans. Silently, and disappointed, he attended her to the garden gate, and, con- trary to his usual custom, parted with a chilling *^ good night." * It was late when Miss Asgill entered the parlour. Sir Eldred and lady Mary had just finished a game at piquet, which had been proposed by sir Bldred, to divert his daughter. *' Come, Selina," said the baronet, '' ont song, before the lights are brought," Selina, glad to avoid observation^ seated herself at the piano, and executed one of her uncle's favourite airs, with so much pa- thos as to call forth the united praises of her attentive auditors. ^' Tliank you, my Iovp.,'* said sir Eldred'j '* the charm of your voice, Selina, though it is infinitely delightful to me, yet has so 70 THE EKGLISnWOSUM. powerful an efifect on my spirits, that at times it quite overcomes* me." '' I will not cause pain/' said Selina, ri- sing from the piano, *' where gratitude, and ^very better feeling of my heart, should dictate a hv ditTerent conduct." '^^ The delicacy of your nature, Selina," $aid lady Mary, ^' may awaken in your mind a thousand amiable feelings^ but you will r^ot add to our happiness by naming th lies; should it prove otherwise, sir FJdred and hcFself would not object to her becom» ing the parson's wife, when she had, by an introduction into the world, proved iha firmness of her attachment, Selina looked incredulously at the possi^ bility of her passion being transient ; but was unileignedly grateful for their acquies- cence, on {he certainty of its permanency. ^^With an affectionate embrace the cousins se pa rn ted. The mind of Mi?s Aso-i|l was so lightenecl by the disclosure of her passion, that Susan;, who, at present, assisted her evening's un-* (dressing, observed how cheerful she iooked, *— '' i am sure I am glad to see you ao gay. Miss/' said Susan ; *' for I thoughfj to be sure. Miss, that somewhat had mishapped you to-night ; for met young Mr- Cecih t^ THE ENGLISHWOMAN. SO sad and so mumpish, that, to be sure, I could not suppose but you was the cause." " Me \" said Selina, while a conscious blush passed over her cheek ; '' I wonder* Susan, what should make you form such a conclusion ?*' '' Oh, Miss ! you don*t suppose we ser- vants are so dull as to love affairs." ^' I hope, Susan,** interrupted Miss As- gill, '* that you do not consider this sort of conversation pleases me ? You will always find me ready to listen to you, upon pro- per occasions, but you are ijuite wrong in what you have thought proper to insinuate > jind lam sorry you consider yourself so well qualified to judg^ in love affafrs, as you c^ll them.'' ** I beg your pardon," s^iid the loquacious ^usan ; '* biii I thought ^ young l^^dy at your ^ge might chance ti) be in love; and seeing Mr, Cecil so sad, I took th^ liberty juat to *' To ask him what }*' interrupted Selina^ br^aihless with agitation, ♦♦Why, 1 just asked himlf he had got the THE ENGLlSinVOMAN. 97 Kead-ach ? but he never answered ; so I was determined^ if possible, to get the secret out of him ; and so I turned after him.'* '' Incorrigible rudeness 1" said Miss As- giii. '^ He did not think it rude," said Susan, pettishly, " for he said, ' thank you, my good Susan, my pain is in my heart ;* so to be gure, as I just saw you had parted with hiin at the garden gate, I was almost certain i# was you that had given it him.** '^Indeed !** saidSelina ; ^'butdoyou not ihink it would be more wise in you not to judge of people's conduct in this way ?— My good girl," continued Miss Asgill, soft- ening her manner towards the talkative Su- san, '^ yon cannot imagine how much my cousin would be OiTendod nt this sort of conversation ; I trust you will not in future give me restson to reprove you on the sub- ject. I will with plensure listen to your con- cerns at all times, and aid you in any nece^v sary and proper request you shall make nu\ VOL. T t 98 THE ENGLISHWOMAN. but in future^ you will, I am sure, observe silence on such topics as these.** Susan, who had hoped to be made a confi- dant, felt not a little mortified at this rebuff; her anger would have shewn itself more appropriately, had nat her young mistress, when dismissing her, put a quantity of pink ribbon into her hand; and bidding her, with a most condescending and peace-ma- kgig smile, " good-night,*' and an injunc- tion to remember what she had said. Miss Asgill retired, but whether to think on the sad looks of Mr. Cecil, or whether the ap- probation of her own heart, added to her youth, and the fatigue attendant on regu- lar exercise, caused her, in the arms of sleep, to forget all her sorrows, we pretend not to decide, but leave it to the fancy of our readers, v;ho, if not more elegantly engaged, v.'e must beg to descend with Mrs. S'jsan, who, elate with her present, and impatient to exert her eloquence in praise of her young mistress, hastened to the kitchen. THK ENGLISHWOMAN. C9 CHAP. VI. let me be your servant ; Tho' I look old, yet I am strong and lusty." At the kitchen fireside of sir Eldred were xissembled Gerald, the venerable steward, whose youth had been spent in the family, the very servant who had accompanied sir Eldred when on his tour, and the servant whoni he solicited Dunbar to receive as the footman of his sister ; ( how he became the domestic of his first master is irrelevant to the present subject, and shall be introduced in its place) : to Gerald the domestics in general looked up with respect; if his strict- ness and moral conduct were sometimes thought too rigid, he had generally the pleasure to observe that those by whom it was honourable to be esteemed freely gave it him ; Mrs. Burton, a plain, respectable woman, who acted as housekeeper; Mr, Tompkins, valet to sir Eldred ; and Mrs. Su- E 2 too THE ENGLISHWOMAN. sail Flight. To the underlings of the hall we have nothing to say. ITow persons such as we have named should be collected in a kitchen, would be matter of surprise to modern persons filling like situations; bur, be it known to our readers, sir Eldred was not a modern, and, like many old-fash- ioned persons, had a dislike to the steward's- room parties, the lady's-maid's party. Sec. Sec. &c. as such, though he did not enforce a general mixture of his domestics, he re- quired ^Gerald to preside in his kitchen, to which the housekeeper united a steady and cleanly deportment, and arrangement of all comforts neceasarzj for their convenience. As Susan put her candle on the table, Ge- rald, closing his book, with a loud voice ut- tered the words— *^ verily, this world is all vanity ;'* now as nothin^^ could have liap- pened more applicable than the last word was to poor Susan, she felt an oddsensation^ but rv^covcred herself on perceiving that they were only the words of the author, and not applied to lier. " Wiiat a generous, sv.'eet, dear, young THE ENGLlSHVv OMAN. 101 lady, Miss Selina is !" said Susan as she fold- ed the ribbon round her hand.- — ''Goodness me ! I dare say there is six yards at least ! well to be sure, I hope she will not die an old maid — there is always one old maid in a family," continued Susan. ^' And who is she ?" said Gerald, looking sternly towards the giddy gabbler. *' Why, lady Mary for certain is one/' said Susan^ lowering her tone. " You lie \" said Gerald. *' Lord a mercy on me !*' said Susan ; *' I did not think you would have said such a word^ Mr. Gerald." *' You did not think !" replied Gerald ; *' who gave you leave to think at all ? — You would make a saint swear.'* '' As to thinking, sir," said Susan, with a sneer, " thank God every body may think ; and I am sure, if I remain single till I am as old as lady Mary, I shall call myself an old maid." '' She is not an old m.aid, I repeat," said GevM. " Then I am sure you say very bad things. 102 THK ENGUSHWOMA?^. Mr. Gerald ; as Mr. Senex, my Inst youn;; master s tutor, used to say, this is scandalous magnetism with a vengeance." The anger of Gerald relaxed into a louJ laugh, in which he was joined by Mrs. Bur- ton and Mr. Tompkins. Susan, unconscious of her blunder, continued her harangue, till checked by Mrs. Burton, who begged her to remember ihe respect due to Mr. Gerald. ' '* I do respect him, ma*am,*' said Susan; "' but it is very hard one cannot use one's £yes or tongue." '' Susan, Susan," rejoined Gerald, '' thy tongue was a modest one, till thy visit to Balh ; since that time, thou hast talked with- out ceasing." '' As to that," said Susan, '' I never knew any thing of life till I went to Bath — Oh ! it is a charming ])lace ! — I wish they would send my young lady there, just to give her a notion of the world ; for really she is very mopish, which is all owing to lady Mary : these old ladies, when they get past " •* Hold thy bold tongue," interrupted THE ENGLISHWOMAN. 10.1 Gerald ; *' get to bed. — Ungrateful puss ! is it your generous patroness you are daring to talk of in this way ?" '' Oh ! as to that/' said the undaunted Susan, '' I believe there is not a more ciia- ritable, humane, good lady, than my lady : certainly she has been very kind to me ; I should never have known how to read or write, if it had not been for she — and she supported father when he broke his leg, and sent me to wait on lady Aurora Neville, sir John Owen's sister, by which I saw dear Bath; and then, because she said I was m- iher thoughtless, she took me home, in pre- ference to letting me go to London ; but I think I have conduct enough to know how to behave myself in any place," said Susan. '' Vanity, know thyself better, thou gid- dy thing !" retorted Gerald. *' If the wisdom of your lady had not placed you in this se- curity, I fear your own discretion would have helped you but little. '* '' How free you are to judge, Mr. Ge- rald," said Susan, reddening with anger; *' yet you won't allow me to speak a word." (04 THE ENCn.lSIlWOMAK. ^' You speak too much/' said Gerald , " and of that which. you are not capable of imderslanding." *' It does not reviuire nnich sense," said iSusan, drily/'' to discover an old maid — I say again, my lady is one ; aye, and she is determined to make my young Indy one, for she moj;)es her u\i, and wont let young Mr. Cecil come here as he wishes ; and I am sure he would be willing enough to give her his company, if he might." *' You are sure ! how dare Vxou give your opinion thus boldly ?'* said Gerald ; " if I did not fear that your vanity and ignorance would lead you into all the folly that your ingratitude deserves, I would not spare you an inch, but repeat all your impertinence to her.'- '' It is all well meant," said Susan, chan- ging her tone to the most humble whine; *' I am sure I don't mean any harm." '* Then let me hear you less pert, when you mean to be well behaved," said Gerald, '* lest I mistake your meaning." " Mrs. Susan," said Mr. Tompkins, *' will THE ENGLISHWOMAN. 105 not be an old maid, I think/* looking sig- nificantly at her. " No jokes, no jokes/' said Gerald; '^I hope she will be a good girl, and mind her duly/' Susan bit her lips, and with much diffi- culty swallowed the sarcastic observation of Mr. Tompkins. A night's repose could not banish from the memory of Susan the impertinence of Tompkins's remark, or suppress her curio- sity with regard to the tender attachment of her young lady and Mr. Cecil. On the contrary, our heroine, who was the prin- cipal in this interesting matter, slept sound- ly ; so true it is, that conscious rectitude is a never-lailing opiate. Selina rose refreshed, and after a pleasant walk, joined the breakfast-table. Sir El- dred's departure for a morning ride lef't lady Mary at liberty to pursue her story; nor could a more appropriate chain of events have offered to a youthful and ar- dent mind, such as Selina's, than that which s3 i06 THE ENGLISHWOMAN. fell to the lot of lady Mary to disclose. Con- viction fell on her heart at every unfolding circumstance, and frequently did her start- ing tears, and lively sense of the error of concealment, impress on the affectionate nature of lady Mary the most exalted opi- nion of her ingenuous protegee. To the castle of Kirkaldy we will now lead our readers, w'here, if they sympathize not with the lady Dunbar, they will, per- chance, save their tears for a younger suf- ferer. CHAP. VII. '* Hcav'n does with us, as we with torches do. Not light them for themselves : for if our virtues Did not go forth of us, 'twere all alike As if we had them not. — Spirits are not finely touch'd. But to fine issues: nor Nature never lends The smallest scruple of her excellence ; But like a thrifty goddess, she determines Herself the glory of a creditor, Both thanks and use." '' The Dunbar family quitted Millington in the autumn. My father requested sir Ilec- THE ENGLISHWOMAN. 107 tor to receive Gerald as the footman of his sister. ' I know his worth/ said sir Eldred ; ' and present him to your family as a treasure. I shall not have a fixed home for some time, andseavoyagesdonot agree with him, which I found in my last sojourn abroad.* '' Sir Hector received him with as much cordiality as his pride would admit of. Pain- ful was the separation between these affec- tionate relatives. Dunbar even appeared to feel it in a degree. '' My father passed over to France, atten- ded by a foreign valet. To be brief, two years elapsed, in which sir Eldred occasion- ally resided in various parts of the Conti- nent. He had, as I before observed, made the tour usually attached to the education of young men of fortune ; but he now went to live among, and remark the manners of nations. From lady Dunbar he heard fre^ quently ; she had twice disappointed the hopes of sir Hector, by giving birth to girls; but they lived not to feel his ire. ** Towards the close of the second year, 10S THE ENGLISHWOMAN. sir Eldred, to avoid an English winter, took lip his residence in Lisbon. lie had been but three days in that city, wlicn he was surprised by the sudden appearance of an English servant, who ran hastily into his apartment, and eagerly asked 'if he was not an English physician?' My father re- plied in the negative. The servant was on the point of retiring, when sir Eldred detained him, to inquire what had occasion- ed his mistake, and for whom he wanted a doctor ? ' I have not time,* cried the poor fellow, * to explain, but my master is dying — my lady is very bad. I don't like foreign doc- tors; and I was told that an English physi- cian had arrived at this very house only a few days ago.' ' Perhaps you are right,' said my father ; ' wc will see.' *' The good creature's earnestness, and ihc interest he appeared to take in the hap- piness of his employers, awakened a warm sympathy in the bosom of sir Eldred. He rM\g for the mistress of the house, who gave TITS ENGLISHWOMAN. 109 joy to both parties by replying in the af- firmative. Doctor Wentworth accompa- nied my f:\ther; they followed the faithfLil O'Brien to a house of elegant appearance. —With cautious step they passed through a spacious hall, and up a flight of stairs, O'Brien stopped to make inquiries of a fe- male servant. ' He lives/ said the woman, with a hope- less countenance, ' but my lady is tired out with watching and grief.' " They pursued their way. A door half open discovered a lady, leaning on her hand, evidently in much anguish. Sir EI- dred paused ; he had already, from warmth of heart, gone beyond the rules of good breeding, in entering the house of a stran- ger. He requested doctor Wentworth to send in his name, and to o.ffer his profes- sional assistance. It was accepted with ala- crity. " The worthy O'Brien, whose judgment had devised more consistently than either of th^ gentlemen, now made his appearance. He had come from the sick room direct — 5 110 THE ENGLISHWOMAN. ' his lord would be happy to see the physi- cian.' The lady, who, through my father, had likewise been apprized of medical as- sistance bein^ at hand, rose from her seat, and departed through a nearer approach to the chamber of her lord. *' Sir Eldred, left to himself, felt the sin- gularity of his situation ; hastily he descend- ed the stairs, and would have repaired to his hotel, to await the return of doctor Wentworth, but meeting a female servant in his way, he asked the name of the family. ' It is the earl of Winterton, sir/ said the girl. ' The earl of Winterton !' echoed sir El- dred. ' Ah ! tell me, my good girl, how is the countess ? — how long has she been ill ?' ' It is my lord who is so very bad/ said the girl, ' and he has been so these two years. We have all been expecting his death this long time ; but my lady's grief is increased by the very sudden death of her father. Are you a friend^ sir.^' continued the girl. ' I am/ replied sir Eldred. THE ENGLISHWOMAN. Ill ' Then my lady's father r>hot himself yes- terday. — She, dear lady, has been in fits al- most ever since; and my lord missing her from his pillow ( for she is ihe kindest nurse in the world), was obliged to be told that something had happened to the duke of Ellesmore. It has had a bad effect on my lord, but my sweet lady tries to conquer her feelings, and goes to him very often. My lady reflects on herself, sir, that she did not comply with the duke's last request; but I am sure, nobody can blame her, for she has supplied him, till she has been al- most without a guinea in her purse. The duke fell in with some gentlemen of his own sort, and was very fortunate till last week. He has not lived in my lord's house for some time, owing to a difiference about a gambling debt. My lord said it was disgrace- ful in a man of the duke's age to pass his life at the gaming-table. — Indeed, to do his grace justice, he has been very forbearing ; but then, Avho would not be so that knew my lady ? — it was all for her sake.' " My father sighed, as Fanny closed her 112 TIIR ENGLISHWOMAN. unaffected eulogium on her lady. — ' Go, my good girl/ said sir Eldred, 'and inquire if your lady is better.* '' Fanny departed. My father now for- got that he was an intruder, and no physi- cian, lie could not quit the house till he had heard how the countess was. Fanny returned. Lady Winterton was still ill in spirits, but relieved by the visit of doctor Wentworth. My father was soon joined by the doctor. Putting a piece of money in- to the hand of the eloquent Fanny, he was departing ; but the warmth of my father's expressions, and the inquiries he had made concerning her lady, made her rather cu- rious to know who he was. She asked his name — concealment was unnecessary — he gave it, and departed. ' The lady was exceedingly surprised,* said Wentworth, ' how I became acquainted with her occasion for my services, as the earl has given up all medical advice. I said that an English gentleman, whose name I knew not,^ad brought me to the house, agd awaited my report. — However,' conti- THE EKCLlSinVOMAiN'. 113 Jiued the doctor, ' advice, with regard to the earl, issiiperfiuous; he cannot live ma- ny days.' ' And the conntess?' said sir Eldred. ' She will do well, no doubt, sir, when slie can be composed, and spared the fatigue that she seems to feel necessary to impose on herself. It is anxiety of mind, and lan- guor from excessive fatigue. She has youth on her side, and will soon be spared her i'haracter of nurse. The earl seems per- fectly resigned to quit a life that must have been long burthensome. He begs that I will not acquaint the countess of his im- mediate danger. She appears to possess the whole of his thoughts/ ' No wonder,' said sir Eldred ; ' she is a pattern of loveliness.' ' You know them then ?' s:^id Went- worth. * Yes,' replied my father, ^ I had a slight acquaintance with them in England, but chance alone directed me to their house to- day.' *' Whether sir Eldred's manner betraved M4 TFIE ENGLISHWOMAN. his feelings to the ob'^.erving Wentworfh, or from what other caiKse, I know not, but he was from that period particular in giv- ing sir Eldred his opinion of the countess's health on each visit; but the heart of my father v/as too warmly interested in t\\e sorrows of its beloved object, not to take a delicate and friendly interest in her un- protected state. *' A conversation he held v/ith O'Drien made him acquainted with the late resi- dence of the unfortunate suicide. A ver- dict of lunacy, which his disorderly life but too well corroborated, gave his remains the sanction of Chistian interment. Sir Eldred arranged his affairs, and followed lum to the grave. Lady ¥/intertcn heard, with grateful astonishment, that an English gen- tleman had taken uncommon interest in the mournful ceremony. On questioning O'Brien, she learned, with infinite surprise, that sir Eldred Millington was the gene- rous stranger. '' Mv Selina will iudore if his interference proved intrusive, when I say that, eighteen THE E N G I, ISH W O M AN. 115 months after (he demise of the earl (which took place within a fortnight after sir Eldred's meeting with O'Brien), the ami- able countess became the wife of my be- loved father, I am the only living fruit of 4his union. The perfect happiness of their lives (saving only one event) fully com- pensated for her first ill-suited marriage ; though it is but justice to say that the earl was ever a most affectionate and kind hus- band. His early life had been tinctured with libertinism and a love of play ; but to the merits and virtues of his beloved v/ife he did ample justice, by a life of emulative imi- tation in every praiseworthy pursuit. '' The countess had been so liberal to her prodigal parent, that she brought a tri- fling acquisition of wealth to sir Eldred, who rejoiced in receiving her thus, in pre- ference to all the advantages that a prior claim could have bestowed on her. The estates descended to the eari's nephew, then a minor; the title, by a grant to my mo- ther, to me. '' During the widowhood of the countess, lie THE ENULI5IIW0MAN. she resided ^vith the kdy Asgill, a widow of rank, with one son, seven years of age at the time I name. His constitution ap- pearing precarious, joined to other consi- derations, induced lady Asgill to retire with him to Italy. I was just beginning to ar- ticulate at the period of her departure. The separation caused mutual regret to both parties. *■' Lady Dunbar was also tlie mother of a girl, one year older than myself. Sir Rec- tor had been frequently solicited to bring his family to Millington, but always evaded the invitation. My mother had never seen lady Dunbar but for the short space of a month, when an accidental meeting a Scar- borough made them acquainted. A mu- tual esteem was the re?-ult. The sisters long- ed to unfold their hearts to each other- lady Mary to say how happy she was, lady Dunbar to tell her griefs — griefs which had broken her constitution^ and bowed her spirit. '' The drooping Mildred beheld her bro- ther with a melancholy satisfaction. His pe- THE ENGLISHWOMAN. 117 netration discovered her unevisiness ; but she fled his inquiry, ashamed^ at that pe- riod, to avow that his prophetic fears for her happiness had been too well founded. No ray of joy seemed to animate her sor- rowing countenance, excepting; only those excited by the playful vivacity of the lit- tle Mildred^ who seemed the idol of her parents. '' Sir Eldred pressed his Scottish friend^ to go to Millington, The countess was im- portunate ; now that they were on thlssida the Tweedj she would not be refused; nay^ sir Hector must go and see her treasure— her Mary, She was anxious to introduco the little cousins to each other, to lay the basis of a friendship, which, she trusted, would end but with life.—Nor did it," sigh" ed lady Mary^ with a melancholy paus^. '^ Sir Hector, with equal importunity, pressed them to cross the Tweed, To this he knew my father could not assent, as ho had an appointment for a fixed day in Lop* don, which was, in fact, no other than the prc^sentation of the Millington living to tho lis THE ENGLISHWOMAN. exemplary Cecil, then a young man, and not so well provided for. Lady Dunbar ventured no opinion, but her looks sup- plicated the continuance of their society, the only society in which her heart could participate. They parted with poignant reeret. *' Just as sir Eidred was seated in the car- riage, the faithful Gerald rode hastily for- ward: putting a letter into my father's hand, he bowed respectfully, and, turning, pur- sued the chaise of sir Hector. My father, overcome by the parting embrace of his sister, who lingered in his arms as if she would remain there for ever, received the letter in silence, and flinging himself back in the carriage, remained absorbed in me- ditation. The letter continued in his hand. " iviy mother, who had conceived a most tender aiTectlon for her sister, was ill qua- lified to raise the spirits of sir Eidred ; at length, breaking silence, she exclaimed — * Ah ! mv dear Millington ! had I not be- fore been sensible of my happiness, in the possession of the best heart in the world, THE ENCMSnWOMAN'. 119 how must I now have exulted, when com- paring you with the haughty Dunbar ! when I reflect that our gentle Mildred is doomed to bear his sullen, cruel pride, I feel my happiness greatly diminished ; indeed,, my rJdred, we must endeavour to soften her i'ate, by yielding a little to her tyrant/ ' Has she confided in you, Mary ?' said my father. ' She was twice on the eve of doing so, when we were interrupted by Dunbar. I hope I wrong him, but I almost fancied that he v;as acquainted with our last conference^ by means most dishonourable ; he broke in upon us so critically, and with so much vindictive m.eaning in his countenance, that 1 cannot think it was accidental ; and when 1 afterward pressed her to resume her communication, she replied—' No, I will not break in upon your happiness \s\{\\ griefs noiv irremediable. It cannot last Jong/ continued she ; 'this is the efxect of concealment, and judging for myself, when I might have cu mmundcd the judg- 120 THE ENGLISHWOMAN. ment and affectionate interest of the most generous of men !* ^ Your own observation, my love/ con- tinued my mother, ' must have led you to observe how this sweet woman desponds. Her child is her only comfort. Heaven isend she and her babe were with us !' ^ Would they were !' sighed sir Eldred, ^ In truths Mary, / never could expect the esteem of Dunbar; I was always averse to the connexion. -*-His disposition, naturally Inflexible and revengeful, has never learn-" i>d to forget this opposition. I have mado fiome advances towards friendship with hinij for Mildred's sake, many with which my lister is unacquainted^ but he has steadily ynd coldly rejected them : yet when we met so unexpectedly at Scarborough, a thou- sand pleasing hopes ros(? in my rnind; but they were dashed at once, when I beheld the Invariable dejection of Mildred- fqr what coujd / expect from a being whosjo nature did not assimilate to that of my gen- iU' ^^ster's* From C-icrald { learned a few THE ENGLISHWOMAN. 9T particulars^ Mildred invariably refusing-to .converse with we on domestic matters. He tells me that the dowager ladv Dunbar, who has been dead nearly a year, was a victim to her son's temper. She was so attached to Mildred and the child, that she ventured to remonstrate on his conduct, and receiv- ed, in return, the most violent and unfilial behavioiir — Gerald did not like to say to the extent of his knowledge, or, lam per- siiaded, I could not keep terms with the rep- tile ; indeed I must gain some sort of ex- planation, for I cannot live^ and reflect ow the sufferings of my beloyed Mildred/ ' Perhaps,' said my mother, ' that letter may throw som.e light on the subject.* '' My father tore the seal, and read as follows. ' HONOURED SIR, ^ When your goodness placed me in the family of sir Hector Dunbar, I had hopes that from that gentleman's be- ing my sweet young lady's choice, he was VOL. I. p 9B THE KNGMSHWOMAN. XiUch a one as I could serve with plen&ure and respect. Happily for me, rny services were required more particularly for my la- dy, or I should long since have quitted the family. — While your honour was near this violent man, 1 thought it proper to be cau- tious in mv explanations — now that you are going different roads, I think I do but my duty in saying a little more. I hope your honour will not deem it betraying *he se- crets of my employers, as I can assure you, sir, it is only because I wish, if possible, to make the best lady, and kindest mistress in the world, happier than she is at present. * The late dovvager did often advise me to acquaint you of some particulars, and added that naivre ovhj prevented her doing so. On her death- bed she called for me, and, dismissing her attendants, desired me, whenever I saw sir Hector endeavourins; to have Miss Mildred inairucfed in the Catho- lic ])rincip'cs, to let you know, as if had been a solemn en^ai'^ement between sir Hector and his lady, that if they had bovs, they should be brought up in his religion, THE ENCIJSilWOMAN. 99 but the girls were to be Protestants. The good lady shuddered at the solemn en^^age- nient she had witnessed her son's promising to adhere by. But, indeed, she was an ex- cellent lady, though a Catholic : many grievous tears did she shed for my lady. ^ The time is now arrived, sir; — a priest is continually instructing our dear young lady ; and when my honoured mistress re- minds him of his former promise^ he laughs at her.— But sir Hector is no respecter of promises; for he makes no scruple of break- ing his marriage one, and keeps a lady at no great distance from Kirkaldy, Nothing- could exceed sir Hector's vexation at meet- ing your honour at Scarborough; nor did he press you to cross the Tweed, till he had jsatisfied himself that you could not accept the invitation. He said if the ladies sot together, he supposed there would be many tender secrets. Sir Hector cannot keep his own secrets, and is always in the power of his lowest domestics, ' I hope your honour will not think me T 2 100 THE ENGLISHWOMAN. unworthy. I. have sincere hopes that yotir goodness will think of something to com- fort my lady's spirits — and beg your honour to believe that I am both my lady's and your honour's faith rul servant, Gerald Barnakd/ '* The first impulse of sir Eldred, on per- using Gerald's letter, was to order the car- riage about, and pursue the route of sir Hector; but my mother's entreaties, and a little reflection, convinced him such mea- sures would not do with Dunbar. He, at length, determined on visiting Scotland in the ensuing spring; to go unexpectedly and alone, where, if he could, by reasoning, bring the tyrant to part from his sister, he would do so ; if not, he resolved on using legal means to effect their separation, which the brutality of sir Hector Would warrant- ably have justified, more particularly in a country were morality and connubial con- duct are so strictly sought into and o]>en]y punished. TU'E ENGLISHWOMAN. fOl '* In the interim^ a very strict correspon- d«ence was observed between the families. Sir Hector's letters were punctual, and ela- borately polite, but never did he repeat his wish of receiving them at Kirkaldy. Mil- dred's letters were short, and little satisfac- " tory ; the postscripts were 'generally used to eonvey infantine regards between Mildred and myself, who began in this way to make acquaintance. '' The spring had scarcely budded v>'hen sir EJdred quitted Millington, and, for the Erst time, shed the parting tear since his marriage. A thousand fond solicitudes hung on the spirits of my mother. She repre- sented all the vengeanceof Dunbar's nature, and asked of my father a thousand promises, with which he laughingly complied. He was never to be roused to anger ; he was to wear the picture of herself and child con- tinually — the) were to be his talisman ; whenever he felt disposed to resentment, he was to look on them, and consider what would be their fate if any ill were to hap- pen Lim — they were nearly related; — in 102 THr; ENGLISHWOMAN. short, every argument that affection and tender timidity could dictate, was urged to favour her advice. " During sir Eldred's absence, he wrote frequently, but vielayed naming family sOb* jects till his return. ^ There appeared no hope of bringing sir Hector to tenrs. If lady Dunbar quit ted him, he ('et 'rmincd on retaining the child ; to this, the fond mo- ther Avould not consent, and she wholly de- clined the idea of 'oubinitting the .subject to legal measures. * In short/ said my fa- ther (in the only letter in wiiich this ten- der subject was named), * I feel, my dear Mary, that our Mildred has but a short pe- riod to live; she sees it with a melancholy pleasure ; her child is her only stay in this world. Your advice, mv ]o\c, had almost made a coward of me. Do not be alarmed, when you meet your Eldred, if he suffers a imie in appearance — remember there are claims on a man of honour, which it were dastardlv to refuse ; I abhor duelling, but have been obliged to art n little contrary to your instructions. Mildred would say a THK FNGLlSnWOMAM, 103 thousand tender thiji,ible agitation, the scenes in which he had been engaged. To sir Hec- tor he was an unexpected and unwelcome visitor ; and when the overjoyed Mildred withdrew from his embrace, the timid glance she gave towards Dunbar evinced her fears that the reception given to my father would not be congenial to her wishes. My father, whose visit was one of THE ENGLISHWOMAN. 105 inquiry and observation, avowed his inten- tion of stopping' some time at Kirkaldy. A blush of vexation passed over the coun- tenance of Dunl)ar, as he feigned a compli- ment of pleasure at the information, ' I took a sudden idea/ said sir Eldred, ' that my Mildred's health would be much benefited by a sojourn in the south. I have come for the purpose of escorting you ; Mary would have accompanied me most readily, but she is unqualified for travelling just now. Come, Dunbar, you will go/ ' Lady Dunbar may go where she pleases/ said he, ' but for myself and child, we re- main where we are ; nor do I think a change of air would do her good now.^ *' My father, horror-struck at the inhuma- nity cf his remark, hastily rejoined — ' Then why did not you remove her, when it -was probable that change would be serviceable V ' Because,' said Dunbar, ' she is obstinate, and will not go without the child^ and I can- not part with it/ ' Why not attend her yourself? what so proper ?* F 3 106 THE ENGLISHWOMAN. ' I cannot quit Scotland — it does not suit me.* * Suit you !' said sir Eldred ; ' can you, Dunbar, put any thing in competition with the health of that poor sufferer ? ( pointing at the languid Mildred) or call that obsti- nacy which graces her nature ? — By Hea- ven, sir, she had not an ill quality when she thought fit to honour you with her hand! Wliat she may have acquired in an associ- ation so uncongenial, I know not. I should fear every thing, did I not know there are somedispositions which cannot be unstrung, even by the most ungenerous treatment.' " Sir Hector, surprised at the wamth of my father, and somewhat unused to reproof, replied with spirit at first, but a second thought brought the conviction that it was his equal who had dared to condemn his conduct, and he might pursue it further; dropping, therefore, his haughty brow% with a sarcastic smile he ridiculed the conjugal idea of sir Eldred, who was the dupe of every nervous whim, he said, an absolute lover, though married so long. THE ENGLISHWOMAN. 107 " My father, not chusing to break with him all at once, assumed a composure fo- reign to his feeh'ngs, and dropped the sub- ject for that day. *^ On the following one, an incident occurred, which, in its consequences, was near proving fatal. The little Mildred, in compliment to my father, sat at table du- ring .linner. — * Where is Miss Macdonald ?' said the little in no-cent ; 'how glad i am she does not dine here to-day ! I know my uncle would not love her. — Would you, Millington ?' (the name which lady Dunbar had taught the little prattler to use, when speaking to him.) * Mildred,' said sir Hector, alarmed,/ you must not chatter, or 1 shall send you to the nursery.* ' Make no stranger of me,' said my fa- ther ; * for you must know, Dunbar, 1 am as enthusiastic a father as husband, and listen with peculiar delight to the prattle of {liese little innocents. — And why, my love ?* continued he^ turning to the child; * whv lOS* THE EtsGLlSHSVOMAN. do you think I should not like Miss Mac- donald ? — I like all good ladies, Mildred.* ' But she is not good/ said the sweet girl, with an arch smile ; ' for she makes mamma cry so, you cannot think, uncle/ '* Sir Hector rose disordered, and leading the young offender to the door, bade her go to the nursery directly. Lady Dunbar complained ofa sudden faintness, and with- drew. A pause ensued, in which my fa- ther reverted to the letter of Gerald ; when fixing an inquiring look on Dunbar, he made the guilty heart of the tyrant shrink from his penetrating gaze. — ' I see,* cried my father, ' that my sister is not only wounded by your temper, but you add in- sult to cruelty; but, by Heaven ! if you dare insult her beneath the roof which should be sacred to her virtue, your life shall answer it !' *' So saying he darted out of the room, ^vith an intent to inquire of the devoted virtim the extent of lier injuries. He sought her in what he conceived to be her TIIK ENGLISHWOMAN. 10?> apartment, but great was his surprise, when he found himself in a room in which a lady- was employed at a writing-table. She rose in visible confusion, and, in a broad Scotch accent, said, — ' she believed he had made a mistake,' motioning him at the same time to withdraw. ' I believe I have intruded,' said my fa- ther haughtily, * and certainly undesigned- ly ; but, madam, since chance has brought me hither, may I, as a gentleman, and a connexion of this house, inquire the name of the lady I am addressing ?' " She replied, that Macdonald w^as her name. ' If you, madam, are a relative of sir Hector's, I cannot suppose he would se- clude you from the socieiy of one who is, I repeat it, unfortunately connected vAih him. You are one of the domestic circle wheo I am noi here ; why are you thus re- tired on my account? Believe me, madam, I have that respect for the amiable part of your sex, that I am never so happy as. in their society.' 110 TKE ENGLISHWOMAN. '' Your interference is insolenf,' said the lady, rising, and ringing a bell hasiiiy. " At that moment Di:nbar, who rame flushed from dinner, to acquaint his con- federate of sir Eldred's suspicions, entered the room. A feeliiiii somethintr like shame glanced over his fierce countenance. My father, with a look of stern authority, de- mai*ded whom that lady was? * ' A friend,* said Dunbar. ' Is she my sister's friend }* ' Lady Dunbar has such preJDdices,* said the reptile, ' that she seldom esteems those whom I select.* * There is a physical as well as moral rea» son for that,' said sir Eldred^, contemptu- ously. ' Did you come here, sir, to insult me?* Baid Dun bur, furiously. * No — to redress wrongs, r.nd, if possible, reclaim a villain !* ' Villain 1' groaned Dunbar. ' Sir Eldred, that word must be recalled.* ' Never !' said my father, ' till you prove your claim to a better title/ THE ENGLISHWOMAN. 1 1 I " Without further consideration they rushed to the library, where Dui^bar pre- sented a brace of pistols to sir ]:)ldred;, and taking the like for himself, they repaired to a wood, not half a mile from the castle. They fought. Dunbar vvas wounded slight- ly in the ^ide — my fiUher severely in the arm. *' So sudden was the transaction, that the wounded relatives were brought to the cas- tle ere the unhappy mistress of it was ap- prized o^ their hostile intentions. The weak spirit of Mildred seemed ready to quit its fragile tenement, when the train of tenants (whom the report of the pistols had brought from their rustic avocations), bore two so near to her apparently insen- sible into the hall. The good Gerald, by the most judicious and tender zeal, spared as much as possible the respected feelings of his mispress. But when sir Eldred raised his eyes, and beheld the injured wife di* viding her cares between himself and the worthless Dunbar, he groaned with men- tal agony — all bodily pain fled before it. 112 THE ENGLISHWOMAN. " Unused as sir Hector had ever been to all manner of opposition, it had never oc- curred (o him that any man would contend with him as his equal. Often had he insult- ed and wounded his dependants in the im st tender points — often been obliged to make restitution in \:\r^e sums of money, in or- der to avoid legal prosecutions; to com- promise was usual vith him ; but for a fel- low man to ('are ('ontend with him, had never once occurred a's possible. Humbled, auvi fonscious of having acted dishonour- ab!v, the haughtv Dunbar extended his hand to sir Eldrrd, and ronfci^sed him.self sorry for what had passed. '■^Mv father cooled, and ashamed of hav- ing been enaaged in so unnatm'ai a com- bat, readily ai quiesced in a reconciliation, upon the condition only of Miss Macdo- nald's instant removal. To this sir Hector could set up no plea, but that of her being an esteemed friend and distaiU comiexion ; but my father was inflexible in this parti- cular, and waved every effort of Dunbar's to the contrary. A short note, penned with THE ENGLISHWOMAN, 113 difficulty by' the humbled tyrant, v/as con- veyed to the vile woman, who departed from the castle that evening. *^ These symptoms of conciliation in the vindictive Hector were caused by the ge- nerous conduct of sir Eldred, who, when- engaged in the lamentable altercation, had had Dunbar wholly at his mercy, and had actually spared his life, which the over- powered tyrant had scarcely accepted, when the pistol he held accidentally went o^\ and wounded his generous enemy. Thus forced to acknowledge his valour, a sensation bordering on compunction suc- ceeded his rage. It would be ungenerous not to remark, that Dunbar fought with courage, at the same time that his rage de- feated his skill, which j)erhaps was fortu- nate for his adversary, who had many things to live for, possessed a copious heart, and many claimants on it. "Painful indeed was the situation of lady Dunbar; her strength but ill suited the fa- ti^^'Ues that her a'^ertion imposed on it; for, with all his faults, this unworthy man ,1 14 TH?: EKfTLlSnWOMAN. \vas still clcsr to the infatuated Mildred. Mtr brother too, that generous protector of her youth, her second father, to sec him wounded by the hand of a husband, was anj^uish inexpres.sible ! The little Mildred, the ostensible rniise of the late disaster, was the rhen.ib messen!;i[er fro.n the one to the other of the invalids. If Dunbar did love any thinjz; "n t' is world, it was his child ; tho!io;h hasty with her at times, she rould, bv a thousand artless blandishments, attune his wayward native. " Soon as :he convalescence of the gen- tlemen allowed their meeting at dinner, sir Eidred, after his sister h?id withdrawn, took orcnsion to propose, in the most dis- passionate wav, a sepnration bctwt-en Sir Hector and his lady. He adverted v^ith de- licacy to the female he. had seen on his ar- rival at the castle, ai.d candidly assured sir Rector that he could not bring himself to leave his sister subject to such Insult ; that, ii: order to spare both fhcir feelings, he wished to avoid a public aj)j)eal. He re- quired no further alimony (han that stipu- TMK EKCLJsnWOMAW. 1 i6 lated at their union, lie trusted sir Hec- tor would give his daughter to the care of her mother while she lived, which there "Was little reason to hope would be for a long duration.—' Her youth only/ he con- tinued, * gives me rhe sinallest couscdarion ; yet T think if her mind wc^e at ease, she mit^ht be <^ven to irjv prayers.* *' Dunbar heard hiin with co?Tipo3ure, disavowed the imputation thrown or, Miss Macdonald, but ao;reed to be direcfed, in this important matter, by lady Dun'oar's decision, yet refused to part with the child. This sir Eidred felt to be a decided oppo- sition to the plan ; but fearful lest Dunbar should influence the broken-hearted Mil- dred, he proposed their repairing to her immediately, and opening the matter, in the way least likely to wound her delicacy. ' I have been talking with Dunbar, my sister,' said sir Eidred, as he placed himself on a couch by the side of the invalid, *and he appears to think with me, that a south- ern residence will benefit you. Come, ray 116 THE EKGLISHWOMAN, ]ovc, you will not deny nie a happiness* that it is so fully in your power to grnnt.* ' Does sir Hector admit of its efficacy }' looking incredulously ; ' will he accom- pany mc, an<] take our child }' , \ That \,'^s not in the agreement/ replied Dun])ar, ookin g graveiv ; ' vou will not refuse your brother, Mildredj aad, at least,, you may spare the child to me, if you chuse to go/ ' I have no choice but to please you, Dunbar ; and you know that Kirkaldy, to me, nii^Jii be all that my heart could wish. No, Eldred,* continued the sufferer, ' if Dunbar would go and take Mildred with us, my happiness would be great; to" see my dear sister, embrace your infant, and, perhaps,' j^aid she, * breathe m\ last sigh at Miliiiiglon, would be to my fading spirits a Iranci i;, nay, soothing anticipaiic'U ; but without him., he knows I would not go. Elorei";, (taking the hai^d of the culprit husband) he is too dear to me, cyen at this moaicnr, to quit hiiU without a pang. My THE ENGLISrnrOMAN. 1 17 fiSaySj my dear brother, ?.vc waiiinn;- to their -close most rapidly; I have only one re- quest to make — Dunbar will make you, my brother, joint guardian with himself to my child, when 1 shall be at rest, •^p'^ak/mv love ; let me hear you as-ent t ) this and your wit^e will ask no other favour of you.* ** A short compliance passed the lips of Duubar. ' Ker religion,' said my father, ' will be that of her mother, according to a former promise.* *' A hasty glance at his wife^ which as- sured him she had not betrayed him in this particular, gave Dunbar courage to reply 'in the affirmative, while the almost breath- ie^ agitation of his wife assured sir Eidred, that this had been a more than ordinarily contested point. '' My father beheld, with silent astonish- ment, the yet tender regard that lady Dun- bar bore this ungracious being. lie would not shock the ears of the sufferer by nam- ing Miss Macdonald, but engaged sir Hec- 'tor, on hhi word, as a man of honour, tiot 118 THE ENGLISHWOMAN. to receive her info his family — at least while his lady lived. To this he assented. However repugnant to my father to enter into terms with a beinj;^ so unamiable, yet be did so — the peace of the fragile Mildred required it, and to sooth the latter days of a sisterso beloved, no sacrifice was too great. ^' On the morning of sir Eldred's depar* lure from Kirkakly, he took occasion, in the presence of sir Hector, to notice Ge- rald — ' Remember/ said my father, ^ that ^lillington is yocir home, whenever you choose to claim it; your worth, while my domestic, fully demanded my regard, nay gratitude ; and your lady assures me that you are unaltered, and invaluable as ever,* ** Gerald was too much overpowered to reply than by a few grateful expressions — while a half sarcastic smile from sir Hector evinced his ignorance of the feeling of gratitude, or at least of that gratitude which a master should avow for a servant, and not a small portion of contempt for the man "H'ho could utter so incongruous ;i sentiment, ^' The little Mildred wept bitterly at part* THE ENGLISHWOMAN. I 10 ing with her uncle, sent a thousand remem- brances to me, and a beauteous ringlet of her golden hair, which is that I now wear in this locket, Selina. Lady Dunbar's spi- rits were not equal to the parting ; she attempted utterance, but fell lifeless into the arr,)s oi her brother. Sir Eldred seem- ed irresolute as to leavin<=; her at ail, but Miliiuifton was ihe haven lo which his heart pointed " Wi'h the most tender and {)oignant concern, he placed the insen^^ible Mildred in the arms ol her husband, and with a for- cible, yet softened manner, bade him con- sider her weak state, and be generous — ' You know,' continued my father, ^ that I was averse to this union ; I foresaw most of its consequences ; you have taught me lo tremble at my own discernment : but, Dunbar, the tie will soon be dissolved; bear with it a little longer, nor urge me to consider you less than a man of honour — friends we can i.ever cordially be ; but give me, I entreat you, no cause t ; think you more my enemy than at present.' 150 THE ENGLISHWOMAN. '' Dunbar extended his hand in silence, and my father rushed from the presence of a sister he was never n^ore to see. *' I have omitted to name that Mrs. Law- son closed her days at Kirkaldy, about two years previous to my father's visit. She had exerted a spirit, and, in fact, assumed a character entirely new to her, in behalf of her injured cousin ; and nothing but the entreaties ofher amiable patroness had pre- vented her seeking redress from my father. Her life had been ultimately shortened by witnessing sorrows to which she felt her- self in a degree accessary, by .a weak com- pliance with an infatuated young woman. Alas! had the unhappy Mildred but con- fided in her brother, nor suffered her rea- son to be blinded by passion, how differ- ent had been her fate ! '* The recital of sir Eldred fully account- ed for the pale looks of the reciter. Afy mother gave the genuine tear of sympathy to her unhappy sister, and endeavoured, by mild and apposite observations, to lead the hopes and wishes of my father to the THE ENGLISHWOMAN. 121 happiness of meeting his loved sister in that haven '' where the weary are at rest." For myself, I was so pleased with ray ringlet, which my father hung round my neck, that I have never parted with it since. Little did I imagine how much the fate of Mildred and m}self were to blend ! Oh God ! I have ceased to repine; thy ways are inscrutable^ but wisely ordained^ though past our imperfect comprehension ! '' A formal letter from Dunbar^ about four months after my father's return^ an- nounced the death of the unhappy Mil- dred, No mention was made of ihe guar- dianship of the child, nor any latter in- junctions of the hapless su frerer. He af- fected no violent grief; named it as an event that had been long expected ; that his daughter was sensibly ^^eciediy but trusted it would, like all vouthful feeJino- give way to succeeding scenes and expand- ing ideas; that he was prevented from ta- king her to Edinburgh for change, bv be- in^T under a severe fit of the irout. ■o VOL. J. e 122 THE ENGLISHWOMAN. "" Sir Eldred, though he had expected the event, could not resign to the grave so young and beloved a sister, without the most poignant grief. The tenderness of my excellent mother, however, and the conviction that this world had few charms for his lost Mildred, at length temporized his feelings. But, resolute to the trust she had reposed in him, he wrote immediately to Dunbar, requiring an explanation of his intentions with regard to his sacred trust. * If,' said my father, ' you resolve to re- tain her to yourself, I doubt not you will consider my honour and your own in the liome to Vv'hich you destine her; but if your views aie not consonant to this, I re- quire yon to place her under my care, whom you shall ever find steady to the trust, and delighted with the charge. 1 will even solicit at vourhandsa favour so inestimable, us that of rearing this beloved infant. Let us biirv all recollection of past v;rongs, and make this innocent the pledge of future amity between us.' *' Sir Hector's answers were vague and CHE ENGLISHWOMAN. 125 unsatisfactory, yet evidently intended to keep up a degree of intercourse with the family. From Gerald my father received a few lines, saying his lady had requested' him to remain in the family, which he should do while he could ; but nothing further was said by this faithful creature.'^ CHAP. VIIL '* What is it that you would impart to me?" The narrative of lady Mary was interrupted by the return of sir Eldred, who, accom- panied by the elder Mr. Cecil, now appeared riding up the avenue. Selina retired to her room, to recover that composure so neces- sary to the happiness of the baronet. The lightness of her steps caused her approach .0 be unnoticed, until she had actually en- tered her room, in which stood Mrs. Susan Flight, who, leaning on a broom^ which her left arm supported, was examining a sm.all G 2 124 THE ENGLISHWOMAN. morocco case, evidently endeavouring to recollect something. Miss Asgill, with a smile of gentleness, asked " what it was on which she was so intent ?" '^ Goodness me. Miss \" said Susan, ^' I never heard you. — Why you must know, Miss, I picked this up in my lady's dressing- room, and when I came to look at it, I find it is a gentleman I know, but I could not at first recollect him." '' Was it open, Susan, when you found it?" said Miss Asgill, looking steadily at her. " Why no, Miss, I can't say that it was ; but I thought there could be no harm just in looking into a case. If it had been a letter, I would have scorned the action ; but really. Miss, the face is so fur mill ur to me, that I gemini ! why it is as like you as ever it can stare/* said Susan, dropping her broom in the joy of her discovery; *' but I have seen the gentleman." Selina, whose feelings had been softened by her attendance to her cousin's story, started at the fall of the broom. Susan, in THE ENGLISHWOMAN. 125 her haste to recover it, let fall the case, from which fell a miniature. *' Oh, I am ruined/' exclaimed Snsan, '*ifit is broke!" '' Let me see it," said Miss Asgill. '' I fear your curiosity has done an irreparable mischief." Susan presented it with trembling. Our heroine, whose intention it was to replace it in the case, and dismiss the faulty Susan, with a suitable admonition, had just ex- amined the back, and was placing it secure- ly, when, removing her hand, she discover- ed a face that rivetted her attention, and called forth a look of horror — '* Speak ! tell me, Susan, where did you see this per- son ? — when ? — what did he say ?" '^ Why, for that matter," said Susan, ga- thering courage from the condescension of her young lady, " he did not saij much, for he was in fits for the most that I seed him." '' But when did you see him ?" interrupt- ed Miss Asgill. " Why, I will tell you presently, Miss. — Let me see — why it was last fair-time, just 1'26 THE ENGLISHWOMAN. twelve months the twenty- second of next month. The reason why I remembers the day so well is, because Tom Hodges ,gavc me a ribbon." '' Never mind the ribbon, Susan, but tell me how you came to see this gentleman.'* ''Why then. Miss, Tom Hodges brought me from the fair in his chaise ; so, just as we came Jo father's door, I said to Tom, says I, ' -Just let us stop, and get a drink of milk before you take me home;' for you know. Miss, I lived with lady Neville, and w^e v/ere stopping at sir John Owen's then." '' Yes, I remember that ; but pray go on, Susan." '' Well, when v;e got into the room, I thought I should have fainted, for there laid that very gentleman that you hold in your hand, and who is as like you as one pin is to another." '' Dear me, Susan," said Miss Asgill^ *' what has this to do with your story ?" " I rather think it will be found to be- long to mv story," replied Susan, looking sagaciously ; " but liozvsoindever, there he TFIIJ ENGLISHWOMAN. 127 laid upon the floor. — Mother was sprink- iing water over hii;i, and father had taken his cravat ofF. He was a good v^hile before he corned too, and tl\en he talked as if he was out of his wits. At last a young man, a foreigner, corned running to our cottage. Soon, as the gentleman saw him, he said — ^ Did you find it, Fabian ?' The young man said no ; he had traced the path as far as he thought he could with safety, but could not find it. The gentleman seemed to think the young man spoke too plain, I fan- cy, for he gave him a serious angry look. The young man, however, was soon in fa- vour again, and the gentleman leaned on him for support. They spoke in foreign language together, and then they borrowed Tom's chaise to take them three miles, where, they said, they had a carriage waiting. He was a rich gentleman, I am sure, for he givcd live guineas to father and Tom for the kindness they had showed him, and the lend of the chaise ; and he told mother, that if she was to find a small red heart, that was Dot very valuable to look at, but which he 128 THE ENGLISHWOMAN. had lost somewhere in the neighbourhood, if she would enclose it, and send it fo the Post-office, Dover, she should have a hand- some reward; and I am sure, many is the hour I have searched in the wood, but ne- ver found it. What is the matter, iVfiss?" said Susan, who now discovered that her young lady v/as pale and trembling. " Give me a little air, Susan,'* said Miss Asgill ; '' I have not been quite well all the morning. Now go on with your story, Susan." " Well, Miss^ a month after, comes a letter directed to farmer Flight. I was sent for to read it ; it was a very short one ; but for all that, it was short and sweet. All that v/as inside was — ' The stranger who was so humanely assisted by farmer Plight's family requests they will not trouble them- selves to seek for what he then lost, as he has reason to hope it fell into the only hands he could have wished it to rest with.' This is all the words that was in the letter," continued Susan ; " but there was a ten pound note. Dear, what is the matter. THE ENGLISHWOMAN. 129 Miss ? you look so pale^ just like that poor gentleman when he fainted." ^' I am better now," said Miss Asgill, en- deavouring to rally her spirits; " but tell me, Susan, how did this stranger come to your cottage?" " Why, he begged leave to sit on the bench by mother, who was knitting at the door, while he sent his servant to look for the fine thing he had lost. — Mother says he talked as humble as a cottager. Mother took the liberty to say, ' she thought he looked ill.' — He said, ' he was in a poor state of health, but that he had fatigued himself by too long a walk.' Mother says she is sure he was in a great deal of trou- ble. Once he asked what the clergyman's name was. — He coloured when she named Mr. Cecil. — But mother, you know. Miss, always loves to talk of iady Mary ; so she up and told all her charity and goodness; and she was just going to tell about you being brought up in all such good ways, when the gentleman fainted, and soon af- G 3 130 TilK ENGLISHWOMAN. ter Tom Hodges and I arrived. You know the rest. Miss." '' I diO, Susan/' said Selina, as she mourn- fully clasped the morocco case : " the lit- tle history you have given me raises my respect for your honest parents; a good action always meets its reward. But allow me to add, that I am sorry your curiosity induced you to remove this case from the room in which you found it. I can readily believe that you do not iliirik you have be- trayed your trust in opening it, but I differ in opinion. It was closed, and I have no doubt but that my cousin is even now un- conscious of having left it on her dressing- table. You have, by your lapse from pro- priety, involved me in an involuntary er- ror. Conceiving the picture might be injured in its fall, I was anxious to exa- mine it, and place it safe in the case, in or- der to save vou from diso:race. Gettin"; a view of the features, a part of your foible, Susan, became mine ; but as I trust my mo- tives had their rise in a natural curiositv, I will hope I am not so greatly in error. Su- THE ENGLISHWOMAN. I 3 1 san, do you go and replace this where you found it; and I expect of you that you will, U required, explain your conduct in this affair exactly. I should not, for a moment, consent to your silence on the subject, were I not certain that I am sparing the feelings of one I love, by so doing ; for my own share in this matter, I shall talk with my cousin, and tell her my fault/* Susan could not conceive what sort of conscience her young lady must possess, who found it necessary to tell what nobo- dy need know but their two selves. — The serious advice of iMiss Asgill had no effect, nor received any respect from Susan, who called it all unnatteral preaclimcnt in so young a girl, who she firmly believed would be an old maid, though she had certainly changed her opinion as to the celibacy of her own mistress since the fin^ling of the picture. The stranger's fainting soon af- ter the naming of her ladyship, and Ge- rald's anger at her calling her an old maid, united to raise strong doubts in the inqui- sitive Susan, who, in her own breast, har- 132 THE ENGLISHWOMAN. boured sentiments irrelevant to the purity of that amiable woman. Susan bad no sooner relired than Miss Asgill drew from her bosom that identical red heart which the stranger had lost, and after looking earnestly on it till her eyes were sufTiised in tears, she replaced it, with a feeling of wonder, mixed wjth unusual tenderness. '' This concealment at least," said Selina, '^ I am not culpable in observ- ing^ ; it was required of me by one whom I will believe. — Alas ! what painful reflec- tions must have been his, which caused so alarming an effect ! — Thank Heaven ! he found assistance from the honest farmer." The likeness which Susan had discovered between the picture and herself now glan- ced on her mind ; and as she looked in the mirror, to see if her countenance would bear the inquiring eye of tenderness ere she descended, the resemblance was visible even to her, whose unaniected observation of her personal attractions might have made the similarity less obvious, had not her -present paleness brought to mind the THE ENGLISmVOMAN. 133 languor of the stranger^ whom memory left indelibly imprinted on her heart. A momentary regret was our heroine's, on rejecting that she had given no caution to Susan, with regard to her observing a perfect silence in respect to the stranger; but a second thought made her justly con- clude, that to require silence from a per- son of Susan's disposition was the surest way to awaken her desire of communica- tion. The stranger and his griefs, as far as they were known to Susan, were therefore left in her keeping, while the more inter- esting and painful particulars that had reached the knowledge of Selina, were trea- sured in her heart, deep fixed, and with a complicated feeling of terror and esteem, for which her reason, though active and intelligent, could find no Jirm motive on which to repose. On the development of lady Mary's nar- ration, she committed her hopes and fears to rest, and, with an appearance as cheerful as her disposition would admit of, descend- ed to the parlour, where the rational con- 134 THE ENGLISHWOMAN. versation of the party lightened her grief, ^vhile the marked kindness of the respect- able Cecil made an impression on her mind, that convinced her of Francis Cecil's hav- ing named their last interviev/. This en- hanced her regard, and made her temporary resignation of him more sensibly felt; yet, " In the modesty of fearful duty," her rectitude supported her. CHAP. IX, " Thou tremblest ; and the whiteness in thy cheek is apter ^an thy tongue to tell thy errand.'" Encouraged by the countenance of sup- porting friends, Selina became cheerful ; but the penetrating eye of lady Mary dis- cerned that it was a constrained cheerful- ness ; and though she could partly account for the pallid looks of Miss Asgill, yet she thought her appearance betrayed traces of very recent tears. THE ENGLISHWOMAN. 125 The rector, after a long morning visit, departed, Lady Mary now apprized Se- lina that the junior Cecil was to leave his father's house on the ensuing morning. Miss Asgill attempted to appear indifferent, but her effort failed, and, throwing her arms round lady Mary, she requested her to be- lieve that she continued firm in her resolu- tions respecting her engagement with this amiable young man, but that hearing of his departure so suddenly, she had been un- guardedly betrayed into a w^eakness which she had resolved on endeavouring to sub- due. '' Attempt not to conceal what but en- dears vou more to mv heart, Selina. I be- lieve you, at this time, esteem Cecil be- yond any other of his sex ( Selina bowed ) ; and though you have, from a wisdom and principle somewhat unusual at your age, voluntarily resigned all thoughts of a union with him for some time, yet I do not ex- pect you should eradicate all idea of his worth as a fri end, a most amiable young 5 136 THE ENGLISHWOMAN, man^ and the companion of your earliest infancy. No, Selina,, let me ever see you ingenuous and tender as at this moment, and let the genuine feelings of your heart be as amiably conspicuous when in the bo- som of your family. I grant," continued lady Mary, '^ that the world requires us to conceal our better feelings; it is a callous, or rather a partial judge, smiling only on its votaries ; but while under our protec- tion, I shall hail with rapture every bright beam of so engaging a qualify.'* "Your protection \" said Selina: '^ why, who can claim me of vou ?** '^ Alas, my love ! you have yet to learn that there are some natural claimants to your regard and affection, to whom you are at present a stranger; but," continued her ladyship, '' the mournful storv in which I am enp-afjed will introduce them more advantageously to your notice, than a pre- mature announcement could do." Selina, whose mind reverted to the stran- ger, looked aghast, but recovering herself. THE ENGLISHWOMAN. 137 she said— '' Surely there can be no necessity for my quitting the protection of my dear uncle and yourself?" " Not exactly a necessity/' replied lady Mary; " but the world requires of us an observance of some few of its customs.'* " You have never approved of worldly considerations/' said Selina. '' No, my love: not its follies, or such customs as break in upon the morality and duties of a rational and benefited being ; but there are some which must be attended to by those who mix in life, and it is your lot, my love, to niix in the world/* *' Your word I have ever been used to consider as a command/' replied Selina, *' or I would decidedly assure you of my wish to live at a distance from that world, which I once wished to see, but havefsince learned to fear/' " Is it I, Selina," said lady Mary, '' who have given you this distaste to the world ?" Selina started. The words of the stran- ger, his advice and admonitions, had all been pointed against the world ; but as he 238 THE ENGLISHWOMAN. was evidently labouring under a distem- pered mind, and the smooth surface of her domestic happiness ran in so fair a current as to leave the conviction that his mind dwelt on the sorrows apportioned to him^ she gave him her sympathy : yet as the de- velopment of her family story unfolded, she discerned that the zvorld had dealt un- kindly by those for whom Nature pleaded strongly in her bosom — by those whose virtues expanded before her daily. Alas, then, who w^ould lay up their treasures ia this world ! Lady Mary, who marked the varied emo- tions that passed in the breast of Selina, with a look of affection, and a smile of mildness, observed — " I fear you are ill- qualified for a residence among the fashion- able and thoughtless, as there it will be ne- cessary to be guarded : and as I know, from experience, that there are feelings which it is absolutely impossible not to wish to communicate^ I would advise you, my love, to be cautious in your friendships with your own sex, as well as with the other. Your THE ENGLISHWOMAN. 139 rank in life, the connexions to which you v/ill be introduced, and, above all, the pro- perty which fortune has bestowed on you^ will make your society sought. Flattery will assail you by a thousand insidious ways. Your good sense will, I trusl. define between thoseworthy of your regard, and those whom a general civility must keep at that distance which trifiers should ever hold. In the ami- able Marian and her worthy Brooks, I place much confidence. Lady Asgill, of course, you will love as she deserves; but as I shall not accompany you to London, and after yout' next birth-day, have no power to detain vou from making your entree in- to the world, I shall expect of you as punc- tual a correspondence as your active life will admit. It will cheer us, and, in some degree, lessen our regret for your absence, of which I cannot think but with much an- guish." The accompanying tears of her ladyship made all professions unnecessary; and Se- lina, whose tears flowed plenteously, sob- 14.0 THE ENGMSH\VOMAN. bed on the bosom of her generous protec- tress. ''^ We will walk/' said her ladyship ; '' come, Selina/* throwing a rn iislin cloak over her shoulders, as she opened a door which led into the "-arden. Miss As^^ill followed. The vivifying' air that noated around them, the glowing and lovely appearance of hop-grounds, which bloomed on everv hand, the grateful acknowledgments that met their ears, as they stopped to inquire after the sick and helpless, the honest Tvarmth that shewed itself, in undressed lan- guage, proved to the amiable dispensers of heaven's best gift, how much it is in the power of those on whom Fortune smiles, to bless, by disseminating her bounty. After a walk which, to a fine lady, would have been fatiguing almost to annihilation, not to say '' how boring," our fair friends- returned. As they passed to their dressing- rooms, Selina stopped involuntarily at the door of lady Mary. The door stood open^ THE ENGLISHWOMAN. 141 and the morocco case lay full in view. With a countenance of anxiety, she entered the room with her cousin. '' There/* said she, pointing to the case, '' lies what has given me much uneasiness this morning/' '' How," said lady Mary, " Selina, could a case, the contents of which you are un- acquainted with, give you pain?'* *' I have seen its contents,*' said Selina. '' Have you }" replied her ladyship, while a blush coloured her now naturally pale cheek. " Yes, madam ; I will explain the cir- ciimstance to you." She then touched as lightly as she could on Susan's foible of ru« riosity — her share in the view of the pic- ture, &c. &c. " I could not be happy in concealing a matter which I felt to be an indelicacy.'* " Enough, my love," said lady Mary; " I will not hear any more on the subject. Susan's curiosity was reprehensible ,* I thank you for having corrected her, but am my- self blamable in having put it in her power to display her idle propensity. I certainly 142 THE ENGLISHWOMAN. did not know that I had left it in view. I must have dropped it when at my cabinet. It is the likeness of a friend once highly es- teemed. But we must part now, Selina, the dinner-hour is at hand. We must have some music in the eveniuG: — the Cecils take tea with us.'' Selina hurried from the room to dispatch her toWet, and hide the emotion that her ladvship's last words oave rise to. To sec Francis for the last time^ and feel it proper to restrain the interest she took in his fate, seemed a trial that required more fortitude than at present was in her power. The evening arrived, hov/ever; the pas- tor and his f^imily joined the Millington circle, where, at least, if cordiality and har- mony couid subdue or soften vague regrets, their influence was not wanting. Mrs. Ce- cil, whose love for Francis was unbounded, was the least cheerful of the party. She sighed involuntarily. Selina caught the in- fection. A grateful look that passed from Cecil to our heroine was observed by the baronet. THE ENGLISHWOMAN. 143 " Frank/' said sir Eldred;, '' you must get the parsonage in order; I fear that Jenkins has not evinced much taste in its adornment. The interior will require vour scientific judgment; Marian and Se- lina will furnish yo'j with some views^ ^^^J Mary some plants and fossil imitations, and from my green-house and gardens you may select whatever strikes your fancy. In fact^, I shall expect to find you ready to receive us, as we shall certainly take the parsonage in our way to London, which I tJiink will be in about four months." " I did not know there was such a happi- ness in store for rue," said Cecil. *'' How kindly, sir, you endeavour to lessen the pangs of parting by this pleasant intimation! I shall deem the ornamental decorations of my dwelling invaluable, since you allow me to expect Miss Asgill's charming talent will be exerted in my service,— But do you permit sir Eldred to dispose of vour hand in this way?" said Cecil, looking rather archly at Selina. '' Certainly," she replied ; '' my hand is 14^ THE ENGLISHWOMAN. ever at the disposal of my uncle, and I wil- lingly agree to assist Marian in doing what my abilities in this way will admit of/* Music and singing helped on the hours of evening. At length the carriage of Mr. Cecil was heard coming up the avenue. The moment of separation approached. The eyes of Francis were rivetted on Se- lina ; a few hasty adieus were uttered in- articulately. He took the hand of his fair friendj and pressing it in silence to his lips, ran out of the room. Sir Eldred followed him to the carriage. When the family were seated, he order- ed his servants to retire, and leaning on the window—'' Frank/' said sir Eldred, ^' the liand that is to trace views for your enthusiasm to brood over shall be your's irrevocably, if both of ye desire it, twelve months hence.*' *' Oh ! call it not enthusiasm,'* said Ce- cil, as he grasped the hand of sir Eldred; «* call it a devoted, a decided preference i" ** You are a loxer, Frank; but I trust not a despairing one.'* THE ENGLISHWOMAN. 145 ^* Heaven bless you !'* said Mrs. Cecil. *' My noble friend !" said the elder Ce- cil, *' consistent upon all occasions, never putting your own interest in competition with the advantage of your friend." '' You remember me, Arthur,'' said sir Eldred, with a look of melancholy expres- sion, '' a captive, wearing willing chains.'* '' Chains,'' said Cecil, with a look of virtuous resignation, '' that Heaven, in love and pity, dissolved, to call an angel to its native skies, and teach a manly mind its inherent pov/ers." " Heaven bless ye all V said' sir Eldred. " Amen !" said the grateful Cecils, as the coach drove from the door. Sir Eldred returned to the music-room, where he found his daughter and Selina waiting his return, Selina looked inquiry. Her ladyship asked " What sort of night it was?" *' Fine," said sir Eldred. "■ I hope they will o^qX safely down the steep,'' said Selina, looking fearfully. " I hope so too," said the baronet : *' only VOL. I, H 146 THE ENGLISHWOMAN. that your mind is softened by the separation from a friend, Selina, I should certainly condemn all approaches to chimeras and entendering fears, which lessen the beauty of the female character ; but when I tell/* said sir Eldred^ with a smile of benevolent satisfaction, " that I have given Frank every reason to hope and nothing to fear, you will not think any more of the steep.'* Selina blushed her thanks, and embracing lady Mary and her generous uncle, sought repose and consolation, by offering her grateful prayers to Kim who disposed the hearts of her protectors so much to her happiness. CHAP. X. " Why has not man a microscopic eye ? For this plain reason, man is not a fly." The continuation of the family story was more anxiously required by Miss Asgill new than before her rencounter with Susan. THE ENGLISHWOMAN. 147 Lady Mary was desirous of diverting the mind of her protegee ; without her solicita- tion, therefore, she resumed her narration next morning. *' From the period of lady Dunbar*s death, very little intercourse was observed between our families. My father sought, by conciliating means, to win sir Hector to part with his daughter, in order to give her the advantages of my mother's counte- nance and protection : but he invariably fieemed to express so much regard for the- child, and such comfort in her societv, as \eh no shadow of excuse for pressing the Bubject. * ^^ Thus passed over six years. In v/hich time sir Hector had rather been tardy in writing ; but Mildred and myself were re- gular correspondents. While my letters were filled with every new idea that offered to my observation, and asked a thousand questions concerning her studies, amuse- ments, &c, her answers were formal ?.rA constrained, evidently dictated by some 148 THE ENGLISHWOMAN. one not anxious to make the intercoiir^^e too farailiar. ** At length a letter from Gerald brought inexpressible regret to my father. It in- formed him ' that Miss Dunbar was educa- ted in the Catholic faith ; that he would have written to my father on the subject long since, but had been confined above twelve months with the gout ; that he had scrawled once or twice to his honoured master, but feared his letters had never reached him. The young lady, he learned, had been bound to secresv. for nearly tw^o years; that she now openlv professed the faithj which gave sir Hector the only plea- sure he seemed capable of enjoying, as he was more morose than ever ; much afflicted with the gout, to which he added greatly by excesses in drinking ; that Miss Dunbar .appeared greatly pleased w iih her religion, and was grown very tall and handsome ; but I fear,' snid Gerald, in the closing of his letter, ' that the poor young lady has been persuaJed into it by many arts, and her happiness is now at an end. Sir Kec- THE ENGLISHWOlvIAK. Ii9 for has brought Miss Macdonald into the house again, and my dear young lady has never looked cheerful since. 1 doubt/ continued Gerald, ' if your honour will ever be able to get Miss put under your care — I wish it were possible. Miss Mil- dred was absent near five months; since her return, I hear it was to have her made more acquainted with her religion ; and she was in Ireland all that time. Your ho- nour's love for the young lady will make you find some way to give her more hap- piness than she at present enjoys. I ap- pear so unpleasant to the eye of my mas- ter, and' my health requiring a warmer air, I purpose quitting this place. Your ho- nour's offer of receiving me will, if you are still of the same mind^ make me happy. I have never known true comfort since I left your bonour's service. My youth was spent with you,* said Gerald, ' and I trust your honour will still find me useful and willing, when my mind is easier.' " The contents of this letter, like all our Scottish communications, caused sir Eldred 150 THE ENGLISHWOMAN. much anxiety. He proposed ^oing to Kir- kaldy instantly ; but the countess, who had not yet ceased (o dread Dunbar, would not hear of it. To sir Hector, however, he wrote, to know from whom she received her religious instructions, as his (sir Hector's) silence on the subject was not consistent with their former agreement. He requested him to part with Mildred, if only for a fixed period, to give her the advantages of my mother's careand instruction; and conclud- ed by saying, that the want of female socie- ty was, at her age, a serious deprivation. *' To this Dunbar, v^'ith his usual will- ness, replied — ' that he coincided with sir Eldred, in regard to the necessity of her having a female companion and protectress, and for this purpose, he had received an amiable friend and relation of his own, who had undertaken the important charge ; that Mildred had been some months in a religious house, to which he had conducted her, for the purpose of being initiated in her religious duties. He trusted his good brother would forgive his silence on this V THE KNGLiSllWOMAN. 151 head, as their sentiments on the subject were so uncongenial ; that Mildred delight^ ed in the faith, and professed it with a sin- cere devotion. — His happiness/ he conchi- ded, ' had been so much deduced from by a difference in this essential point, that he had resolved not to hazard a second disap- pointment of the sort, and had therefore thought proper to judge for himself.* *' This was a decisive opposition to my father's views. Disgusted with the unprin- cipled Dunbar, he replied to his insidious epistle — ' that though he had not named the tutoress he had en^a^ed for Miss Dun- bar, he knew it to be Miss Macdonald ; that Mildred's acquiescence to the Catholic religion was the effect of compulsion, he doubted not ; but as that was past recall, he should not venture an opinion in a case so delicate. He trusted that the virtuous of fill religions would be found acceptable in the eyes of mercy. The youth of his niece would, if under other authority, admit no doubt of an investigation, that should ei- ther convince her of her error, or confirm J 52 THE ENGLISHWOMAN, her opinions; but/ he repeated, ' that even this, though a serious consideration, gave place to the horror he felt at sir Hector's want of delicacy^ in placing Miss Mac- donald at the head of his family. I desire of you,' said my father, ' that you instantly dismiss this woman, or give your daughter to my care. I give you this notice, ere I proceed to use legal means for her removal from your unhallowed roof *' No answer being given to this, my father deputed a learned and confidential friend, resident in Scotland, to investigate the matter, and use the proper means for removing this unfortunate child. The re- ply io this letter was little calculated to give comfort. Mr. Macleod acquainted sir Eldred, * that on going to Kirkaldy, he learned sir Hector and his daughter were gone to France ; had been absent nearly a fortnight ; that the object of their trip was to place the young lady in a convent, at her own desire.' " A letter from sir Hector, soon after, with an enclosure from I\Iildred, dated THE ENGLISHWOMAN. 153 Brussels, placed the matter beyond doubt. Sir Hector simply stated—' that Mildred's, as well as his own happiness, was centered in the profession of the same faith ; that, at her own desire^ he had accompanied her to Brussels, and fixed her in a convent, where she purposed to remain as a boarder; that to do away all idea of her having been influenced contrary to her own inclinations, he had desired her to explain herself to her uncle in the enclosed letter ; and in order to cement the esteem which he trusted would ever exist between lady Mary and his daughter, he had given her unlimited power to correspond with her kind rela- tives; at the same time_, she was never to be removed but by his order/ '' All interference was useless. From this time Dunbar was forgotten, except in one instance, which I shall have occasion to name, Mildred and myself became regular correspondents. Her letters were intelli- gent and affectionate. It was plain, how- ever, that her youthful mind had been, strictly impressed with her religious duties; II 3 154 THE EXGLISHWOMAX. there was an air of melancholy attached to her character as it unfolded itself, that often made us unhappy for her. '' Sir James Montgomery, who had led a wandering life since his dij^appointment in the heart of Miss Millington. often corres- ponded with my father. He was then in France, though at a great distance from Brussels ; to him sir Eldred wrote, desiring him, whenever he made a change of resi- dence, to journey towards Brussels, and see the child of his once-loved Mildred. He gave him some instructions with respect to the observations he wished him particular- ly to observe with the young recluse. '' From sir James he got an immediate reply, and many thanks for giving him an object so worthy his attention. 'I go di- rectly/ s^'^id this aminble friend ; * I sh.-iU have a pleasure, though a melancholy one, in seeing this precious relic of my murder- ed angel.' ^' Impatiently did we wait his comm.uni- cation. At length a long epistle from sir James gave the wished informafion. It was THE ENGLISHWOMAN. 155 with great difficulty he got admitted to the presence of Miss Dunbar^ nor could he hold any discourse with her, but in a room with a third person. This he obviated as much as possible, by making his conversa- tions so little particular as to convince the sisterhood he had no sinister motive for his visits. — 'At length,' said he, * I found an opportunity to ask her, if her present abode was consonant to her inclination ? — She as- sured me it was, and her faith what she de- lighted to profess. She has all the beauty of her mother,' continued sir James, 'ex- cept in her hair, which is perfectly Cale- donian. She appears to me to have grown beyond her strength, though she does not allow that she is unhealthy. I believe that her rigorous devotion causes the melan- choly I perceive. She is, in fact, a perfect devotee.' " Sir James stopped some time at Brus- sels, and made a friendship with this dear girl, that eventually proved of much impor- tance to her; but as his visits, from their frequency, became less and less agreeable 156 THE ENGLISHWOMAN. to the sisterhood, he quitted that part of France, and travelled southward. The let- ters of Mildred, after seeing sir James, were more aflectionate than ever. She had by him been made familiarly acquainted with my father's virtues — of the countess or myself he knew nothing butby sir El- dred's report ; but this, in the language of an impartial friend, he gave to the eager inquiries of the religieuse. '^ Thus passed over three years, during which our correspondence had been punc- tual ; of a* siidden it ceased on the part of Mildred. We waited some time. At length sir Eld red addressed the superior ; her an- .swer w^as, ' that Miss Dunbar had been re- called, by an order from her father^ about two months since.' The fear of what sir Hector's future intentions might be for this dear girl made sir Eldrcd apply to him res- pecting her. ''Conceive ouranguish, my Selina, when, in reply, Dunbar uttered nothing but exe- crations on her head ; that she had quitted the convent with an order forged in his THE ENGLISHWOMAN. 157 name, and had married some adventurer ; that he had received letters of intercession from her, wherein she refused to avow her place of concealment till assured of his for- giveness. 'This,' continued Dunbar, 'she will never obtain ; she has baffled all my hopes, and cursed my remaining days !' '' While we were yet conjecturing and weeping over her fate, which we felt dis- posed to pity and condemn, a letter from herself assured us that she was the wife of a man of honour; that though^, while un- der the anger of her father, and for another and cogent reason, she could not immedi- ately disclose herself, she yet trusted the time would arrive when she might unblush- ingly claim our esteem and support. ^' Mildred, at this time, my Selina, was scarcely seventeen ; thus had she, at a pe- riod when I was under the eye of parental instruction, and in the practice of those stu- dies which have proved my solace and com- fort through life, ventured on a world, that, even when surrounded by the encouraging smiles of approving friends, is an arduous 158 TitE ENGtISflWOMA!f. underfciking to a delicate mind. Nor w.oiild I impeach the virtue of this ill-fated victim, but merely to illustrate my former remark, that an immediate translation from solitude (o the grand theatre of the world, • is both a dangerous and iil-conceived foun- dation on which to build happiness. Mil- dred*s report of herself, though it did not quiet our anxiety wholly, yet made us more easy concerning her. The subsequent si- lence ceased to alarm. Alas ! could we have conceived what was to be the event of this disunion, as it were ! '' About this period the countess's health began to decline ; the loss of the only boy she ever had, who died at the age of three years, gave a shock to her constitution that alarmed us. I was just eighteen. After a few months given to sorrow, sir Eldred pro- posed my entrance into life, as a motive for my mother's removal, and to give action to Tier mind, which seemed drooping daily. *' We repaired to Bath first. During a month's sojourn in that city, the earl of Winterton became our visitor. He ',Yas THE ENGHSHV^'OMAN. 159 then aboct thirty : tall, manly, and inge- nuous. The virtues of my mother, while dispensing the fortunes of the Winterton family, had endeared her to every branch of it. The earl, ■vvho had passed many years abroad, expressed high satisfaction at the meeting. — In short, Selina, a few days be- fore we quitted Bath, he offered me his hand. I [e\t no preference for this w^orthy man, therefore declined the honour. Sir Eldred and my mother were disappointed, but they forbore to press the subject; while I, for the first time in my l.ife, thought contrary to them, and abided by my own opinion. '' As our carriages were at the door next morning, the earl made his appearance. He looked out of spirits, and disconcerted. — ' I see disappointment is to be mine,' said the earl ; * hut you will allow me to visit in Grosvenor-square, lady Mary r* ' I am not mistress there/ said I; ' yet I will venture to say^ you must be welcome^ my lord/ ' Thank you/ said he. * i did not ask 160 THE ENGLISHWOMAN. my excellent friends here; I was aGsured of their permission.* Turning gaily to my mo- ther, he said — ' Beware how you introduce lady Mary to the insidious Asgill, who has arrived laden with graces.* ' Ah, is my dear lady Asgill in England?' said my mother; ' how I rejoice ! and Ed- ward too ? He was a charming boy !' ' He is still very charming,' said the earl, ' but too foreign, according to my English idea.' ' Ah !' said my mother, ' I see our sex are not singular ; we none of us can bear rivalty, my lord.* ' Pardon me/ said the earl ; ' it is a case in which your ladyship is not competent to judge; you must ever have been a stranger to the feeling.* '' The countess bowed to the compli- ment; and after mutual professions of es- teem, we parted. Our arrival in London v/as soon known. We received numberless visitors, the greater part of whom w-ere so uninteresting, as to deserve no record in my story. To lady Asgill my mother in- THE ENGLISHWOMAN. 161 trodiiced me on the second morning of our arrival. I was charmed with her pleasing and lively manners. She was, at the period I name, in her forty-fourth year, with all the polish of a foreign residence, but none of its levities. " To my mother's inquiries concerning her son, she replied — ' that he had j)layed truant, and had left her almost immediately on his arrival, lie must, however, be with me soon/ continued her ladyship; ' he is under a promise of some importance to nie.* As she said this, she glanced at me, ^ You must allow Edward to be the cecis- beo of lady rvlary.* *' I blushed. The earl of Winterton's critique on Mr. Asgill recurred to my mind. ' I must not expect that Mr. Asgill would feel any distinction in escorting such an unpolished novice/ said the countess. 'Mary/ replied lady Asgill, 'be inge- nuous ; is she not all you could wish her ?' ' Alas ! I fear,* said my mother, ' that I have fitted her but indifferently for the World. I had found so little happiness in 162 THE ENGLISHWOMAN, its vortex, and so much real felicity in do- mestic retirement, that 1 rather think 1 have drawn a too gloomy picture of the world; but it may make her less susceptible to im- position, or at least, guard her against its' fallacies. But really, Selina,' said my mo- ther, ' I have ventured on this journey, not from any idea that the change will be so serviceable as Eldred thinks, but because I should like to form, in a degree, the society I wish my daughter to mix in, and feel, at the same time, a presentiment that ere ano- ther spring arrives, I shall cease to be.' *' Lady Asgill united her endeavours to mine in doing away so melancholy an im- pression. We appeared to succeed. She became cheerful, and entered at large into the detail of lady Asgill's sojourn on the Continent. Her ladyshij) had visited most of the courts of Europe ; had resided eight vears in Italv, seven in Switzerland; the last two years had been principally spent in France. It was at the very zenith of Antoinette's reign, when the beauty and fascination of that unfortunate Princess THE ENGLTSIIWOMAV. 163 irsade her court the resort of the gay of all nations. " Here lady Asgill seemed to regret some follies into v/hich her son had fallen, — -' He absented himself from me for seven months/ said her ladyship. ' It is true, he had a companion in an Italian nobleman, to whom he is much attached. After the first month, I received letters regularly through my Paris banker. — His return at length gladdened my heart. He acknowledged he had been to EngLand incog. ; that he knew I should object to it — and, in short, I forgave him ; but I do not like this second transgression ; yet you are a mother, Mary, and can readily conceive how far my re- sentment will extend when I see him.' " In our way home, my mother acquaint- ed me, •' that lady iVsgill's long residence abroad had been for the purpose of nurs- ing her fortune, which had been deeply involved by her husband. Her ladyship was the daughter of a peer, and Mr. As- gill the younger son of a poor but good family. I should be sorry,' continued my J 64 THE EKGLISinVOMAN. mother, ' that Edward should inherit hiV father's disposition to dissipation. I never knew the earl of VVinterton illiberal or mis- taken ; as such, I begin to think that we shall find Mr. Asgill is too foreign.' '' The King's birth-day was fixed on for my presentation. With a thousand fears I attended my father and the countess to St. James's. In passing to the drawing-room, a part of my dress got entangled with the iiword of a gentleman. I stopped to dis- engage it, which was done, after mutual efforts, at the expence of a ribbon knot. The gentleman was gallant, and uttered a com- pliment on the accident, which caused me to feel embarrassed. I looked up to make my curtsey and pass on, and could not but remark on the uncommon beauty and ele- gance of his person. '* I was presented by the countess. V/e returned to our chairs ; lady x^sgill looked from her's, and bade us remember our evening's engagement. We nodded assent. Her ladyship appeared delighted, and full of importance. The evening camej and THfi ENGLISHWOMAN. 165 •we were announced. Lady Asgill ran to meet us ; but how great was my astonish- ment, when, on introducing the elegant stranoer whom I had seen at the drawinsi- room, she asked our friendship for her son, her Edward ! '' My surprise seemed far inferior to his. He stood some minutes in silence ; then advancing, with a grace peculiarly his own, he entered into a conversation at once po- lished and animated. Lady Asgill, who joyed in her innocent stratagem, assise cal- led it, was charmed with the timidity and confusion of my looks^ which she assured me v/ere quite nouveUe to her, who had lived so long abroad. My derangement v/as heightened, by fi..ding myself the object of iMr. Asgill's attention, who, I thought, viewed me with a melancholy sort of scru- tiny. ' Edward hns lost his heart to-day,' said lady Asgiii^ ^ and all he receives in ex- change is a bow, which he has In his bosom/ '' I turned involuntarily, Mr. Asgill displayed the knot, v;hich he replaced with 166 THE ENGLISHWOMAN, care. I was flattered, yet scarcely knew why. lady Asgiil now explained, that her son returned only the evening before. * He knew it was my wish he should attend the drawing-room this day/ said her lady- ship, ' and as I had brought iny brother from Bedfordshire for the purpose of intro- ducing him, 1 should have been disappoint* ed had he not come.' ^^ Lady Asgiil now drew my mother aside. Their conversation appeared seri- ous and interesting ; yet my mother seem- ed not to acquiesce in the opinion of her friend. I looked frequentlv towards the countess, whose eyes seemed to follow me, Mr. Asgiil led me to a most interesting and charming girl, his cousin, the daughter of Jord Evesham. Encouraged by the pre- sence of one of my own sex, I became ani'^ mated and pleased with the passing fp/?f« mera. ** The party enlarged. Among the gen- tlemen I soon discovered the earl of Win* terton. He advanced, and paid his com* pliments with a diffidence that pained me. THE ENGLIStlWOMAN. 167 To the countess he was all attention, lead- ing her from room to room, with an as- siduity almost filial. The arrival of count Moraldi made a sort of epoch in the gaiety that reigned throughout the party. His fine person, elegant address, and, above all, his recent arrival from the meridian of fa- shion, made him an object of attentive cu- riosity. Mr. Asgill ran to meet him. He was introduced as his particular friend to the company in general. He then brought him to me. '' I know not why, but while receiving his complimenis (which were too highly coloured for my taste), I felt a degree of reserve creep into my manner, which I meant should repress, as it certainly did in a degree, the excessive forwardness of his. He viewed me attentively for a moment, as if to seek a probable cause for my conduct; then turning to Mr. Asgill, he said, in Ita- lian, ' you must endeavour to thaw the heart of this icy Englishwoman, or allow me the triumph.' Mr. Asgill not heeding his observation^ spoke to me In, ItaliaR^ 1G8 THE ENGLISHWOMAN, evidently to apprize the count that I un- derstood the language. Moraldi, not in the least discouraged, addressed me in French, and commented, with much plea- sant irony, on the reservedness of the Eng- lish ladies. lie concluded, however, with a deep sigh, that there was mercy in the or- dination, for they were, when even shield- ed by this quality, irresistible. I laughed at the solemnity of his looks. *' To Mr. Asgill, however, he turned, and said in Spanish, ' Seriously, Ned, be- ware ; this woman crosses your path.' " I turned with surprise. The count, starting, said, ' Do you speak Spanish ?' ^ I do not actually speak it, my lord,* said I, ' I only understand it.' ** Something like a blush passed over his cheek. I trembled; a sudden sickness op- pressed me. I looked round; my fair friend, I perceived, was at a distance talking with lady Asoill. In a moment the earl of Win- terton was at my side. His offered support was readily accepted With a soothing voice, he led me to a seat. His manner, and the THE EKGLISHWOMAN. 169 interest he appeared to take in my little in- disposition, won iny unqualified esteem. He attributed my faintness to the fatigue and agitation of my morning introduction ; nor did I know, till long afterward, that he had been an attentive, though unintentional witness of the cause of my derangement. " Mr. Asgill soon joined us. He appear- ted flushed and agitated. His looks bore little of cordiality towards the earl, whom he viewed with much disapprobation. ' I have been guarding Moraldi,* said Mr. As- gill, ' against the presumptuous idea he has ever entertained, that the women of this isle are so domestic and local, that their education is prescribed within the limits of what tends only to the forming of their characters as wives and mothers.* * And if that were exactly the case/ said the earl, ' they would be inestimable; for no superficial knowledge could compen- sate for their deficiency in such endearing points: but the count, I trust, has some- thing to learn of the English character.' VOL. I. I 170 THE ENGLISHWOMAK. *' There was a pointed manner in the carl which appeared to wound Mr. Asgill, * Moraldi is penetrating/ added he ; ' but we have seldom agreed in regard to the sex. He would not be known to wear their chains, while 1 am proud to acknow- ledge my devotion.' '' I felt embarrassed at the warmth of Asgill's manner. The earl saw it, and changed the conversation. ' How long have you been in London ?' said he. '' Mr. Asgill replied, '^ he arrived only the day before.' 'Did you come from the north lastP' continued he. ' No — yes/ said Asgill. '*Why how did you know I had journeyed that way ?* said Asgill. * Your modesty is invincible/ said the earl ; ' as if stars of such magnitude as Mo- raldi and yourself could shine in a little hemisphere (though northward), without reflecting some rays by which to trace ye.' ' You are gay, my lord/ said Asgill, * and somewhat sarcastic, I think.' TKE ENCLISHWOMAN* 17 i ' I do not mean to offend you/ rejoined Winterton ; ' but, believe me, Asgill, you are calculated to shine alone — you need no borrowed light.* " There was a friendly warmth in the manner of the earl that seemed to touch Mr. Asgill forcibly. ' Where did you hide yourself, my lord ?' said he ; * I did not meet you above once or twice while in Italy, and in Paris you were quite invisible.* ' Pardon me/ said the earl ; ' I did mix in society, but not in the circle you chose. J sometimes met your excellent mother; and in Paris I often attended her during your flight.* ' My flight !* said Mr. Asgill, endeavour- ing to laugh ; ' what, you heard of my excursion ?* ' Yes, I heard of it,* replied the earl, significantly. ' Do you know,* said Mr. Asgill, turning tome, *■ that 1 took the whim, and, accom- panied by Moraldi, visited England incog, f I 2 172 THE ENGLISHWOMAN'. — Iwill not tell yon how many qualms of •conscience I experienced at my good lady mother's uneasiness; but my friend Moraldi suof^ested a reo^ular mode of correspon- dence that quieted my feelings ; and an excursion that I purposed should be within the term of a fortnight, was extended to seven months/ " I uttered my surprise in a way that did justice to my heart, but evinced little acquaintance with the world. Mr. Asgill began to extenuate his conduct. I had, for some minutes, found myself uncomfortable, from the intricacy of the conversation, and the opposite dispositions of my compan- ions; rising, therefore, with a gaiety then natural to my disposition, I said — 'You see, my lord, that Mr. Asgill has lived so long out of England, that, though neither hood- ed nor gowned, he takes me for his confes- sor; but I am no Catholic, and cannot lis- ten to his confession.* " My words seemed to petrify Mr. Asgill, who stood transfixed; while the earl, taking my offered hand, led me to my mother. THE ENGLISHWOMAN. 173 How strange must my infatuation have been, that my eyes followed the incom- prehensible Asgili, who was evidently too foreign, and turned from the graceful assiduities and manly attentions of the in- genuous Winterton ! Oh, could 1 hays foreseen ! — but ** Heav'n from all creatures hides the book oifat^j Siiving the page prescrib'd^^our present state.**' CHAP. XI. « Ah, what is life ? with ills «ncompass*d round. Amidst our hopes, fate strikes the sudden wound. » •• * » • » * Should certain fete the impending blow delay, . Thy mirth will sicken, and thy bloom decay,*^ The epoch to which lady Mary had brought her narration was such as memory could not pause on but with renewed feelings of sor- row. No wonder, then, that she resumed it on the first opportunity. This was exactly what our heroine would have wished, though consideration for her fair relative wouldhave- 174 THE EJ^GLISHWOMAN. restrained her pressing it. At night, then, dismissing Susan, the cousins, in leagued affection, retired to the dressing-room of lady Mary. The attentively-silent expres- sion of Selina's countenance was the man- date for her ladyship, whom we will follow in her own words. " Next morning, at the breakfast-table, the merits of the parties with whom we had mixed the preceding evening were scanned. My mother touched lightly on the person- al appearance of Asgill, whom she named as accomplished and learned, but not ex- actly what she would have wished a son of her own to be. I felt a chill at the negative sort of approbation bestowed on him. ' The count Moraldi,* said my mother, ' is a gallant chevalier, whom one might often read of in a novel, but would not ex- pect to meet in real life ; so finished a character I have never seen.* * Yet he is one,' said I, * by whom the most inexperienced could not be deceived, he is so exuberant in his flattery, and so personally vain/ THE ENGLISHWOMAN. 175 ' You were inconvenienced by him, my love ; were yon not, Mary ?' ' Yes, I was/ said I ; ' and I believe the count, even from me, met a manner that offended his consequence/ * There is an ease, or rather a noncha- lance, in the general manners of most fo- reigners, that assimilates ill with a refined and really delicate Englishwoman,* said my mother ; ' though your father and I met many instances of polish and conciliating deportment, yet, generally speaking, they are not exactly what one likes; and though the primitive reserve and retired timidity once applicable to Englishwomen- is^ per- haps, in a degree, desirably done away, I trust the period is far distant in which we shall become such copyists, as to relax from the inherent dignity of our reputa- tions.' "^ Sir Eldred laughed at the warmth of the countess, to whose sentiments he ever at- tended with the most tender attention. * I am the more strenuous in my defini- tion/ continued my mother, ' from some 176 THE ENGLISHWOMAN. conversation I held with my clear friend ]ady Asgill. She tells me/ said my mother, slightly glancing over my countenance, ' that it has long been her darling hope to effect an union between our families, ( my trembling bosom throbbed with a feeling of delight v/hich I could scarcely conceal) ; as such, she has continually apprized Ed- ward of the accomplishments and endow- ments of our child, but never acquainted him of her wishes as to his future plans in life. The dissipations he has fallen into, in her partial eyes, are those of youth ; and, as a mother, whose hopes are centered in this one object, she pardons, nay thinks it is better he should have passed that or- deal which, in her estimation, is always at one period or other thrown in the path of mortal pilgrimage, /am not a convert to her opinion in this particular. I believe there are instances,' and she looked mildly on my father, ' where youthful travellers have passed over this intricate journey unblemished, and above its allurements.' (My father pressed her hand.) ' Mr. Asgill THE ENGLISHWOMAN. 177 has ever listened, it appears, with much pleasure to the theme, and greatly desired to see our treasure. His mother, however, contrived to keep secret our arrival in town ; and Edward, who made his appear- ance in Grosvenor-square only two days - ago, was surprised into an incident as nou- veHe?iS our dear romantic friend could wish, - The observation I have made on this young man accords with Winterton's remark — he is too foreign.' " I felt myself blush. My mother, who saw, but pretended not io heed, my confu- sion, proceeded. ' Still 1 think him attrac- tive, and a dangerous man to the woman who is not previously guarded against his insinuations. The illiberality of deciding on any character at a first interview is what I have ever condemned in others; nor do I mean to say that Asgill is not amiable, or at least that he will not, at a future period, shine out, and be an ornament to society ; but he has a great deal to unlearn/ " Sir Eldred coincided in opinion with mv mother, who concluded her remarks by ITS THE ENGLISHWOMAK. turning to me, and, with a manner at once impressive and conciliating, said — ' I feel thatlknovv my daughter too well to suppose that Mr. AsgiU's place in her regards is too recent to be of serious import to her. The fear that he should, from a most polished exterior, have found a premature interest in' your favour, has made me thus copious in my mention of him. — I candidly assured lady Asgiil, that until he was more English than at present, I should not receive him but as a general visitor. — Poor Seiina,* continued my mother, ' is quite disap- pointed ; but we have each of us the dearest interests at stake in this concern, which is- certainly not entirely done away, but sus- pended, until we can decide with liberality on the alliance so much wished by my friend.* " My father spoke to the same effect, ad- d'mn onlv, that it was a connexion honour- able in itself; but that there was but one man whom he at present knew, to whom he would with pleasure give his child, ' Win- terton/ said sir Eldred, ' possesses every THE ENGLISHWOMAN. 179 desirable quality that the most anxiously tender parent would look for in the hus- band he selected for his daughter.' ' I wish Mary saw him as we do/ re- joined the countess. *' I could not refrain from tears. ' Con- sider us as friends, my child,' said my mo- ther; ' we are offering advice. Heaven for- bid that we should influence you to use deception ! The earl has withdrawn his assiduities- — you are free from all solicita- tion from him.' '' My spirits, depressed by the conver- sation that had passed, made me unable io reply, excepting an incoherent compliment to the merits of the earl. I was silent. An early opportunity offered for my with- drawing. Hastening to my room, I had time to recollect that my mother was a stranger to the ambiguous language that had passed between Moraldi and Mr. As- gill. ' Alas !' said I, ' there is some shade ih his character — even I must allow it !* My first thought was to return, and explain what I had observed on the preceding 180 THE ENGLISHWOMAN. evening. I had always been in the habit of unreserved communication. I hesitated. * Is it generous/ said I^ * to lower those who are already but little esteemed ? The discernment of my parents will too readily discover his imperfections.* This,, Selina, was my first concealment. *' The preference that my heart gave to this attractive stranger was fatally increased by the general approbation that was accord- ed him by the higher circles. If! mixed in a party^ all gaiety seemed to languish till Asgill arrived ; if I took up a paper, some paragraph expatiated on his liberality, his literary pursuits, the information he had acquired, &:c. &c. See, *' At length a distiaguishino: mark of O OCT royal favour was bestowed on the chosea of my heart. The eclat with which he fill- ed it gained him the unqualified praises of all parties. I exulted. I waited to hear the lips I reverenced unite in his eulogium. They professed the sincerity of their plea- sure, in perceiving the steadiness and soli- dity of his understanding; trusted their THE ENGLISHWOMAN. 181 worthy friend would at length be happy ; but made no direct allusion to any material change in their sentiments regarding him. 1 dared, in my own breast, to arraign their liberality. '^ How blind and inexperienced is youth ! The only consolation I derived, was in find- ing myself the selected object of his atten- tion, whenever we met. This gained me much jealousy from my own sex. Count Moraldi used to laugh at the devotion of his friend, as he used lo call it. I observed that, at times, the count would draw him away from me, and hold him in conversa- tion for some minutes. Asgill would, after these interruptions, appear abstracted^ and to have lost his vivacity ; but yet my infa- tuation blinded me. '' The earl of Winterton often met us. As I had sometimes thought that the unfa- vourable opinion my parents expressed of Asgill \yas from the comparison they made between the former and the latter, I threw a coldness into my manner towards the earl^ 182 THE ENGLISHWOMAN. that caused him to take his leave formally, purposing, as he said, to make the tour of the Lakes, and probably visit the Highlands. I rejoiced in his absence. Moraldi soon after quitted London, we knew not whither. '' It was then that the engaging qualities of Asgill won even the approbation of sir Eldred and the countess. He became do- mesticated, as much as his situation would allow. Lady Asgill, rejoicing in the frui- tion of her hopes, seemed the happiest of the group. Sir Eldred ventured to expos- tulate on the character of the count, who he admitted to be a man of family, yet as- sured Asgill that he was a man of desperate fortune and libertine manners. Mr. Asgill did not defend him so strenuously as I ex- pected ; yet avowed himself greatly indebt^ ed to the hospitality of Moraldi while in* Italy ; that his conversation and knowledge of the world had aided him in his pursuits, and had been eventually serviceable in his present elevated confidence. My father contended that the disadvantages of his THE ENGLISriWOM'AK. IBS light principles^ and want of moral rec- titude, were more than a balance for any brilliant talent he might possess, '' The intercourse between our families was now unreserved. Our return to Mil- lington was to be followed by a visit from lady Asgill and Edward, who were to join us as soon as a recess then pending should take place. Thus happy in being allowed to indulge the fond hope of my heart, Vi^e departed. A mutual exchange of vows passed between Asgill and myself, autho- rized by the approval of my beloved pa- rents,'* The pale dawn of morn, that now streaked through the window, causing a dimness in the artificial light, that had almost sunk in its socket, roused the fair narrator and her companion to a sense of the time which they had suffered to elapse unheeded. Lady Mary flung open the shutter — a grey- ish sort of mist obscured the rising day. "Alas, Selina!" said her ladyship, '' it "was to this house Tcame, and from it I ne- Ter have ventured since, save only one sad 1^4 THE ENGLISHWOMAN,. journey. How pale you look, my love V Sorrow is a e;reat destroyer of beauty, Se- lina. I will, if possible, conclude my story in the course of this day, that the rases may return to mv too sensitive girl's cheek.'* With an afT'ectionate embrace they parted -—but sleep visited not their pillows. Re- flection on the past subtUied lady Marys disposition to this balm of life, while a con- fused presentiment of the fw/z/re equally in*- capacitated our heroine for its enjoyment. CHAP. XII. " If Misfortune comes, she brings along The bravest virtues. And so many great Illustrious spirits have convers'd with Woe, Have in her school been taught, as are enough To consecrate distress, and make ambition E'ea nish the/rouw, beyond the smile of fortune.'*^ *' I KNOW nat/' said sir Eldred, (as he remarked the countenances of his compa- nions at breakfast in the morning) "' so THE ENGLISHWOMAN. 1S5 unjustifiable an indulgence as that of use- less and unavailing regret." '' Yet you will allow, my dear sir, that there is a melancholy pleasure in this men- tal tenderness ?" said lady Mary. " No, Mary, none. Are there not de- privations which I might lament ? — Have I been exempted from the parting pang, or disappointment in fondly-indulged hopes ? Yet I am so grateful for the bles- sings yet spared to me, that I do not feel I am authorized to repine, or look back but >vith tranquil reflection on the past." *' Soon, very soon, my dear father/' said her ladyship, '^ you shall be at ease in this respect; nor are my feelings so acute as you imagine. My dear, ingenuous Selina causes a thousand fond emotions in my bo- som, that bind her more strongly, if possi- ble, than ever to my heart. She enters at once into the errors that are related for her security, and, while yet unconscious, of their near afiinitv to herself, feels their interest so sensibly, as to arrest my alten- 1S6 THE ENGLISHWOMAN. tion, and frequently depress me beyond my subject." " Would this detail were over/* said sir Eldred, " that I might see the smiles and graces at my board ! But, Mary, my love, you will not deprive mc of the pleasure I have proposed myself in your going to London with Selina ?" said sir Eldred^ look- ing at his daughter tenderly. '* To London r* said her ladyship. ''You will not desire it, my father, because you know I could not refuse your request." '*' I certainly do wish it," said sir Eldred. *' We will make it as little gay as you please. Selina must be under the care of lady As- gill at times, and Marian will initiate her into the gayer circles ; beside, our promise to visit Frank Cecil in Berkshire — you will not disappoint me, Mary ?" " I wish you would spare me, sir ; I will accompany you to Berkshire, but London I had hoped would be a journey I never should have occasion to take again." " Alas !" said Selina, " what enjoy mei>t THE ENGLISHWOMAN. 187 can I possibly have when separated from yoLi?" " We will leave the decision of this bu- siness/* said lady Mary, '' to some future day. My disinclination may, and will, no doubt, give v/ay to your wishes, my dear sir, and the timidity of Salina; though, at present, I feel an invincible dislike to the idea of it/* After breakfast, the baronet apprized them that he had suggested a little excur- sion for the day, which he hoped would meet their wishes, '' The coach will be ready at ten,'' continued he ; " Burton has provided for the table, which must be spread on the grass Sji^^en miles hence. We will dine al frescaAl wish to see some land contiguous to th^^welling of an industri- ous family, whom I should like to encou- rage.'' A motive so consonant to the hearts of his companions met their warmest appro- bation and concurrence. With tranquil satisfaction they accompanied the benevo- lent sir Eldred, who, placing the fovtc iSS THE ENGTJSHWOMAT?. feuilles of his daughter and niece in the back of the coach, said, " I thought, per- haps, Selina, or you, Mary, would meet with some scene that you might deem wor- thy your pencils to-day; for, I doubt not^ Frank is looking anxiously for the perfor- mance of your promises.'* "How considerate you are, sir!" said , Selina, while a grateful glow animated her lively countenance. A ride of uncommon beauty brought them to the foot of a steep hill, by the side of which stood a smaJl neat cottage, from whose windows were discovered the inmates of it, who, with looks of extreme surprise, were gazing at the approach of the carriage. It stopped, and presently Fanny Stevens^ the intended servant of Miss Asgill, who knew the Millington livery, came forward to inquire " if any thing was wanted that she could do ?" " Yes, Fanny," said sir Eldred^ *' I want to see your aunt and uncle." The party ali,i>hted, and followed the delighted girl, who led the way into 2l> THE ENGLISHWOMAN. 189 clean and respectably-furnished room. She then hastened to bring the worthy couple to the presence of sir Eldred. " I am come with an intent to rent some land of you, Mr. Matthews/* said the baronet^ " if we can agree as to terms," '' There is no fear of that, sir/' said the farmer, with an honest confidence. " I have been very unfortunate in not letting it yet; but as I asked only a fair price, I was vexed to be called a rogue, an' please your honour. I may have been unlucky, and had my troubles^ but I never brought them on myself, as I know on, by any ro- guish action." *' I will venture to say you never did," replied sir Eldred, " if I were to judge only by your countenance/' ^' His face is not more honest than his heart, your honour," said the affectionate Mrs. Matthews, as she spread her clean white apron, and smoothed its folds. " I believe you," said the baronet ; ''but as these ladies do not understand the va- lue of land, and as the meadows adjoining 100 THE ENGLISHWOMAN. the grounds afford some beautiful views, will you let Fanny attend them, while your good man and I talk over business?" Mrs. Matthews and Fanny accompanied the ladies to a rich and beautiful meadow, which overlooked a vale of exquisite beau- ty. Here the fair artists indulged their fancies, by copying from the fair volume of Nature such beauties as their tastes re- lished ; nor were they silent on the virtuous motives that had induced the baronet to propose their present enjoyment. Sir El- dred joined them after some time, and lady Mary asked *' how he had become acquaint- ed with these good people's situation ?'* " I stopped yesterday to rest myself at Stevens's," said sir Eldred, ""'and, on inquir- ing after Fanny, learned that she had been nursing a sick relation for some time. Not having heard that any sickness existed a- mong those I knew around us, I became inquisitive. Stevens simply stated that his wife's brother, an honest and industrious far- mer, who had saved a moderate property, and owned a good farm in Somersetshire, had. THE ENGLISHWOMAN. 191 "by two bad seasons^ and by becoming surety for a man to a large amount, been involved in such difficulties as had made him obliged to sell all off, and, with a very trifling residue, retire to this cottage, where, by letting the little ground around it, and cultivating what his own labour could ef- fect, he had hoped to make a living. Con- trary to his hopes, he has been twelve months in this spot without letting it. It appears that lord L— — ^'s steward wants it, but will not give near its value ; and as the rapacity of that man's character makes it evident that it is not for the benefit of his employer that he is thus pressing (or op- pressive I should say), Matthews has held staunch to his principles. The inconveni- ences that his honest resolutions have put him to, have been most distressing. I learn that his only child, a young man of nine- teen, seeing their little hopesof success, de- parted without apprizing them of his in- tentions, and has entered into the navy, sending them his bounty-money, and ex- pressing his hopes that he may live to be 19^ THE ENGLISHWOMAN. serviceable to them. This last trouble has bad a serious effect on the good Mrs. Mat- thews, who has but just recovered from a long illness, caused by the departure of her son. Fanny has been her nurse and comfort through their difficulties, which I trust are at an end. I admire the manly decision of the son, whom I will not lose sight of, when I can ascertain his com- tnander." The auditors of sir Eldred did justice to the generosity of his visit. Selina, who perceived, at a distance, the coach of Mr. Cecil advancing, expressed her pleasure at the fortunate rencounter, as she termed it. Sir Eldred assured her that chance had no- thing to do in the present meeting ; *' for I thought," continued he, " that they would enjoy our rural repast, and solicited them to join us.'* Selina ran to meet the venerable Mrs. Cecil, while lady Mary arranged a camp- seat and footstool for her valued friend, whose ease was ever a point of affectionate interest with her. At an hour too unfa- THE ENGLISHWOMAN. 193 shionable to be recorded, they partook of their grateful meal. Selina, with a look of ambiguous delight, left the party for an hour or more. On returning, she presented an imperfect sketch of what she purposed to finish at her leisure. It was the interior cf the cottaire : the benevolent baronet was in the act of affording relief to the farmer and his ami- able partner, whose looks of mingled gra- titude and surprise were admirably depictv ed in their faces; while Fanny, wiping her eyes with her milk-white apron, was smilino- through tears, beautifully depictive of an April morn. The performance gave infinite pleasure to the party ; but sirEldred, whose virtues were of the retiring sort, asked '' why she had not traced the lovely prospect before herr" '' I have,'* said Selina ; '' Nature seemed In so fair a mood to day, as if Heaven smiled upon your Cxe^d, my uncle. | should have blushed had the. prospect of VOL. I. K . .. : s - 194 THE ENGLISHWOMAN. this day been suffered to fade like others less marked by your benevolence." " Selina," said sir Eldred, *' you are a flatterer." *^ IJow useless were it to offer flattery/' said the pious Cecil, '' where all praise is inadequate ! I am a stranger to what you particularly allude, my love; but I am of opinion, that tliough your pencil. Miss Asgill, had not traced the spealilng scene, my friend had enriched iUe perspective of one beyond this life ,* still I trust the wis- dom and mercy of Heaven will think pro- per to spare him to the well-earned happi- ness of his mortal career !" *' Amen ! Amen 1" said the little party, with one voice. The tears streamed down the cheeks of lady Mary. Mrs. Cecil, to turn the con- versation, asked, '* for whom the sketches mere made ?" '' For Frank," said Selina; " he likes domestic scenes." '' Allowme,asanolderadinirerofYour's/* THE ENGLISHWOMAN. 195 said the cheerful Cecily " to claim the cot- tao^e scene." " Certainly, sir," replied our heroine; " it shall be your's." The sun was beginning to hide his gol- den beams behind the western hills when our party returned i(3 their coaches, one of v/hich it was proposed should take them to Millington, that the pleasure of conver- sation should not be destroyed by unneces- sary separation. Fanny, whose offices could be spared by the good Mrs. Mat- thews, was put iiuo the coach of Mr. Cecil, and bade lo consider herself the attendant of Miss Asgili from that day. With ieelings beyond utterance the good Marthewses watched the departure of their / noble iriends, whose unexpected visit and | philanthropy had removed diiTiculties that, but the day before, h,ad appeared irreme- diable. Enviable power, that thus can wipe \ the tear of anguish from the throbbing | heart, and bid the wretched hope ! i *' It is not only reflection on the past/' K ^2 196 THE ENGLISHWOMAN. said lady Mary, as she took the hand of sir Eldred to her lips, '' that awakens tender emotions in my mind." ''There is a luxury in woe," said Cecil, *' no doubt; but it is not a feeling; we should encourage; it is highly prejudi- cial to mental activity; and that, in cases such asyour's, lady Mary, would be an un- pardonable sacrifice of intellect." '' I am enjoying the surprise/' said Se- lina, " of Stevens, who, I suppose, does not know of Fanny's recent appointment, uncle." '' True, my love; we must call as we go through the village." Stevens was surprised. He begged to as- sure his honour, that he should date that day as one of the happiest of his life, which made his Fanny an inhabitant of Milling- ton. He then looked into the coach of Mr. Cecil, in which the happy girl was seat- ed. The door was opened. She alighted just to bid her mother a short good-bye; and to whisper the bounty of sir Eldred to her uncle and aunt, we surmise ; for as the THE ENGLISHWOMAN. 1 97 worthy couple stood by the carriage side, after speaking with Fanny, their uplifted hands and fervent blessings fell on the ex- panding and warm heart of sir Eldred " like snow on wool," felt but not heard. A cheering fire, which the healthful breeze of an autumnal evenin,f]^'s close made highly salutary, met the party on their arrival at Millington, who, seated in the cedar parlour, we will leave to take their tea, and descend, with Fanny Stevens, to the apartment of Mrs. Burton. " You are welcome to Millington,''said Gerald, as he moved his spectacles from his brow to survey the trembling Fanny, who stood undecided whether to take a chair or not. " V/hy, you are as tall as your mother, Fanny," said Mrs. Burton ; '' but take a seat, child; you are at home now." Fanny dropped into a chair that was placed for her by the attentive Mr. Tomp- kins, who said nothing, though his eves looked approbation on this addition to the family. A few minutes brought Mrs. Su- 198 THE ENGLISHWOMAN. sail Flighty who, with much overstrnined politeness, expressed her plcay^ure at seeing Fanny, whom she knew slightly. *' I suppose you know what department you are to lili ?" said Susan, inquisitively. *' Indeed I do not,'* replied Fanny ; '' but Mrs. Burton v;iil be so good as to direct rne. My mother says nobody knows better how to do it than she does." "That I will with pleasure," said the good woman, highly pleased with Dame Stevens's opinion oi* her abililiea. '* You, Fanny, are to be the maid of Miss Asgill ; you will find her a very kind misfress, re- quiring very trifling attendance, and quite dispased to teach you her ways, which are the best in the world, because she learned them from the excellent lady Mary.*' " I am sure I will strive to do my best,'" said Fanny, modestly; "a little time will bring me to understand them, I dare say." " No doubt," said Gerald; '' the willing and humble always gain wisdom." *' For my part," said Susan, '' I think if lady Mary would take Stevens for her THE ENGLISHWOMA!^. 199 maid, and let me attend Miss Asgill, it would be much better; for as her ladyship is not gay, and, indeed, it is no matter as to her appearance now, Mrs. Fanny might do very well for her ; but tor Miss Asgill, who is just entering life, as I may say, I think something of fashion ought to be seen in her dress and appearance ; and I ." *•■' And you," said Gerald, "are quite unfit to be her maid.'* " Why am I unfit, sir ?" said the tenacious Susan. ''Because your flippancy could not be conquered by any but a person whom you, in a mannerj felt an awe as well as respect for; and Miss AsgilFs age and manners, though as grave as is proper for any happy lady to observe, would never keep such a giddy babbler as you in order." '' Upon my word, Mr. Gerald, you are monstrous civil !'* said Susan, while anger darted from her eyes ; " but you are always so to me ; and I still repeat it— Mrs. Ste- vens would be ^2iv more proper to attend lady Mary than Miss Asgill." SOO THE ENGLISHWOMAN. " It is ordered difTerent/' said Mrs. Bur- ton, "so give yourself no useless concern about it." *• Were you ever nt Bath ?" said Susan, turning carelessly to Fanny. " No, never ; but I v/as at Malvern for a summer." "Did you see any thing there worth while ?" rejoined Susan ; " for I hear it is a gay place." " Very gay/' replied Fanny ; "but I only stopped with a sick lady." "That must be a sad confinement," said Susan; ** and, beside, Malvern is not half so helegant as Bath, though the hair is as good, I believe." The tingling of a bell, which warned Mrs. Susan to the dressing-room of her la- dy, stopped the trifling nothings of this loquacious waiting- woman, who, with a smile as pliant as if her wishes and her du- ties blended most harmoniously, begged to know her ladyship's commands. " They are these, Susan," said lady Ma- ry, "that^ in future, you will consider THE ENGLISHWOMAN. 201 yourself expressly my attendant; and that you give all possible instruction to the ex- cellent girl who is to divide, or rather les- sen your business. Miss Asgill is no fine lady. I trust you will, by a regular deport- ment, ViUd serious performance of your duty, set her a good example." Susan^ whose thoughts reverted to the picture, blushed as she curtsied her obedi- ence, and hastened to fulfil the order of her lady, by a thousand superfluous direc- tions, and a total omission of every neces- sary information. Fannv, whose humility was distinct from servile acquiescence, at- tended the voluble Susan through the ar- rangement and disarrangement of Miss As- gilTs wardrobe. Her silence by no means accorded with Susan's idea of the import- ance of the charge. — When all was adjusted, Fanny received the keys, and simply replied to the disconcerted Susan, '' that she hoped she should remember what she had said, but must trust to the kindness of her young mistress^ to overlook the little m.istakes that she feared would occur at first." K 3 202 THE ENGLISHWOMAN'. " Well, I have done my part/' said Su- san ; '' no fault can be laid to me." ** I hope r\o fault will be laid to either of us; fori am sure I never intend to do ^vrong, or to give offence. " Susan smiled contemptuously at the sim- ple Fanny, as she termed her; and, taking her taper, led the way to the kitchen. In the course of the evening, Susan decided on the character of her cotemporary, who, by threading the needles of Mrs. Burton, adjusting the footstool for Gerald, who was rather indisposed with the gout, and blushing at the over-attentive manners of Mr. Tompkins, convinced the accomplished Susan that Mrs. Stevens, as we must now call her, was a mere novice, and quite con- trary to what a young lady of rank and fa- shion ought to employ about her person. It was presumed, however, by the more discerning part of the family, that Stevens's mistress thought diflercntly ; for a few days made her so intelligent and serviceable to her, that Miss Asgiil was heard to express the most unqualified praise of her at the THE ENGLISHWOMAN-. 25S breakfast-table, which was soon carried with triumph to tlie kitchen, by the obliging Mr. Tompkins, to the no small discomfort of Susan, who, it was whispered, was not indifferent to the black eyes and white teeth of this orentleman's <^entleman. Leaving these subterranean inhabitants, we will ascend to the drawing-room of lady Mary, who, at the request of Miss Asgill, recommenced the narration that had been interrupted by their benevolent excursion. A day of perfect leisure offered to their wishes; sir Eldred was gone on a shooting- party, and would not return till evening. We v/ill ghe her ladyship's words in a new chapter. 204 THE ENGLISHWOMAN. CHAP. XIII. '* Aye, aye ; and she hath ofTered to the doom, (Which unrevers'd stands in effectual force) A sea of raehlt;g pearl, which some call tears ; Those at her father's churlish feet she tcnder'd ; With them, upon her knees, her humble self. Wringing her hands, whose whiteness so became them, As if but now they waxed pale for woe. But neither bended knees, pure hands held up. Sad sighs, deep groans, nor silver-shedding tears. Could penetrate her uncompassionate sire." " The arrival of ladv AsaiH and Edward made Millington the scene of every ra- tional and fascinating amusement. Mr. Asgill improved my talent for }3ainting; he was almost an artist himself. His mother, too, excelled with her pencil. The grounds were embellished, and the hermitage, which, I believe, you, Selina, often visit, was, at my desire, woven partly by the hand, and entirely under the direction of Asgill and myself; added to this, the invaluable friendship of the Cecils^ whose then young THE ENGLISHWOMAN. 205 family were an agreeable source of amuse- ment to us. '' Thus passed two monthS;, at the expi- ration of which^ a change in ministers made Mr. Asgill go to London, to resign a situ-, ation which his principles w^ould not allow him to retain. He expressed pleasure at the liberty which would be the consequence of this resignation; and having full autho- rity from my parents to make the proper arrangement for our nuptials, the parting was by no means painful. *' A few^ weeks brought him to us again. All matters being adjusted, my mother, who had now become as much attached to Mr. Asgill as it was possible for one who bore no affinity to him, begged me to ac- cede to his earnest request of fixing a day for our union. To this, feeling all the par- tiality that a virtuous and delicate woman may with honour avow, I gave consent, re- ferring him to the Countess's decision. The dai/ was fixed; the respected Cecil was to perform the sacred ceremony in the parish church. Wednesday was the day. UQ6 THE ENGLISIIVVOMAN. "As I sat in this room, Selina, I saw As- gill coming in from a morning ride with sir Eldred. He held a packet in his hand, which he made me to understand was for me. I hastened down to receive it. — ^ Come/ said he, as he placed my arm within his. Met us go to the hermitage — I will contemplate your features while you read this budget; it will compensate for the deprivation of your voice.' ''I complied. Seated beneath its branches, I broke the seal. It was from Mildred, dated from a farm-house in Cumberland. As I read, my tears flowed plenteously. She appeared the victim of despair, and the incoherence of her style evinced a deranged mind. She began by saying, that, while in the convent, she had become acquainted with a gentleman, through the introduction of a young lady, a boarder, who was cousin to the stranger; that finding him of her own faith, she had not thought it wrong; and the persuasion of her female friend had induced her to see him often. Feeling no inteitst in his visits, she was on the eve of THE ENGLISHWOMAN. 207 avowing her sense of its impropriety, when he brought his friend, an English gentle- man, who, he said, had long languished for the introduction. She dwelt with en- thusiastic despondence on the graces of this elegant stranger, to whom she had been induced, at the suggestion of Mademoi- selle Le Clare and her cousin, to yield her hand; that the conviction she felt that sir liector would never consent to her marry- ing a heretic, had involved her in a con- duct so undutiful ; that the rank and con- nexions of her husband would, she doubted not, have made peace with her father, had his religion been the same; that she blushed to remember that a stratagem of an unpre- cedented sort had been used to get her from the convent, namely, the forged signature of sir Hector : that soon after her marriage, which took place at Rouen, they proceeded, with Mademoiselle Le Clare and her cousin, to England, where, in Wales, she had, with trembling anxiety, awaited the forgiveness of her father, or, at least, some notice; that no answer arriving, and feeling it deroga- 208 THE ENGLISHWOMAK. tory to her character to live under an ap- pearance so mysterious, she had entreated her husband to accompany her to Kirkaldy ; but that having business of consequence ta arrani^e at a distance, he had persuaded her to delay it till his return. He had departed with his friend, leaving Mademoiselle Le Clare behind, who sickened and died in less than a month after their departure. A stranger, and unprotected, she resolved on throwing herself at the feet of sir Hector. Accompanied by a Welch girl, she had has- tened to Kirkaldy ; that sir Hector had spurned her from him, denouncing ven- geance on her undutiful conduct ; that her situation, then evidently interesting, had been ineiTectual in softening the obduracy of his nature ; that finding her frequent hu- miliations seemed only to increase his rage, she had begun to journey back towards the south, when she was overtaken by the hus- band of her nurse, Donald Moncrief, who had bcG^oed to attend her fortunes. She had accepted his offer, and returned to Wales. After waiting for letters some time> and feeling her situation more critical than ever, she had been giving way to despair^ when the object of her regards and duty re^ turnedj accompanied by his friend; that during their short sojourn with her, her confinement took place, which appeared to give less pleasure to her husband than accorded with her ideas of affection ; that she was unhappy from that period, because her reflections convinced her that she had erred in duty, and was suficring the pu- nishment of such defection : that again she was left, under a strict promise of her pro- tector's return, and consequent introduc- tion to his family ; instead of which, at the end of a month, his friend had come alone, and, after some ineffectual attempts to ap- pear at ease, had acquainted her, that he doubted if her marriage would prove valid, as being under age; at all events, his friend could not appear to claim her, as he was threatened with legal prosecution for run- ning away with an heiress. — 'Alas!' said the deserted Mildred, ' was it necessary, sir, to destroy by such subterfuges ? — I know ^10 THE KNCMSnWOMAJI. that legal measures might be used for the purpose of harrassing my unfeeling pro^ lector, but I know, likewise, that my fa- ther has cast me off, an^] is, beside, from declining health, unqualified to pursue the proper means. — Go, sir, and tell your un- generous friend, that Mildred and her cUild will seek their natural connexions, nor wound his sight who has broken her heart !' — ' Left again, my dear Mary,' con- tinoed the unhappy Mildred, Mny thoughts turnecl to Miliington. Will the mild vir- tues of my valued relations be disposed to pity and forgive their wretched suppliant? " — Will not my infant, who smiles uncon- scious of her deserted state, plead in exte- nuation of her mother's guilt? — for, oh I was it not criminal to love a mortal as I loved Saville ! Great was my error, and great have been ray sufferings ! — Where are now the fairy scenes of bliss my hopes had painted, when I should bring my lover and my child to claim the esteem and pro- tection of my beloved uncle ? — Plead for me, Mary; beg them to receive me! — I TriE £N(3lishwomaN. 211 liave been a long while employed in this tnournfivl detail — have been deserted near five months — not a line, not an inquiry, for the forlorn Mildred ! — Ah, my poor^ sanguine Le Clare, could you see your mir- serable friend ! hapy)y soul ! she is at rest, and so shall I, Mary, ere long ! — but I would fain hear the voice of affection be- fore I go hence. I know not how I jour- neyed hither, but I fnvA I have been two months in this place; they tell me it was at my own desire I was brought here. — Per" haps it was, for I could not bear Wales^ when hope died.- — I will surely follow my letter, soon as I can; but grief such as mine is a great wearer of the frame. I trust I shall yet see Saville — I pray for it inces- santly. If I could place my infant in his arms, and entreat him to be a better father than he has been a husband, I could die happy ! Oh, did my unrelenting parent know my anguish, he would not deny his blessing. — A carriage stops — perhaps it is my love. — No — only the good sir James Montgomery. How kind ! He has traced tl^ THE ENGLISHWOMAN. me, Mary, through all the intricacies of my sorrow. No, I never will consent.— He wijshes me to claim protection of the Chancellor, and he will escort me to Lon- don. I would not meet my Saville in such a way — no, never in anger, I forgive him. Is it wonderful thnt 1 am forgotten by a mortal^ when / forgot my religion and my God ? Le Clare, you Jttrewed my path with flowers; how eloquent is friendship in the cause of love ! — Plead for me, Mary ! I write to you because you may have felt the gnawing agonizing pangs — but duty blends with all your feelings. How unlike the wretched Mildred ! — Yes, I will come, if only to die at the feet of my uncle.* ''This letter, as you may suppose, my Selina, could not be perused but with the most acute feeling. I wept, and littered my regrets with horror in my countenance. Asgill execrated the vile scrawl, as he termed it. On looking at the date, I dis- covered that it was three weeks since it was written. She might be near Millington. With trembling feet I hastened to commu- THE ENGLISHWOMAN. 213 nicate the melancholy epistle to sir ElJred and the countess, whose sorrow was poig- nant and distressing in the extreme. * Unhappy child of an unhappy mother! — receive thee!' said my father; 'yes, Mildred ! though a thousand fathers and husbands such as thine had cast thee oflf!* " I entreated that my union might be delayed, till a certainty of my cousin's fate could be known. This, when named to Asgill, gave much uneasiness ; for as delica- cy made us conceal the siiuation of our poor Mildred till her presence should dic- tate our plans, he termed it unreasonable, ' Wei!,' said 1, 'there is aninlervening day. If letters, that assure us of the safety of a very dear friend arrive in the course of the morrow, I will keep my appointment; but if incertitude pre\ail, though I delay the termination of this event, my hand Is your's; nor, should any unforeseen occur- rence prevent our union, never will I give it to another.' *' Lady A'^gill, who was present when I spoke, while she applauded the candour of gl4 THE ENGLISHWOMAN. my sentiments, declared, 'that repining, in Edward, would be treason from that mo- ment/ '^ Next morning I rambled alone towards the north avenue. I had got some distance from the house when Gerald met me. With a caution and tenderness which the whole tenor of his life has eminently displayed, he addressed me. * Your ladyship/ said Gerald, * is better able to bear surprise than the countess Your mother; and I have a matter to name to you, that I feel sorry should happen just at a time like this/ ' Speak freely, my good Gerald,' said I. I thouglit it was some cottage grief that wanted the hand of sympathy. *' Gerald proceeded. — 'A lad from farmer Denton's brought a note for me late last ni"ht. — Mrs. Burton, not thinking it of consequence, withheld it till this morning. -—It was from Donald Moncrief,* continued Gerald, ' an old domestic of sir Hector's.* *'\ gas^)ed for breath. ' Go on, for pity's sake !' said I. THE ENGLISHWOMAN. 215 ^He told me that he wanted to see me instantly^ and I am just returned from see- ing him. My lady, you must prepare yourself for a sad scene,' continued Gerald, ' for at farmer Denton's is the lovely daugh- ter of my late lady ; she is in a weak state, and I fear cannot live. She has been here these five days. The rumour of your lady- ship's nuptials prevented her coming to 'the Hall, and she hoped to ]et it pass over before she brought her griefs to it, she says ; but Donald found her so much v.'orse "" yesterday, that he thought proper to send for me to ask my advice; and I think/ said Gerald, * that no time must be lost, if you wish to see her.' * Oh God ! what will my parents feel !» said I. ' Lead me to her, Gerald.' *' I hastened to the farm. The good old Donald, and Martha, the Welch servant, who saw my approach from tne chamber window, met me on the stairs. — * We have told our lady,' said they, ' that one of the ladies from Milling ton was come ; so she 216 THE ENGLISHWOMAN. is prepared, madam. But she wanders very often ; you must give her her way/ **I followed into the chamber. On a bed, whose whiteness was outrivalled by the pallid countenance of its inhabitant, lay the shadow of the most beautiful female I ever saw. — Her eyes were fixed on a small cru- cifix, which was in one hand, while the other was pointed upwards. I entered. — - What an introduction ! ' Mildred,' said I, * how are you, my love?' *^ She dropped the crucifix, and raising herself in the bed, she asked ' who called the wretched Mildred V . * Not wretched,' said J; Mhink how many tender friends are near you. Sir El- dred, your aunt, your Mary-^ — ail are com- ing to nurse you/ ' * Nurse me !' she said, piteously, ' nurse rny child — she has no father!' and throw« ing back a cambrick handkerchief, she ]f)ointed to a sleeping infant that lay beside her. ** I leajied on the bed, and took htT hand] THE ENGLISHWOMAN. 217 it was parched and trembling. — ' Shall I be your nurse, and your baby's nurse too?' 'You are very good/ said die; 'pray who are you?* The child awoke and began to cry, ' Hush !' said the poor wanderer j ^ yon will kill my child/ She took it to her bosom and sighed deeply; then sung ^ Here awn, there awa/ in a tone so touch- ing, that, overcome by the scene, I fell lifeless on the i^oor. Donald and Martha restored rae after a short inrerval. When I came to^ she \vas more ccilected — 'You are going id marry. Oh, put no faith in man !' ''At this moment I heard the voice of ^r. x\sgfll, who tnentioned my name with eagerness, and seemed to be coming Up; stairs, against the opinion of I^Irs. Denton— ' She is in a sick lady's room,* said Mrs. Denton ; ' you must not go up, sir.' ' I must,' said Asgill, ' such scenes are not fitted to her too susceptible heart/ " My feet were rivetted to the spot, Mildred had her arm on mine. He rushed into the roorw, I held up my hand to pre- VOL. I, . L 218 THE ENGLISHWOMAN. vent his intrusion. My caution was un- heeded. 'My life! my soul !' said Mildred, starting from her pillow with a frantic air. *God of mercy !* groaned Asgill, as he fell senseless on the floor. — Donald and Martha shrieked out^ ' Oh, blessed be God! he is come at last !* ''A stupor seized my faculties. I heard not, but looked on the scene before me, as if no part of its horror were mine. — Seli- na/' said Lady Mary, after a pause of silent agony, '^ in this ill-fated couple behold your parents ! the sleeping babe your invaluable self!" But Selina answered not to the melan- choly intimation ; her senses seemed ab- sorbed ; nor, till a copious shower of tears had relieved her, could she motion for a continuance of the awful narrative. " By applications to the temples of Mr. Asgill, Donald and Martha, after some time, restored him. The newly-acquired strength of your mother fled as her fright subsided. The hand she extended to your guilty fa- ther was clasped with a frantic look by the THE ENGLISHWOMAN. 219 convulsed one of Asgill. She laid her head upon his shoulder, and while I, unable to support my tottering limbs, watched her pale face in speechless agitation, expect- ing her utterance, yet undecided how to act, the pale hue of death shadowed her lovely features ; her slackened nerves gave way, and she fell on her pillow, never to speak more. * I am a murderer!' said Asgill, as he started from his seat, and flung himself on his knees by the bedside. ''At that moment^ Selina, you opened your eyes, and smiled so innocently as to awaken the most exquisite agony in the wretched Asgill. — * Go,' said I, motioning him to depart; 'never will I behold you more!* He attempted no extenuation; but with all the agony that a mind so op« pressed with complicated guilt must feel, he rushed out of the apartment. "Gerald, who waited my return at the end of the north avenue, growing anxious at my long stay, was coming to seek the cause, when Mr. Asgill passed him without l2 S^O THE ENGLISHWOMAN. appearing to see ,him. The melancholy event that had taken place was told this good creature, who was yet a litranger to the attendant circumstances. My wounded feelings had supported mc in all the an- guish of the preceding scene, but no sooner was I left to contemplate the lifeless form of my hapless cousin and your helples»s unprotected state, than my sight dimmed, and I became incapable of exertion. *' What passed I knew not from that pe- riod till some weeks after, when I found myself recovering from a sickness that had weakened me almost to infancy. The events of the intermediate space I will briefly record, aiid thus bring my sorrow- ing tale to its close. The anguish of my parents and the good lady Asgill would be imperfectly described by the most tender elucidation. The countess gradually sunk into a melancholy, which appeared sooth- ing, though wasting. ''^ The unfortunate Mildred was buried in the church, under the white tablet that faces the south porch; her initials are all THE ENGLISHWOMA-N, 9'21 tfiar ornament its pure surface. You, my Selina, were brought home to Millington, at the express desire of the countess^ who engaged my father^ by the most solemn pro- iTiise, to watch over and protect your child- hood. Lady Asgill, broken hearted, quitted the Hall. Your father has been a wanderer ever since; it has never been exactly ascer- tained where he resides. The honour of sir Eldred would have induced a different line of conduct, had not the fate of his niece been involved with the insult offered to his daughter. As such, Mr. Asgill was left to the cheerless solace of a guilty con- science. " In the explanation which he felt it ne- cessary to give to his mother, he attributed his errors to the force of example, and con- tinued in(ercoui*se with Moraldi; that when he left his mother in Paris, they went to see a relative of Moraldi in the convent at Brussels ; that seeing the unhappy Mildred once or twice in the visiting-psrlour, he had remarked her beauty to Moraldi, who knowing the involvements that Mr. AsgiJJ 222 THE ENGLISHWOMAN. laboured under with respect to some garri' bling debtS;, and, in particular, a large one to himself, had assured him that she was an heiress, &:c. Szc; that feeling it impossible to ask of his mother what would extricate him, and learning, through the vile Le Clare, that he vvas an object of esteem to the too susceptible Mildred, he had, by degrees, been led into the subsequent guilt ■which had tarnished his days; that after bringing her to England, he had felt all the horror of remorse, but it was too late to recede. He owned that his meeting with me at the drawing-room, ^nd the conse- quent intercourse of our families, had so obliterated the idea of his engagements, as to make him unmindful of the tender situ- ation of his deserted wife; that Moraldi fre- quently reminded him that the secret could not be much longer concealed; and, at length, throwing off the mask, had advised him to brave the anger of the injured girl's father, as his pecuniary affairs must go into some sort of arrangement. 'Awakened from my fancied security/ said Mr. Asgill^ THE ENGLISHWOMAN. 225 ' I saw clearly that. I was the dupe ofMo- raldi. I wrote him. He was then gone to Wales, to account for my non-appearance in the most plausible way. His answer was calculated to lull, or rather sooth, a mind already made up to the adoption of a new system.— Alas, too credulous Mildred ! why did you listen to the vows of one whom nothing but your inexperience could have made acceptable to you ! My hand trem- bles while I avow to you, my mother, that admiration of her beauteous person was the most fervent feeling that ever warmed jny bosom toward this tender, this murdered angel ! How far her virtues and the parental claim might have softened and attuned my heart to honour and to Mildred, I know not, but lady Mary was my idol; — it waa she whom, in idea, I had always loved. Whenever fancy traced the being on whomi my soul could doat, it drew her image; and when fate tlirew in my way the perfect sem- blance of my fondest hopes, I loved — and was a villain ! Oft when your tongue has been lavish in approval of her merits, I S^ THE ENGLTSHWOMAK. listened, and hoped that such a one might be my lot. Why did you hide from me your darling scheme ? It is now too late. I have destroyed one, and blighted the youth of another ! Sir Eldred too ! — the countess ! — and you^ my deceived parent! — never will I wound your sight by my ap- pearance ! Horrible to reflect on ! I now learn that Moraldi, to induce my victim ta resign me, tore her tender bosom, by the suggestion that I might be found criminal for having eloped with an heiress. — This, though a fact which might have been sub- stantiated, was never purposed by any party. Fatal ignorance I' continued Asgill, m his humiliating, because just censure of himself, *why did I not know the connec- tion between the Dunbar and Millington families I surely my evil destiny was more complicated than usual ! What late and heart-rending repentance is mine ! Never will the countenance and pressure of the hand of my lost Mildred be effaced from my memory ! nor would I linger out a life of such unceasing torment, but that I have THE ENGLISHWOMAN. -^.^^^ itiy peace to make. I sought Moraldi, but was long ere I could trace the scorpion.— Not in the fairy scenes of pleasure did I jfind him; but stretched on a bed of sick- ness^ wounded by the hand of an injured husband. — Thus was I spared murder. Even Moraldi was hopeless. He explained a thou- sand arts, that made me curse my ignorance in being deceived by him. He loved my beloved ! — Yes, lady Mary, whose cold- ness he dared to censure, was the goddess of his idolatry. The multiplied deceptions to which I was blinded by his sentimental gilding, are hateful to reflect on. To her whom I dare not name with myself, make my wretched name as little opprobrious as my villainy will admit. Teach my infant, if possible, to forget my crimes, and think only of my contrition. It were better, my mother, that you never saw me more, than that I met you the deserved object of your maternal censure. If possible, let reason dawn ere you make my child a judge on the errors of my early life; and use every ho- L 3 ^G THE ENGLISHWOMAN. noiirable means to engage for her the love of the most amiable of women !* ''In the close of his communication, he named the death ofMoraldi, who expired about three months'after, the hapless victim of his avarice and artifices. The residence of Mr. Asgill, from that period to the pre- sent, has never been ascertained ; and though lady Asgill hears from him occa- sionally, it is by a channel which he assures her is too remote to be traced. The effects of this lamentable departure from the path of integrity, have been variously felt in our family. "The countess survived the disappoint- ment of my hopes but three months. We bore her to Bristol ; but her constitution, which had been previously shook, yielded to this last attack, which deprived my be- loved father of his affectionate and invalu- able partner, and me of a most exemplary parent. Nor must I omit to remark on the parental care and esteem which my respect- ed Mrs. Cecil has ever borne me. Lady THE ENGLISHWOMAN. 227 Asgill has never mixed in public since her son's defection in conduct. Very few per- sons know the exact cause of our union be- ing broken off. The marriage of Mr. As- gill with Miss Dunbar had been a secret to all but those concerned in its completion. '' During our sojourn at Bath, Mrs. Cecil took you, Selina, to her maternal bosom. Donald and Martha remained your nurses* After the interment of mv lamented mo- ther, Mrs. Cecil, by a well-judged arrange- ment, led the thoughts of my father and self to the contemplation of your deserted situation. May I tell you, Selina, that sir Kldred^ 2ii first, viewed you as the child of Asgill, and held back from the protection which your helplessness so forcibly claim- ed ; but when I reminded him that it was likewise the child of Mildred, he received you with open arms, and bathed your glow- ing cheeks with tears. Many vague re- grets were sir Eldred's, that he was denied the sight of your suffering mother, while yet she could have been sensible of his tea- derness; but that happiness was denied him. 228 THE ENGLISHWOMAN. ''The illness that succeeded the fata? inornirjg of my visit to Denton Farm, I have since learned, spared me numberless pangs of unavailing sorrow; for the grief of sir Eldred and the countess, v^hen acquainted that his niece was past all mortal aid^ and that within sight of Millington, that As- gill was her deiitroyer, his flight, and my consequent blighted days, had effects of a iifiost alarming sort on my parents. Sir EN dred*s horror at the perfidy of your wretch- ed father was calmed only by the temper*^ ate reasoning of Cecil, and the blended, distress of his niece and daughter. ** Scarce had the cold urn received the lashes of my beloved mother, ere a letter written for Dunbar arrived. It implored, in the most touching style, some account of his child, whom he named as less faulty than himself; begged she would hasten to bless and forgive his unnatural conduct; tnentioned his will being made in favour of her, &c. Sec. To this my father replied briefly. " The next earliest account brought the THE ENGLlSnWOMAK. 220" news of his death, ^vhich took place a fevr hours after receiving the assurance of his daughter's early fate. He had just power to make his will in favour of you, my Se- lina, and expired. Sir James Montgome- ry, whose zeal for your mother had induced him to trace out the real name of your other parent, forgot, in his wish to serve her, the rancour he had ever borne towards sir Hector. He went to Scotland to effect a mediation in her favour, in which he suc- ceeded, and returned to accompany the forlorn Mildred to the feet of her parent; but she had quirted Cumberland ; and be- fore sir James had time to arrange some more propitious plan, the nev/s of her death reached him, and, in the sequel, that of Dunbar, ''Sir James again quitted England, and about four years after, my father received an official communication that acquainted him of the demise of the zealous and ami- able Montgomery, who named my father as guardian to his nephew and heir; a trust 230 THE ENGLISnWOMAlsr. which has hitherto been pleasurable in its performance. '* The earl of Winterton, whose discern- ment should have proved a beacon to my youthful conduct, though apprized of all that had passed, again offered me his hand. Had I been disposed to retract my word, none could have been so acceptable as that of the worthy Winterton ; but my resolu- tion was fixed; nor have I ever felt the ieast disposition to change it. *' It appears that he had often warned Mr. Asgill of the insidious influence of Moraldi; and, on the first evening of my meeting Mr. Asgill, had used the strong allusions and marked language which I had observed, for the purpose of assuring him that he knew some things in which Asgill thought himself secure. It had so happened, that a servant of the earPs, who had been with him on the continent, got leave to visit his friends, who resided in Cumberland. There he recognised Moraldi, and afterwards Mr. Asgill. The mystery that appeared to at- THE ENGLISHWOMAN. §31 tach to them, the death of Le Clare, and many other contin,c:encies, awakened cu- riosity in the neighbourhood ; but when Marshall beard Mr. Asgill ealled by the name of Saville, he guessed that an intrigue ^vas the motive; and hesitated not to ac- quaint his master, on his return, of all that he had seen and heard. '' Thus was the earl sedulous for my hap- piness, when my infatuation attributed to him very different motives ; and again, Se- lina, had I, with my accustomed candour, avowed the sentiments or ambiguity that appeared to exist in the bosoms of Moraldi and Asgill, my part, at least, in the catas- trophe might have been spared. Had the earl considered that an institution so sacred as marriage had bound the fate of Mildred and Asgil), he would have interfered ; but he neither knew her rank, nor that she was more than an unfortunate victim of illicit love. Thus again, she whose purity was unimpeachable, by unfilial conduct, and an unlimite(i confidence in one with whom she was so little acquainted^ became an oh-^ SS2 THE ENGLISHWOMAIT. ject of doubtful virtue ; and I, Selina, whose hopes were centered in one object, and that being your idolized father, can find no extenuation for his conduct. "Often has my trembling heart flown l)ack to scenes long past ; but ever, when a softening idea would rise in my bosom for the wanderer who once held my hearty the form of your dying mother rose to my mental view, and chased every semblance of pity for his fate, saving only the com- passion one miist feel for a fallen fellow- creature. '* The morocco case which you found in Susan's possession, Selina, is the portrait of your father; frorrvthis momciit it isyour's. It was round the neck of your sweet mo- ther when she expired. I do not deny, Selina, that I have not looked on it often- and lamented the little similarity there ex- isted between the openness of the counte- nance and the intricacy of the heart. For- |>ive me, my love," said lady Mary, as she viewed the extreme agitation of our heroine, who felt anguish past utterance ia THE ENGLI-SHWOMAW. 23^ comparing all she had learned with the no\f perfect conviction that she had wept on the bosom of her wretched father ; had heard him implore her forgiveness for faults of which she had no knowledge ; had heard him pronounce himself a murderer; had supported his sinking frame ; and wore otv her bosom a trinket once in his possession. ^' Your grandmother, my love/' conti- nued lady Mary, "looks forward to the pleasure of meeting you with renovated hopes. The task of your education has been my solace, and was undertaken at her express wish. Take this miniature, Selina/* said her ladyship ; " nature will assist your heart to judge favourably. And now, my beloved charge, if I have ever been thought rigid or fastidious, you will see on what^ foundation I built my fears, and evidently discern that your happiness is my primary object. Adieu for the present," said lady Mary. '' Go, my Selina, nor ever put too much trust in the fallacious promises of love; though, I trust, there are many who* SS4 THE ENGLISH WOMAK. deserve conficlence, yet ' 'tis a sorry worM we live in^ and the fewer we praise the better** E3S CHAP. XIV. ** You were used To say, extremity was the trier of spirits ; That common chances, common men could bca^| That when the sea was calm, all boats alike Shew'd mastership in floating." "Alas!''' said our heroine, as she threw herself mechanically on the window-seat of her chamber, which afforded a distant view of the village church, '' there rests my un- happy mother ! — My father, where does he wander ! — Ill-fated beings, to what lament* able events did your transient union lead ! •—Oh ! never, never may I forget the mo* ral that your sorrowing fate too sensibly conveys !'* TflE^ENGLISHWOMAN. 235 In times like the present, we are tena- cious to offer the transaction of our hero* ine on the ensuing morning, who, while yet the sun shone in full splendour, con* sequentiy without a taper, with as firm a foot as the nature of her feelings W011I4 admit, and previously calling on the clerk of the parish (the schoolmaster, farrier, and dentist, all of which were blended in the same person), for the keys of the church, resolved on visiting the tomb of her mother. The tomb of the Millington family wa^ a conspicuous object amidst the simple ar- chitecture that adorned the church — no un- meaning sculpture caught the eye, but fair and polished steps of Parian marble led to a plain and elegant raised monument, on which the names of its silent inhabitants were simply engraved. Our heroine soon found the initials described, and fixing her eyes, with mournful expression, on the tender memorial, her thoughts reverted to all the complicated griefs that had bowed the spirit, and ultimately hastened tficr youthful Mildred to the '' silent l^ourne." Fervently did the filial heart ofSelina 0H€r up her hope, that the repentance of her surviving parent might meet the mercy of an all-bounteous and wise-judging Be- ing, whose pity k accorded to the sorrow-- mg and contrite heart ! " Ohj m^y mother V* gdd the tetidcr St* Mm^ *' if, tmconmom ©f thy aarthly suf- ferings, and thy place of repose, I have been innocently withheld from weeping for thy sor/ows, and trusting with humble confidence in thy bliss, forgive your child, whose Ignorance alone could cause her omission ! — Make me grateful,'* said the weeping girl, '^for the protection which has been mine through a life of youthful happiness !~Warned by thy melancholy fate, my parent, may I confide in those whose wisdom should direct my path !" As no broken tomb offered, for the hid- ing of any lurking lover. Sec. &c. our he- twine, with a composed and satisfied coua-^ THE ENGLISITWOMAN. ^23T Henance, quitted the cold tomb of her pa- rent, and returned to the house of honest Delves, v»hose curiosity was not much ex- cited by the visit of the young lady, as he had often been called on by sir Eldred and his daughter for the same purpose; and Miss Asgill, being now a grown woman, he supposed, was coming into all the religious good ways of her excellent friends. Denton Farm was the next object of her regards ; but the chamber in which her mo- ther had ceased to su ifer, was not so easy to be ascertained as her previous one had been. On entering the farm, while the young men strove to shew their respect by Jtasty and somewhat inconvenient accom- modations to afford her a seat, the old wo- man, now nearly blind, and dependant on the duty and industry of her sons, sat silent by the .fireside, s-pinning. Oar heroine, after making herself known, and waiting the removal of the spinning-wheel, adjui^t- ment of the apron. Sec. said ''she had come to talk with dame Denton, but begged she -might ivot detain any, part of th^ family 238 THE ENGLISHWOMAN. from their avocations/' The young men departed. Miss Asgillj in a tone at once persuasive and conciliating, then asked the dame " which chamber it was in which the niece of sir Eldred expired ?" *'Alack-a-day ! my sweet young lady/' sajd the worthy creature, ^''it was the room over this. It seems but yesterday that this terrible affair happened, and you are now quite a woman. — I wish my eyes were bet- ter, if only to look at you ; but I hear your voice, and that does me good.*' "Then you know that the niece of sir Eldred was a relation of mine ?" "Know !" said dame Denton; "why she was your mother, my sweet love ! Excuse my freedom. Miss, but I nursed you at my breast, when your sweet mamma was too l3ad to notice you; and after that sad, sad day that we lost the poor young lady, I continued to nurse you till the good Mrs. Cecil took charge of you ; but as soon as sir Eldred and lady Mary returned — that is^ after the countess's death, then you were THE ENGLISHWOMAN. S39 taken to the Hall. Surely, if ever there ivas an angel on earth/* continued the good dame, "it is lady Mary ! to think how she forgot all her own sad disappointment, and took you to her heart, as if you had been the child of her best friend, instead of her greatest enemy !" " Hush, my good Mrs. Denton ! remem- ber who he was." *'Ibeg your pardon, my dear young lady, but when one knows how much bet- ter a man the charitable lady Mary deserved, it makes one sorry she should have fallen in v/ith such a sad *' *'May I go up and look at the room.^'* said Miss Asgill. " Certainly, Miss; but I think it is but a dull choice for your age. — -There stands the very bed on which she died, and all the furniture exactly the same ; for I have always reckoned it my best room ever since/' Our heroine ascended to the chamber, with a heart deeply impressed by the pre- ceding conversation. No particular object f 4© THE ENGLISHWOMAN. caught her sight, but the homely Tieatnes? of the whole gave a soothing, though late comfort to her bosom. ^' At least/' said she, *' though the heiress of sir Hector Dun- bar might have expected to live and die in scenes remote from such humble privacy, yet a rational being, and one whose blighted youth was excluded from the balm of hope, would little heed the tinsel of situation.'* • To the inanimate furniture her speaking eyes looked the variety of her feelings. Again she joined the good dame; who> hearing her sighs, offered the consolation of a Christian, and begged she would be •comforted, and remember what good and tender friends she had, who would grieve if they knew how much she had cried that morning. After shaking hands with Mi*s. Denton, and leaving a small mark of her esteem. Miss Asgill returned towards the Hall. Within a short distance from home she joined lady Mary, who had been seeking her in the adjacent cottages. She ac- counted for her absence by a full recital The ENGLISHWOMAN. 241 of hct morning's excursion. Lady Mary pressed her hand in silence. "^How marked and appropriate must be the general feelings of all around us, my dear cousin, that in all our frequent visits and communications with the villagers, no circumstance ever occurred to awaken in my bosom a suspicion or curiosity concern- ing myself! — How decided must be their respect, how harmonious their gratitude !" '•' I believe, Selina, that the story has ilied away with the elder branches of the families. Very few new settlers have come fimong us — none except farmer Flight, and one or two others — they have been in the village about ten years: but I believe a great part of the delicacy which you so justly estimate takes its rise with the ve- nerable Gerald, who admonished the elder branches at the time, that it was a story which would pain the good sir Eldred by ■ being repeated. Thus, to spare their be- nefactor's feelings, it is more than probable that the existing families, with a few excep- VOL. I. M ^i2 THE ENGLISHWOMAN. tions, are strangers to our domestic story.** ''As my grief for those departed sub*' i&ides/'said Selina^ "my admiration of your magnanimous conduct rises to a feeling beyond utterance — to adopt and dedicate your days to myself!" "To suffer is the lot of humanity/' in- terrupted lady Mary ; *' to bear our appor- tioned ills with as much fortitude as we can summon, is our moral duty. I was edu- cated in the belief that the Omnipotent afflicts for wise ends. — I believe that I am as little ungrateful as a mortal endowed with hopes and wishes can be.'* "Oh, may I, through life, imitate so bright an example !" said our heroine, with an ardour as fervent as real. This day, which had dawned on the con- clusion of the woeful tale, and which it was fondly hoped would leave them to the tranquil possession of their many domestic enjoyments, was not destined to close im- jTiarked by occurrence. Sir Eldred w^as re- joicing in the returning smiles and unre- strained manners of his associates, when. THE EKGLISHWOMAN. 243 * Just as twilight spread her gloom, and the • sparkish fire lent a cheerful blaze to com- pensate the loss of day, Gerald, with a lame pace and serious manner, entered the room. — " Could I speak with your Honour?" said he. " Certainly, Gerald," replied sir Eldred. "But alone, sir?" • *' Most assuredly." " Stop,'* said lady Mary; "take a seat, Gerald. I want to give Burton some di- rections, and will take this opportunity ; and as MissAsgill is younger than you, she will either run up stairs, or find some way to spare your legs.*' Gerald bowed, and took the offered seat. Miss Asgill retired to her room, and lady Mary to the, apartment of Mrs. Burton. Selina was sitting in a musing posture, when Susan, with an ofiScious zeal, looked into the room, just to see if the young lady's fire wanted repair. " It does not,** said our heroine; ''I will ring for Stevens when it does." m2 244 THE ENGLISHWOMAN. '' Very well. Miss/' said Susan, some^ what offended ; but her love of telling the first news conquered her wounded pride; therefore, walking to the window, she said, ^* Would not you like the windows shut in. Miss ?" ''No, thank you, Susan." ''Dear me!" said Susan, untying her apron, " I am afraid there is bad news come to the Hall to-night; for there is that young man, you know. Miss, that was with the sick gentleman at father's. — You re- member. Miss ?'* '' Yes, I remember what you said, Susan ; but what news does he bring ?** endeavour- ing to hide her anxiety. ** Why, I don't know; there are great large packets, with black seals, and Mr. Fabian is in deep mourning.'* "Oh God!" said our heroine, '' he is dead!'* *' Yes, I believe he is," continued Susan ; *' for I said to him, says I, ' I suppose your poor master is the countenance of Fabian for a reply, *'l cannot but think your master must be a man of great consequence to this family, for I only just happened to say that ' I sup- posed, by your being in deep mourning, that the poor sick gentleman was dead/ and 245 THE ENGLISHWOMAN. nway goes Miss Asgill into a dead swoon.' I am sure she has quite shook my nerves; I am always shocked at such sights/' '' It is a pity you tell such news then," replied Fabian, coldFy ; " particularly as you only guessed at what you have told." " Why, arn't he dead ?" said Susan, who began to fear that her premature informa* tion might lead to disgrace. '' Certainly he is dead,'* said Fabiany ■with a respectful seriousness, *' I hope he made his peace with God,'^ said Susan ; '' for I am sure he seemed troubled in mind, and as if his conscience was not too good/' '^ His conscience/' said Fabian, *' was in his own keeping; and I dare say he looked for approbation from those who knew haw to judge, and did not think that every body would take the liberty of judging for him." "No offence, sir," said Susan; ''I am sure I meant no harm ; but I thought that you must know a good deal of his affairs t and it is so natural to talk of one's mastec- ©r mistress." THE ENGLIvSHWOMA>\ 247 ''Very natural, to be sure/' replied Fa- bian ; ''but there are many ways of talking on the same subject, and we will drop this, if you please, ma'am. — You seem to take no notice of all this/' said Fabian, turning to Stevens, w^ho was attentively working dur- ing the whole of the preceding conver- sation. " I know nothing of the matter/' said JFanny ; ''and am certain it is what I have no business with." '' You will tell another story, Stevens/' said Susan, with a sneer, " when you have ^een as much of the world as I have. — Row stupid would you appear in any but such a retired place as this, where one never hears a bit of news ! For my part, I must say, I loves annedote," "I think you do, ma'am; and are not particular how you get it," replied Fabiant. The return of Gerald and Mrs. Burton changed the scene» Susan sunk into her usual insignificance, while the hospitality of these confidential domestics was exerted to show civility to the stranger, whose intelli- S48 THE ENGLISHWOMAN; gence and knowledge of the world wouM have made him an agreeable visitor, had not the news he brought appeared to giva sir Eldred a considerable portion of uneasi- ness; not that sir Eldred could grieve for the death of him whom Fabian had served ;: but he well knew that to lady Mary it would be an acute, though, he trusted, not dur* able pang. Sir Eldred awaited the return of hi^ daughter and niece, in preference to ap- prizing them that he had any particuIaB^ communication to make. ''I am sure,"' said lady Mary, as she icontemplated the features of sir Eldred^ *' I am sure, my dear sir, that you have some unpleasant circumstance to relate.'' Selina, who knew too well what was ift reserve, sat silent, with a face pale anc^ tearful. " It is a strange coincidence, my love,'*^ said the baronet, " that you should scarcely have disclosed the family sorrows to our Selina, ere the cause of all our doiTiestic calamity is gone to his account/' THE ENGLISHWOMAN. 24d ^' Good Heavens !" said lady Mary, '' ia Asgilldead?" '' He is, my child," said sir Eldred. Miss Asgill spoke not, but a deep sigh which escaped her bosom turned the eyes of her ladyship upon her, who received her pale and trembling into her arms. " Selina had better retire," said the ba- ronet. " Oh, no !*' said the weeping girl ^ " pro- ceed, I beseech you, uncle ; I shall grow tranquil in listening to you/' Lady Mary appearing to be equally anx- rous_, sir Eldred proceeded. — '^The packets I received were from distinct persons; one from Mr. Asgill, the other from the earl of Winterton. The earl's stated, that, two years ago, he had, while travelling through Switzerland, got bis carriage injured, and was forced to take up his residence in the house of a peasant in the canton of Berne ; charmed with the characters of the Swiss, he was not hasty in departing from their hospitable roof: that after some days, find- M 3 S50 THE ENGLrSHWOMANC ing his table more profuse than at his' first arrival^ he had expressed his surprise, when Luton told him that he had got a few deli- cacies from the English hermit^ who lived in the white cottage. 'My curiosity/ said the earl, 'being raised, I made some-inquiries, and learned that he had lived there near twenty years ; that he was the patron of the poor and friendless; to him all lovers made their court — he judged their merits, anil sanc- tioned their union by portions adequate to his fortune; 'but if/ said Luton, irr his eulogium, ' a base lover destroys the peace and fame of his mistress, Mr. Addison pur- sues him by means the most rigorous; but indeed, his charity and goodness have done away such troubles from our village. OnTy two instances of villany have happened since he came amongst us/ ' I should like to see him,' said the earl. ' That cannot be, sir/ continued Luton ; 'he never sees any but the peasantry : many gentlemen, who have travelled through ihis canton, and heard of his charities, ha^re THE ENGLISHWOMAN. 251 wished to see him; but he always refuses to meet strangers. — But you may go see his cottage/ said Luton ; ' rf I let him know that a gentleman wishes it, he will go from one room to another till you have seen the whole. He knows I have a guest, and it is by his desire that your table is more fitted to your rank.' ' Next morning/ continued the earl/'my name being given in as Mr. Barton (the name by which I have travelled in my pre- sent tour), I was admitted. The scientific paintings that decorated the tasteful dwel- ling rivetted my attention. I had gone through the whole, and was returning, when ^ portrait that had escaped my notice caught my eye. It was a speaking likeness of my heart's fondest affection, the lov^^ly lady Mary. A confused suspicion that the wretched Asgili was the philanthropist to whose praises I had willingly subscribed, took possession of me. All idea of whot he had been to me subsided'. I refi'ecteti on what he had for ever lost by his own un* worthiness; and sympathizing in the rej- 252 THE ENGLrSHWOMAN. grets which must have been his in an exile so long aoid cheerless^ I resolved to wave the ceremony that had been usually ob- served towards him, and ask his friendship. I had heard his footsteps recede from the room I then occupied, on my approach. Taking a pencil, f scrawled on a card—* *Vain is your endeavour to seclude your- self; admit one who is willing and would- be happy to offer you the consolation that friendship freely accords/ — Luton tapped gently at the study door. I retired, and awaited his answer in the porch. Luton returned. Mr. Addison was unwell, and could not see a stranger. ' I was disappointed, but delicacy forbade my further intrusion. Next morning, how- cvtr, I was awakened by my host, who said Mr. Addison was taken very ill, and they feared would die ; and that the nearest me- dical assistance was five miles distant. I rose, and hastened to the cottage : an old female servant led me to the sick man's chamber. Where, in a state of delirium, I found him whom my prophetic imagination THE ENGLISIIWO^rAN* 25^ had conceived to be the cottage inhabitant. I bled the unconscious AsgiM ; and finding that my little knowledge in the art had^ suggested what gave visible relief, I with- drew into an adjoining room, to await any- further claim to my exertions* An intelli- gent professional man arrived, whose pre^ sence gave me comfort, by his approval of my application-. I forbore to enter his chamber till some days after his being pro- nounced convalescent. His first inquiry was fpr the stranger v/ho had so unexpect- edly administered to his necessity. I al* tended his permission. * No language would do justice to the expression of his surprise, when I hastened to give him ray hand, with alh'lhe cor- diality that I really felt towards him. ' Win- terton !' said he, '^do I live to receive fa- vours from vour hands f^' ' No favours,' said I; ' bumanity first inpj- pelled my intrusion, sympathy soon made that highly gratifying to me, which I felt derived its source from the self-same cause.* ^ But you,' said he, retaining my band. "^4 THE ENGLISHWOMAN* "^ you can -look back with satisfaction. I stepped in between you and your dearest hopes, and knew myself unvvoFthy at the time!'- *^ All animosity/ said I, 'has long since died away with me. — Time has chastened my rebellious heart, which was y7er(?rdeemed worthy the acceptance of her for whom only life seemed desirable. Convinced ot this, though I might lament the defection that deprived you of such happiness, my own particular ire tawards you has gradu- ally subsided.* * Out of this interview, my friend,' con^ tinned the earl, 'there grew an intercourse which death only destroyed. — I became the inmate Of his cottage ; him whom in early Jife I had execrated, I learned to prize, to value, nay, to love as a brother \ Why was not Asgill acquainted with himself.^ — Alas! "what graces, what talents were his! About twelve months since, though in a weak state of health, he would go to England, to get a last view of the idol of his heart, and ses bis child/ THE FNOLISHWOMAN. 255 * The emotion of Selina at this part of sir Eldred's Gommunication was visible ; biit the approaching end of the wretehed Asgiiil was, to the baronet, an ostensible cause for such feelings. ' 'I accompanied him to France, and awaited his return. He accomplished but half Kis object.. Qn his return, I perceived that the fatisjue and ao^itation of his mind had greatly reduced him. We journeyed, by easy stages, to his peaceful dwelling, which he seemed anxious to attain. About a month after, he expired in my arms. . Ne- ver did a more penitent spirit ofTer itself at the throne of mercy. The tranquillity and marked virtues of his life, had made him dear to every creature near him. I, who had held such different sentiments to- wards him, shall never cease to regret his fate, though I feel an assurance of his hap- piness. The packet which accompanies this, is a brief disposition o( his worldly affairs. To the excellent lady Asgill.he had been in habits of correspondence, hut Bever cauld. bring himself to ackiio.wledge ^gJtJ' TITE ENGLISHWOMAN. his residence, or prostrate himself at her feet. Her forgiveness had been accorded him. May his errors rest in the grave with liiin ! 'Your surprise,' continued the earl, ' at learning that this event took place ten months ago, will subside, when P say, that it was his solemn injunction not to disclose it till this^ period. '^ When they learn,' cried he, 'that I have been so long an in- habitant of the silent tomb, the recollec-^ tion of my moral defects will more readily attenuate to the softness which I could wish should follow the intelligence; — at least mij feelings dictate this mode, and my hopes rest more on its adoption than any other 1' —And now/ said the earl, 'having com- plied with my poor friend's injunction, I dispatch these by his faithful servant, who is now in my employ, and will join me on the frontiers. The peaceful grave of Asgill I contemplate from the chamber at which I "write. The shrubs have already formed a shade, as if to give the obscurity which its inhabitant so strictly enjoined. No menu- THE ENGLISHWOMAN, Sb7 went av inscription marks the place^ but the peasants unanimously avow their inten- tion of perpetuating the humble spot^ by planting the firstlings of the spring as each succeeding one arrives; and a mournful cypress is already beginning to spread her gloomy foliage at the head of the grave.'* The auditors of the baronet were too much depressed to comment on the earl'^ comma nicotian, though their hearts did ample justice to the liberality and delicacy of the writer. Sir Eldred, who, from his own feelings J judged it would be best to finish the tale ai woe at once, now ex* plained the contents of the other packet. Mr. Asgili's letter was a strict recrimina- tion of himself. The most heart-rending expressions of regret were addressed to sir Eldred, for the disappointment he had oc- casioned him in his daughter> and the mi- Bery and early fate of his lamented niece. His gratitude for the protection afforded his child, was manly, copious, and expres- sive of very refined feelings. Of his mo- ther he spoke with dutiful respect, blended *25S THE ENGLISHWOMAN. with sorrow for the trouble he had given her. His fortune, not very extensive, he bequeathed to his daughter, naming sir El- dred as her guardian, and lady Mary her guide and protectress. He concluded by saying, that to his daughter he referred them for an explanation that she would^ on the receipt of that, be fully at liberty to make. ''And now," said the baronet, turning to his niece, " what is it you have to com- municate, my love ?" ''I will relate it in as few w^ords as possi- ble," said Selina, collecting all the courage she could to obey the dying command ci her parent. *'lt will be twelve raon(hs next month, my dear uncle, that, as I was going to the hermitage, which you know is my favourite walk, one evening, I had scarcely got within sight of its-entrance ere I thought I saw a tall figure of a man ascend the steps and go into it. I hesitated whe- ther to go on> but a second thought made me conclude it must be Frank Cecil; yet I had viewed the figure, and it appeai'ed THE ENGLISHWOMAN. 259 miicb taller. My footsteps were surely im- pelled by some unseen power^ for I pro- ceeded even against the courage that then filled my bosom. On arriving at the entrance, I beheld an elegant-looking man, apparently in great agitation; his face seemed pale and disordered, I advanced ; but unwilling to enter the retreat, now I saw it possessed by a stranger, I stood irre- solute on the step. Suddenly the strength of the stranger gave way, and he fell sense- less at my feet. Nature surely, at that inoment, dictated to my heart, for with a zeal as strenuous as the poor suiferer could have wished had he claimed my duty, I fled to his assistance. Some volatile salts, which I had with me, revived him. I chaffed his temples with water from the brook, and used every effort to restore him. He re* vived; but what was my astonishment^ when he called me by my name t — his poor" Selina ! his beloved treasure I Then putting me from him, he said ^ he was a murderer !'* ■ — then he solemnly adjured me to abide by |he wisdom and direction of the angel wha SJ60 THE ENeilSH WOMAN. protected roe. I fled not from his incoTie* rent language, for, at my hearty I felt a powerful feeling in his favour. He talked of yoUj my uncle ; asked if you ever cursed hiini^ And when I asked him who he was> he laughed at me in so terrific a way, that I became alarmed. He saw it, and ex- elaimedj with an energy bordering on mad- jness, 'God of Heaven ! she is afraid of meV Instantly his senses failed. Again I had recourse to my sahs, which restored him to a degree of composure. *^1 gazed on his emaciated, yet expres* *ive countenance, with an interest that sur- prised me. At length, rising, he said, 'he must go;* warned me of the danger of the- world; guarded me against all conceal- ments ; and made me p'omise silence witlt regard to our meeting, until his order should sanction a disclosure^ '' He departed. I sat in a stupor for some time. All that he had said sunk deep, on my heart, but the necessity of conceal- ment appeared insupportably distressing^ The gloomy picture he drew of the world^ it occurred to me, origitvated in his owft peculiar disappointments. The sound of footsteps alarmed me. I arose^ and, through an aperture in the boughs, saw a man ap- proaching, who immediately, on discover- ing me, withdrew in great haste. I felt enervated, and unable to move. On casting my eyes to the ground, 1 discovered this cornelian heart," said Miss AsgiH, drawing that which Asgill had dropped while in the hermitage from her bosom. ''Alas!'* interrupted &ir Eldred, '^^ it was my sister's — I gave it to her on her nup- tials. Of course, Selina, it had been the gift of your poor mother to AsgilL'* ''How strange," said Selina, "that I felt an irresistible desire to wear it !" "It is strange, my love/' said sir Eldred ; "but have you^ny thing further to say ?'' "No/* said Selina, " excepting what oc- curred at Flight's cottage." She then re- lated Susan's communication, and the rc-^ cent discovery of the miniature. No particular which our heroine related but tended to illustrate the candour of her 126^ THE EKGLISHWOMAN. disposition. The warm and tender praises that were readily accorded her, were grate- ful opiates to her harrowed feelings ; " and now/* said sir Eldred, as he recommended repose to his beloved children, as he termed them, 'Met us not pass over the peculiar dispensations of Providence, that thus brought your wandering parent so tried and valued a friend — one whose noble na- ture, spurning all worldly considerations or deprivations, poured the balm of com- fort on his waning days ! Never may the truly penitent want the solace of an ap- proving friend ! Even the period for dis- closing your connexions to you, Selina, has, by the wisdom of Providence, been wisely arranged; while yet your heart was glowing for their sufferings and errors, you are called upon to shed the parting tear, and o'er their graves to weep, with mode- rate feelings, your duty and your si/mpa- thyr This was understood by the auditors of sir Eldred as he meant it should be — a pre- ventative to immoderate grief. With afr THE ENCLISHWOMAN. 203 fectionate acknowledgments they retired. Fabian was, after a few days, dispatched, with the warmest assurances of regard and esteem, to the excellent earl, whom Miss Asgill esteemed with a regard bordering on veneration. Lady Asgill, who had received her infor- mation of her son's death from the earl, bore it with the fortitude becoming her age and principles. The purposed intro- duction of our heroine was delayed. Four months were given to mourning, though the demise was not recent. Frank Cecil, disappointed in the delayed visit, was left to make a little circle in his neighbour- hood, to help the appointed period of re- tirement observed by theMillington family. No violent marks of sorrow were dis- played by the ladies at the Hall; life had 4o him they mourned but few charms, ex- cept such as diarity induced. Persuaded of his ^translation to a better w^orld, their resignation was tempered by the religion of humble believers. At the end, there- fore^ of the devoted time, lady Mary's 1161 TfiE ENGLtSHWOMAW^ scruples having given w'^y to the solicita^ tions of her father and Miss Asgill, the party journeyed into Berkshire, where the unfeigned joy of the young parson gave a zest to their visit, that contributed to raise their spirits, and fit them for tbe more ac- tive scenes of a London life. Lady Mary contemplated the unreserved manner of Selina towards Cecil, with a con- viction that he would not be the man of her choice. Whether her ladyship was an adept in the science of predestination, re- mains to be determined ; and in the uncer- tainty which all future events must remain %vith the less wise and persevering, we inust take the liberty of leaving our readci^ for the present. END OP VOL. I. Lane, Darling, and Co. 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