UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS LIBRARY AT URBANA-CHAK AIGN BOOKSTACKS CENTRAL CIRCULATION BOOKSTACKS The person charging this material is re- sponsible for its renewal or its return to the library from which it was borrowed on or before the Latest Date stamped below. You may be charged a minimum fee of $75.00 for each lost book. Theft, nwfilotleffi, and underiintng of books ore roosons for dtecfplhMny action and BMy result in dismissal from the University. TO RENEW CALL TEtEPHONE CENTEK, M3.8400 UNIVEtSITY OF ILLINOIS LIBItARY AT URBANA-CHAMPAIGN PR 1 1 1998 r" When renewing by phone, write new due date bdow -...»^_: J-.^ A^i.^ T i^'» previous due date. L162 THE ( HYPOCRITE; THE MODERN JANUS. IN FIVE VOLUMES. BT SELINA DAVENPORT So spake the false dissembler, unperceiv'(L For ceither man nor aiigc! can disccra Hyp»*«<- CHAP. I. XT was the latter end of December; the day dark, humid, and oppressively gloomy; yet Dudley, the lover and the poet, felt not its chilling influence. vSeated in his study-chair, by the side of a blazing fire, the sombre appearance of the atmo- sphere was unnoticed ; visions of bliss, of love, of hope, occupied his mind. He had just finished the last line of a sonnet, which, for the beauty of its thoughts, the elegance of its diction, and the rich harmonv of its numbers, might have vied with Spenser, Milton, or the immortal VOL. I. B Petrarch; 2 THE HYPOCRITE. Petrarch ; it expressed all the delicate tenderness, the refined passion, which he felt, and which few could so happily de- scribe as himself. A loud knocking at the door of his lodging put to flight Cupid and his at- tendants. Dudley hastily concealed the effusion of his muse : it was not written to meet the eye of vulgar curiosity or every-day friendship. One object alone vas destined to peruse what would have given pleasure to every mind possessed of taste and feeling. He rose with eagerness, as Courteney, the man of his heart, the friend of his bosom, entered the chamber ; and press- ing his extended hand, warmly testified his joy at beholding him so soon. '' I received your letter this morning," replied his friend, "and hastened to wel- come your return to London." " Thank you, my dear Leopold, for this additional proof of your regard. How are Sybella and the boys?'* ''Quite THE HYPOCHITE. S ** Quite well; Sybella requested me to deliver her love and best wishes. I need not ask concerning your health, or the state of your affairs ; your counte- nance, Edmund, betrays that all is well within. Would that I could say the same V* " My dear Leopqld/* said Dudley, again pressing his hand, '^ all will soon, I trust, be well. Though your talents and abilities are, at present, a little obscured by misfortunes, yet fear not, my friend; the cloud which has lately hung over your prospects will quickly disperse, and all will be sunshine and prosperity. You must stay and partake of bachelor's fare ;" the blood crimsoned his cheek. " At eight o'clock I must leave you ; until then, my dear Leopold, let us enjoy ' the feast of reason and the flow of soul.** To this his friend assented, and they drew their chairs still closer to the cheer» ing fire. " You have been absent, Edmund, B 2 three ( 4 THE HYPOCRITE. three months; and if I may judge by your letters, they have been the happiest of your life. You have made me vene- rate lord Mortimer, esteem the march-io- ness of Wilmington, and fall desperately in love with the beautiful Althea. But tell me, Dudley, how is it that your fea- tures wear the air of one who has every thing to hope from a successful passion? I had expected to find, from the hopeless- ness of your attachment, all the outward and visible signs of a disappointed lover.** Dudley smiled expressively — " My better genius has destined it otherwise,'* said he ; '' and you, my friend, who, I make no doubt, hastened to afford me all the consolation in your power, supposing me to be the most unhappy of human beings, must be agreeably surprised at discovering me the yery reverse of what you had expected. The truth is, my dear Leopold, that dame Fortune, who has persecuted me for two-and-twenty years, is at last tired or ashamed of annoying me THE HYPOCRITE. D me anv lono^er, and has bestowed a re- compence for past miseries far beyond iny hopes or deserts." Courteney looked anxiously at his friend ; a sickly tremor came over him. Dudley continued — '' When I accompa- nied my more than father^ the ever-to- be-revered sir Thomas Percy, to pay a visit to the widowed sister of lord Morti- mer, I was, as you well know, labourin^^ under a severe bodily derangement, and an almcst insupportable oppression of spirits. At the Wilderness we found the marchioness and her infant family, her brother, lord Mortimer, and his daugh- ter, the lovely, the divine Althca. Sir Thomas, with his usual partiality, had paved the way for mv reception. It was flattering in the extreme — it was all that my high spirit and proud heart could re- quire. In the youthful daughter of the earl, who is countess of Brandon in her own right, I quickly discovered an object whose person, mind, manners, and taste, B 3 called i b THE EYPOCRITE. called forth my unqualified admiration^ and secured my fondest love. This en- chanting girl^ bred up in the solitude of her father's castlC;, educated under his watchful eye, and reared amidst a train of domestics, who looked up to her as to a creature of angelic birth, and who idol- ized even the turf she. hallowed by her steps, was now, for the first time, beyond the precincts of her father's domain, pre- paratory to her introduction this winter into the fashionable world. I was the constant companion of her walks; my opinion was consulted in every thing she read, in every thing she did ; my verses she set to music, and sang them with the most exquisite pathos and feeling; while whatever merit they possessed was heigh- tened by the beauty of her compositions, and the touching sweetness of her voice and eyes. I was soon convinced that the heart of this lovely woman was my own. She knew the confined state of my cir- cumstances, the independence of my principles : THE HYPOCRITE. 7 principles; and sought not to conceal herregard whenever opportunity brought us alone. The time approached for our return to town — my spirits again sunk— I became a prey to all the horrors of a hopeless attachment, for hopeless it then appeared. Althea sought to draw from me the state of my heart, the cause of my dejection. My pride for a while re- fused to disclose what her rank and for- tune alone made it necessary to conceal. She surprised me, however, into a con- fession of ray love.'* Here the entrance of the servant, who announced that dinner was on table, in- terrupted their conversation. Courteney ate little, and siid less; his future happi- ness seemed to hang upon the conclusion of his friend's narrative. With an eager- ness which appeared ihe offspring of sin- cere friendship, he requested Dudley to continue, as soon as their repast was con- cluded. '' First/' exclaimed his friend, as he B 4 filled 5 THE HYPOCRrXE. filled the glass, *' let us drink the health of my beloved Althea." Courteney was a lover of the bottle, yet the wine had lost its relish, as he drank to the health of the youthful countess. " Before our departure from the Wil- derness/' resumed Dudley, *' a miniature painter of considerable eminence came to take the likenesses of lady Wilming- ton's children. ' I shall be contented/ said the earl to Mr. C ry, ' if you are as successful with my nephews as you "were with the countess. Independent of its being a striking resemblance, the picture is a very fine one, and has gained you considerable praise in the sister kingdom. The duchess of Fitz- Aubin assured me that all her friends in Ireland highly applauded your per- formance.* This was the first time that I had heard of Mr. C ry's visit to Mor- timer Castle. It gave birth \o a train of maddening reflections, which I strove to quell in the solitude of the Wilderness garden. THE HYPOCRITE. V garden, but strove in vain. Imagination pictured the transports of the duke on receiving from his mother a gift so pre- cious as that which the earl had sent him. To see such beauties daily, to be licensed to adore them, would soon be the bliss- ful fate of AIthea*s noble relative; their union would quickly follow, and I, oh misery ! might even be expected to com- pose an epithalamium on the occasion.*' " That would have been mortifying indeed \" said Courteney. " My brain was on fire — my heart felt bursting with agony. I heard a step ap- proach the seat on which I had thrown myself — it was Althea; her voice arrested my fiight. Alarmed at my appearance, she in a tone so soft, so tender, and so soothing, inquired how long I had been unwell ? Unable to reply, I could only raise my tearful eyes to hers, and press her hand to my beating heart. Again, in accents still more gentle and affection- ate, she conjured me, by the friendship B b I had 10 THE HYPOCUITE. I had honoured her with, to inform her of the cause of my distress. Had I re- ceived any unfavourable news from Lon- don ? were any of my friends ill ? * Be- lieve me, Mr. Dudley/ said she, ' that it is not womanly curiosity which prompts my inquiry ; it is a wish, a desire, to sooth, to alleviate, if possible^ what has thus severely discomposed you/ * You are all goodness, all benevo- lence,' I replied ; ' but, alas ! my cruel destiny, my humble situation in life, forbids me to taste the sweets of your heavenly sympathy. Your ladyship, although possessing the power of dis- pensing happiness the most exquisite, cannot still the emotions of this too- daring soul, or quell the racking torture which agonizes my brain to frenzy, pooraed from my cradle to be the sport of fortune — to see, by degrees, every cherished hope, every fond expectation, blasted— to witness the total wreck of €very proa^ised joy — what then remains for THE HYPOCRITE^ 4} for such a wretch as Dudley, but to end at once his life and woes !' " The colour receded from the bloom- ino; face of Althea, and she sunk lifeless on my bosom. Scarce knowing what I did, I pressed her to my heart. The violence of my agitation revived her; opening her dovelike eyes, she fixed them reproachfully on mine, and in a low voice said — ' Cruel friend ! to see so light a value on those, who, if they have not the power to serve you, have at least all the inclination and de- sires of true friendship. You have de- ceived me, Mr. Dudley ; you taught me to believe that nry esteem, and that of my family, were dear to you — that our society had charms which could allure you from the world and all its pleasures. You have deceived me — but — I forgive you.* " She was retreating from me, when I flung myself at her feet. I conjured her to hear my vindication, although it B 6 would 12 THE HYPOCRITE. would then be requisite that I should quit her for ever. Pale and trembling, she suffered me to lead her to the seat, and with the C( untenance of an angel, listened to the presumptuous avowal of my passion, which nothing but the dread of her displeasure at my seeming ingra- titude for all the kindness I had received could have wrung from me.*' '' It was rather a hazardous disclosure, I think/' said Courteney, with gravity. ^' It was so," replied Dudley; " yet, nevertheless, she raised me from the ground with a look of enchanting sweet- ness, while the blood crimsoned her neck and face, as she said — * Do you indeed, Mr. Dudley, expect that I should banish you forever from my presence, or view with haughty indignation and wounded pride a man whom I have ever esteemed most highly, and who has discovered in me virtues which, perhaps, no one else has found out? Ah ! now I feel the want of that knowledge of the v/orld, which would THE HYPOCRITE. IS would teach me how to act in this trying hour. My own heart prompts me to re- turn yor.r sincerity with equal candour; but a something whispers, that the deli- cacy of my sex forbids it. Live, live, I conjure you ! and believe that Althea, however restrained from giving vent to her natural feelings, can never despise or think with indifference on the friend of her heart's free election/ ^ Angel of purity !' I cried, pressing^ her soft hand to my parched lips ; '^ such goodness, such condescension is more than I deserve. Yes, I will live — live to put up praters for thy happiness ! Yet how blank will all nature seem when I am ex- cluded from thy presence — when I am denied the proud felicity of thy conver- sation !' * And why, and who has rendered this banishment necessary ?' said she. ' Oh, most adored f I cried, ' all my fortitude would be insufficient to bear the sight of your cousin's bliss. I wiH endeavour 14 THE HYPOCRITE. endeavour to check my heart's wild throb- bings, to remember the insuperable bar which divides us; but I cannot be a wit- ness to the rapture of the duke of Fitz- Aubin/ * I comprehend you/ said she, blush- ing: * you heard this morning that my picture had been sent to his mother. My father, I believe, has some idea of what you allude to. At one time such a pro- posal would have been indifferent to me^ but now — now, Mr. Dudley^ I should cer- tainly reject it. Oh ! do not fear that my introduction into the world will ever make me otherwise than what I now am —will ever make me forget one whose exalted mind could discover qualities in a young, ignorant, country girl, worthy his approbation.' '• To be short, my dear Leopold, this innocent confession of the countess again drew from me protestations of eternal affection ; and the lovely, timid, artless girl, at length owned that Dudley, the humble THE HYPOCRITE. IS humble poet, the orphan, and the unfor- tunate^ was dearer to her than existence. Doting on her to distraction, and feel- ing that it was impossible for me fo live without her, I yet possessed sufficient honour to point out to her the conse- quences which might arise from her union with one so much her inferior in rank and fortune." " Her union !** hastily exclaimed Courteney ; " surely the countess was not mad enough to think of such a thing?'* Dudley cast a look on his friend, which immediately brought him to his recol- lection. ^' Forgive me, dearest Edmund ; my regard for you makes me foresee a hun- dred difficulties and dangers from this un- fortunate connexion." The countei%ance of Dudley recovered its former serenity, and he continued — " Our walks were now prolonged as much as possible. Love was the theme upon which each dwelt with rapture; yet I could 3 IG THE HYPOCRITE. could not conceal my dread of the future, my fears lest the earl should succeed in bringing about the marriage of the duke with my beloved Althea Still, in the midst of my distress, I owned myself un- worthy of the sacrifice which she seemed willing to make. * After having acknowledged my affec- tion/ said the countess, ' all your argu- ments, my dear Dudley, will be used in vain. You possess my heart, and no other shall ever claim a right to my hand. In i/ou are centered all the qualifications of mind and soul with which I used to deck the vision of mv fancy. With ijou I could be happy, divested of my birth- right, and all its splendour — witJwui you I must be miserable. Seek not, therefore, to weaken my fixed resolves. If, indeed, Althea is the chosen of your heart, joy- fully will she risk every thing to become the wife of him who first taught her the sweets of a refined and tender passion.* '' Vain was my determination of abid- ing THE HYPOCRITE. 17 ing by the rule of conduct which honour and generosity had marked out for me. Even Althea began to hint her fears, lest some unforeseen circumstance should arise to prevent our union. Fondly pressing her to my bosom, I kissed off the falling tear. ' Ah, my Edmund !* she exclaimed, in a tone of witching softness, ' how shall I be assured that when we leave the Wilderness, you will have the opportunity to sooth and console me by your conversation, and encourage me by your presence, to wear an air of ease and cheerfulness which wmH ilien be fo- reign to my heart ? If I was indeed your wife, that delightful certainty would en- able me to bear with tolerable serenity our sometimes necessary separation/ '•' To combat against her matchless [qW' derness, and the strength of my own })as- sion, was more than I could perform. I yielded not to reason, Leopold, not to the allurements of wealth and power, but to my attachment to herself; and only IS THE HYPOCRITE. only lamented that the inferiority of birth was not on her side, that I might prove the disinterestedness of my love. To oblige Althea, I sat to Mr. C ry^ and was rewarded, on presenting her with my picture, by receiving a charming like- ness of herself.*' Dudley opened his bosom, and drew from it a miniature — " Here, Leopold, view these features, and be still more convinced of the madness of the coun- tess. It was herself who placed it round my neck, and I promised that no hand but her own should unclasp the chain." Courteney leaned forward, and as he contemplated the glowing beauties of Ahhea, his envy increased, his discontent strengthened. Yet was he lavish of his praise, for who could withhold it from such an object ? Dudley pressed the miniature to his lips; then consigned it to the faithful bosom which beat only for the original, ^^ Such a woman/* exclaimed Courte- r»ey. THE HYPOCRITE. 19 tiey, aiming at gaiety as he spoke, ^' might well justify my friend for yielding to what the world will call a mercenary passion/' *' The world I despise," retorted Dud- ley. *' Conscious of my own integrity, and the justness of my cause, I defy its malevolence. To secure the peace and happiness of Althea, I willingly brave its censure. She is convinced that no selfish motive induced me to hazard her father's displeasure; and to no other human be- ing will I condescend to excuse my con- duct. I am, I confess, rather surprised that yoiij Leopold, seem rather to regret than rejoice at your friend's good fortune, in possessing the affections of such a wo- man as the countess of Brandon.** " It is her being countess of Brandon that makes me tremble for my friend," replied Courfeney, with well-dissembled sincerity ; '' I am conscious of your ta- lents, vour undoubted ri7hose steady tenderness, and patient endurance of evils which his im- prudence alone was the cause of, ought to have rendered her doubly dear, doubly sacred, in the eyes of her husband. CHAP, tHE HYPOCRITE. 27 CHAP. II. Leopold Courteney was the only son of an eminent tradesman, who having re- ceived rather a confined education him- self, was determined that his child should not have to labour under the same disad- vantage. Accordingly Leopold was sent to a seminary of repute in the neigh- bourhood, where, by associating with the sons of private gentlemen, he acquired a dislike for his father's business, and, in fact, for every other. The old man, however, was obstinately bent upon his doing something for himself, yet gave him the privilege of making his own election. Leopold, who would fain have led the same idle life as many of his schoolfel- lows, and who had imbibed a taste for li- terature, which he was anxious to give way to, chose, as the least disagreeable, c 2 the 28 THE HYPOCRITE, the business of a bookseller. His father therefore placed him in an old-establish- ed house in the city; and there Leopold had an opportunity of studying those authors whose works he had long and ardently wished to be acquainted with. During his residence in P R — vv% he became known to Edmund Dudley, who occasionally called to give orders for what books he wanted. The manners of Dudley, his well-known talents, his re- putation as an author, and, above all^ his affable and courteous demeanour towards the young bookseller, encouraged Leo- pold to put into his hands some of his own amatory pieces. Dudley instantly discovered^ amidst their stiffness and want of perspicuity, th.e latent marks of genius; and with a readii»esH which did him honour, imme- diately volunteered to correct those early effusions of the poet ; at the sam.e time giving him a general invitation to his lodgings. Courteney, not a little grati- fied THE HYPOCRITE. 29 fied by this kindness from one whose ta- lents he highly respected, early availed himself of Dudley's invitation ; and thus commenced a friendship, which, for a considerable time, was reciprocally afTec- tionate, Courteney> as soon as his time was ex- pired with Mr. , determined to turn author. To this his father objected. The son, however, was equally obstinate ; and a coolness. between them was, of course, the result. His marriage shortly after, with an amiable and deserving woman, contrary to the wishes of the old man, so strongly incensed him against his son, that the paternal door was for ever closed against Leopold and his unoffending wife. Dudley, with all the generosity of real friendship, soothed and comforted the new-married pair, and ^ave them every proof his then limited circumstances would allow, of the strength and dura- bility of his regard. He encouraged c 3 Leopold 30 THE HYPOCRITE. Leopold to undertake a work which would relieve his present necessities, and promised to correct any little errors it might possess. Courteney but ill deserved the affec- tionate solicitude of such a man as Ed- mund Dudley. Selfish and narrow- minded, sordid, unprincipled^ and mean, envious of the superior genius of Dud- ley, and jealous of the notice and patron- age he enjoyed from persons of rank and high literary fame, his heart secretly nou- rished feelings which noi.e but the basest o( human nature could have given birth to. Vain from his own growing reputa- tion as a poet, he began to imagine that in a short time his writings would bs classed with those of a Campbell, a Mont- gomery, a Moore, or even with those of Dudley. Discontented at the accumulating en- barrassments which his marriage had brought on him, he gradually began to look upon the innocent partner of his distress THE HYPOCRITE. 31 distress as the sole cause of all the dis- agreeables which surrounded him. Inso- lent in prosperity, weak and irresolute in adversity, he wanted courage to face the troubles which his own errors and extravagances had drawn on him ; and Dudley was always applied to, either to soften by his eloquence the rigid heart of a creditor, or to lend him pecuniary assistance. Ever ready, on these occasions, to obey the summons of Leopold, Dudley in ge- neral succeeded in extricating him from his temporary difficulties. His purse, such as it was, was ever at the service of his friend ; nor did he once reflect that his own circumscribed finances were in- jured by these repeated liberalities. The letters of Dudley during his visit at the Wilderness increased the dissatis- faction of Leopold. They informed him that his generous friend had received every flattering attention from its noble inmates; that his health was re-establish- c 4 cdj S2 THE HYPOCRITE. ed, his spirits buoyant, and his prospect':^ bright and unclouded. In the warnnj praise bestowed on the lovely Althea, Leopold discovered the attachment of Dudley ; but he had never allowed himself to imagine for a moment that the daughter of lord Mortimer would return the love of an orphan, of no fortune, family, or connexions, which couki en- title him to such a distinction. Curiosity was the predominant motive ^vhich impelled him to hasten to the lodg- ings of Dudley, as soon as he received intelligence of his arrival in town. The animated expression of his handsome countenance, the pleasure which sparkled in his beautiful eyes, excited suspicions which Courteney could but ill conceal ; and it required his strongest powers of dissimulation to hide from the penetrat- ing glances of Dudley the chagrin and envy which filled his bosom at the con- viction of his friend's unexpected suc- cess, and unlooked-for exaltation. More THE HYPOCRITE. S3 More and more disgusted with his own condition in life, Courteney returned to the humble habitation which contained his wife, her sister, and his children. The discontent and vexation which clouded his countenance was noticed by Sybella, who sat rocking the cradle which con- tained her vounr to those df jier husband. It was not the form or features of Leo- pold 2 THE HrPOCRITF/^ 37" pold that gained the heart of his wife; the former was tall, meagre, and un- gracefully stiff — the latter pale, and mark- ed with the small-pox; on the whole, he had no one personal beauty to boast of, except a delicate white hand, which he took care to display upon every oc- casion ; yel Leopold Courteney not only contrived to ensure to himself the last- ing tenderness of Sybella Rowden, but actii;^ly could brag of more victories over the female heart than many of his more handsome acquaintances. He was by nature the consummate hypocrite, the professor of feelings, principles, and mo- rals, to which he was, in fact, an utter stra-nger, except by name. His conver- sation, neither eloquent nor persuasive, yet pleased, from the particular air of sincerity with which his words were de- iivered ; and an unif(jrm appearance of religious devotion^ which never failed lo impress his hearers with a favourable idea 58 THE HYPOCRITE. idea of the goodness and piety of his heart. Although deficient in that richness of expression, brilliancy of imagination, and exquisite tenderness, which charac- terized the productions of Edmund Dud- ley, yet those of Leopold were by no means contemptible; and to those he was indebted principally for his success with the fair sex Even in his love poems he infused a religious fervour; nor were passages from Scripture wanting to ren- der his expressions and feelings still more apparently sincere. Many were the young and innocent victims of his dangerous wiles — many confided in the man of God. for such he appeared ; yet all who trusted to the hall/ one, found, when too late^ that a re^ Ugious hypocrite is the most dangerous and the most hardened of any. Profli- gate and voluptuous^ a libertine in mind and heart, he scrupled not to ridicule in secret THE HYPOCRITE. 39 secret the refined and delicate taste of Dudlev, or even to laugh at his nice sense of honour, which had uniformly forbade his takino: advantao:e of a moment of fe- male weakness. Yet did he not dare to avow openly the extent of his licentious- ness, lest he should disgust the noble mind of a man now become convenient to his necessities. In recounting to Sybella and her sister the good fortune of their favourite, they too plainly discovered the envy which filled his bosom, and which had tinged his features with a deeper sallowness. The si^ht of the roast fowl and e^s sauce in some measure recomposed his spirits; and the wine, of which he cfrank pretty freely, at length put him in a better temper. '' To-morrow,'* cried Sybella, joyfully, " you will be introduced to the charm- ing countess ! oh, Leopold ! how I should like, were it possible, to enjoy the same gratification ! but we are destined to move 40 THE HFPOCRITE. move in a humbler sphere of life, and I must be satisfied with a view of her pic- ture, which Edmund will, of course, bring with him." *' Where he is, there also will be the miniature of Althea,'* replied her hus- band. '' The infatuated girl placed ither- seif round I is ne( k, and I will answer for it that Dudley would deem it a sacrilege to displare it_, though but for a moment. ComCj Maria, my dear sister, vou have not yet drank vour wine. Here's to the health and happiness of Edmund and Aithea.'* Maria put the glass to her lips, but she could not drink the toast ; her heart was full, and a tear, which would not be re- strained, mixed with the wine. " Ah, Maria !" exclaimed Leopold, half gay, half serious, " I often told you that the proud, aspiring Dudley would not condescend to mix his blood with that of a tradesman's child. But never mind, my dear girl ; a happier lot may yet THE HYPOCRITE. d yet await you. Remember that ' all is ibr'the best." " I wish, my dear Leopold/' said his wife, tenderly kissing his hand, '' that you would sometimes remember it al^o; then I should not suffer so severely from beholding you uneasy and disgusted at our present mortifications. But now, Leopold, vou will begin to encourage hopes of better fortune. All that rests in Dudley's power we are sure of his performing/' " True," replied her husband ; " Dud- lev's connexion with lord Mortimer's fa- mily may enable him to be of service to us; and I think there are no fears of his forgetting in prosperity the friend and Cvompanion of his less wealthy hours." " Never, never !" cried Svbella. '* Ed- mund is incapable of such unkind ne- glect. Trust me, my dear Leopold, we may safely rely upon his good ofiices." Courteney acknowledged that to doubt was to injure that friendship which had beea ^^ THE HYPOCRITE. been manifested towards himself in a va- riety of actions; yet the ingratitude of his own nature made him suspect that of others. Morning came, and he hastened to the lodgings of his friend. Dudley received him with a smile of satisfaction — "Congra- tulate me, Leopold, upon my last night's success. I read your volume to lady Wil- mington and her brother, and have not on- ly to inform you that they admire it great- ly, but that they requested me to procure them ten copies, and expressed a wish to be introduced to the author. Ha, ha ! Leopold, when they look on your grave, demure visage — when they hear your sermons on morality and religious duties, how little will they dream what a sad profligate dog you are at heart ! For- give me, my dear fellow; but in looking this morning into my portfolio, I chanced to light upon one of your amatory pieces, of which, assuredly, no one who had either seen you, or heard your dis- course. THE HYPOCRITE. A3 course, would suspect t/ou of being the author." Courteney laughed in return — '^ I shall find you out some day or other/* said he^ '' and then—" ''Well, and what then?'' retorted Dud- ley, still laughing. " Remember, Leo- pold, that / am no professor of over- stretched morality, no dealer out of sa- cred maxims. 1 love, I adore women; but I never sully the purity of my muse in writing what they would, or ought to blush at perusing.*' " You are a prudent fellow, I confess/' replied Courteney ; *' and at least have the discretion to conceal, from your most intimate friend, the children of your gayer hours. But, Dudley, this hasty marriage of yours, how will it be re- ceived by the love-sick Clara ? Poor girl ! I fear it will hasten the lingering disorder which has so long preyed upon her existence." The colour receded from the cheek of Dudley; 44 THE HYPOCRITE. Dudley; a sigh of tender commiseration, of affectionate regret, burst from his bo- som. *' Amiable and lovely Clara !" he exclaimed ; *' as a brother, I love and cherish your idea. Although my con- science acquits me of ever havings in any way, given occasion for Miss Melvill Xo suppose me attached to her, otherwise than as a friefid, yet the conviction of her regard, of the hopelessness of it, and of the misery a mind like hers must en- dure — of the shock also which my mar- riage will give to her delicate frame, ren- ders me unhappy. Even in the midst of bliss, of rapturous love, her form pre- sents itself, and draws forth a tear of sad, of unavailing sympathy. I must, never- theless, call on her mother; yet I dread to meet the fond inquiring eye of her daughter, or account for mj silence dur- ing my visit to the Wilderness/' " It would be more charitable, per- haps," said Courteney, *' to trust Miss Melvill with the secret of your union, than THE HYPOCRITE. 45 than to make any excuses for your seem- ing neglect. It would also crush every lingering hope that love may have taught her to encourage." " I could not do it personalljj/' replied his friend. '* But it is time, Leopold, to think of preparing for our visit to the marchioness. That over, I will return with you to your Sybella." Then look- ing at his watch, he said, '^ We have yet half an hour to spare, which I will em- ploy in giving you a sketch of those to whom you are going to be introduced. "Lord Mortimer, the father of my be- loved Althea, is the last male heir of that ancient family. His person is noble and dignified, and his manners are peculiarly attractive ; his conversation displays a mind classically elegant, and highly cul- tivated. A lover of literature, he is the generous patron of talents and merit, wherever they are to be found; and pays more homage to a son of genius than to a son of nobility. ''In 46 THE HYPOCRITE, *^ III his early years he was madly at- tached to a young lady^ to whom he was affianced. I understood that the day had even been fixed for their nuptials, and every thing was ready for its celebra- tion, when the night before that which was to have completed his happiness^ the object of his adoration eloped with an officer of the army, to whom, it seems, she had been long and secretly attached. The severity of this loss was increased by the discovery that his rival was a dis- tant relation, and his bosom friend. This circumstance, for a while, cast a gloom over the life of lord Mortimer. Ano- ther attachment, and a successful one, however, restored him to happiness. '' When Althea was seven years old, she lost her mother; and ever since that period, until a few months back, he has resided constantly at Mortimer Castle. Notwithstanding all lord Mortimer's good qualities and suavity of manners, he is jealous of contradiction; and, I think, if opposed THE IlYPOClllTE. 47 opposed in any favourite project, would not easily be brought to forgive the of- fender. *' Lady Wilmington, his only surviving sister, is a character of great interest. Her person is naturally handsome, but rendered more so from the uniform sweet- ness of her temper, the genuine bene- volence of her heart, and the delicacy of her mind, which is visible in all her actions. She has been a widow about fourteen months ; and though formed to captivate, yet, if I may judge by the affec- tion she bore her husband, no second choice will violate the sacred tenderness of her first. '' My Althea — but you shall judge, Leopold, yourself of /?n' perfections. It is time for us to set out for the mar- chioness's." Courteney, who had not been accus- tomed to the presence of nobility, unless to receive their orders during: his resi- deuce at the bookseller's, felt rather awk- wardly 4S THE HYPOCRITE. wardly as he followed the servant up the iTjarble staircase, to the drawing-room of lad}^ Wilmington. The countess alone was there ; and he recovered, in some degree, his presence of mind, on find- ing that he had only he7' eyes to encoun- ter. Raising his own from the ground, at the sound of a soft, melodious voice, he hastened forward to receive the ex- tended hand of the lovely countess. Lovely she indeed appeared ; and Dud- ley read in the admiring looks of his friend all that he had expected. With an air of indescribable sweetness, she ex- pressed the pleasure she received from being thus introduced to the acquaint- ance of one so highly esteemed by her Edmund — one whose own merits alone were a sufficient recommendation. Thus encouraged, Courteney began to feel confidence in his own powers; and when lord Mortimer and his sister appeared, conducted himself with less embarrassment than he had expected. They THE HYPOCRITE. 49 They spoke of his poems with praise,, and requested that their names might be set down for his next volume^ promising to use their interest to procure him a long list of subscribers. The children of lady Wilmingtonj who were returned from their morning's walk, tiow made their appearance, and gave relief to Courteney, who felt at a loss to express his thanks for the kindness thus unexpectedly bestowed. The marquis, a fine boy of six years old, and his brother, who was a year younger, immediately took possession of the knees of Dudley ; while their sister, a lovely girl just turned •of three years old, hid her rosy cheek in the bosom of the countess. '' You noisy little fellows," said the marchioness, '' you are so boisterou*^, that you will give us all a headache. I believe, Mr. Dudley, I must apply to you for a remedy. Perhaps, amongst some of your acquaintance, you may know a worthy and deserving character, who VOL. I. D would 60 THE HYPOCRITE^ ^vould take charge of my young rioters, and instruct them to read^ and to behave better. They have got the ascendancy over nurse; and indeed I think it is time they should be transferred to a better di- rector. I could wish them to receive their first education under my own roof; and if you will seek out for me some one worthy the trust, you will greatly oblige me/' Dudley promised to make inquiries for such a being as her ladyship was in want of; acknowledging that he thought his young friends were old enough to be placed under the care of a preparatory, tutor. Some morning visitors now ar- rived, and he rose to take leave, lady Wilmington reminding him that they should expect him next day to dinner. Dudley watclied an opportunity to slip into the hands of Althea a little bil- let, and then withdrew, anxious to hear the opinion of Courteney respecting the beloved idol of his soul. CHAP, ^PIE HYPOCRITE. 51 CHAP. III. Only 072^ opinion could be formecl of the countess of Brandon. Her figure ^vas tall, and gracefully proportioned ; the tenderness of her heart, the benevoience -of her mind, and the gentleness of her temper, were to be seen in her languish- ing black eves; her complexion, inclin- ing to the brunette, was enriched by the most vivid colour ; every look, every xvord, every movement, bespoke a soul attuned to love, and all the dear delights of domestic life and connubial happiness. Educated in total seclusion from the world, v.'ith no companions but a father tnd a rigid governess, she passed her days in one dull monotony; while, as her years increased, her heart sighed for some other obiects than her do^r, her birds, or her plants, on which she could place her affections. D 2 Circumstances UB^f^^l,^ Of \^^^'^^^^^ UUlNi^^"^ 5^ THE HYPOCRITE. Circumstances had withheld her from the highly-valued society of her aunL Lady Wilmington;, until within the last four months, had resided abroad. The death of the marquis, although it de- prived her of a husband to whom she was firmly attached, yet restored her to Eng- land^ to her brother; and gave to Althea a relation worthy of all her love. The children of the marchioness were objects on whom she lavished the tenderness of her heart — on whom she bestowed her whole attention and caresses. Yet, when Dudley arrived — -when he unfolded the inexhaustible richness of his mind — when he read or recited in a voice of thrilling softness — when she saw his large blue eyes sparkling with fire,, or humid with tenderness — the children were forgotten, and all that had before engaged her at- tention. She could only think;, dream, and gaze on Dudley. All that affection which had hitherto heen confined to her father and her Castle THE IlYPOCRrTE, 53v Castle playmates, now centered in him; and well might the youthful poet call forth the admiration and idolatrous love of the innocent and unaspiring countess. lovelv x\lthea ! if thou rcmemberedst not •I thy exalted station, thy obedience and filial duty— if love alone engrossed thy mind, thy soul, let the wit, the elo- quence, the genius, and last, the beauty of thy husband, plead thy excuse ; for Dudley was cast in beauty's perfect mould; and though possessed of powers which might have misled the chaste, the prudent, and the wise, yet his was a heart true to every noble, manly, and generous principle; nor did there exist a being within the circle of his acquaintance that could say — '" Thou hast deceived me/* The artless countess {&\i the value of such a m.an; and in selecting him for the partner of her life, felt that she was se- curing to herself a treasure, whose value would increase by possessing — a treasure of such magnitude, that to be mLstressl>f^ D 3 she 54 THE HYPOCRITE. she cast aside her natural timidity, and even dared to brave the resentment of a father. Eager to peruse the little billet of her husband, she hastened to her chamber, where first pressing it to her lips, she broke the seal. He complained that he had already suffered by the removal to town, since it had deprived him of those delicious opportunities of conversing alone with the object of his fondest love; and conjured her to think of some means by which he might enjoy that felicity. No woman ever loved with greater tenderness than Althea ; her very being seemed entwined with his.; and the first deceit she had ever practised was on his account. To guard from the knowledge of her father and aunt her attachment, she found it necessary to be careful of every look, every action^ lest her fond- ness should betray what at present she wished to be concealed. How, then^ was it practicable that she should comply with THE HTPOCRITE. 55 "With the wishes of her husband and of her own heart ? She rang for Mrs Ma- son, in whose affectionate fidelity she Gould fearlessly confide. This excellent woman had been brought up by the late countess of Brandon, whose foster-sister she was, and who, on thaC account, felt particularly fond of hen From the countess she received an edu- cation which rendered her a sensible and pleasant companion ; and on her mar- riage with a son of lord Mortimer's stew~ ard, her mistress generously made her in- dependent for life. Afrs. Mason was confined with her Til's t child when Althea was born ; and anx- ious to testify her gratitude, volunteered to suckle the infant of the countess^ whose delicate health deprived her of one of the most delightful duties of a mother. Mrs. Mason lost her baby, and sliorily after her husband; in consequence cf which she returned to the Castle, and became the principal attendant of Althea, D 4 oa 56 THE HYPOCRITE. on whom she doted with all the fondness of a parent. Before the decease of the countess, she promised to devote the remainder of her days to the offspring of her beloved mistress. True to her word^ she had con~ tinned at the Castle during the education of her lovely charge, who^ too young to remember her mother, felt towards her kind and gentle nurse all the love of a child ; while slie, unable to refuse her darling any thing, had been per- suaded to be present at the private nup- tials of the countess, secretly dreading all the while the consequences which might result from the anger of the earl. Summoned to the apartment of Althea^ she listened to the wishes of Dudley with silent attention, and felt at a loss how to advise or assist the countess in the inter- views so ardently desired by both. " Tell me, dear mother," said the lovely Althea, '' can you devise any plan by which I may enjoy, unobserved, the com- pany THt HYPOCRITE. 67 pany of my adored Edmund ? oh, if you can, you will make us for ever obliged to you." '' Your ladyship/' replied the affec- tionate nurse, " knows full well how readily I obey all your wishes. But this is so frauoht with dans's. Plis grace had honoured him during the evcnin": by a marked attention; and while Allhea sung to her harp^ had freely expressed his admiration of her person and voice, in terms which left him perfectly decided with respect to the intentions of the duke. Late as it was, he ordered the coachman to drive to the habitation of Courteney, to whom he imparted his fears concern- ing 69 THE HYPOCRITE. ing the duke, and his hopes that he still continued inclined to become tutor to the earl's nephews. Gourteney desired nothing* more than to be assured that the situation would be his; and promised, in that case, to be- friend Dudley to the utmost of his power, in his secret interviews with the coun- tess. This idea soothed the rufHed mind of the poet ; and he returned to his lodgings^ determined, next morning, to introduce to lady Wilmington the subject on which so much of his happiness de- pended. The marchioness seemed delighted at the proposal, and instanUy requested Dudley to offer his friend a liberal salary, and to express her wishes, that as soon, as his ailairs would permit^ he would take up his residence in May Fair. The earl likewise teslilled his. approbation at se- curing^ as tutor to his nephews, a man of talent, and one whose grave, devout ap- pearance, and pious principles, rendered him THE HYPOCRITE. 63 him admirably calculated for the sacred •J charge. '* But is not your friend, my dear Dud- lev, a married man ? how then will he be able to support his necessary banish- ment from his family ?'* Before Dudley could reply, the ami- able sister of lord Mortimer said — '' Tell Mr. Courteney that he is at liberty to go to his wife as often as he pleases^ after his pupils are sent in to dessert, on those evenings that we stay at home. I am so anxious to have my sons placed under his care, that I shall be glad if he will call on me as early as convenient, that we may finally arrange the matter.'* The heart of Dudley beat high with love and expectation at the prospects of accomplishing what he hoped would en- able him to see, without witnesses/i his beloved Althea. The marchioness in- vited him to accompany her and her niece in the carriage, as she was going to leave her cards, and to make a few purchases. 6i THE HYPOCRITE. purchases. To this he willingly assented, in the hope of being able to speak pri- vately to the countess, who^ judging of his wishes by her own, excused herself from alighting at one of the shops. Dudley heard of her engagement the next day to dine at the duchess of Fitz- Aubin's with an emotion which was vi- sible to Althea. '' My dearest Edmund/' said she, press- ing his hand, *^ why does this intelligence discompose you ? am I not your wife? and is not that a sufficient security against the power of th.e duke ? It is probable that I shall be compelled to go a great' deal into coiripany this winter; but you . will be certain that the heart and mind of your Althea will not wander from yoiu No, dear Edmund, every moment that I can steal from observation shall be dedi- cated to your happiness.'* The return of the marchioness pre- vented his reply ; and in obedience to her desire^ he attended them to give or- ders-; THE HYPOCRITE. 65 det's for their court dresses, as they both expressed a wish to be directed in their choice by his well-known elegance of taste. Poor Dudley saw the preparations for introducing his Althea into high life, with no very enviable sensations ; and could not help wishing, though in vain, that she had been born some humble cot- tage girl, far from the knowledge of a court, and all its vices. It was not that he dreaded the baneful influence of fashionable levity on the pure mind of the countess; it was not that he feared the stability of her love for himself, or that she would ever re- gret the choice she had made; but he felt conscious that her person, all lovely as it was — her rank and large fortune, would secure a crowd of admirers; that the earl would naturally advocate the cause of one of them; and that Althea would then be compelled to acknowledge her marriage — a thing ardently to be desired, and yet secretly dreaded by them C^ THE HYPOCHITEi them both. He was also aware, that the- constant round of company which she would soon be obliged to keep, would- rob him of a great portion of her so- ciety ; and Dudley loved with no com- mon ardour. Scarcely could he restrain the violence of his passion within the limits^of reason — scarcely could he en- dure to live a day, an hour, without be- holding his sweet Althea. Lord Mortimer and his sister were strongly attached to him, and were equal- ly desirous of shewing ofif lo advantage bis splendid abilities. They requested him to honour all their parties by his presence ; and spoke of him to their friends in terms of esteem and affection. Yet, supported as he was by the consci- ousness of his undoubted superiority over most of their noble acquaintances^ Dudley felt a pang v/henever the painful idea obtruded itself, that he might be deemed, by these amiable friends, an un- grateful, sellish, and interested dissem- bler. THE HYPOCRITE. 6T bier. In those inornents of self-reproach he derived comfort from the tenderness, the undeviating affection of his Althea,, who, concealing her own secret disquie- tude, never failed to restore the mind of Dudley to its natural serenity. Courteney, elated at the prospect of so lucrative a situation, more than by the real service he might afford his friend, put on one of his demure looks, and hastened next morning to the marchio- ness. Gratified by his readiness to take charge of her sons, and still more so by his fixing on an early day for that pur- pose^ lady Wilmington, in the sweetest manner, assured him, that in return for the care and attention which he v^oukl bestow on her beloved children, every thing should be done to make his situa- tion as little irksome as possible. She thought it, however, but just to inform him, that the dispositions of the young marquis and his brother would require different treatment. The former was a high- 68 'FHE HyPOCfilTE. high-spirited boy^ already too conscious- of his rank, impatient of contradiction^ passionate to an excess, spurning at con- trol ; yet affectionate, forgiving, gene- roiis> and benevolent. " With the marquis, I fear, you will- have much trouble," said his mother ; *' but the gentle and endearing disposi- tion of lord Edwin will make you some amends. The docile temper of that dear boy will enable you, without any exer- tion, to mould him to your wishes." Every thing being settled to his satis- faction, Courteney, with little reluctance, prepared to quit his v^'ife and family, to enter upon his new avocation. Sybella saw him depart with a sadness of spirit which she strove to repress. In vain her sister reminded her, that the considerate marchioness had given him leave to visit her at every favourable opportunity ; Sybella wiped away her tears, and pressed still closer to her bosom her little boys, '' Ah, my dear Maria ? too long has the IKE HYPOCRITE, 69 ^he mind of Leopold panted for liberty, too long has he desired an event like the present. Sick of our domestic misfor- tunes^ weary of his increasing embarrass- ments, and totally unable to brave the poverty v^e so frequently endure, he has at length escaped from the home ^shich his own want of fortitude and persever- ance has helped to render miserable; nor \vill tie return, my sister, unless his cir- cumstances enable him to move in that sphere of life of which his spirit has al- ways been ambitious. Dudley, I am cer- tain, had our interest at heart, when he consented to propose him to lady Wil- mirgton. The situation, I confess, is a desirable one, and may be of great ad- vantage to him ; but I feel that our se- paration will not be a short one. I dread even more than I dare own to you." /' Dearest Sybella, you cannot inform me of any thing that my affection for you has not already discovered. Yet give not way to despair. Your patient endurance 70 THE HYPOCRITE. endurance of unmerited insults, yoiif uniform kindness and forbearance, may reclaim my brother, and convince him that you are worthy of a far different treatment — a much happier destiny/' " And have you, my Maria, discovered what, even to myself, I have endeavoured to deny ? alas ! then it is too true I have lost all power over the heart of my hus- band ! Oh, my dear mother ! how se- verely does your daughter sufi'er for her blind partiality ! What had /to do with a man of letters ? what had I to do with poetry and literature ? Far betler would it have been for me had I married the worthy man whom your good sense had selected as the partner of my days! then I should have been the wife of an honest tradesman — should have been a respect- able, a happy w-oman/' Maria, with difficulty, succeeded in re- storing her afflicted sister to composure. *' Moderate your grief, my dear Sybella; be assured that we shall be the better for this THE HYPOCRITE. 71 'this change in Leopold's affairs. His sa-- lary is a handsome one, and he will let you have all that he can spare of it. You and r will immediately try to procure some fine work, which, with economy, will enable us to live comfortably, and, unknown to him, appropriate his remit- tances to pay off, by degrees, some of those debts Leopold's love of good eat- ing and drinking obliged us to contract. Do not despair^, my sister. Happier hours are yet in store for you; and, be assured, that while I can be of the least service to you or your dear boys, I will never quit you.'' The sisters affectionately embraced ; ^nd Sybella felt more at ease from this last proposal of Maria's. She resolved next day to go to a large childbed-linen warehouse in the city ; and by giving proper security, procure for herself and sister what would enable them to enjoy some of those comforts they had only tasted '*r2 tHE HYPOCRITE. tasted at intervals, during the period of several years. CKAP. IV. CouRTEKEY was now become a resident under the same roof with his friend's beautiful wife. Her father treated him with marked respect^ and paid the utmost deference to his religious principles and poetical talents. Lady Vy^ilmington did more ; she studiously sought to render his situation as agreeable as possible, iudsini, with o^reat llberalitv of senti- ment, that slie could scarcely do too much for the man who devoted hiinself to the health, happiness, and w<^irare of her children. Before he had passed three months with the sons of the marchioness, he had acquired their obedience and af- fection^ 141E HyPOCRITE, 73 Section, and the good opinion of 4he ^vhole family, who deemed him a paltera of detection, and every other virtue. Al- Feady had he received several valuable presents from the earl and his sister, who both agreed in considerinff themselves infiniteiy obliged io Dudley, for recom- mending so Avorthy, so.good, sopiousan instructor. Courteney, who ncv'er lost sight^of hi^ own interest, had, to do him justice, taken great pains with i\\^ young niar^uis and his brother; ai^d had succeeded, in a v/onderfui degree, in taming the boiste- rous and almost unmanageable disposi- tion of the former; while the sweet and tractable temper of the latter made him easily conform to all the rules of his pre- ceptor^ of whom he became extremely fond. The partiality which the boys evident- ly manifested for Leopold, made him ssn object of still greater importance in the family. Their mother felt towards VOL. t, E him T4 THE HYPOCRITE. iiim all the warm gratitude of a parent doting on her children ; and she noticed with pleasure that Dudley gave to his frielid a larger portion of his time than she had at first thought he could well spare. Lord Mortimer also considered it as a mark oF generous friendship ; for al- though every thing v^as done to render the life of Courteney pleasant, yet as the whole of his days were spent with his pupils, the earl jurstry concluded, that at no time could Dudley evince his resrard for the comforts of his friend more than at the present. It is true, that whenever they had merely a family-party, Mr. Courteney was invited to join it in the dining-room ; still the marchioness, as well as her brother, feared lest the con- stant confinement should become irksome to him, and finally be the cause of their losing this exemplary character. Again, it was to be dreaded, that when the month arrived which was fixed for their removal to 1-KE HYPOCRITE. 75 'to Mortimer Castle, the tender feelings of a husband and a father would, perhaps, OLitweish those of orratitude and attach- ment, which he expressed for his pupils and their relations. Could lady Wilmington have seen into the soul of Courteney, she would have discovered that nothing was farther from his intention than returning to his own family. The fears of Sybella were not totally groundless. He had, indeed, been long weary of the occasional deprivations %vhich his own extravagance brought on him ; and now that he possessed ttie means of indulging his appetites, and of mixing with his superiors, he determined that no fault, no remissness, on his parr, should bereave him of the comfortable situation which he enjoved. Once or twice in the course of the week he had his evenings to himself, and it was generally supposed that they were passed with his wife and children. This was not always the case. Fortunately, E 2 however. ^€ THE HYPOCRITlL. Jiowever, the worthy Sybella and tlie amiable Maria were ignorant of this cruel neglect, nor imagined that any of Jiis leisure hours were devoted to any other beings than themselves. Courteney soon perceived the nseen- .dancy he had gained over the minds of the earl and his sister, and determined to turn it to his own advantage. The lovely -countess behaved towards him in a man- ner so friendly, so aflfectionate, so highly flattering to his vanity and self-love, that Dudley was.more than ever the object of his jealous envy; and he actually became so strangely infatuated with himself, as to believe that had he been single, and the first man of talent introduced to the coun- tess, that her heart would have readily made the same sacrifice in his favour, .Compelled to assist Dudley in his stolen interviews with Althea, and frequently to be a witness to their chaste and deli- cate tenderness, his envy increased; and he conceived the base and horrible de- THE HYPOCRITE. 'TT^ ■sign of separating, if possible, two beings' who lived but for each other, and to- whom he was under the most lasting ob- li and his friend was again solicired to cor- rect thera. This naturally obliged Dud- ley to pass some part of each day in the apartment of Leopold ; and the evening was chosen as the most proper time for such an occupation^ when the sons of the marchioness were gone to dessert. Cour* teney could not^ with decency^ frame any excuse to avoid going to his wife; and yet, had he been able, he would, for ha knew in his absence his generous friend would most probably enjoy unobserved, for a few minutes, the conversation of the countess. But he determined that his absence should be as short as possible^ and even hoped that she might be pre- vented from tasting such unexpected pleasure. The deity who presides over connubial love THE HYPOCRITE. 81 lo\e (if such tlrere be) was more propi- tious to the ardent hopes of Dudley than his false friend. Althea, on quitting the dining-roonr, hastened to her chamber. She had to pass that of Leopold. The expectant husband heard her light step^ and rapturously pressed her to his bo- som. " My adored Althea !** said he, '' I am alone. Let us seize the precious oppor- tunity of conversing unrestrained by the presence of our mutual friend." ** First, my dear Edmund/' replied the countess, " let me^ring for Mason ; and she shaH watch^ during our conference;, lest we should be interrupted.'* Disengaging herself from the arms of her husband, the countess summoned her faithful nurse, and then hastened back to the chamber of Ccurteney. Dudley, again enfolded her in his arms : his fine eyes no longer sparkled with brilliancy, tbey were now humid with tenderness^ E.5 and 82 THE HYPOCRITE, and his expressive features wore the hue of sorrow and discontent. '' Oh, best beloved !" he exclaimed, *'' when, oh, when shall I be permitted to enjoy the luxury of thy dear society ? when shall I be allowed to claim my bride, to avow publicly my adoration ? I can no longer bear the restraint im- posed upon my feelings. Althea, my soul's idol ! are you not my wife? why ihen refuse to let me claim you as such ^ why tremble at the supposed displeasure of your father, when the love, the unde- \iating affection of your husband shall make amends for whatever deprivation your temporary estrangement from your family may create ? / also shrink from t!)e just reproaches of the earl ; for have I not robbed him of his dearest treasure? yet, my beloved, to gain the felicity of openly calling you mine— to inhabit the same house — to see you constantly before my eyes — to receive hourly some fresh proof THE IIYPOCIUTE* S3 proof of your tenderness — to slumber nightly on this faithful bosom — oh, Al- thea ! what ^vould I not brave ! speak, mv su'eet wife ! are you prepared for the disclosure of our marriac^e ?" " Not yet, dearest P^dmund/* replied the countess; '' my father appears to have set his heart upon my union with the duke of Fitz-Aubin ; and I have not courage to own the fallacy of his hopes, and my own want of duty, until I am compelled. Wait, therefore, with pa- tience, a little longer, beloved Dudley.'* '' A Uitle longer, my Althea, you said a month ago. My patience is quite ex- hausted ; indeed, my love, you must not rely upon it any more.'* '' Yet grant me this one favour. Dud- lev — let me remain under the same roof ^vith my dear father while I have the power; soon, you know% I shall be obliged So quit it.'* Dudley caught her passionately to his E.6 breast, 84 THE HYPOCRITE. breast, and fondly kissed her burning cheek. '* My own adored Althea/* he cried, " with what an increase ofextacy shall I hail the auspicious birth of our first pledge of mutual love, since to that bliss- ful event I am to owe the entire posses- sion of my Althea ! Yet, dearest, is it prudent to delay too long a disclosure, the effect of which may injure your health and spirits? I will not deceive you, my love; I expect that at first we shall sufTer equally from the anger of lord Morti- mer. L^t me then confess our marriage, while you are strong enough to endui*e his resentment.'* The countess, however^ entreated her husband to comply with her wishes— " Yield to me in this one instance, dear Edmund,'* said she^ '' and I will be your obedient wife the rest of my life.'* Dudley consented with a bad grace, yet found it impossible to deny the re- quest THE HYPOCRITE. 85 quest of his Althea, who reluctantly tore herself from his arms, to join the family in the drawing-room ; while Dudley con- soled himself by reflecting, that in less than three months the birth of his child v^ould unavoidably oblige its mother to avow their union. Courteney, on his return, heard with vexation of the interview which had' taken place, and he listened to the hopes and fears of his friend with silent atten- tion : vet his countenance betraved not the inward malignity of his soul. ** Perhaps, my dear Leopold," said Ed- mund, "you think me to blame in yield- ing to the desire of Altnca; but had you beheld her sweet eyes — had you heard her persuasive tongue plead against the fond wishes of her heart, you could not - have resisted its syren eloquence.'* " No, my friend," replied the dissem- bler, " I do not blame you for granting the request of the countess, I am only surprised that she should make it. But, my 86 THE HYPOCRITE. my dear Edmund, women,, you know, are changeable creatures, full of whim and caprice; and there is no remedy against the principal fault of the whole sex." '' What do you mean ?'' inquired the husband of Althea, with a serious accent. '' Oh, nothing, but what is very natu- ral. It occurs to me, that the countess can have but one reason for wishin^r to keep secret her marriage — a little female love of coquetry and admiration, which is very excuseable in one so handsome and so young. vShe knew not her own powers until she was introduced into life ; is it then to be wondered at, that she is in no hurry to relinquish her claim ; to the general homage she receives?" '" Is this your serious opinion, Leo- pold ? am I to believe ]hat you class the- countess amongst those women whose levity of manners has induced you to- pass so severe a censure upon the sex ?" *' Do not look SG grave, Edmund; I: meaa,. THE HYPOCRITE. 87 mean not to ascribe any thing to tlie countess that need call forth a frown fiom her husband. Young, beautiful, and rich, the only child of lord Morti- mer, and a peeress in her own right, can vou suppose that she is not already the idol of many a noble heart ? do you think her more perfect than any other woman, that you should seem half-in- clined to quarrel with your friend for asserting that the admiration she receives is not displeasing to her ? believe me, Edmund, you are not so well acquainted with the sex as I am.'* (( Perhaps liOt,'' coolly replied the of- fended husband of Althea ; '' but, Leo- pold, as you live under the same roof with the countess, I wish to know if you have any grounds for your supposed cause of her reluctance to disclose our marriage?'* Courteney too well perceived that he was on the losing side of the question, and that nothing wr:S to be gained by vainly 88 THE HYPOCRITE* vainly endeavouring to weaken the con- fidence of her htisband. He there- fore assured him that he had no cause for what he had uttered, further than what his general opinion of women sug- gested. The countenance of Dudley again be- came placid ; for he was well aware that Leopold's opinion even extended to his- own wife and sister: Yet with this know- ledge, Dudley thought highly of him in ■ other respects; aiid frequently lamented that his. friend had early been thrown^ into the society of persons whose con-- duct and locse^ morals had given him ark unfavourable idea of^all women. Dudley, during his correction of the poems, had several similar interviews' with his beloved Althea. Again he plead-^- ed, with almost irresistible eloquence ; yet the countess still entreated for fur-^ ther time. *' How anxiously, my adored Ed- mund/* said she, "do you now solicit: to< THE HTPeCRITS. 89 to have me entirely to yourself! will y-ou ahvays retain the same wish ? oh ! when we are settled in our long-talked-af cot- rage, with no other society than our dear babv, and a few chosen friends, say, Ed- mund, will the presence of Althea ihert constitute your all of happiness?** /'Yes, most adored, most idolized !'*^ replied her husband, pressing her raptu* roui;lv to- his heart: " within the masie circle of these snowy arms, all my feli- cities reside. But say, my Althea, will not the life we have selected tire by its yniformity ? will you not, amidst the re- tirement of our intended residence, sigh, for London, and some of its most ra- tional amusements?" "Cruel !" said the countess, as she part- ed the dark locks which overshadowed his forehead, and imprinted on it a ten^ der kiss; '' can you admit one doubt of my constancy, my obedience, my fixed devotion to yourself ?" The heart of Dudley was full. Tivrn- 1 n '^ 90 THE HYPOCRITE. ing' his expressiv-e eves on his affechonate ' wife, she perceived a tear bedim their usual brightness. '' Do you suspect my assertion?" said she, in a trembling voice. *' No, dearest ; but shall 1 confess a^r weakness, which I am ashamed to own even to my Althea ? at the moment mv •J '' soul ought to have thrilled with extaey at thy matchless tenderness, a sickness came over me- — my heart sunk within me —a sudden moisture filled my eyes — and I felt as if some heavy calamity was at' band. Your smile, my angelic wife, while \tf reproves my folly, reanimates iny drooping spirits. Oh, my Althea! secure of thy love, what have I to fear } but S2y, my beloved, have you fixed on the time and manner of dkcovering oih" union ? shall I first confide it to your aunt, and implore her mediation in our favour, or shall I boldly cast myself at i\~i(t feet of the earl, and know at once my hiQ f" " Neither," THE HYPOCRITE. 9i "" Neither/' replied the countess; ''for I feel that I shall never be able to face Riy father during his first transport of anger. I mean, my dear Edmund, to take advantage of a masked ball, which will be friven bv the duchess of Fitz- Aubin on the seventh of next month, and elope with you under favour of my disguise. My faithful Mason shall con- vey to your lodgings all that I may wish- to take with me, and be the companion of our flight. You, my dearest Edmund, iii the mean time, must look out for a re- treat, not very far from town, where we may reside, until my dear father pardons this sole act of" my disobedience/' , Dudley approved of this plan, yet ult uneasy that it was not to be executed sooner — "You intend then, my Ahhea>. to go to court on the king's birthday ? Why, my dearest life, do you expose yourself to such unnecessary exertion and fatigue ? why will you not quit this house before the fourth of June? Surely 92 THE HTPOCRITE; the alteration in your figureLcannot have- passed unnoticed." The countess blushed deeply — '' The air of London agrees so well with my constitution/' said she^ '' that the round- ness of my person is altributed to (hat: You must indulge me, my beloved Ed- mund, in giving me the time I have fixed^ oHi My gratitude shall ma^ke amends^ for your compliance." Dudley assented; yet with a heaviness of heart, a depression of spirits, which he could not account for. He flung himself into a seat, after the countess had \e[t him, and remained wholly absorbed irr ihe melancholy which continued to gain upon him. On the return of Gourteney he raised his languid head, and pressed ihe hand of his false friend. " I have not done much for you to- night, Leopold, for I have got a most tormenting headache; I might say too, a. heartache.'* ^' Heaven forbid ! my dear Edmund; hut. THE HYPOCRITE. P3 ^Ut what is the matter ? have you -and -the countess differed in opinion ? you •expect too much, I know, from a m€re mortal — or has the earl thrown out any hints that he suspects your attaehment?" *' Neither ; but I feel ail the horrors of one who is on the point of losing every thing most dear to him ; and yet I have no just grounds for my presenti- ment of evil." He then recapitulated part of the con- versatior. which had passed between him- self and the countess; and incjuired whe- ther Leopold did not approve of her plan ? Courteney, with secret exultation and .a sardonic smile, replied in the affirma- tive—'' Banish tliis singular desponden- cy/* said he ; ''trust to the fertile ge- nius of woman for planning and execut- ing an elopement. Courage, my friend! soon will you be possessed of your souTs .idol — soon will you taste the raptures of her society, and the luxuries of her large estate. Why, man, you look as dismal as if '9i THE HYPOCRITE, if the enri hnd avowed his intention of setting aside your marriage.'* Dudley started from his chair, walked across the chamber, then laying his hand on the shoulder of Courteney^ he said — ' " No, Leopold, I will not harbour an- idea so injurious to the honour, the hu- manify of lord Mortimer. He may exile me from his presence, but he will never rend asunder those sacred bonds which have bound me to his daughter. Is there a man, once a husband and a father, pos- sessing a heart alive to those endearing names, and a soul noble and generous, that would seek to separate two beings fondly attached to each other? oh! if there does, may the vengeance of Hea- ven pursue him through the world! may he, in his last moments, vainly sigh for the tender hand of a wife, a child, to close his dying eyes! may — " '' Stop, stop ! my friend," exclaimed the self-convicted hypocrite ; *' waste not your breath on an imaginary being. I trust ^HE Iirl'OCRTTE. 95 3 trust that you will never experience any heavier calamity than what arises from the first burst of lord Mortimer's displeasure." Far different, however, were the real wishes of Courteney — ^' Fool !" said he to himself; " would nothing satisfy thy ambition^ thy self-created consequence,, but marrying the daughter of an earl ? yes, yes; soon shall thy forebodings be verified— soon shall the earl be unde- ceived ia the opinion he has formed of thee; and then thou wilt reap the fruits of thy golden harvest ! Idiot ! to suppose that lord Mortimer will overlook such flagrant presumption. And thou, rash girl! whose baby heart w^as first attracted by the person and splendid talents of this vain man, shall quickly be compelled to abandon him and his child for a more suitable alliance." The principal part of the night was devoted, by Leopold, to reflections on the most eligible and prudent way of effecting 56 THE HYPOCillTE* effecting the ruin he meditated. Had there been any chance of succeeding, he would have cndeavoiired to weaken the attachment of the countess, to raise her suspicions of the clisinteresiedncss of Dud- ley's love, and finally to convince her that his heart was devoted to another at the time that he solicited her hand. This, however, he knew to be impracticable. The countess loved with enthusiasm, and confided implicitly in the tenderness of her husband. Once^ as if by accident, he mentioned the name of Clara Melvill ; then, with well-dissembled apprehension, entreated her not to intimate to his friend that he had done so. The countess, as he had foreseen, inquired the reason ; with an air of mysterious confidence, he stated the unfortunate attachment of Miss Mel- vill, and attributed her increasing ill health to the discontinuance of Dudley's visits and correspondence. Tears flowed from the dovelike eyes of TRE HYPOCRITE. 9T of x\lthea; she felt all the distress and hopeless destiny of Miss Melvill; but not for an instant did she imagine that her Edmund was to blame. The wily hypo- crite perceived that here no advantage was to be gained ; pity was the only sen- timent he had excited, and that was not to his purpose. His chief consideration was, therefore, in what manner he should discover to lord Mortimer the marriage of the countess and Dudley, preserve the good opinion, and ensure the gratitude of that nobleman, without appearing to come forward as the betrayer of his friend. The generous kindness of Dudley he had experienced in a hundred various ways; he was by no means desirous, how- ever, of feeling his resentment. To be the agent of his destruction, (which he believed would follow the disclosure of his marriage, ) he was almost ready to risk even that, yet he still hoped to bring VOL. I, F about 98 THE HYPOCRlTEo about his ruin; and, like the hired bravo of Italy, give the mortal stab, while the hand that directed tlie blow should re- Aiain unseen and unknown. CHAP. V. While Courteney was anxiously planning the ruin of all his friend's worldly happi- ness, Dudley was exerting the whole of his interest to enlarge the list of his sub- scribers; and as he was well aware of Mrs. Melvill's extensive acquaintance, he determined to solicit her assistance in fa- vour of Leopold, notwithstanding his own reluctance to see either that lady or her daughter. He had called twice since his return to town, and had been so fortu- nate as to chuse those days when they were both from home. He was not now, however. THE HYPOCRITE. 99 however, equally successful, as Mrs. and Miss Melvill were alone in the drawing- room. The pale, emaciated appearance of Clara almost overcame the sympathizing heart of Dudley; he pressed her transpa- rent hand to his lips in silence ; while the fair invalid, deeply affected by the pre- sence of a man long and tenderly be- loved, fainted in the arms of her mother. The distress of Dudley increased ; he saw her slowly recover; he would have spoken, but that he dreaded to trust his voice with sounds which might be con- strued into more than brotherly affec- tion. *' It is many months since we had the pleasure of seeing you," said Clara, faintly; ''but I rejoice to learn that your absence has been caused by your attach- ment to a noble family, of whom sir Tho- mas Percy speaks in the highest terms* In the friendship of the countess of Bran- F 2 don 100 T4IE riVPOCRIT£* don it is hardly to be wondered that my mother and myself were forgotten." Dudley coloured, and stammered out something, in the form of an apology, for what appeared like neglect. Then turning to Mrs. Melvill, he solicited all ber interest for his friend Mr. Courteney. Clara immediately requested him to put - Clara. Drawino* from his bosom the miniature of his wife, he pressed it in speechless agony to his lips; at length he exclaimed — •' Adored AI- thea ! even in your arms my tears would flov; for my unhappy friend. Oh, ray soul's dearest treasure ! should you ever be 116 THE HYPOCRITE. be snatched from me — should I be fated to mourn over the loss of all my heart holds dear — should it be the will of Hea- %^en to wrest from me my Althea, my present sorrow would be lights for my existence is entwined with thine^, and madness or death must ensue t Dearest, "^ he continued, looking fondly on the se- rene and heavenly countenance of his absent wife, *' oh that at this moment I could be folded to thy faithful bosom, could hear the sweet tones of thy melo- dious voice, and receive consolation in the assurance of thy love! Alas! shall I ever enjoy the luxury of calling thee wholly mine ?" Dudley found himself too unwell to sit up; he therefore retired early to bed, but not to rest; the image of the dying Clara haunted his slumbers; and when doctor Bennet called the next morning, he found him in a high fever, yet per- sisting in his determination of rising, and going to lady Wilmington's. His THE HYPOCRITE. 117 His new friend, with gentle kindness, remonstrated on his rashness in perse- verino^ to act ao:ainst the advice of his physician ; and Dudley, softened by his solicitude for his welfare, assured him that he was compelled to go out, but that he would otherwise follow implicitly his prescriptions. The doctor smiling, said — *' Provided, my dear young friend, that they do not interfere with your own private inclinations." Dudley looked a little confused, and changing the subject, inquired if he had called on Mrs. Melvill ? " No,*' replied his new friend ; " but: I am now going there. We professional men are early initiated into scenes of distress and misery ; happy do I esteem myself when circumstances will permit of my blending the characters of friend and physician." Again he counselled him to nurse himself for a few days — '•' I like not," said he, '' this tendency to fever; you must check its progress, be- fore 118 THE IIVPOCRITE. fore it assumes a more alarming aspect. I shall look in upon you to-morrow^ and shall hope to find that your own good sense, and my prescriptions^ have had the desired effect.*' No sooner had the sound of the doc- tor's carriage announced his departure, than Dudley leaped out of bed, and dressed himself with incredible swiftness, to visit his Althea. More than once he was obliged to sit down, from weak- ness, and a swimming in his head; re- solved, nevertheless, to go, he ordered a coach to be called, and proceeded to the house of the marchioness, in a state of bodily derangement truly alarming. Fortunately for Dudley, lady Wilming- ton and her brother were from home. The countess knew his step, and met him at the door of the drawing-room. His appearance, the flush on his cheek, and the burning heat of his hand, terrified her; she flung her arms round his neck, and sobbed aloud, as he sunk on the couch. In THE HYPOCRITE. IIO In vain he assured her that his illness was of no moment, that he should soon be well, and that he already felt the power- ful influence of her presence ; the affec- tion of Althea would not so easily be sa- tisfied. Gazing on him with the tender- est fondness, she sa:id — '' You deceive me, my Edmund; your love for me has tempted you to come out, when you should be in bed. Oh, my beloved hus- band ! remember the life of your Althea, of your child, hangs on your own.*' She pressed her sweet lips to his. Dud- ley clasped her to his bosom — " Fear not, my adored, for your Edmund; I feel bet- ter since I have seen you. But tell me, dearest, did you bestow a thought on me during my painful absence of yesterday ? ah, my love ! you little knew the trying scene I had to go through.** He then briefly recounted the neces- sity of his attending the summons of Mrs. Melvill ; and touched, as lightly as he could, upon its fatal termination. The 120 THE HYPOCRITE. The countess wept over the untimely fate of the amiable unknown^ and felt that her Edmund was become more dear to her, by the sensibility he had mani* fested for the unfortunate Clara. Willing to change a subject painful to them both, she reverted to what was still dwelling on her mind; and entreated him to return home, and have the first medical advice, promising to send Mason in the evening with a letter from her- self to console him, and to hear how he was. Dudley consented to obey her wishes, yet felt unwilling to quit her. He in- quired if his absence had been regretted by her father or aunt ? '*^ By both of them," replied the coun- tess. '' As for myself, I fear that I played the hypocrite so ilL, and concealed my chagrin so wretchedly, that it was ob- served by the earl, who more than once asked me if I was unwell. So complete- ly did my mind wander to you, that the duke THE IIirr>OCRlTK. 121 duke of Fitz-Aubin spoke to me several times, without my being conscious of it; and lady Sarah made me quite uncom- fortable, by her sly looks and whispers. I fancied (at least 1 hope it was only fan- scy) that ray father appeared displeased ; and I was compelled to have recourse to my old excuse — a srck headache. The duke loolved grave for the remainder of the evening ; and I should have been happy had his sister been affected with his taciturnity. At tlie opera, my thoughts were not more collected ; and I never xjnjoyed the solitude of my own room so much as on my return, for then I could taste freely the luxury of eontemplating the resemblance of him who, though absent from my embrace, yet lived in my heart, and kept possession of my thoughts." Dudley kissed her blooming cheek — ^' Sweetest Althea, as you value my peace, hasten your departure from this house! I wish not to infect you by fears which VOL. I. G seem 122 THE HYPOCRITE. seem groundless ; yet I can scarce be- lieve that such exquisite bliss is in store for me, as to possess entirely, and to live under the same roof with, my beloved Althea. My adored wife ! the excess of my tenderness makes me tremble at the idea of any harm that may happen to you ; the bare possibility of which robs my nights of their accustomed repose. From dreams of happiness I wake fever- ish and unre freshed. In vain I stretch forth my arms, and call on my Althea, my wife — she hears me not — she is un- conscious of my distress. Oh, my be- loved ! already have you estranged your- self too long from the husband who adores you, and who lives but for you ! Shorten, then, our cruel separation; and Jet us fly to that retirement so conge- nial with our dispositions and our mutual love." *' Ah, traitor I" cried the countess, *^ you have chosen a moment to plead your cause, when your own illness, and my THE HYPOCRITE, 123 my weak, foolish heart, renders it im- possible to deny your request. Find, therefore, a temporary abode to receive us, and I will no longer resist your en- treaties, but accompany you to it, as soon as it is got ready. Nay, moderate your transport, my Edmund ; I, in re- turn, beseech you to attend to the advice of doctor Bennet, and remain at home all this day, to nurse yourself. This you inust promise, or I will not — " Dudley stopped her mouth with his kiss ; and as he really found himself still unwell, agreed to her desire; though had he followed the bent of his own in- clinations, he would have gone immedi- ately in quest of a house, and have car- ried off in triumph his Althea the same night. Wishing to speak to Courteney, the countess accompanied him to his apart- ment, where their new arrangement was confided to the keeping of this treache- rous enemy, who, with every appear- G 2 ance 5'i4: THE HYPOCRITE. ance of affectionate solicitude for their welfare, approved of the design, and prayed to Heaven that nothing might happen to delay the completion of their happiness. On. Dudley's quitting the chamber of Courteney, he heard the voice of the earl in the drawing-room^ and hastened to pay his respects to him. Not as usual did the earl greet his young favourite. Coldly expressing his sorrow at hearing of his illness^ his lordship turned to the countess, and told her that he was re- joiced to see her so perfectly recovered from the indisposition of yesterday; and as they were going to a musical party at the duchess of Fitz-Aubin's, he hoped she would not have any return of her headache. The countess blushed, looked confused, and left the room ; while Dudley, who had been accounting to lady Wilming- ton for his absence, felt himself hurt and surprised at the sudden change in the THE HYPOCRITK. 125 the manners of the carl, and vvifhdrew shortly after. CHAP. VI. Dudley had no sooner quitted the mar- chioness's than lord Mortimer proceeded to the apartment of the countess, whom he found in earnest conversation with Mrs. Mason, who retired on his entrance. Lady Caroline, his sister's little girl, was playing on the floor with some of the countess's trinkets. Running to her un- cle, she climbed his knees, to receive her accustomed kiss, and then seated herself in the lap of her indulgent cousin. '' My Althea,*' said the earl, tf-ndtrly taking her hand, and placing himself by her side, *' I wish to speak to you on a subject which is of importance to the happiness of your father, and, I hope, G 3 equally 126 THE HYPOCRITE. equally so to yourself. You have long known that it has been the chief wish of my heart to see you married to the duke of Fitz-Aubin; his rank; his personal ac- complishments, his disposition, and prin- ciples, all render him worthy of your afiTection. I have not hurried on the match, my dear girl, because I was desi- rous tliat you should know a little of the world and its customs before you became duchess of Fitz-Aubin. The delicate at- tachment of his grace has hitherto kept him silent. Perhaps, also, he had another motive, my Althea, for not explicitly de- claring to you his ardent passion — a mo- tive which must raise him in your opi- nion, but which, I (rust, is causeless. Tne high estimation in which we all hold young Dudley, your retired education^ and ignorance of life^ my child, has led you to express yourself too freely, and to shew more interest in the welfare of Edmund than a girl of your age and high rank ought to do. I would not clieck THE HYPOCRITE, 127 check the amiable sincerity of your na- ture, my Althea, were it not liable to VvTong constructions. That you should be sensible to the merits and superior talents of our young friend, is what I ex- pected ; but my dear girl must not for- get the exalted situation in which she was born, the character she has to support in the world ; she must repress the exu- berance of her friendly sentiments, lest they should be supposed to spring from warmer feelings." The countess coloured deeply ; her confusion was noticed by her father, who continued — *' My dearest Althea, why this embarrassment ? you blush, my child^ at the possibility of so improper a re- port becoming current. It is my duty, as a father, to speak more explicitly. Yes, Althea, it is with the deepest regret that I am forced to assure you, that it is this supposition alone which has kept the duke from more openly avovs-'ing his ten- derness ; and I this morning learnt from G 4 his 12S THE HYPOCRITE, his mother his delicacy and his feat's. Confident that they were groundless, I assured her of his error; and that such an idea might be for ever stifled in its birth, I proposed that his grace should immediately follow the dictates of hisowii heart ; and in becoming your husband, prove the falsify of his own suspicions, and those of others. You are siknt, my daughter. Believe me, nothing else is left to convince the world of its mistake; and though I can make allowance for your surprise, in having innocently given rise to so erroneous an opinion, yet, after what I have said, my Althea, I shall expect that you are more guarded in your future conduct to Dudley, and less re- served towards the duke, whom you will henceforward receive as one shortly to become your husband.'* The earl rose, and embraced the coun- tess, who, trembling with the conscious- ness of having acted with duplicity, dared not encounter the eyes of her fa- ther — • THE HYPOCRITE. 129 ther — '' To-night, Althea, let your beha- viour convince his grace that you are sensible of the fault you have, through your ignorance, committed; and that you are willing to listen to his offers and his love." Saying this, lord Mortimer quitted the chamber of the countess, who, as she wept at the recollection of the pain her disobedience would cause her father, felt some relief to her sorrow in calling to mind the worth of him for whom she had braved her parent's displeasure. The little daughter of the marchioness, by every childish artifice, tried to stop her tears — '' Nasty duke !" said the lovely prattler; " I will never kiss him again, if he makes you cry. I don*t like him so well as I do Mr. Dudley — do you, Al- thea ? shall I go and fetch him to com- fort you ?" " No, my darling,*' replied the coun- tess, kissing her rosy cheek, and fearing the influence of her innocent tongue ; c 5 *' it 130 THE HYPOCRITE. " it is not the duke that has made me cry ; but I fear my dear father is angry with me." '' Oh ! I will o'o and fetch him back." The countess, however, succeeded in quieting her little favourite, and then consigned her to the care of her maid. Ringino; for Mrs. Mason, she repeated to this faithful woman what had been the subject of the earl's conversation. '* Since there is no remedy, my lady, for what has happened, I think, with Mr. Dudley, that the sooner you quit this house the better. Your present si- tuation will not admit of much longer concealment; and I already tremble lest you should injure yourself by your en- deavours to conceal the alteration in your shape. Tenderly as the earl loves you, it would be highly im. proper for you to encounter his resentment, until after your confinement. Do then, my dear countess, hasten as much as possible your departure/' *' I have THE HYPOCRITE. 131 " I have to-day consented to the con- stant pleadings of my Edmund/' replied his Althea ; " and you, Mason, shall call at his lodgings to-night, with a letter from me; but as he was very unwell, say not a word of my father's intentions, or the duke's suspicions, lest they should in* crease his illness. Ah, Mason, how com- paratively light my heart will feel, when this important secret is divulged ! yet it will require all the matchless tenderness of my Edmund to hush the upbraidings of my own conscience, when I have flown from the protecting arms which have fostered me with all a parentis fondness during my infancy. Father of Heaven! forgive this first act of disobedience, and grant that the dear infant which will shortly see the light may not, in its turn, make me feel the bitter pang of an un- grateful and self-directed child ! Mason, I fear that my uneasiness^ last night, has hastened ray fate,** " Probably it may; but your ladyship G 6 must 13^ THE HYPOCRITE. must not suffer it to affect you. It is what you ought to have been prepared for ; I only wonder that my lord did not sus- pect your attachment long ago. Harris has spoken to me, in confidence, on the subject, several times ; but knowing his high veneration for his master, and the earPs great regard for him, I was always careful of my replies, though I believe Karris too much attached to your lady- ship to betray, even to my lord, any thing that would give you a moment's pain/' ^' I value him much,'* said the coun- tess, '* for he has grown grey in the ser- vice of my father ; yet, Mason, I would not tax his fidelity so severely as to en- trust him with a secret of such import- ance to the peace of his master. No, my dear nurse, you only are fit to be the confidant of my — imprudence, I would have said ; but whenever I mean to ac- cuse myself, the image of my beloved Dudley comes across my mind, and charms THE HYPOCRITE. 133 charms away my penitence and self-re- proach. So clearly do 1 love that dan- gerous pleader, that were I stripped of rank and fortune, and turned adrift in the world to earn my own bread, joy- fully would I clasp the author of my ruin to my heart, and in his arms find a remu- neration for the loss of all.'* " Alas, my lady !" replied the intelli- gent nurse of Althea, ''your words and looks so strongly remind m,e of the late countess, your exemplary mother, that I could almost fancy I saw her now be- fore me." '* Indeed, Mason ! surely my dear mo- ther could have no <:ause to express her- self in the same terms as her daughter ? Married to my father, by the consent of her family and her own heart, she must have been a stranger to the hopes and fears which agitate mine/* Mrs. Mason shook her head, and sighed deeply — '' Would to Heaven that your 134 THE HYPOCRITE. your opinion was true! then, perhaps^ my anoel mistress might have still exist- ed; and by her presence and advice have guidefl and assisted your ladyship under your present difficulties " *' You surprise and alarm me," replied the countess. " Dear Mason, I know how highly you were valued by my mo- ther, and that it was her last wish that you should never leave her child. Be more explicit ; fear not to trust your Althea with the secrets of that beloved parent, whose loss your watchful tender- ness has so faithfully endeavoured to supply.'* Mrs. Mason returned the embrace of the countess with maternal fondness, and promised, at a more convenient time, ta gratify her very natural curiosity — *' What I shall have to relate," said she, '' will not assist to exhilarate your lady- ship ; and therefore I could wish to postpone my narration until a future opportunity. THE H.rPOCRlTE, 1S5 Opportunity. All that we have now to consider is, the hastening of your depar- ture from this house/' The countess reluctantly assented to the prudent wishes of her nurse. Her spirits were low, from the conversation of the earl ; and she began to feel, for the first time, some of those forebodings which had tormented the beloved cause of her disobedience. Ill calculated to disguise her feelings, or wear an air of cheerfulness foreign lo her heart, the countess's looks were not such as to inspire the duke with those delightful hopes which the asser- tions of her father had in the morning given birth to. In vain he exerted all his eloquence, and fascinating talents, to secure the attention of the beautiful daughter of lord Mortimer. He found her cold and unmoved by his tender as- siduities; and he more than ever felt his former suspicions confirmed, that her. affections 3 136 THE HYPOCRITE. affections were engaged to young Dud,- ley. He had accompanied her in an exqui- site Italian air, the tenderness of which had been keenly felt by himself. His own ardent passion was to be seen in his expressive features, and in the touching languishment of his fine eyes; yet those of the lovely countess bore no testimony of reciprocal emotions. His grace sigh- ed as he led her from the instrument; while lady Sarah rallied her unmercifully upon her insensibility. The countess felt that she was not in- sensible^ blushed, and looked unusually embarrassed. As soon as her tormenting friend had left her, the duke ventured to take her hand, and pressing it gently, said — '' Dearest Aithea, I will no longer dis- tress yon by my attentions; I feel my own inability to inspire you with that affection which consumes myself. I do not THE HYPOCRITE. 137 not reproach you with indifference or coldness; no, enchanting girl; a form., a face, a mind, like yours, betrays no want of sensibility. I alone am to blame. Had I been so fortunate as to have seen you earlier, I mighty perhaps, have been more successful. Start not, beloved AI- thea; fear not my jealousy. Although my passion can never abate — although my love will continue while I exist, and pre- vent my espousing any other, yet so dear- ly, so purely, do 1 adore you, that I sacri- fice my own happiness to promote yours. Beloved Althea^ I resign all pretensions to the glory of calling you mine. Think not of my sufferings in so doing; think only of my friendship ; tax it to the utmost ; you shall find me worthy to be trusted. Do not tremble, Althea; I know your secret attachment — I lament it, even more for your sake than my own. Can I assist you ? can I serve you ? confide in the honour of him who would die to ensure your felicity." Surprised^ 138 THE HYPOCRITE. Surprised, confused, yet trembling with gratitude and admiration, the coun- tess nearly fainted in his arnis. Recover- ing, however, by the assistance of his smelling-bottle, she gave him a look which almost repaid him for what he had suffered. " Do not distress yourself, my adored friend," said the duke, " to reply to me — I know what you would say. Suffer me to call on you to-morrow; I wish to speak to you alone. Yet fear not my intentions; believe me, I have only your interest at heart ; and how to secure it will now be the sole object of my studies.** He rose, and hastily quitted her, leav- ing her deeply impressed with the noble generosity of his conduct. *' Such a man/' thought the countess, " is worthy to become the friend of my Edmund. How incessantly shall I pray for his repose, and that he may be able to transfer his .affections to one capable of returning them !" With THE HYPOCRITE. 130 With sickening apprehension she per- ceived the eyes of her father were di- rected to herself the whole of the even- ing; and in spite of the noble friendship of the duke, she returned to her home in worse spirits than she had left it. The first inquiry of the countess was after her beloved Dudley. Mrs. Mason presented her with a letter from him, which considerably relieved her anxiety on his account. He was better than he had expected, and attributed it solely to his havino: seen her in the mornino:. He purposed going out early the ensuing day, to fix on a retreat suitable to receive his adored Althea ; and dwelt with rap- ture on the happiness they should enjoy in each other's society, uninterrupted by the presence of any intruders. With ail the solicitude of real tender- ness, the beautiful wife of Dudley ques- tioned her nurse respecting his looks, and all that he had said. The answers of Mason contributed to compose her mind ; and 140 THE HYPOCRITE. and she retired to rest full of love for her husband;, and gratitude for his gene- rous rival. Not so lord Mortimer; his suspicions had been awakened by the restless un- easiness which the countess had displayed at the absence of Dudley, and her mani- fest indifference to the affectionate atten- tions of the duke of Fitz-Aubin. Alarm- ed at the possibility of what he now, for the first time, began to suspect, he ran bver^ in his own mind, the conduct of the lovers since they had met. A variety of little circumstances now occurred to his recollection^ which strengthened his fears; and the friendly conversation which took place between himself and the mother of the duke next morning, served only to increase his terrors. From what he had said to the countess on his return from her grace^ he fully expected to have seen the duke meet with a far different reception. During the whole of the eveninghe carefully watched the THE HYPOCRITE. 141 the looks and actions of his daughter '; but neither afforded him any consolation. Dotingly fond of this only hope of his family, he yet felt that should she really have allowed her affections to be- come engaged to Dudley, and continued to persist in refusing tl.e love of the duke, he should exert all his parental au- thority to convince her of her folly, and to compel her to unite herself with one preeminently qualified to render her happy. He now, for the first time, intimated his painful suspicions to his sister; and felt some consolation that she had not observed any thing which could autho- rize them. Still he was not satisfied ; it was an affair of too much importance to pass over lightly ; and he determined to trust in the grateful protestations of Courteney, and confide to him his un- pleasant surmises. At any other time, and upon apy other ©cca^i^n^ the noble mind of lord Morti- mer 149 THE HYPOCRITE. mer would have scorned to question the tutor of his nephews ; yet now he anx- iously sought a conference with him, and even scrupled not to solicit his confi- dence in return. This was more than Courteney had dared to hope for — this was beyond his most sanguine expectations. It was now in his power to effect the ruin of the unsuspicious Dudley, eternally oblige his lordship, ensure his own present good fortune by the gratitude of the family, and betray his friend, without appearing to be the willing agent of his destruc- tion. Lord Mortimer noticed not the ma- lignant exultation which flushed the che^k, and gave a momentary fire to the eyes of Leopold, who, with all possible humility, and well-dissembled sorrow, la- mented that any thing had occurred to give his lordship pain, and hoped that liis fears were unfounded. T'h^ eatl fixed his penetrating eyies on those THE KYPOCRITE. 143 those of the hypocrite, who immediately cast Jiis on the ground, with well-feigned confusion, as if unable to encounter the keen glance of' his lordship. '' I appeal to you, Mr. Courteney,*' said the earl, " believing you to be a man of strict honour and integrity, and feeling conscious that you have the power to relieve my present anxiety, or to confirm my fears. You have the means of rendering me the most essential ser- vice — of making me your debtor for life ; and though I honour you for seek- ing to conceal the errors of your friend, yet, in this instance, you may, by be- traying him, preserve him from eternal misery, and s.ive the dignity of a family whose gratitude to yourself can never cease, and who will sacredly conceal the name of him to whom they are indebted for its preservation. Courteney tried to appear more and more embarrassed ; he took care, how- ever, that his looks should confirm the suspicions ill THE MYFOCtllTE. suspicions of lord Mortimer^ who said-— ^' You are but a bad dissembler, Mr. Cour- leney. In the expression of your coun- tenance I too plainly perceive a confir- mation of all my doubts. Your friend has proved unworthy of my regard. Forsfetful of the vast difference between him and the countess of Brandon, he has arrogantly presumed upon the esteem and notice which he has met with, and^ perhaps, has even dared to raise his as- piring thoughts to the possession of her hand.'^ ^' Compose yourself, ray lord, 1 beseech you," replied Courteney ; '' my friend may have been seduced to love, by tht matchless beauty of the countess, but he Would never be so base as to solicit or expect a return. Think, my lord, how great has been the temptation which he has constantly been exposed to, from almost daily associating with her lady- ship — from being treated witlf parental kindness by yourself, whose liberality of 'fKE HYPOCillTE. 145 ^r mind may^ perhaps, have contributed towards his presumption. Relying upon your lordship's kindness and generosity, ss well as the friendly conduct of the countess, my poor friend may have yield- ed involuntarily to the alluring situation [n which he has been placed." ^' No, no, Mr. Courteney," hastily ex- claimed lord Mortimer ; '' your friend- ship may seek fo gloss over the ingrati- tude of human n^ure, but it cannot ex- cuse the violation of the implied confi- ilence which was reposed in Mr. Dudley. Introduced into my family by sir Thomas Percy, his talents, his merits, his fasci- nating eloquence, soon rendered him the object of our regard and attention. I know not that I ever thought so highly of, or felt more interested for, any man be- fore, save one, whom he strongly resem- bles ; and he also basely betrayed my confiding tenderness, and stole from me a treasure, at that time far dearer than existence.'' VOL. I. H The 146 THE HYPOCRITK, The earl paused, as if labouring under oome painful recollections; he then con- tinued — " I would not allow myself to be prejudiced against Dudley, because bis features and manners reminded me nf a perfidious relative; but, on the con- nrafy, freely bestowed on him all the no- tice and kindness of which I believed him •Avorthy. I consider m)^elf, Mr. Cour- ^eney, as the most unfortunate of men, the most unhappy of fethers. No alter- native is left me but to see my only child, whose rank and beauty ought to |>lace her in a still more exalted station, become the wife of a young man, an or- phan, whom nobody can even tell from •^vhat family he sprung, or to v/hat name he has a riojht — or, bv exertino; mv au- thority as a parent, become, perhaps, her destroyer, and sacrifice the best and sweet- est affections of her soul to the dignity of her birth, and the opinion of the world." Tears gushed from the e}^es of lord Mortimer, 1 ¥iiE HYPOCRI'Ti^. V^7 Mortimer, and he covered his face with one hand, while with the other he pressed that of Courteney. " My dear lord, you aflTect me; I can- not bear to see you thus. — Oh, Dudley, iny friend, my imprudent friend ! — I am distressed, perplexed, and scarce know what I say, but that your lordship may command me to the utmost of mv abi- lities in this unhappy business." *' Thank you, my worthy friend. With shame and bitter anguish I confess to you, that it is my fixed opinion that the countess loves this rash vouno- man. The coldness of her behaviour to the duke of Fifz-Aubin, contrasted with the anima- ting pleasure she evinces at the appear- ance of Dudley, too well justify my sus- picions. Tell me, Courteney, with sin- cerity, do you not believ-e that she is at- tached to your friend ?" ** I know not how to reply, mv lord," said the wily dissembler; "I dread to add to your present agitation; yet since H 2 vou 148 THE HYPOCRITE. 7011 have condescended to honour me ^vith your confidence, and appealed to iTsy sincerity, 1 am unwillingly obliged to acknowledge that I have long enter- tained the same suspicions; and once i saw— butj my lord^ as nothing but the respect and gratitude which I feel for your lordship and the marchioness could induce me to betray the frailty of my friend, I trust that no consideration will prompt your lordship to hint even that your knowledge of the fact was obtained from me." '' On my honour, and th^ word of a gentleman, I promise that your name 'shall never escape my lips. But what would he make an equal sacrifice ? have ] not some claim to your friendship) if not to your love?" '' The strongest/' replied the countess, with quickiiess, v.liAe the tears of affec- tionate gratitude trembled in her eyes; '' vour THE HYPOCRITE. 155 *'yoiir grace will ever hold the second place in my heart, will ever be next to him who alone possesses the power to have rendered me insensible to worth like yours. A time may come, and that not far distant, when 1 may claim your generous interference in my favour. Forgive me if I do not speak more ex- plicitly. Deeply impressed with a senss of your kindness and generosity, be as- sured that while I exist you will ever be dear to me ; and that, in the course of a few days, you will be convinced of the readiness with which I shall solicit the aid and counsels of my adopted brother/' '' Beloved sister ! for sucl>, in spite of the tumultuous throbbings of my bosom, I will call you, trust me, that when that happens, you shall find me all that you wish. Should the earl inquire the cause^ of my present visit, let him believe thar its object was to declare my love, and that you neither refused nor accepted my proposals. Tell also the enviable^ H.d, the. 156 THE HTPOCKITE. the highly-favoured Dudley, that in sa- crificing to him my prior claim to the possession of a treasure which in my es- timation is matchless, that no lukewarm passion influenced my conduct; the soul of Fitz-Aubift is devoted alone to the happiness of Althea, to secure which he yields to him the woman whom he idol- izeSj and asks only in return^, that he will guard with unceasing care the idol of our mutual adoration/' Fearing to trust any longer to his own feelings, the duke took leave of the coun- tess, more in love, if possible, than ever, yet firm in his resolution of nobly sacri- ficing every personal consideration of felicity lo promote hers. Contrary to the expectation of her ladyship, lord Mortimer did not ask a single question concerning her private conversation with his grace. His opi- nion was fixed^ his plan was formed, and it only remained for him to announce it to his daughtePc This, THE HYPOCRITE. 157 This, however, it was not his intention to do until after they had left town, lest she should find an opportuniry to convey the intelligence to her lover. His lord- ship therefore merely requested her to be ready early the next morning to ac- company him upon a visit, which might detain them a week or ten days. The countess, astonished at the sud- denness of the journey, timidly inquired if she might not be informed the name of the friend to whom they were going? The carl, forcing a smile, replied — *' that he meant to surprise her^ and should therefore keep her in suspense, until they arrived at the place of their destination." She next applied to her aunt; but lady Wilmington evaded her questions ; and, as they were engaged ihat evening to a large party, advised her to lose no time in giving the necessary orders to Mason, as the earl intended to set out by six in the morning. The 158 thp: HrpocRiTE. The distressed Alt hea no sooner com- miirticated her journey to her faithful* nurse, than the alTectionate creature im- mediately suspected its real import. Un- willing, however, to infcct her beloved- child by her fears, and hoping that they might be unfounded, she proceeded to pack up what she thought would be re- quisite, should their stay be of a longer duration than lord Mortimer had men- tioned ; while her mistress sat down to write the unv^eicome news to Dudley,^ whom she expected to call in. the course ©rthe evening. Convinced how severely he would feek her absence^ and at a time when he was fondly - easiness ; he had seen a most desirable habitation for their temporary abode, and ineant to call on her next morning, ta 164 THE HTPOCRITE. to describe its situation, before he finally agreed to take it. ''Alas !" exclaimed the countess, ''what' will my dear Edmund feel on finding that I am gone from here? Oh, Mason ! will he not reproach his Althea for refusing to consent to his wishes ! Already I feel convinced that I have been to blame; and would give the world to avoid this^jour- 2^ey. Would to Heaven that I could es- cape to-night !" *' That is impossible," replied Mrs. Mason ; " it is too late to execute su.ch a!i imprudent and dangerous idea. Your ladyship must keep up your spirits. If the worst comes to the worst, w© can ap- prize Mr. Dudley of our residence; and with hirn for a protector, you need not fear to leave the guardianship of my lord." The countes> sighed deeply, then took up her pen, and wrote a few lines in an- swer to'the letter of her beloved Edmund — '' Yoti THE HYPOCRITE. 165 ^«— " You must contrive, nurse, to see iVIr. Courteney before we set out. It is of consequence that he should -give this, with niy other letter, to his friend." Then taking a light, she proceeded to the nursery, to give a parting kiss to her little favourite. Short and disturbed were the slumbers of the innocent wife of Dudley. The paleness of her cheek, and the languor of her eyes, intimated to the watchful carl the unsettled state of her mind. Her aunt, early as it was, Tiad risen to take leave of them. Affectionately em- bracing her niece, lady Wilmington snid ' — " Dearest Althea, I shall think it long until I see you again, and shall hasten my own departure as much as possible." '' What do you mean, my dear aunt ? surely my father will not remain with his friend longe-* than he told me?" '' No, no," replied the marchioness, confusedly; ''but I had some intention of fetching you home myself." Lord 160 THE HYPOClltTE. Lord Mortimer, taking the hand of hrs daughter, now hurried her to the car- riage, followed by Mason, whose suspi^ cions were greatly increased by thfe •speech of lady Wilmington's. The earl was unusually talkative. Hfc saw and pitied the dejection which was but too visible on the countenance of -the countess. Redoubling, therefore, his afTectionate attentions, he tried to draw her from her melancholy reflections, without letting her perceive that he no- ticed her uneasiness. Grateful for the kindness 6^ her pa- rent, the countess endeavoured to banish from her mind the severe disappointmerrt her Edmund woukl receive, and entered into discourse with her father. Once or twice she inquired how far they were going? and noticed that they were in the same road which they had travelled when they quitted the Wilderness. Lord Mortimer smiled, and changed the sub- ject. At THE HYPOCRITE. 167 At length, however, they came within ^ight of the villa of the marchioness. The carriage stopped, and the countess, -although greatly fatigued, felt a secret pleasure at once more entering a house -sacredly dear to her, as being the scene of her first introduction to Dudley, and -the silent witness of their mutual tender- nesses. She anxiously followed her father into the drawing room, but no friend greeted their arrival. Lord Mortimer took herhand,^nd led her to a seat — '' Ask no questions^ my Althea ; you want rest and refreshment ; to-morrow I will explain the cause of your being brought here," '' And is this the end of our journey, oTiy dear father? and have you no friend to visit V inquired the trembling coun- tess. *' You forget what I have just told you, Althea ; go^ my love, and prepare for dinner. There was a time when the society of your father constituted your chief 168 THE HYPOCRITE. chief happiness^— endeavour to let it do so now." The countess was no sooner alone with her nurse, than she flung her arms round her neck, and sobbing with violence, ex- claimed that she was beTrayed — that she was certain her father could have no other motive in bringing her there but to se- parate her from Dudley. Mrs. Mason tried to comfort her by every art in her power ; and advised her to change her dress> and attend the earl in the dining parlour. Unwillingly the countess yielded to the prudent advice of Mrs. Mason; and with everv indication of sorrow and indisposition, reluctantly took her seat at table. Their repast was almost a silent one. With difiBculty the lovely wife of Dudley forced herself to swallow a part of the delicacies which the earl selected for her. iSeeinir that the efforts which she made to oblige him were painful to herselF, his lordship ceased to importune her ; and TI4E HYPOCRITE. 1G9 mid feeling that notwithstanding her manifest distress was occasioned by her absence from her lover, yet she was nevertheless an object of his tenderest concern, he advised her to retire to her own room ; hoping, he said, to see her at breakfast the next day, perfectly re- covered from every disagreeable efifect of her journey. Gladly did the conn (ess obey the kind desire of her father, and hastened to give way to her tears, which she had with dif- ficulty repressed in his presence. The sweet serenity of the evening tempted her to walk round the grounds, and to visit those parts rendered dear by the re- collection of her Edmund — '' Here," said the countess, as she seated herself on the bench which Dudley had occupied on the day that he disclosed to her his passion, " it was on this seat my Edmund first ventured to pronounce those bliss- ful words which made me the happiest of women! Alas! vvhatamlnow? carried VOL. I. I off 170 THE HYPOCRITE, dff clandestinely from the husband of my choice^ and at a moment when we v;ere fondly planning schemes of fel-icity too perfect to be realized ! No longer can I boast myself the happiest of women : deprived of his society^ which constituted my worldj and doomed to encounter the just resentment of an indulgent father, alas! lam now the most unfortunate! And thou,, too, my Edmund, art become a partaker of my sorrow. At this mo- ment thou art lamenting the absence of thy Althea." The miniature of her husband was drawn from its snowy recess, and pressed passionately to her lips. As she gazed on the regularly-handsome features of Dudley, the countess almost imagined that she beheld in the bright blue eyes an expression of tender reproach — "Ah !" said she, replacing it in her bosom, '' such would be the look of my Edmund, could I but see him at this instant. Yes, dear- €f5t, I have been to blame; I have allowed the THE HYPOCRITE. 171 the affection of a daughter to interfere ^vith the duties of a wife ; and in delay- ing my removal thus late, suffer most cruelly for my obstinacy." Recollecting that she had at least the power of transmitting her ideas to this idolized being, she returned to her cham- ber, and ringing for Mrs. Mason, inquir- ed for her writing-desk. ^' Is your ladyship going to write to Mr. Dudley ?'* said her faithful nurse. The countess answered in the affirma- tive. " I am sorry to be the messenger of bad news," continued Mrs. Mason, '' but my lord has given strict orders that every letter which comes or goes should be brought to him.'' This was indeed striking at the root of the countess's last hope, whose tears now streamed afresh, as she leaned on the shoulder of her sympathizing confi- dant, and besought her assistance to con- I 2 vev 172 THE HYPOCUTTE» \ey to Dudley the intelligence of where lie might find her. " My dearest lady/' said the affection- ate nurse, " all power to assist you is taken from me. The earl seems well as- sured of your secret attachment, (or he has left nothirag undone to prevent the slightest possibility of any intercourse with Mr. Dudley. As soon as you had left the dining-parlour, Harris was sum- moned to attend the earl ; and, upon his return to the housekeeper's room, he said to me in confidence — ' That he had never expected to be placed as a spy over the actions of his dear young lady ; ^nd that he wished, to the bottom of his -scul, people would mind their own busi- ness, instead of that of others.' **I asked him what he meant?— ^ Some good-natured friend has put it into my lord's head,' said he, ' that the countess and young Mr, Dudley are in love with evxh other, which, I dare say, never en- tered THE HYPOCRITE. ITS fered their minds; and my master, as is very natural, is terribly vexed at the idea of the countess letting herself down so much. Poor dear young creature/ con- tinued Harris, ' I wonder who could be so wicked as to raise such a report. I dare say we shall soon be packed off to the old Castle again, for my lord does not seem to think this far enough from; London." '' Gracious Heaven !'' exclaimed the countess, " what will become of me ? I "^vill write to ray dear father. Mason ; f will confess my marriage, and throw my- self at once upon his affection and mer- cy/' '' I think it is the only thing now left" your ladyshipt^to do. It will be impos- sible for you to conceal it much longer^ and it will be better to discover it at once, both for your own sake and Mr, Dudley's/* *' Oh, my beloved husband !" said the lovely countess, " that it were possible I 3 for 174 THE HYPOCRITE. for me (o have you now with me! Could I but repose this aching head upon thy dear bosom — could I but hear the endear- ing-tones of thy tender voice, how light would be my griefs- — how trifling my pains! Stay with me. Mason; I will this instant write to the earl. That weighty task performed, I will retire to rest, and trust in the divine mercy of the Supreme Being to soften the heart of my father towards his disobedient child.'' The letter of the countess drew tears from her affectionate nurse. It was couched in the most submissive terms; yet while she sought not to vindicate her fault, she humbly trusted that the supe- rior abilities and exalted mind of Dud- ley would not only plead for her with her father, but make amends for the in- feriority of his birth and fortune. She concluded by beseeching him to pardon this sole act of her disobedience, to com- passionate her situation, and to restore her to the society of hini for whom alone she THE HYPOCRITS. i / :> slie wished to live, and without whom all the advantages she might possess of rank and splendour would be of no avail— " Let this be given to the carl in the morning," said the countess, " with a re- quest that I may be permitted to break- fast in my own room." Mrs. Mason, with trembling appre- hension as to the effect the letter might have on lord Mortimer^ hastened back t(^ the chamber of her mistress as soon as she had delivered it. His lordship, confident of ill, slowly opened the envelope which contained the fatal secret that blasted all his hopes^ and disappointed him of his long-treasured and dearest wishes. He read and re-read the letter of the countess, as if unwilling to put confidence in his ov/n senses ; till at length con.- vinced that it was no illusion, but that he had sustained an injury which no tim.e could efface, no penitence do away, he retired to the library, where, after lock- ing the door, he sat down to (J^etermine 1 4 upoa 176 THE HYPOCRITE. upon the line of conduct which it was becoming his dignity and the honour ol' his family to adopt. Stung to the soul by the ingratitude of his only child, who had thus daringly disposed of herself without even paying him the compliment to ask his consent, and indignant at the bold presumption and perfidy of Dudley, as he deemed them, the earl resolved upon immediate- ly removing the countess to Mortimer Castle, and, as she was considerably un- der age, confining her there, until her .hasty and imprudent marriage could be set aside. Once resolved, he was inflex- ible. His very tenderness so ill-requited made his resentment the keener; and all that excess of paternal fondness which he had ever felt for his Althea, was now swallowed up by the bitterness of the in- sult which he had received. Harris was rung for, and ordered to send Mrs. Mason to his lordship, who saidj on seeing her pale and terrified — ^M3o THE HYPOCRITE. 177 " Do not be alarmed, Mason ; I merely- sent for you that you might be the bearer of a message from me to the countess of Brandon, for I shall not condescend to write to her. Tell her, since she has forgotten what is due to herself and me, I shall take the most effectual steps to convince her that the authority of a pa- rent, which she has set at defiance^ is not to be disregarded with impunity. As she has forfeited every claim to the affection of a father, bid her prepare to meet all the rigour of a guardian ; and it is my positive command that she does not at- tempt to obtrude herself on my presence, as I will not answer for what might hap- pen from the effects of my extreme re- sentment. To-morrow I shall remove her to the Castle, where she shall remain a prisoner, until the audacity of him she has been pleased to make her temporary husband has received its just punish- ment.'" Mrs. Mason flung herself on her knees 1 5 before 178 THE HYPOCRITE. before the earl — -'' Oh, my lord, may I venture to plead for my unfortunate lady — for the innocent child^ which must then become illegitimate !'* '' Hold !" cried the earl ; '' it is your province to obey, and not to presume upon my forbearance. I shall not re- proach you, nurse, for keeping too faith- fully the secret of your mistress; I know your mild and affectionate nature would not be able to resist the entreaties of \\\e child, who must be as dear to you as your own ; but I must take care not to place it in her power to seduce you again from your duty to your master. If you are willing to be included in the countess's banishment, you must agree to be con- sidered as a prisoner with herself, and to suffer with her all the hardships which I may think fit to inflict; but remember, that the least disposition on your part to infringe on my orders, or to step beyond the limits which I shall allow you, will be followed by your eternal dismissal from THE HYPOCRITE. 179 from the countess's person, and my fa- vour and protection." Mrs. Mason could only curtsey ; her tears and sobs took from her all power of utterance. Slowly she returned to the countess, who met her at the head of the stairs^ and who read her sentence in the deep affliction of her faithful confi- dant. With great delicacy and tender- ness Mrs. Mason tried to soften down the message of lord Mortimer; but with, all her prudence she could not, for she dared not conceal his intentions. Her maternal arms enfolded the lifeless form of the beautiful disobedient; herbosom^ which had nourished her when a smiling- infant, nowsupported her drooping head; and her tears and lamentations alone re- called the idol of her soul to Jife, and to. a.sense of her own wretchedness,. " Oh, my beloved, my adored lady !" said the nurse of Althea, '* give not your- self thus up to despair^ My lord feels^ r.ngry at your seeming to think light of X 6 his 180 THE HYPOCRITE. his displeasure — at your seeming to for- get all his uniform kindness; he will not see you or speak to you for the present; but when his resentment subsides^ he will remember only your virtues^ he will for- give, and restore you to his favour." '' But am I not torn from my Edmund !" replied the agonized countess; ** and shall I not be removed to-morrow to the Castle, where, even should he find out my abode, it will be impossible for him to have access to me ! — Oh, my beloved husband ! for whose sake I have dared the heavy resentment of a dear father— for whose sake I would endure a thou- sand ills, what will become of thcCy se- parated from thy Althear — and thou, oh sacred pledge of our niulual fondness! what will become o( thee also?'* Again the countess relapsed into a state of insensibility, from which she was with great difficulty recovered. Mrs. Mason conjured her to moderate her dis- tress—to consider that the life of her child THE HYPOCRITE. 181 child might be sacrificed by giving way to an excess of sorrow ; and that it was a duty she owed her husband to bear with fortitude her present affliction, and to take care of a life more dear to him than his own. Notwithstanding the kind endeavours of Mrs. Mason, the countess continued more dead than alive. She trembled at the idea of the misfortunes which might fall on her Edmund, and of the sufferings which herself would endure, at the try- ing hour of her approaching confine- ment, far from the consoling voice and reviving presence of her husband. Scarce able to stand, she, the next morning, with the assistance of Mrs Ma- son, descended from her room, on being told the carriage waited which was to convey her still further from her adored Dudley. Casting an anxious look around, she remembered how differently she had felt when last she quitted the Wiiderness —now, how sad the reverse 1 no tender Edmund I 82 T.HE HYPOCRITE,. Edmund to assist her to her carriage—^ no kind father to animate ter by his apr provinsr smiles, or lighten the fatigues of travelling by his edifying and instructive conversation. Her presence had becomet disagreeable to him ; for he would not even take a seat in the same carriage with her, but had ordered for himself a hired chaise, in which he meant to follow the lovely criminal. Mortified and sick at hearty the un- happy wife of Dudley, accompanied by Ker sympathising nurse^ set out for Mor- timer Castle ; while the earl, burning, with indignation and shame to be so tle- ceivedj, finished his letters to his sister and the duchess of FitZrAubin; and then,, directing them to be forwarded imme- diately, followed the carriage of his im-, prudent dajiighter. CHAE.- THE HYPOCRITE, 18?, CHAP. viir. While the countess was rapidly proceed- ing to the magnificeiit abode of her in-r fancy, now destined to become her pri- son^ Dudley was confined to his bed by a violent fever, brought on by the shocjk his mind received upon being informed of her departure. Full of the most sanguine expectations of soon possessing entirely the society of his lovely wife, Dudley, according to his promise, hastened to the house of the marchioness, eager to describe to his Althea the retreat which he had fixed upon to receive her. Lady Wilmington was denied to him ; but he was permitted to see the tutor of her children. His feet hardly touched the stairs which led to the chamber of Leopold — his first inquiry was for a letter from the coun- tess. Courteney, 18^ THE HYPOCRITE. Conrteney, with a longer face than usualj and an air of solemnity which in- dicated that he had much to communi- cate, replied, that her journey was so sudden, that he supposed she had no time to write. 'MVhat !'* hastily exclaimed her hus- band, "'my Althea quit town without leaving me an explanation of the cause of her mysterious journey ! Come, come^ Leopold, do not torture me any longer,, but give it me/* '' I feel for you, my dear Edmund, too acutely to trKie with vour feelings at a moment like this. Oh \ would to God that I could present you with what you so naturally desire! — Cruel Althea! not ta soften, as much as possible, the blow which was to fall on my beloved friend.** *' Ha !" cried Dudley, with a shudder of agony, " I comprehend ! the earl has discovered our marriage, and has carried off my wife! say, Leopold, is it not so?" ^* I am sorry, dearest Edmund/* re- plied THE HYPOCRITE. 185 plied the artful hypocrite, "to corrobo- rate your fears. Lord Mortimer, exas- perated beyond measure, appealed to me, as your supposed confidant, for informa- tion concerning the truth of what he had heard. I pleaded ignorance of your at- tachment, and even ventured to doubt the credibility of his informer. But this was of no avail; he denounced ven- geance on your head, and swore that from that hour vou should never more behold the countess !" *' Inhuman !'* exclaimed Dudley. "Yet perhaps he is still ignorant ^. .lie imriis^ soluble bonds which unite me to his daughter, and of the delicacy of her si- tuation." " Alas! my beloved Edmund,'* replied the sanctified dissembler, " you will find, I fear, that those tender bonds are not in- dissoluble. You forget that the coun- tess is under age, and that her father has the power to set aside your marriage. Oh^ my dear^ dear friend! it v^as this that made 186 ' THE HYPOCRITE. made me receive so ungraciously the news of your seeming good fortune — it was this that made me tremble for the happi- ness of my generous Dudley." Courteney might have gone on for an hour longer- — his friend heard him not. Fixed, immoveable, he sat like the sta- tue of despair. Courteney took his hand, and pressed ittohislips — *' Oh that I should live to see you thus!'* said he, dropping a tear on the burning hand of his friend; *' speak to me^ Edmund; ii is I — your friend — your Leopold !'* DudJf/s- turning his head, gazed on him; then broke out into an hysteric laugh. Ct)urte;iey, who wanted to get rid of the m?n he had so basely betrayed, unbuttoned his waistcoat> and presented to his view the picture of the countess. Like magic it operated on the distracted brain of her husband. Pressing it pas- sionately to his lips, he burst into an agony of tears^ vdiich gave him consi- derable relief, while it recalled hitn to a sense THE HYPOClliTE. ' 1ST sense of the severe loss which he had sustained. *'' Bear with mv weakness.'* said the unsuspecting Dudley ; "it is for my Al- thea, my adored Althea, that I suffer. Sweet angel ! how will she support the anger of the earl ! how support her ab- sence from me, in her present situation ! But I will follow her, if it is to the ex- tremity of the world. I will shew lord Mortimer that the rights of a husband are stronger thnn those of a father. Have vou no idea, Leopold, of the place to which he has carried her ?'* '^ None,'* replied Courteney. '' Their departure was so hasty, that it cannot have transpired.*^ " And my Althea did not even leave a message for me ?'' '• Not a word, I assure you, although I purposely gave her an opportunity; nor should I have supposed, by the se- renity of her countenance^ that she had been 188 THE HTPOCIIITE. been on the eve of quitting her husband perhaps for ever/' " Distractloii ! and could the iieart of Althea feel composed, could she appear cheerful, when going to be separated from me — mc, who live but in her pre- sence, and whose whole soul at that mo- ment was absorbed in tenderness for her? Gh, misery ! misery ! perhaps her tar- diness to yield to my earnest wishes for her removal proceeded from an abate-- ment of her love; and Althea's self may even assist to disannul her plighted faith, and casi upon her infant the stigma of illegitimacy.'* '' Dear Edmund, compose yourself^ Take my advice; seek not to discover the retreat of the countess; she is yet but a child ; the attentions and splendid rank of the duke of Fitz-Aubin may have dazzled her senses, and estranged her af- fections; v;ait patiently the result of her j-emoval ; do not too daringly expose yoursel£ TH£ HYPOCRITE, 189 yourself to the anger of her father, whose resentment may abate, by your seeming to pay him a proper submission and re* spect.'* " And who is lord Mortimer/* angrily tlemanded the husband of Alrhea, ''that I should cringe and fawn to him with submission and respect ? T am not afraid of him personally, and only dread the effect his anger may have on his daugh- ter. True, his lordship is a peer of the Teahn, and 7 cannot even claim relation- ship with the peasant, for I know not to whom I belong, or to whom I am related ; yet I feel that I am a man, and lord Mor- timer's equal, except in title — that any courtly sycophant and slave may pur- chase; but not the proud consciousness of a soul and mind which ennobles itself. jSIy beloved Althea rose superior to such perty distinctions ; she loved me for myself — she blessed me with her hand — and never while I exist will I shrink, like a coward. T'DO THE HYPOCRITE, a coward, from the face of danger o? death to assert my claim. No, Leopold, in the impulse of the moment, while smarting from disappointed love, I in^ jured the countess by supposing her af- fections capable of changing. Not fol- low her! not endeavour to trace out her abode, and rescue her from solitary sor- row ! oh! you counsel like one who has never felt what it is to be a husband^ or to anticipate the rapture of becoming a father]" " Pardon me," said the treacherous preceptor; '' my counsels sprung not from my own feelings, but from my friendship for yourself. Lord Mortimer appeared so highly incensed against you^ that I judged it unsafe for you to throw yourself in his way.'* '' Thank you, my worthy friend,** re- plied Dudley ; " let me see you, or hear from you, for I shall not call again, in compassion to lady Wilmington, who would THE HYPOCRITE. 1^)1 would feel hurt to be obliged to shut her doors against one whom she has honour- ed with her regard/' Courteney promised to call^ if possible^ on him the next evening; and with every appearance of well-dissembled sorrow^ saw the generous Edmund quit^ perhaps for ever, a house which had been open io him at all tiines^ and the doors of which might never have been closed upon l>im, but for his treachery and baseness. Exulting in the success of his plot, and fervently hoping that he might not be able to find out the residence of the countess, Courteney prepared to attend the summons, and answer' the questions, of lady Wilmington, fully resolved to heighten, as much as possible, whatever might appear like insolence or ingrati- tude in Dudley, and to alarm her lady- ship by his positive determination of finding her niece, wherever she might be concealed. Dudley, meanwhile, returned home in a state IDS' THE HYPOCRI^K, a state of mind truly distressing. Al- though bent upon following his Althea^ yet he knew not to whom he should apply, for who indeed was likely to be apprized of the place of her concealment, except lady Wilmington? Disappointed in not receiving a line from the countess, and alarmed lest her health should suiTer by her hasty removal, and the displeasure of the earl, Dudley became seriously indis- posed. A burning fever raged through fiis veins, and he was unwillingly obliged to send for his worthy friend doctor Bennet, who no sooner saw the flush ^a his countenance, and felt the rapid beat of his pulse, than he ordered him to Win bed-room; and, with truly paternal kind- ness, conjured him to refrain from dv^'cil- inir on anv subject that would increase his irritation. Dudley not only respected, but loved his venerable physician ; his mind and soul was full of his Althea, and of their separation ; tears gushed from bis eyes, as THE HYPOCRITE. 19S t5S he reflected on his present inability to travel, and anxious that the cause of his seeming weakness should be explain- ed to doctor Bennet, he confided to him his marriage, and the severe misfortune which he had just sustained. Delighted by this proof of his young friend's affection, the amiable physician gave him every encouragement not to tlespair, and afforded him the highest con- solation by his friendly and judicious ad- 'vice. What gave most comfort to his patient was, the hope which he held out \yj him of hearing from the countess her- self. '' Wait patiently, my dear boy,'* said the kind doctor Bennet; '^ doubtless your sweet wife will seize the first op- portunity of letting you know the place of her residence; but she mav not be able to do so immediately' Your pre- sent affliction appears a heavy one; yet, my dear Dudley, reflect that it is not incurable or hopeless. You have not to VOL. I, K lament /*t^\ 194 T-HE HYPOCRITE. lament either the death or the infuklitij of her you love. Let this thought assist to lighten the sorrow which now oppresses you. l"o2^ only suffer from the tempo- rary absence of a beloved object, while I have been fated to endure trials more severe." Dudley raised his languid head; and doc- tor Bennet read, in the speaking language of his fine features, all the solicitude of filial affection — ^* Be obedient to my or- ders/' continued his new friend ; *^and as soon as you are well enough, your confidence shall be repaid by mine." Soon, however, were the words of the doctor forgotten, and even the consci- ousness of his own misery. The fever increased, and he became delirious. During the height of his disorder his steady friend never quitted him, ex- cept to attend the duties of his pro- fession. Even at night he reposed on a couch by the side of his insensible favourite. At M,: T«E HYPOCRITE. 195 At length the violence of the fever abated, and Dudley, ^xak and exhausted, caHed, in a faint voice, for drink. Im- mediately his watchful friend quitted his couch, and was by the side of his pa- tient, administering to his wants. Sur- prised at (he presence of doctor Bennet at that late hour, he endeavoured to con- verse; but (his was denied him. Seeing the doctor return to his sofa, Dudley in- stantly comprehended the reason of his being there ; and though forbid to ex- press by words his gratitude, yet his teai^ would not be restrained. In the mornino- doctor Bennet thought k safe to tell him the danger he had past, and his own paternal care of him — " All I require of you, my dear Dudley, is, to be as tranquil as possible, and to follov/ im- plicitly my rules. I will not leave you wntil I can do so with safety to your- self.'* Such unlooked-for goodness, such dis- interested attachment, overpowered the •^" K 2 errateful 19G THE HYrOCRTTE. grateful heart of the invalid. AH that he could do was to be obedient to the inestimable man who thus voluntarily performed the tender offices of a father. A fortnight elapsed before he was suf- fered to converse on the subject dearest to his soul. Again th? doctor represented the improbability of the countess being allowed the opportunity of writing, yet held out to him the hope that the fertile imagination and well-known ingenuity of a woman w^ould shortly procure the accomplishment' of his wishes. Lured by this sweet hope, Dudley, in gratitude to his kind adviser, took the only me- thod in his powder to evince it, by a ready compliance with all his proposals. At the end of three weeks, Dudley was able to take an airing in the doctor*s cha- riot, lie had written several times to Courteney, expressing a desire to see him ; and had mentioned his dangerous illness, and the fatherly affection of doc- tor Ben net. Leopold would fain have ex«!used THE HYPOCRITE. 197 excused himself from visiting the maii^ whose peace he had so materially injured; but not willing to give cause for suspi- cion, he called on him one evening, and found the physician occupied in reading for the amusement of his patient. Dudley presented to his false friend the worthy doctor, and styled him the preserver of his life, his adopted father. Courteney seized the hand of doctar Eennet, and pressed it to his lips, with every indication of rapturous gratitude^ hailing him as the saviour of one dearer to him than his own existence. '' Oh, my friend !" said he/ *' how- thankful am I to God, who, in the midst of. your sufferings, raised you up such a con- soler as doctor Bennet ! — I am a stran* ger to you, sir; but in the service you have rendered Edmund, you have con- ferred on me in particular a lasting ob- ligation." The doctor bowed — " I have done no !D»re/' he replied, '' than what is the K 3 duty 10S THE HYPOCRITE. duty of one man to another. My ac- qnaintace with Mr. Dudley has been of short duration; but it has also been long enough to convince me of his worth ; and I feel myself singularly fortunate in being able to have afforded him conso- lation and assistance, at a moment when lie was in real want of it/' Dudley now inquired, though not without considerable agitation, if he had been able to learn where lord Mortimer had conveyed his daughter? and Leo- pold, with well-feigned ignorance, re- plied in the negative — '' I have leh na- fhino- undone to sjain that much-wished- for information," said he ; '' but, unfor^ tunately, all my attempts have been fruitless. I do not, however, despair af ultimately learning where she is, although the marchioness has preserved a uniform silence on the subject ; and in order to prevent the domestics from knowing her retreat, the earl sends his letters to his sister under cover to a friend^ lest what he THE HYPOCRITE. 199^ lie wishes to be concealed should^ from- the postmark, become public." When Courteney had taken leave^. which he did as soon as he could with- dccency, the doctor said — " That gen- tleman is either a very good^ or a very bad man ; I wish^ for your sake, that he may be the former/* " He is one of my dearest friends/'' replied Dudley. '' I have known hinr several years, and think so highly of his sincerity and aflTection, that I have not a thought which I would conceal from Leo- pold Courteney.'* *' You are young, and inexperienced- in human nature,** said the doctor ; '' there was a time when I felt and thought with the same fearless confidence as yourself. I prav to Heaven that you may not have the same occasion to re- pent the easy credulity of your disposi- tion. Forgive me if I claim the privi- lege of friendship, and give my opinion, perhaps rather freely, of Mr. Courteney. K 4 There 200 THE HYPOCRITE. There was a something in his address to myself, which struck me as overstrain- ed, as forced. I watched his counte- nance when speaking on the subject on which the peace and happiness of his friend depended, and I imagined that when he caught my eye, there was an em- barrassment which ill accorded with the sincerity of his professions. In short, he is a man before whom I should speak and act with great reserve.** '* Oh, my dear doctor ! you wrong poor Courteney, I assure you. I grant that his demure appearance and stiffness of manners are not calculated, at the first in- terview, to create him friends; but I firmly believe that a worthier creature does not exist. He has long struggled with poverty and misfortunes, but not singly, for his wife and her sister, both amiable women, have unfortunately suf- fered with him. It happened most pro- videntially for me, as well as his family, that lady Wilmington applied to mp to recommend THE HYPOCRITE, 201 recommend her a tutor to her children. I introduced Courteney, and gained for him a situation which, I trust, will effec- tually remove those difficulties he has long laboured under. Were he my bro- ther, I could not feel more deeply inte- rested in his welfare." ''That 1 believe/' rejoined the friendly physician^ '' and only hope that Mr. Courteney may prove, by his actions, deserving of the character which you give him. The generous confidence of youth I would not wholly repress; it springs from noble feelings, and an ho- nest heart, which, conscious of its own integrity, fearlessly relics upon that of others. Yet, Edmund, the more you know of mankind, the more bitterly will you find cause to regret its treachery and ingratitude; and instances will not be wanting to convince you, that inte- rest or love will even corrupt the ten- derness of a father, and turn brotherly affection into deadly animosity. I once k5 hinted. 202 THE HYPOCRITE. hinted to you that I had bought my ex- perience dearly, and I know of no better opportunity than the present to exem-^ plify it, if you do not already feel weary of an old man's moralizing.** Dudley assured him that such would never be his case. Delicacy alone had prevented his making a request which might be deemed impertinent or curious, but which he had, nevertheless, long wished to make. The tea-things being removed, doctor Bennet began. '' It is almost unnecessary for me to premise, that I am the second son of sir George Bennet, who, unfortunately for me, did not succeed to the title until I was in my twentieth year. I say unfor- tunately, because that event too fatally decided the happiness of my future life. *' My father was early left a widower, with a large famil\ to bring up genteelly out of a very limited income; he there- fore thought it best to reside wholly on an estate which belonged to him in Hampshire^ THE HYPOCRITE. 203 Hampshire, and which, of itself, pro- duced the chief articles for our support. After the death of my mother, a lady came to preside over the domestic con- cerns of my father, and to superintend the education of my sisters. Her steady attachment to us all, and the uniform ma- ternal tenderness with which she regard- ed her young charge, soon gained our affection, which increased as we arrived at years of maturity. It was our generaL wish that my father would give her a le- gitimate right to the tender name by which his children had always called her, and I believe she herself encouraged the same hope. " My father, whose classical knowledge and literary acquirements rendered him fully competent for the undertaking, in* structed myself and brothers in every ne- cessary branch of education^ until we were old enough to be sent to college. He then entrusted us to the care of a dis« tant relation of our maternal friend, whoi Jtv6 '^ejit 204 THE HYPOCRITE. went with us to Oxford. I chose my own profession, and my studies were re- gulated accordingly. The vacations were joyfully spent at home, amidst the highly- cultivated society of my sisters, and that of a neighbouring family^ who had lately come to reside about a mile distant from my father's house. This was a most de- sirable acquisition to our little party, which was enlarged by the frequent visits of two lovely girls, and their brother, a most excellent young man, and our fel- low-collegian. *' The Miss Edens had passed their winter in London, and had received fi- nishing lessons from the best masters of that time. With extreme good-nature, they volunteered to go over the same with my sisters, who thankfully accepted their offer. This necessarily occasioned a stricter intimacy between the two fami- lies; and my father never seemed better pleased than when Mr. and Mrs. Eden and their children were present. "As THE HYPOCRITt:. 205- " As the time approached for our re- turn to Oxford, I felt my reluctance in- crease to quit home, now rendered dou- bly dear by the frequent opportunities I enjoyed of conversing with the young- est Miss Eden. My brother also evinced equal pleasure in the society of her sis- ter, and scrupled not to avow openly his sentiments; but he was the darling of my father, who was next heir to the ba- ronetage, and ten thousand a -year — / could not boast of any expectations but what might arise from my profession, and three hundred a-year left me by my ma- ternal grandfather. Notwithstanding this drawback to my hopes, I found that it had no power over my affections ; my heart continued to beat with the same fondness for the lovely Amelia as if I had been licensed to adore her; and my va- nity induced me to imagine, that had such been the case, the sweet girl would not have disdained my pretensions. " On our return to college, the loss of my sot) THE HYPOCRITE^ iny usual spirits was quickly noticed by- young Eden. He inquired the cause with friendly anxiety^ and cautioned me against being fascinated by the beauty of his sisters, as his father's determina- tion of marrying them to men of title and fortune was well known — * George/ said he, laughingly, ' stands a tolerable chance, as being heir to both ; but if you value your peace, my dear Bennet, yoir will keepclearof tem.ptation, and regard the handsome persons of my sisters with the same sort of feeling as I do a fine picture^ whose price is above the com- pass of my pocket/ " I thanked him for his advice, which I'said was unnecessary; yet I t^orbore to tell him the reason why my brother alone was my confidant; and he, from affection and good-nature, encouraged me to hope. . *' Oh, how heavily passed the time un- til the next vacation ! how transporting ^ere my feelings on alighting at my fa«» th€r*s doorj on pressing to ray lips the soft. THE HYPOCRITE. W7 soft hand of Amelia, who, with the rest of her family, were there to welcome our return ! 1 thought I perceived, in the deep colour of her cheek, and the bril- liancy of her eyes, an emotion that sprung from something dearer than that of friend- ship, and I allowed myself to be led away by this dangerous delusion. " We were now more intimate than ever. Our mornino;s were generally spent in riding or walking, and our even- ings in a family concert, which, as we were all performers, was by no means insignificant, Tiie sweet voice of Ame- lia, accompanying her harp, enchanted my father as well as myself; and it was easy to observe that my gentle favourite was his also. '' Mv brother was now the acknow- ledged lover of Miss Eden; even her mother, a proud, haughty, and self-di- rected woman, made no objection to the match, and her consent was all that wtis requisite upgn any affair of consequence. It 208 THE IIYP.OCRITE. It v;as therefore agreed, that he should remain at home, and enjoy the sociely of his future wife. My father likewise deemed it necessary for me to remove to London, to the house of my uncle, an eminent physician^ who wished to retire from the fatigues of his profession^ as soon as I Was capable of acting in his stead. " Obliged to yield to the necessity of my circumstances, I yet determined to know the real state of Amelia's sentiments before I quitted her a second time, as I should not again visit the home of my infancy until called upon to attend the nuptials of my brother. *' One day, after my father and old Mr. Eden had been talking over family mat- ters, and from thence to the intended marriage of my brother, he turned round hastily, and said to me — ' Who knows, Franks but that when you succeed to the old gentleman's profession, he may throw his daughter into the bargain. I hear she. THE UYP'OCRITE. 20t) she is a very fine girl, and I know that she will have plenty of the requisite/ " I looked at Amelia, whose colour raided at this speech of vr,y fatlier's, und who soon after asked my favourite sister to take a walk in the garden. I followed, and surprised her in tears. Hastily attri- buting them to sudden indisposition, she accepted of my proffered arm, and be- gan to talk with a vivacity which seemed forced, and but ill agreed with the plea of illness. Anxious to discover if the idea of my absence had affected her, I purposely brought up the subject of my departure ,* and lamented most severely that the duties of my profession would,, in a manner, banish me from my family and native place. My sister wept at the suggestion ; for we had always felt for each other the fondest afTection, and, next to quitting Amelia Eden, the deprivation of her society deeply afTected me. '' Turning towards the beloved object of my soul, I ventured to express a hope > that # i^IO THE HYPOCRITE. th^t she would not entirely forget the brorher of her friend. Her reply, and' the blushing confusion of her face, gave me fresh hopes. lagajn beheld the start- ing tears; and, scarce able to check my own, I acknowledged ray long-cherished passion, and lamented that my want oP fortune had compelled me to remain si- lent upon a subject on which depended^ my only earthly hope of happiness. " Amelia hid her agitation in the bo- som of my sister, who affectionately em- bracing her, said — 'It is, at least, in your power, my dear girl, to ease my brother from the tortures of suspense. Let not a false notion of delicacy, my Amelia, prevent you from acting with your na- tive candour.' '' Judging by this that my sister was in the confidence of Amelia, I flung my- self on my knees before her, and press- ing her hand tenderly to my lips, be- sought her at cnce to pronounce my dcjoin. Never, Dudley, shall I forget the. THE HYPOCRITE. 211 the rnptures of that moment ! I feel my heart beat quicker at the, remembrance^ although nearly forty years have elapsed since that period. With the sweetest conFusTon, which served to heighten her natural charms, Amelia entreated me to rise^ and owned that the brother of her Sophia had never been indifferent to her; that from the first period of our becom- ing intimate, she had been aware that her heart would never feel thesame emotions on the sight or the touch of another. My transports were now unbounded; I clasped her to my bosom, and on press- ing my lips to hers, felt a bliss till then unknown. *'' Recovering from my delirium of jov, mv Amelia said, that she feared it would be impossible to gain the consent of her mother, who had expressly edu- cated her sister and herself with the view of marrying them to men of rank and fortune; and that it was some time be- fore her father could brinir her to yield ta 212 THE HYPOCRITE. to her sister's becoming the wife of George. * Let us hope, my Amelia/ I cried^ ' that your mother vvili be equally ge- nerous to us; siiTce the profession of my uncle is of consitlerable value, and will, in a short time, enable me to ask for your hand with confidence. Until then, my l)eloved girl, let us draw consolation from the hope that, as George means to carry his bride to London, you may be suffered to accompany her. Our opportunities of seeing each other will then be un- limited. But why, my dearest Amelia, will you not put it out of the power of ambition to mar our loves ? let us be uBited at the parii>h church of the next, town; and then we may laugh at the vain endeavours of your mother to make my Amelia a ladi/ against her wilL' * Oh, not for the world,* said she, shrinking timidly from my arms, ' would I{ marry against the knowledge of my mother ! TSuch a step, taken without her consent- THE HTPOCHITE. 213 consent or advice, would embitter all my future years. No, my dear Berjnet, to become your wife would be the height of my desires, but my parents* blessing must sanctify the deed.' " Trusting to the great kindness Mrs. Eden had always manifested towards me, and likewise to the favourable appear- ance of my own prospects, I forbore to press my Amelia on a subject which she seemed to regard with fixed aversion. We however settled, that through the means of George, our letters could be transmitted to each other, and we should consequently enjoy all thatabsejice would permit. Sophia now reminded us that it would be proper to return to the house, which we accordingly did. *' On our joining the family, I thought my father looked unusually serious, and even displeased, on hearing that 1 had accompanied my sister and her friend in their stroll round the grounds. Amelia was desired by her mother to play and gi4 TilE HYPOCRITE. sing a diiet^ in which I had hitherto sung second. My father, however, now chose to take my place; and rising \vithqmck^ nesSj led her to the instrument. His voice was strong and musical, and im- proved by science. To the plaintive ten- derness of the air and words he did am- ple justice. Mrs. Eden v;as delighted, and complimented highly my father's performance. Amelia rose to give her seat to Sophia ; but my father entreated her to continue, and for the remainder of the evening, kept close to her side, securing to himself the whole of her conversation. *' Scarce knowing why, I yet felt par- ticularly uncomfortable at this behaviour of my fjrher. I saw it gave Amelia pain; ■while her mother only laughed, talked louder than usual^ and repeatedly com- plimented my father on his good looks. To do justice to the author of my being, I must allow that few men of five and- forty could boast of a more prepossessing countenance. T'HE HYPOCRITE, 215 countenance, manly and elegant figure, and manners peculiarly attractive. He -was, in short, a man that any woman, whose affections were disengaged, might ]ove ; and I began to tremble for m^'self when I reflected on his extensive powers of fascinating, which he now seemed de- termined to display and to exert. " The next niorning I called on the Edens, and learnt from Amelia that her mother had questioned her very narrowly respecting the state of her -feelings to- wards me, and cautioned her again?^^t giving the least encouragement to my addresses, as it would only bring ruin on my head, and place herself in a very de- 7/c/7/€ situation ; she however refused to •explain her allusion — ' I shall be glad, said she, ' when Frank goes to London ; for he is a fine young man, and if not a fool, will take care to turn to advantage the handsome person that nature has given him.* ^16 TliE HYPOCRITE. '' At my age, my dear Dudley, I may be allowed to repeat the praise of Mrs. Eden, without running any risk of in- curring the imputation of vanity.'* Dudley grasped his hand aflectionate- ly, and the doctor continued. '* On my return home, my father in- quired when I intended to begin my journey ?— ^ I think,' said he, * you have already exceeded the time your uncle mentioned in his letter. I wish you to study bis comfort and ease as much as possible; and therefore advise you to set off to-morrow. I also wish you to re- member, Frank, your own interest. It is net in my power to do any thing for you, beyond allowing you what is neces- sary, until your profession shall render my assistance needless. You will have many opportunities of increasing your fortune by marriage; and I trust that \ou will determine on the most eligible. I know of no young woman that 1 should better THE HYPOCRITE. 217 better like for my daughter than your cousin; and I seriously advise you to en- deavour to gain her for a wife.* *' I thanked my father for his counsel, but expressed great reluctance to leave home so suddenly. — ^ You cannot go too soon/ he replied, ' if you wish, to oblige your uncle ; and I do not see why you should feel such 'poignant regret at leaving your family noiv, especially as you will most likely return to celebrate the nuptials of your brother. 1 am afraid, Frank, that you have a stronger motive for wishing to prolong your stay. I have observed you too particular of late to Amelia Eden ; and should you have been weak enough, as well as so imprudent as to think of her, notwith* standing your knowledge of her mother's intentions, which are irrevocable^ why, the sooner you remove from the society of one who is destined to become the wife of another, the sooner you will re- VOL. I. L cover 5218 THE HYPOCRITE. cover your senses, and your proper ideas of filial duty. It is therefori; my plea- sure, that you give your servant orders to get ready for your removal to-mor- row.* '• My father then quitted me; and the only consolation I had left me was, that I should see Amelia in the evening. See her I did ; but my father and Mrs. Eden watched us so narrowly, that I could not even whisper to her my tenderest adieus, or receive hers. My brother George promised to afford me all the assistance in his power; and my sister received a hundred little messages to deliver to her lovely friend. ** Heavy was my heart on the morning of my departure. I rose before day- break; and not wishing to disturb any of the family but Sophia, was proceeding softly to her room, when I was surprised by the appearance of the maternal friend I before mentioned. She beckoned me to THE HYPOCRITE, 219 to enter her apartment. Closing the door, she threw her arms round my neck, and wept bitterly. *' x\Iarmed, I conjured her to be com- posed, and inquired the cause of her dis- tress — ' My beloved Frank,' said she, ' it is for you more than for myself that I grieve. Your happiness and mine are to be sacrificed to this fatal passion of your father's. Alas ! my dear boy, he loves Amelia Eden! you are hastily sent off to London^ and I shall soon follow you; for never will I, who have been a mother to his children all the best part of my life, submit to be directed and governed by a girl of sixteen.* '^ Horror-struck, I remained motion- less for a few minutes; then exclaimed, that what she dreaded would never come to pass, for that Amelia's heart was mine, and that she had promised to live only for me. I then repeated our conversation in the garden, and the kind assurances of George, with my hope of Amelia L 2. being 220 THE HYPOCRITE. being allowed to accompany her sister to London. My poor friend was a little soothed by this; and as she again and again embraced me, prayed to God to pour down blessings on my head. " The bare idea which she had sus:- gested of a rival in my father^ affected me deeply ; and I arrived at my uncle's in a state of mind truly pitiable. I found him all that can exalt or ennoble human nature. Like a fond father he welcomed my arrival ; and placing the hand of his equally amiable daughter in mine, said — ' You must henceforward, Frank, act the part of a brother to In- diana. Look on her as a sister; protect her as such ; and you will not find her unworthy of your care.' " But, my dear Dudley, it grows late, and you are not sufficiently recovered from your severe attack to endure any deprivation of your proper repose. To- morrow I will finish my little history, which I see has excited your curiosity.'* '' I never THE HYPOCRITE. 221 '"^ I never obeyed you with more un- willingness/' replied his patient^ " than I do now. Oh, my dear friend ! to whom not only I, but many others, are indebted for their existence, how im- patiently shall I wait the conclusion of a narrative which has affected me sen- sibly/' Doctor Bennet embraced his affection- ate favourite ; and after taking a slight refreshment, left him for the night, pro- mising to be with him at the dinner-hour the next day. END OF VOL. I. Printed by J. Darling, Leadenhall-Sireet, London. NEW PUBLICATIONS PRINTED FOR *A, K, JfEVFM^JW 8f CO. AT THE LEADENHALL-STREET, LONDON- £ s. d. 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