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 >- 
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY, 
 
 OR, 
 
 Court Scenes 
 
 IN THE REIGN OF 
 
 CHARLES THE SECOND. 
 
 " Let not that devil, 
 
 That cursed curiosity, seduce you 
 
 To hunt for needless secrets, which, neglected, 
 
 Shall never hurt your quiet ; but, once known, 
 
 Shah sit upon your heart, pinch it with pain, 
 
 And banish the sweet sleep for ever from you. 
 
 Go to: -be yet advised." j4NE Sh0 r E . 
 
 What then ? Things do their best, — and they and we 
 Must answer for the intent, and not the event 
 
 Old Play. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PRINTED FOR 
 
 LONGMAN, REES, ORME, BROWN, AND GREEN, 
 
 PATERNOSTER-ROW. 
 
 1827.
 
 U2> 
 
 ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 It may be necessary to state, (in order 
 to avoid the imputation of fruitless va- 
 nity,) that nearly the whole of the fol- 
 lowing pages were written before either 
 c< Brambletye House" or " Woodstock" 
 I made their appearance ; but (from pecu- 
 liar circumstances) were not published 
 then, and are, from circumstances equally 
 peculiar, published now. 
 
 Having mentioned this, any apology to 
 the public, for entering upon a path 
 which has been so brilliantly and success- 
 fully illuminated by the authors above-
 
 VI ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 named, would, indeed, be as superfluous 
 a piece of candour and contrition, as that 
 of the man who begged Voltaire's pardon 
 for stealing one of his bon-mots, after he 
 had rendered it so pointless, as to make 
 it impossible the original owner should 
 either detect the theft, or wish to claim 
 the waif. Moreover, it is to be hoped, 
 that a person might tread the classic 
 ground of Thermopylae, without having 
 it supposed that he imagined he should, 
 as a matter of course, on that account, 
 be taken for a Leonidas ; on the con- 
 trary, his only feeling would be, that its 
 hero, in leaving him his deeds to admire, 
 had destroyed the power of imitation. 
 What is unique, cannot be copied j what 
 is much above us, cannot be reached ; 
 and the palpably impalpable Author of 
 Waverley is, in the literary world, what
 
 ADVERTISEMENT. Vll 
 
 the shade of Theseus was at Marathon, 
 an invisible and mysterious, but all-con- 
 quering power ; while Mr. Horace Smith, 
 like the Ladye Christabell's champion, 
 has obtained such proud vantage-ground, 
 that few writers could be bold enough to 
 contend with him.
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Let no man seek 
 Henceforth to be foretold what shall befall him. 
 
 Milton. 
 
 Sir Ambrose Templeton, a knight of 
 ancient family, resided on the estate of 
 his ancestors, which was situated in the 
 West Riding of Yorkshire. His castle, 
 like himself, was sequestered and 
 gloomy. A disappointment in early life 
 had given him a distaste for society. 
 From that period he became a misan- 
 thrope. Devoting his time to the 
 science of astrology, he entered with 
 eagerness into all its mystical arts, 
 imagining he could foretel a thousand 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 2 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 events, which alone existed in his own 
 disturbed fancy, by endeavouring curi- 
 ously to pry into that futurity wisely 
 hidden from mortal ken. 
 
 Even a mind the most abtracted re- 
 quires some recreation, some species of 
 amusement to divert the attention. 
 There was only one in which Sir Am- 
 brose indulged ; it was horsemanship. 
 
 Frequently in his evening rides he 
 passed a farm-house, called Green Mea- 
 dow. As he passed, he usually stopt 
 for a few minutes to remark a beautiful 
 child, either playing on the grass, or 
 borne in the arms of a young damsel. 
 There was something so attractive in 
 the little girl, in the innocent vivacity 
 of her look, and her infantine sportive- 
 ness, he almost felt inclined to disen- 
 cumber her parents from the care of 
 bringing her up, and, by adopting her 
 himself, instruct her in that occult 
 science, the study of which quite ab- 
 sorbed him.
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 3 
 
 Farmer Russell was one of Sir Am- 
 brose's tenants ; he had a numerous 
 offspring ; therefore, no doubt, he would 
 be willing to part with the little Rebecca, 
 to be so well provided for. 
 
 Having once entertained this whim- 
 sical idea, Sir Ambrose foresaw nothing 
 to impede his purpose \ and at length 
 resolved to name his intention to Farmer 
 Russell and his dame. 
 
 Joseph Russell was a substantial man ; 
 much respected, and looked up to, by 
 the humble class of community for the 
 honesty and integrity of his character. 
 He was active and industrious to a 
 proverb. Farmer Russell was seen toil- 
 ing early and late, and always cheering 
 his fellow-labourers by his active ex- 
 ample, good humour, and merry song ; 
 for he had ever something cheering to 
 say ; and even the most necessitous were 
 readier to serve him than those who 
 gave larger pay. 
 
 No part of England can vie with 
 b 2
 
 4 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 Yorkshire for the peculiar neatness, 
 cleanliness, and persevering industry of 
 the lower class of its inhabitants. They 
 are considered shrewd and discerning, 
 almost to a fault. But it must be re- 
 marked, that the extreme wretchedness, 
 filth, squalid look, and indigence, so 
 prevalent in some of the western coun- 
 ties, are rarely to be seen in Yorkshire. 
 Hence prosperity and comfort crown 
 the labour of the husbandman. The 
 wife takes care to feed and clothe the 
 children, and contributes her part in the 
 occupations of the day. 
 
 Dame Russell was the pattern of every 
 homely virtue. Her children were ac- 
 tive, sprightly, and healthy. She was 
 an admirable housewife, and so well un- 
 derstood the management of her dairy, 
 she never returned from market with 
 any of her stock on hand. 
 
 In the year 16 — , the period at which 
 the following events commenced, re- 
 finement and luxury had not made such
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 5 
 
 rapid steps into community. The honest 
 farmer was content to eat his brown 
 barley bread, and quaff his home-brewed 
 ale, and instruct his family in that hum- 
 ble station to which they were born. 
 Education had not perverted the mind of 
 the simple country girl. She aimed not 
 in acquiring accomplishments, fitted and 
 intended only for young ladies of for- 
 tune and condition. She remained 
 guileless and content in her lowly state, 
 and fulfilled the duties of that state 
 with industry and satisfaction. 
 
 Neither did the misguided parents by 
 their ill-judged tuition in refined and su- 
 perficial attainments render their child- 
 ren useless and discontented members of 
 society, by elevating them above that 
 humble sphere which they were born 
 to fill. 
 
 Joseph and Rebecca Russell had a 
 large family of sons and daughters. 
 The little girl noticed by Sir Ambrose 
 b 3
 
 6 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 Templeton was the last of their off- 
 spring. * 
 
 They were a happy and a thriving 
 family notwithstanding former depres- 
 sion of fortune, and the Almighty 
 blessed their labours. They ate the 
 bread of contentment, and it sweetened 
 their industry. 
 
 Sir Ambrose was too powerful a man 
 in the county not to command the obe- 
 dience of his tenantry ; and though he 
 was considered austere and eccentric, he 
 was on many occasions so humane and 
 indulgent to the necessitous poor, that 
 his word proved a law amongst them, 
 Hence Farmer Russell was afraid to re- 
 fuse the knight's request to adopt his 
 child Rebecca, though to part with her 
 grieved him sorely. 
 
 * Rebecca Russell was the youngest daughter 
 of a farmer in Yorkshire. Her life was long, and 
 marked with many particulars, that evince the 
 governing hand of Providence in human affairs. 
 Her father's family were opulent and independent, 
 but, unfortunately for his children, had fallen into 
 decay. — Old Tradition,
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 7 
 
 The humble couple fondly loved their 
 children ; for the little Rebecca they 
 had a peculiar fondness. She was not 
 only the youngest of their offspring, 
 but her mother had nearly lost her life 
 in giving her birth. When Sir Ambrose 
 Templeton made the offer of educating, 
 and handsomely providing for her, the 
 struggle her parents endured ere they 
 finally consented to resign her to the 
 knight was most painful. Sir Ambrose's 
 eccentric character, stern and abstracted 
 manner, gave him the appearance of 
 austerity ; and throughout the neigh- 
 bourhood he was more feared than be- 
 loved. 
 
 A reluctant consent being yielded, 
 Dame Russell having in vain warmly 
 contested the point with her husband, 
 the child was sent for by the house- 
 keeper, attended by elder sister Ruth, to 
 Gloomore Castle. 
 
 On Rebecca's arrival at the castle, the 
 knight lavished on her so many caresses, 
 b 4
 
 8 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 and the housekeeper such an abundance 
 of attention, that in the space of a week 
 all desire of home vanished from her in- 
 fantine mind ; and she became fonder of 
 Sir Ambrose and Mistress Watkins, than 
 sister Ruth, who in due time was sent 
 back to Green Meadows Farm.
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 CHAP. II. 
 
 The young Rebecca each day became 
 more beautiful and engaging. Naturally 
 of a delicate constitution, like a tender 
 exotic, care, regular hours, and proper 
 diet, gave a healthful glow to her cheeks, 
 and elasticity to her movements ; and 
 she became one of the loveliest spring 
 flowers that ever opened its blossoms 
 under the influence of a genial sun. 
 Her strength increased ; her complexion, 
 fair as the mountain snow, was no longer 
 tanned ; her laughing eyes sparkled with 
 gladness, and her black hair turned into 
 a thousand fantastic curls over her face 
 and neck. The pretty lisping dialogue, 
 full of innocent mirth, flowed in such a 
 soft dulcet voice, as engaging as it was 
 persuasive ; and a few months' residence 
 at Gloomore Castle, rendered her a beau- 
 tiful and captivating child. 
 b 5
 
 10 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 Her parents from the time of her 
 adoption were interdicted from seeing 
 her, that they might not wean her affec- 
 tions from Sir Ambrose ; therefore they 
 were compelled to be satisfied with 
 Mistress Watkins's account of their 
 child's happiness, improvements, and 
 surprising beauty, which in the visits 
 she condescended to pay them, she was 
 most lavish ; as also on the indulgence 
 which the knight bestowed upon her. 
 
 Farmer Russell sometimes heard all 
 Mrs. Watkins's praise of his little daugh- 
 ter with sullen discontent, exclaiming, 
 " Handsome is that handsome does. I 
 don't care a rush for the beauty you talk 
 so much about ; it mayhap will prove 
 her greatest misfortune ; and, as the pa- 
 triarch Jacob said, ' bring down my grey 
 hairs with sorrow to the grave. 9 Will 
 Rebecca, do you think, Mistress Wat- 
 kins, remember her poor father and mo- 
 ther when she is not suffered to see them, 
 and not even to hear their blessing ? I'll 
 
 20
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 11 
 
 tell you what, Mistress Watkins," he con- 
 tinued, " if Sir Ambrose keeps our child 
 from us much longer, I shall just make 
 bold to go to Gloomore Castle, and ask 
 for Rebecca ; for she cannot be so dear 
 to the knight as she is to her father and 
 mother." 
 
 Mistress Watkins, afraid on this occa- 
 sion that she had gone too far, and she 
 might draw down the knight's displea- 
 sure, made a rash and hasty promise to 
 Dame Russell,that she should seeher child 
 whenever she chose to come to the castle. 
 
 Rebecca daily increasing in Sir Am- 
 brose's affection by her winning ways, 
 rendered him anxious to pry into the 
 future destiny of so fair a creature. 
 Though of late she had somewhat be- 
 guiled him from that study to which he 
 was so wholly devoted, his mind was not 
 less deeply warped than ever in those 
 mystical subjects in which he considered 
 himself so conversant and familiar. 
 
 In a luckless moment he determined 
 b 6
 
 12 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 to cast Rebecca's horoscope, to study 
 the state of the* planets, whether or 
 not their situation was favourable, and 
 denoted prosperity during her future life. 
 
 He eagerly withdrew to his laboratory, 
 situated in a remote turret, on the top 
 of which was placed a -large telescppe 
 for the contemplation of the heavenly 
 bodies. A small orrery hung round the 
 interior, and on a long table stood 
 globes, mathematical, and astrological 
 instruments, with various chymical pre- 
 parations. There were besides a pile of 
 large volumes, many half moth-eaten, 
 containing hieroglyphical characters, with 
 others written in the old black letter, 
 on the most obscure and rabbinistical 
 subjects. 
 
 The knight wore when engaged in his 
 laboratory a large crimson velvet wrap- 
 ping gown, embroidered with hierogly- 
 phical figures, confined with a belt worked 
 with the signs of the zodiac. A high 
 fur cap covered his head ; his large
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 13 
 
 bushy eye-brows, locks of jet, and full 
 mustachoes, and dark sallow complexion, 
 gave him, when thus attired, the air of 
 a magician ; and he so completely scared 
 his household, they as cautiously avoided 
 the laboratory as if an evil spirit actu- 
 ally dwelt there. 
 
 More than once the little Rebecca, 
 who was a stranger to fear, endeavoured 
 softly to creep after him ; but Mistress 
 Watkins quickly caught her up in her 
 arms and carried her to a distant part 
 of the castle, to divert her from her 
 purpose. 
 
 The knight having found the planet 
 under which the child was born, cast 
 her nativity.* The mystical figures pre- 
 sented in the horoscope, denoted ac- 
 cording to the planetary world, an event 
 of so extraordinary and improbable a 
 nature, he fell back in his chair, stag- 
 
 * He perceived by the planets that this little 
 girl was born to a wonderful fortune, and at last 
 to be his wife. — Old Tradition.
 
 14 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 gered with amazement, and immediately 
 questioning, for the first time in his life, 
 his knowledge in a science of which he 
 thought himself the master. 
 
 Again he cast and recast the mystical 
 figures into other forms, but they still 
 in aspect predicted the event which 
 filled him with such astonishment. Dis- 
 concerted and dissatisfied at the singular 
 aspect they wore, in which his own 
 destiny appeared to be closely united 
 with that of Rebecca's, Sir Ambrose was 
 convinced there must be some error as 
 to the date of the child's birth ; for the 
 event predicted, as far as concerned him- 
 self, he was resolved should never be 
 fulfilled. To defeat that event, clearly 
 as the stars predicted, he was determined, 
 even though Rebecca were made the 
 sacrifice. 
 
 Having for several hours deeply pon- 
 dered on the mysterious subject, and 
 certain the time Rebecca was born had 
 been falsely stated, he ordered his horse,
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 15 
 
 and rode with impatient anxiety to Green 
 Meadows Farm, that he might ascertain 
 the year, day, and hour, in which her 
 mother gave her birth. 
 
 Sir Ambrose's wild abstracted appear- 
 ance, stern and hurried manner, when 
 he entered the farmer's hall, terrified the 
 placid dame, who approached with timid 
 steps, and, humbly curtsying, demanded 
 his pleasure. 
 
 " At the peril of your life," he said, 
 vehemently, * answer with truth the 
 question which I am going to ask." 
 
 The good woman turned pale with 
 alarm, diffidently but firmly replied, 
 " She had never told an untruth in her 
 life, nor would she, whatever might be 
 the question His Honour was pleased to 
 put." He then demanded, fixing his 
 eyes upon her, the exact date of her 
 daughter Rebecca's birth. 
 
 Dame Russell immediately brought out 
 of a press the large family bible, and 
 spreading it open on the table before the
 
 16 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 knight, turned to the leaf, and pointing 
 her finger to the last name, written in 
 good round hand by her father, accord- 
 ing to the custom of having the births 
 registered in the sacred volume, said, 
 " There you may see our dear Re- 
 becca's." 
 
 Sir Ambrose read it again and again ; 
 his senses became so bewildered, the 
 letters seemed to swim before his eyes. 
 
 He started from his seat, and putting 
 his hand to his forehead, exclaimed, 
 " Then the stars have rightly predicted ;" 
 at the some moment rushing abruptly 
 out of the house, and mounting his 
 steed, flew along the road with the swift- 
 ness of a madman. 
 
 The recent scene appeared to the 
 placid Dame Russell more like a delusion 
 of the imagination than a reality. She 
 could scarcely believe that Sir Ambrose 
 Templeton had been at their farm. 
 When she mentioned the circumstance 
 to her husband, who, on his return home
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 17 
 
 observed something had ruffled her, he 
 told his wife the noble knight must 
 either be mad or intoxicated ; but 
 that the neighbours talked so oddly 
 about his strange ways, and of his get- 
 ting out at the top of his house in dark 
 nights, and looking at the stars till morn- 
 ing dawn, or shutting himself up for 
 whole days together, almost without 
 food, suffering no person to come near 
 him, he had no doubt, sometime or 
 another, Sir Ambrose would be clapt up 
 in a madhouse. 
 
 " As for our dear child, Rebecca," 
 Farmer Russell continued, " it is quite 
 melancholy, she is in the power of such 
 a crazy person. It makes my heart 
 ache whenever I think of it. I would 
 rather work my flesh to the bone, for the 
 support of my children, than let little 
 Rebecca remain with His Honour. I 
 shall take an opportunity of speaking my 
 mind, even if it gives offence, and he 
 takes the farm from me."
 
 18 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 Dame Russell wept for joy at her 
 husband's declaration. She pined to 
 have her child Rebecca home. What 
 would it add to their happiness, taking 
 her out of her humble station, except 
 to despise her lowly parents ?
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 19 
 
 CHAP. III. 
 
 Sir Ambrose, on reaching Gloomore 
 Castle, retired to his observatory, and, 
 once again, spreading the mystical 
 figures before him, was as much puzzled 
 and confounded as before ; for they pre- 
 dicted to his superstitious mind, and to 
 his conception of the occult sciences, 
 that the future destiny of Rebecca was 
 involved, in a very extraordinary manner, 
 with the most important event in his own 
 life : indeed, so closely were they con- 
 nected, it seemed impossible to separate 
 the one from the other. 
 
 Such, however, is the perversity of 
 human nature, that separated he was 
 resolved they should be. He would set 
 at defiance the whole of that system on 
 which, till now, he had placed the most 
 implicit faith, and he had believed alone, 
 ruled the destiny of man. Sir Ambrose
 
 20 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 was not only a predestinarian, but he 
 was convinced that mankind were the 
 creatures of fate. He put no trust in 
 that all-wise, that all-ruling Providence, 
 which can alone guide and direct the 
 life and actions of his creatures. 
 
 None of Sir Ambrose's household, 
 except that lately fondly cherished child, 
 dared break in upon that privacy, in 
 which now, for days and nights together, 
 he indulged. He wore an abstracted 
 air the most appalling ; he took his soli- 
 tary morsel only at broken intervals, 
 forbidding, on pain of his everlasting 
 displeasure, any of his domestics ventur- 
 ing to disturb him. 
 
 It was now the third day since he had 
 totally excluded himself, when his darling 
 little girl, missing him for so long a time, 
 softly crept up stairs, and standing partly 
 within the door, which gently and timidly 
 she had opened, watched him for some 
 minutes ; when Sir Ambrose suddenly 
 looked up, and, with scowling brow, and
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 21 
 
 eyes that shot fire, met the ardent gaze 
 of the young Rebecca, who had stood 
 immoveable, till, with a sudden spring, 
 she stretched forth her little hands, and 
 darting forward, threw herself on his 
 knee with a look of gladness ; and twin- 
 ing her arms round his neck, pressed 
 her rosy lips on his cheek, and smiled 
 upon him. 
 
 Her seraphic smile thrilled to his very 
 soul. With a ghastly expression he 
 essayed to put her from him ; but she 
 clung the closer, as she lisped out, look- 
 ing piteously in his face, " Do you not 
 love the little Rebecca?" still fondling 
 Sir Ambrose. 
 
 There is something in the innocent 
 expression and smiles of childhood, 
 which, at the moment, cannot be re- 
 sisted, even in the coldest and most 
 hardened bosom. 
 
 Rebecca had so insensibly won upon 
 Sir Ambrose's affections, and gained such
 
 22 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 a surprising ascendancy over him, though 
 he might be said' to hate all mankind, 
 the fancy he had taken to this child was 
 to himself unaccountable, nor could he 
 reconcile it with his misanthropic habits. 
 But the heart, however abstracted from 
 the world, pines for something whereon 
 to rest its affections. Sir Ambrose Tem- 
 pleton was an isolated being. He had 
 taken a disgust to mankind. The object 
 of his choice and affection abandoned 
 him, and gave her hand to another. 
 
 Hence, he drew such an unfavourable 
 opinion of women, in the hour of anguish 
 and disappointment, he made a rash and 
 solemn vow of everlasting celibacy, for- 
 swore society, turned all his thoughts to 
 the science of astrology, and became the 
 abstracted, isolated being described. 
 
 In case of no heir to his estate, his 
 fortune went to an only surviving brother, 
 who resided on his property in Lancaster. 
 
 After Sir Ambrose had drawn Rebec-
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 23 
 
 ca's horoscope, he became the most 
 wretched of men. He had presumptu- 
 ously endeavoured to scan the ordinations 
 of Providence. The view he had taken 
 into that futurity had unfolded an event 
 he was bound to avert, however fatal 
 to his peace, however destructive to the 
 innocent Rebecca, of whom he must 
 dispose. Did he return her to her 
 parents, the event portended still would 
 happen, and only her death could dis- 
 annul it. To remove her from a scene 
 of trouble, was but translating her to a 
 happier world, if such a world existed ; 
 but of that he entertained a doubt. 
 Hence, the sceptic is led to deeds of 
 sin, fearless of that hereafter, so rich in 
 promise and reward to those who trust 
 in God. 
 
 Evading as much as possible Rebecca's 
 caresses, Sir Ambrose led her from his 
 observatory, and consigned her to the 
 care of Mistress Watkins. Meanwhile, he
 
 24 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 vainly endeavoured to collect firmness to 
 execute the fatal purpose he resolved 
 upon, that of committing the poor child 
 to a watery grave. 
 
 While she slept profoundly, in a small 
 bed placed beside his own, he softly took 
 her in his arms, and wrapping his cloak 
 around her, bore her before dawn of day 
 from the castle, to the bank of the river 
 Ouse, which, flowing into a remote creek, 
 united its tributary stream with the Hum- 
 ber. The tide, Sir Ambrose thought, was 
 flowing in ; but he mistook, for it was ra- 
 pidly receding; and, having laid Rebecca 
 on the verge of a sloping bank, convinced 
 that the undulating waves would shortly 
 cradle her for ever in its watery bed, he 
 waited not to see the tide approach, but 
 flying with the swiftness of the assassin, 
 he looked not behind him. 
 
 A merciful Providence overruled his 
 wicked purpose. 
 
 Sir Ambrose first thought of making
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 25 
 
 Valerno, his Italian servant, the confident 
 of his wicked purpose, and consigning 
 poor Rebecca into his hands ; but fearful 
 that he would betray him, he at length 
 resolved to accomplish the deed of horror 
 himself. 
 
 Sir Ambrose informed Mistress Watkins, 
 the child Rebecca having presumed to 
 break into his forbidden privacy, and of 
 late perpetually disturbed him, he was de- 
 termined to part with her ; and in the 
 morning he should take her before him 
 on horseback, to one of his tenants' wives, 
 who would instruct and take care of her, 
 for she quite distracted his mind. 
 
 Mistress Watkins fain would have 
 pleaded for the little Rebecca to remain 
 at the castle, for she had become extreme- 
 ly fond of the child ; but she knew Sir 
 Ambrose to be a resolute man, and that 
 his word was a law ; so she dared not in- 
 terpose. 
 
 Having invented this feasible story, 
 and formed the desperate resolution of 
 
 vol. 1. c
 
 26 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 destroying the innocent little creature, 
 she was placed, with heart full of glee 7 
 winning smiles, and prattling questions, 
 on his steed before him. 
 
 On the borders of the Ouse were scat- 
 tered a few fishermen's huts. Michael 
 Barton was sitting before his door mend- 
 ing his nets, when he saw something 
 floating on the surface of the water ; cu- 
 riosity induced him to go to the river side, 
 and on beholding what it was, instantly 
 plunged into the stream, and catching 
 hold of the drowning Rebecca, brought 
 Jier in his arms to his humble dwelling j 
 exclaiming, as he piteously regarded her, 
 *' Poor child ! methinks you would soon 
 have had a watery grave. I was but just 
 in time to save thee." 
 
 Margery Barton, who saw her husband 
 advancing towards home, bearing some- 
 thing in his arms, ran to meet him ; and 
 lifting up her hands in surprise, inquired 
 eagerly, " whose poor child he had got, 
 in so sad a plight." 
 
 " You see, Margery," he replied,
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. Tl 
 
 <e Providence has sent us one in this poor 
 little creature. I had enough to do to 
 save her ; only just in time ; in another 
 minute she would have been quite 
 drowned. I wonder who owns the child; 
 it is a pretty little creature," hugging 
 her to his good-natured breast ; " and, 
 poor thing, must have fallen into the 
 river, or, mayhap, ran away from its 
 nurse ; for she has such fine clothes on, 
 she cannot belong to a poor body." 
 
 " Take her, Margery," he continued, 
 " undress and put her to bed ; for I see 
 there yet is life in her ; and let her have 
 one of your nice hot possets, which will 
 soon set her to rights, if you will bestir 
 yourself." 
 
 Margery tenderly took the insensible 
 Rebecca from her husband. " God bless 
 her pretty innocent face," she said ; " we 
 will take care of you if you are not 
 owned." 
 
 " I was sure," replied Michael warmly, 
 " you would not mind taking the trouble 
 c %
 
 28 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 of the young thing ; for as we have no 
 children of our own, it will be but an 
 amusement to bring her up, though we 
 can do no great things for her ; but 
 she shall not want food and raiment, 
 God bless the dear child ; and depend 
 on it, Margery, we shall never be the 
 poorer." 
 
 Margery hurried away with Rebecca, 
 who still remained in a state of stupor. 
 She placed her in a warm bed, and having 
 poured some comfortable liquid down 
 her throat, she gave signs of anim- 
 ation, which was observed with joy by 
 the poor fisherman and his wife, who 
 tenderly watched over her. 
 
 When Rebecca awoke from the heavy 
 sleep into which she had fallen, she fixed 
 her eyes with surprise on Margery and 
 Michael, and enquired for her papa. 
 
 They did all in their power to sooth 
 her ; but, like all ignorant people, de- 
 luded her with false promises, at the 
 same time vainly endeavouring to find
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. £9 
 
 out whence she came, and to whom she 
 belonged. 
 
 She told them all she recollected, from 
 which they gathered little or no inform- 
 ation — for she only remembered being 
 placed on horseback before papa, and 
 afterwards was unconscious of what had 
 befallen her. She said, " She was always 
 called Rebecca, and knew no other name. 
 She was also ignorant of that of her papa, 
 as she always called Sir Ambrose, who 
 had so taught her." 
 
 After crying for two or three days, 
 sensible of the loss of her friends, and 
 change of condition, she gradually be- 
 came endeared to Margery and the 
 fisherman, but her greatest favourite was 
 a good-natured house-dog, who suffered 
 Rebecca to play with him, and was very 
 fond of her. Finding papa neither came 
 nor sent for her, Sir Ambrose was soon 
 forgotten — for infantile impressions are 
 like passing shadows, which suddenly 
 disappear. 
 
 c 3
 
 30 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 Sir Ambrose Templeton, meantime, 
 returned, with a feeling of cowardice and 
 horror the most agonizing, starting at 
 even the whispering wind, and pursued 
 by the infant cries of Rebecca, fancy- 
 ing her perpetually flitting before his 
 eyes ; sleep fled his pillow, and the per- 
 turbation of his mind at last brought on 
 a brain-fever, which raged with such 
 violence for some days, his life was 
 despaired of: when he did recover, it 
 was long before his mind regained com- 
 posure ; and, at times, such was the wild- 
 ness of his looks and manner, all his 
 domestics were terrified, when obliged to 
 come into his presence. 
 
 Rebecca's disconsolate parents made 
 several vain efforts to recover their darling 
 child. Farmer Russell was even bold 
 enough to force himself into the knight's 
 presence, and peremptorily demanded 
 his child ; but her name awakened him 
 to madness, and his replies became so 
 furious and incoherent, in despair farmer
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 31 
 
 Russell was obliged to give up the point, 
 convinced that the knight was out of his 
 senses, and knew not what he said. 
 
 Mrs. Watkins, the housekeeper, was 
 ignorant what had become of Rebecca. 
 She told dame Russell all she knew on 
 the mysterious subject : that Sir Ambrose 
 had taken her, she knew not whither, 
 and said it was to place her at a distance 
 w T ith one of his tenants' wives, having of 
 late become so troublesome, she disturbed 
 him. Mistress Watkins so far consoled 
 the worthy couple, as to enlarge on the 
 knight's fondness for Rebecca, and how 
 much he indulged her. 
 
 c 4
 
 32 DAME REBECCA BERRY, 
 
 CHAP. IV. 
 
 1 he ten succeeding years of Rebecca's 
 life were spent in the fisherman's hut. 
 Honest Michael fulfilled his duty towards 
 her, in bestowing on her every homely 
 comfort and advantage, as far as his 
 lowly station admitted, giving her 
 what little learning his scanty means 
 allowed. The quickness of Rebecca's 
 capacity made her acquire more know- 
 ledge than the rest of her companions 
 at the small day-school in the village. In 
 household concerns she was remarkably 
 alert, and proved very useful to her fos- 
 ter-mother, who was in a declining state 
 of health. She was grateful for the kind- 
 ness they showed her, for she had learned 
 the painful truth, that to their bounty 
 and humanity she was indebted for shelter 
 and subsistence \ and, from their fostering
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 33 
 
 care, she thought it impossible she could 
 ever do enough to contribute to their 
 ease and benefit. 
 
 Rebecca was now in her fourteenth 
 year, well grown, lovely, and engaging. 
 Her fair complexion, mild blue eyes, with 
 a profusion of light curling hair, rendered 
 her a most attractive creature. There 
 was a pensive melancholy in her air, 
 which, for so young a person, threw an 
 interest into her appearance, that excited 
 amongst the neighbouring gentry a curi- 
 osity to know who she was ; for her neat 
 round-eared cap, and homely garments, 
 could not conceal an inborn gentility, 
 and timid softness of manner, so prepos- 
 sessing and engaging. There was some- 
 thing extremely picturesque in Rebecca's 
 appearance ; her silken blond ringlets 
 flowing unconfined from beneath the cap, 
 which only partially confined them, with 
 a low -crowned hat and ribbons. Her 
 bare arms, though sun-burnt, were finely 
 formed, and the snow-white sleeve of her 
 c5
 
 34* DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 chemise, stiff stays, and coloured hand- 
 kerchief, modestly tucked within to shade 
 her fair bosom, short striped wolsey 
 petticoat, displaying the prettiest foot 
 and ancle, might have characterised her 
 as some Arcadian shepherdess, rather 
 than a lowly cottage maid. She was an 
 excellent spinner, and got employment 
 from the families around, who were so 
 pleased with her modest and guileless 
 manner, they were in the habit often of 
 sending for her into their halls, to talk to 
 her, and make her presents ; and, for the 
 last four years of her life, she had been 
 able to support herself, and contribute by 
 her industry to the comforts of her foster 
 parents, who were becoming aged and 
 infirm, 
 
 Rebecca's pensive turn of mind in- 
 clined her rather to find amusement in 
 studious pursuits, than the usual pastimes 
 in which children delight, and all her 
 little spare money was laid out in story
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 35 
 
 books and ancient ballads, such as the 
 Babes in the Wood, Chevy Chase, &c. 
 
 When she attained sufficient age to 
 possess reflection, often seating herself on 
 the banks of the river, she dwelt with 
 painful wonder on the extraordinary cir- 
 cumstance of having been rescued from 
 a watery grave, owing to the humanity 
 of the poor fisherman. She had no re- 
 collection of her perilous situation, or 
 what accident had caused it. Vain, too, 
 was all conjecture to whom she belonged. 
 Michael was ignorant of the surname she 
 bore, nor did she remember ever being 
 called any thing save Rebecca. She re- 
 tained, however, a sort of vague idea that 
 her home had not always been near the 
 spot where she now dwelt. Of her pa- 
 rents she had not the slightest recollec- 
 tion j yet her fancy pictured some per- 
 son, who had fondled her with affection, 
 and cherished her with every indulgence, 
 she had called papa ; living in a great 
 house, with a large park (such she con- 
 c6
 
 3d 
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 jectured), in which she was allowed to 
 run at freedom. Of Mrs. Watkins she 
 also had a vague idea ; for she had la- 
 vished on her an abundance of bon bon.% 
 and been very kind to her. But, when 
 lost in the imaginations which bewildered 
 her, she then supposed these fancies were 
 the chimeras of her own brain; for surely, 
 had such a person actually existed as her 
 fancy drew, in the years that had passed, 
 he would have made some enquiry after a 
 young creature, who had disappeared and 
 was lost, nor have left her to the mercy 
 of strangers, supposing she wa& not dead. 
 
 Rebecca had no clue to trace a single 
 circumstance connected with her infancy, 
 except an amulet she wore, containing 
 mystical figures, suspended from a small 
 but costly gold chain round her neck, 
 fastened with a ring of gold, having the 
 letters A, T. and R. R. upon it. 
 
 This amulet had been put on by Sir 
 Ambrose Templeton, soon after her ar- 
 rival at Gloomore castle 5 but what might
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 37 
 
 be the influence of the charm upon her 
 she was unable to conjecture. Rebecca, 
 however, not only carefully preserved it, 
 but continued to wear it, hoping that 
 some day it might lead to a discovery to 
 whom she belonged.
 
 38 DAME REBECCA BERRY, 
 
 CHAP. V. 
 
 Michael Barton was a contented, do 
 mestic man. When the occupations of 
 the day were over he always spent his 
 evenings at home. He never was so 
 happy as when he was snugly seated on 
 the settle by his fireside, beside Margery 
 and Rebecca, who having a sweet tune- 
 ful voice, often pleased him with singing- 
 some lively air, or reading some ancient 
 ballad, as he smoked his pipe, and took 
 his jug of ale, after the occupations of the 
 day were ended. 
 
 One afternoon, however, he was asked 
 to accompany a friend to a small inn in 
 the neighbourhood, where there was to 
 be a meeting of some of the country 
 gentlemen, to one of whom farmer Brown 
 was a tenant ; a witness being required 
 in the business that was to be transacted 
 18
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 39 
 
 between them; Michael Barton, always 
 willing to do an obliging turn, readily 
 consented to accompany his friend. 
 
 He staid much later than he promised 
 his wife, who, growing uneasy as the 
 evening fast was closing in, desired Re- 
 becca to step to the bridge-foot, and 
 enquire for Michael. In all likelihood, 
 added Margery, the master has been 
 pressed to take more ale than he is used 
 to drink; and being always a sober man, 
 I am afraid the liquor has overpowered 
 him. "That's a good wench, run and 
 see what may detain bim." 
 
 Rebecca staid not to put on her hat, 
 but ran near a mile with the speed of a 
 sylph, to the Red Lion, at the foot of the 
 bridge. 
 
 She heard the voice of talking and 
 merriment as she stood at the door. 
 Rebecca was a timid girl, and felt at a 
 loss how to enquire for Michael. The 
 entry was full of men, passing to and 
 fro. At length she saw a young woman
 
 40 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 go along the passage, arid making towards 
 her, humbly requested she would tell 
 Michael Barton, the fisherman, there 
 w T as a person in the entry that wanted to 
 speak to him. 
 
 The damsel informed Rebecca, he was 
 engaged with some of the gentry, and 
 would not like to be disturbed. How- 
 ever, on Rebecca diffidently, but earnestly 
 pressing her to take the message, the 
 young woman did with reluctance. 
 
 After staying some time, while Rebecca 
 stood trembling in the passage, she re- 
 turned and said, " Master Barton desired 
 the person to speak to him at the parlour- 
 door." Rebecca accordingly was shown 
 thither. 
 
 Scarcely had she put her head within 
 the door, where several men were seated 
 round a table, others standing in the 
 room, when blushing scarlet, she suddenly 
 was retreating, when a. gentleman, who 
 was abruptly going to shut the door 
 against her, on catching a momentary
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 41 
 
 glimpse at the beautiful young maiden, 
 starting back, gazed on her with a look 
 of inquisitive wonder, and in a voice of 
 authority ordered her to come in. 
 
 Rebecca, abashed and frightened, 
 turning red and pale alternately, timidly 
 was retreating, while her fair hair, dis- 
 ordered by the wind, fell in a profusion 
 of curls over that face and neck whose 
 beauty it could not veil. 
 
 "What brings you here, little damsel ?" 
 said the gentleman, fixing, with a piercing 
 look, his eagle eyes upon her ; " whom 
 do you want ?" 
 
 " Father,'' she confusedly stammered; 
 " mother is quite uneasy at his staying 
 so late, and sent me to see him home." 
 
 "What is your father called?" 
 
 "Michael Barton, the fisherman, please 
 your honour; cannot I speak with him?" 
 she added, colouring with timidity, and 
 eagerly casting her eyes round in search 
 of him. 
 
 Michael now rose from the table at
 
 42 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 which he was seated with two or three 
 other men, who had a number of papers 
 before them ; while the gentleman who 
 first had spoken to Rebecca continued 
 to gaze on her with an ardency the most 
 distressing ; his large black eyes darted 
 like lightning upon her, with a searching 
 enquiry, as if they would penetrate into 
 her very soul. His air was noble and 
 commanding, but had a stern wildness 
 so fearful to the young Rebecca, she 
 softly crept round to where Michael 
 stood, and, taking hold of his arm, said 
 earnestly, " Pray, dear father, do come 
 home. ,, 
 
 "When she spoke, the stranger again 
 gave a sudden start and exclamation, 
 passed his hand over his forehead, and 
 earnestly looking at her, said, " What is 
 your name, young damsel ?" "Rebecca." 
 
 "Rebecca!" he repeated, with a shrill 
 cry, and starting away from the spot 
 where he stood, rushed out of the room 
 abruptly.
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 43 
 
 There was something about the stran- 
 ger indefinable to Rebecca ; who, not- 
 withstanding his unaccountable beha- 
 viour, and wild ferocity, seemed to 
 associate with some vague recollection 
 and idea connected with her infantine 
 years. But she could not trace in her 
 youthful memory what they were ; and 
 wondering and dismayed at the extraor- 
 dinary appearance and gestures of the 
 stranger gentleman, she stood panic- 
 struck when Sir Ambrose Templeton left 
 the room. 
 
 What is the name of that mad looking 
 person ? enquired Michael, whose eyes 
 followed him till he was gone. " It is Sir 
 Ambrose Templeton," replied farmer 
 Brown, while all the men stood, like Re- 
 becca, dismayed at his sudden depar- 
 ture; when one of them exclaimed, with a 
 sneering laugh, " Sir Ambrose seems to 
 be seized with one of his crazy fits ; did 
 not you observe how his eyes flashed like 
 fire, as he made but one step between the
 
 4i DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 table and the door ?" Michael had never 
 heard of such a person as the knight, till 
 the evening before his friend, farmer 
 Brown, was to transact business with him, 
 and he had taken no further observation 
 of him, except as a stern and portly look- 
 ing gentleman, of whom all his neigh- 
 bours seemed to be afraid; he knew not 
 what to make of his sudden start of fren- 
 zy, but that the innocent Rebecca seemed, 
 in some unaccountable way, to have been 
 the occasion. 
 
 While these remarks were passing, the 
 bar-maid came into the parlour, and going 
 up to Michael Barton told him, " His 
 honour, Sir Ambrose Templeton, desired to 
 speak to him immediately in another room. 
 
 Michael was astounded, and turning 
 pale with the apprehension of encounter- 
 ing a mad man, exclaimed, " What can his 
 honour want with me ? I never saw him 
 before in my born days ; I don't like to 
 put myself in his honour's way, with his 
 daft behaviour."
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 45 
 
 The poor fisherman, while debating 
 whether or not to go, was again summon- 
 ed, and very reluctantly obeyed, whilst 
 Rebecca, clinging to him, would hardly 
 suffer him to depart; " Ofather," she cried 
 with vehemence, " the gentleman looked 
 so terrible, 1 am quite frightened at him, 
 and perhaps he intends us some harm/' 
 
 " I must not refuse his honour/' replied 
 Michael, as he slowly left the parlour, 
 and resigning Rebecca to the care of mas- 
 ter Brown, followed the bar-maid into 
 the best apartment of the little inn, which 
 Sir Ambrose was pacing up and down 
 with hurried steps. 
 
 The fisherman bowed respectfully, and 
 enquired his honour's pleasure. 
 
 " Is the young maiden," said the baro- 
 net, " who is called Rebecca, your daugh- 
 ter?" fixing his scrutinizing eyes upon him. 
 Michael looked confused, and at length 
 stammered out, " Yes, your honour, Re- 
 becca is our daughter." 
 
 Sir Ambrose steadily regarded him
 
 46 DAME REBECCA PERRY. 
 
 while he replied, and then exclaimed, 
 " By adoption you mean, not by birth ; 
 you are not her natural parent." 
 
 " She be natural to Margery and me," 
 he interrupted, warmly ; " we have 
 brought Rebecca up, your honour, I 
 may say, from almost a baby, for, poor 
 innocent, she was too young to tell her 
 own name, only Rebecca, and I could 
 never discover to whom she belonged ; I 
 found her one morning floating on the 
 Ouse river, as I was sitting at my door 
 mending my tackle. We have given her 
 all the learning we could afford, and she 
 has come on with her book surprisingly. 
 Rebecca is a very sweet girl. 
 
 " Then you have no knowledge to 
 whom she belongs?" 
 
 " Never could find out, sir ; it has often 
 and often been a matter of wonder to wife 
 and myself how the poor infant came to 
 fall into the river, and no person belong- 
 ing to her near at hand ; but that was 
 not so wonderful, as that never a w r ord of
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 47 
 
 enquiry was made after her ; so it seems 
 as if Providence placed her in our hands, 
 as we have no children of our own, and 
 God, I am sure, has rewarded our hum- 
 ble endeavours, Rebecca is so great a 
 comfort and blessing to our old age." 
 
 Sir Ambrose did not interrupt the fish- 
 erman with any comment during his de- 
 tail, though the various feelings which 
 agitated him, as he proceeded in his nar- 
 ration, would have been remarked by an 
 observing eye, so perpetually did his 
 varying countenance express the tumult 
 which was passing within. 
 , To find Rebecca alive, in blooming 
 beauty, with the full glow of health and 
 happiness in her face, was an event so 
 surprising, so appalling, he was ready to 
 sink with the momentary feeling of re- 
 morse and shame. 
 
 The dread of discovery was happily 
 removed by the fisherman's simple and 
 undisguised narrative. If still a latent 
 spark of virtue remained in Sir Ambrose's
 
 48 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 bosom, it was now awakened by the ge- 
 nerous humanity of Michael Barton. 
 
 It was, however, important that he 
 should resign Rebecca; perhaps with 
 her increased years the aspect of the 
 planets might be changed ; again they 
 should be examined, and on their ap- 
 pearance should rest her future fate. The 
 prediction concerning himself he was still 
 resolved to avert, even if Rebecca again 
 became the sacrifice. 
 
 He proposed giving Michael Barton a 
 new boat, fishing tackle, and a purse of 
 money, on condition he would part with 
 Rebecca cheerfully ; if not, other means 
 must be effected to obtain her. 
 
 The infantine beauty, which so unac- 
 countably had won upon the knight, he 
 now beheld matured into a loveliness the 
 most captivating. Rebecca's guileless 
 simplicity, her soft persuasive voice, 
 when she spoke so affectionately to 
 Michael, went to his very soul, and Sir 
 Ambrose would have subdued those bad
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 49 
 
 passions which instigated him to evil, 
 had he been guided by the dread of an 
 hereafter, and that proper sense of a Di- 
 vine Providence which disposes of his 
 creatures. But Sir Ambrose unhappily 
 had given himself up to that dark power 
 by whose dominion he acted, and there- 
 fore was preparing to plunge deeper and 
 deeper into actions of the most horrible 
 nature. 
 
 Once more the planets were consulted, 
 the mystical figures curiously arranged ac- 
 cording to Rebecca's present age, which 
 he thought might throw some new light 
 on the prospects of her future fate. 
 Fair and prosperous was her destiny ; 
 riches and honour poured in upon her 
 with the most liberal hand, but still, as 
 before, their destinies were united ; and 
 the aspect of the horoscope portended, as 
 formerly on casting his own, that the 
 most important event of his life could 
 not be separated from that of Rebecca's. 
 Sir Ambrose, in a fit of rage, broke all 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 SO DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 his machinery, and throwing the mysti- 
 cal figures into the fire, vowed that he 
 would bid defiance to such mistaken pre- 
 dictions, and Rebecca should again be 
 sacrificed, rather than the prediction 
 should be accomplished.
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 51 
 
 CHAP. VI. 
 
 Sir Ambrose rode over to Ouse bridge, 
 and was directed by the landlord of the 
 small inn to the hut where dwelt the 
 honest fisherman and his wife. 
 
 It was evening when he reached the 
 door. His attention, for some minutes, 
 was arrested by the sound of a melodious 
 voice, singing, in a soft plaintive strain, 
 the ballad of" Black-eyed Susan." There 
 was a tenderness in the air quite affect- 
 ing, from the simple pathos with which 
 it was sung, that must have subdued a 
 heart less hardened than Sir Ambrose 
 possessed. He would not tap at the door, 
 but abruptly lifting the latch, entered the 
 lowly dwelling. He beheld a true pic- 
 ture of happiness in humble life. A 
 cheerful wood fire blazed on the hearth, 
 shedding a partial light over the kitchen ; 
 in a corner was seated, side by side, on a 
 d 2 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF Oil**
 
 52 DAME REBECCA BERRY, 
 
 high-backed oak-settle, Michael and his 
 wife — he smoking his pipe, and Mar- 
 gery, who was almost blind, knitting a 
 stocking, while the beautiful Rebecca, 
 who appeared to be busily preparing some 
 simple repast for supper, every now and 
 then warbled a verse of the ballad, while 
 the faithful dog, stretched at full length, 
 lay basking in the enjoyment of the fire- 
 Sir Ambrose stood for a few minutes 
 contemplating this happy group, when 
 the stranger's step caught the ear of the 
 watchful Rover, who, springing up, be- 
 gan to bark, and was making towards 
 him, when he was prevented by an in- 
 junction to lie down, upon which he 
 crouched at the'feet of his master. 
 
 Rebecca, ' on observing the stranger, 
 fled to the chimney-corner, and hid herself 
 at the back of the settle. Madge gazed 
 with vacant wonder at the appearance of 
 a person so noble, and Michael, rising 
 from his seat, made a respectful bow, and 
 e nquired humbly his honour's pleasure*
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 53 
 
 * If I mistake not," said Sir Ambrose, 
 ** this is Michael Barton's dwelling, and 
 you are he ? I promised, my good fel- 
 low," continued the knight, " to see you 
 again, that I might do something to ren- 
 der your circumstances more comfortable. 
 I now come to fulfil my promise, by re- 
 lieving your penurious situation." 
 
 M I humbly thank your honour," re- 
 plied Michael ; " but I am content with 
 the little heaven has given us. I don't 
 desire more than I am able to earn, only 
 for the sake of Rebecca, God bless her ; 
 but she is young, and willing -to work; 
 and, when we are dead, I am not afraid 
 she will want; for 1 am certain some 
 person will take care of her, as we have 
 done before them." 
 
 This was a fortunate opening for Sir 
 Ambrose ; he eagerly embraced it. " No 
 doubt, my honest man," he said ; " Re- 
 becca will find a friend. Indeed she has 
 already ; I am willing to take her at once 
 off your hands, and provide for her. She 
 d 3
 
 54t DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 appears to be a clever handy damsel. 
 My housekeeper will be glad of such a 
 young person to assist in her domestic 
 arrangements." 
 
 " Part with Rebecca, your honour !" 
 interrupted Michael, hastily and alarmed. 
 i( Margery and I would as soon part with 
 our life. She is every thing to us — the 
 comfort, the blessing of our old age. 
 Your honour, I humbly hope, will not be 
 offended ; but I am a plain spoken, 
 though a poor man, and mean no disre- 
 spect towards you, Sir ; but as to parting 
 with the child, it would break our hearts. 
 I am sure Rebecca would sooner share 
 our bit of bread than leave us." 
 
 " Ask her the question," cried the 
 knight. 
 
 " Rebecca, darling," said the poor 
 fisherman, " this rich gentleman has ge- 
 nerously offered to take you home to his 
 grand house, and put you in the way, 
 under his housekeeper, of getting your 
 livelihood, if you will go with him."
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 55 
 
 Rebecca turned deadly pale. She 
 trembled, and bursting into a flood of 
 tears, she clung to Madge, exclaiming in 
 an agony, " Pray, pray, good father, do 
 not part with poor Rebecca. I had ra- 
 ther die than leave you and mother." 
 
 Sir Ambrose impatiently interrupted 
 her. " You are ignorant, child, of the 
 good fortune intended for you ; you are 
 a poor simple girl, or surely you would 
 not be a burthen on this worthy couple, 
 who so long have taken care of you, and 
 administered to your wants." 
 
 " I don't think," cried Rebecca mo- 
 destly, as the tears streamed down her 
 cheeks, " respected Sir, father and mother 
 consider me a burthen, humbly asking 
 your pardon : but I am sure, if I can do 
 any thing for their support, who have 
 always been so good and tender to me, I 
 will cheerfully, for it is my duty and 
 pleasure. I shall be quite unhappy to 
 leave them." 
 
 " You shan't ,go, my dear child," ex- 
 d 4
 
 56 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 claimed Margery, weeping and folding 
 Rebecca in her arms. " Surely, Michael 
 Barton, you are not so hard-hearted to 
 put Rebecca away for the sake of filthy 
 lucre ? Have you not enough to satisfy 
 all our wants, and has not God greatly 
 blessed us, in giving us this dear child 
 to comfort our old age, and help us ?" 
 
 " Well, well, honest man," said Sir 
 Ambrose, in a tone of chagrin and dis- 
 appointment, frowning terribly upon him, 
 " if you will not part with the girl, at least 
 give her a holiday, and let her come for 
 a day to Gloomore castle. I will send a 
 trusty person to shew her the way. I am 
 not used to refusals and contradictions." 
 
 " Certainly, if your honour desires it, 
 we will spare her for a day, just not to 
 seem ungrateful for your favours, Sir. I 
 will bring her myself to the castle." 
 
 " Be it so then," he answered sternly. 
 " Thursday next, that is four days hence, 
 I shall depend on your bringing the pretty 
 maiden to the castle."
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 5J 
 
 Michael Barton had acceded, it was 
 true, to Sir Ambrose's request ; but it 
 was only because he was afraid to refuse, 
 there was something so commanding and 
 peremptory about the knight, he was 
 awe-struck with the stern dignity of his 
 manner. 
 
 It was a sore struggle to part with Re- 
 becca, even for a single day ; more parti- 
 cularly when he saw her so full of grief, 
 for she did nothing but weep, and, by the 
 most engaging caresses and persuasion, 
 endeavoured to prevail on Michael not to 
 take her to the castle ; for she seemed to 
 have a fearful presentiment, if she was 
 once there, that she should never more 
 return to her humble happy home. Mi- 
 chael, however, had given his word, and 
 was not to be dissuaded from his promise. 
 
 d «>
 
 58 DAME REBECCA BERRY* 
 
 CHAP. VIL 
 
 Sir Ambrose had given Michael Barton 
 a new fishing-boat and tackle. Eager to 
 embark in it, and try his luck, he set 
 sail in high spirits. He tenderly saluted 
 his wife and Rebecca, desiring them to 
 keep up a good heart, assuring the latter 
 that he would never part with her for 
 more than a day or so, as long as he lived* 
 
 The morning was fair and promising, 
 but the wind was high ; and, ere Michael 
 had been gone many hours, a sudden 
 squall arose, and the tempest raged with 
 violence, 
 
 Margery became quite uneasy. Re- 
 becca had enough to do to quiet her 
 fears, and subdue her own. The wind 
 was against him, and the harbour danger- 
 ous for landing. Michael was an expe- 
 rienced seaman, and Margery trusted he 
 would not be too venturesome. The
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 59 
 
 day passed miserably: night came on, 
 and, with every blast, their fears increased 
 to agony. In the morning the wind 
 subsided, but still no tidings of poor 
 Michael, though his boat had been seen 
 tossing offshore. 
 
 Margery, feeble and old, could not 
 creep even as far as the beach, when the 
 sad spectacle met her eye, of the dead 
 body of poor Michael, borne on a plank 
 by some of the neighbouring fishermen 
 towards his hut. Rebecca first glanced 
 on the melancholy scene, and having 
 uttered a piercing cry, sunk insensible on 
 the ground. Long she remained in that 
 state ; though immediately assisted by 
 one of the crowd assembled, and was 
 carried after the body of Michael to the. 
 house of mourning. 
 
 Madge had crawled to the door of her 
 hut, and stood leaning on her stick, with 
 wistful eyes, when the body of her 
 husband, and the lifeless Rebecca, was 
 lifted within by the sorrowful group of 
 d 6
 
 60 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 neighbours who compassionately had 
 assisted in bringing his remains home. 
 
 Old, feeble, paralysed, the sudden 
 shock was too much for the weak, ex- 
 hausted frame of poor Margery. She 
 sunk back on her chair, and, before the 
 morning's dawn, her lifeless remains 
 were placed by the side of those of her 
 long faithful and affectionate husband ; 
 and she was spared the anguish which 
 overwhelmed the now forlorn Rebecca. 
 
 Sir Ambrose Templeton believed he 
 had so far accomplished his purpose, by 
 getting Rebecca once more in his power, 
 as to defeat the fate predicted. It was 
 easy to delude the simple fisherman ; 
 and he thought a liberal bribe would 
 induce a person he considered in his 
 power, to enter into his plan of removing 
 Rebecca to a distant country, where she 
 would never be seen nor heard of more. 
 
 Anxiouslv did Sir Ambrose wait for 
 the arrival of Michael with the damsel. 
 The day, the hour passed away that had
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. Gl 
 
 been appointed, and yet she came not. 
 In vain the baronet had paced the avenue 
 leading to the castle, till weary, and 
 losing all patience, he became furious 
 with disappointment, and rode off' to the 
 fisherman's hut, resolved not to depart 
 without Rebecca. 
 
 When Sir Ambrose reached the door, 
 he paused a few seconds, for he saw no 
 ray of light reflected from the lattice- 
 window, nor heard a voice within : all 
 was still and mute as the dead within. 
 He softly raised the latch. All was dark- 
 ness and desolation. No cheerful fire 
 blazed on the hearth. The settle, where, a 
 few days ago, sate so happily the humble 
 couple, now was vacant. No watchful 
 dog barked at his entrance — no sweet, 
 tuneful voice met his ear — all was hushed 
 and quiet. He listened, dismayed and 
 staggered, when he heard the sound of a 
 low sobbing, as if from grief, which issued 
 from the only chamber in the dwelling. 
 
 The door stood a-jar : Sir Ambrose
 
 6Q DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 looked within. He beheld, stretched on 
 the lowly bed, the lifeless forms of honest 
 Michael and his wife. On her knees, at 
 the bed-side, rested Rebecca, with folded 
 and uplifted hands. Her lovely dishevelled 
 tresses partially shaded her pale face, and 
 with eyes elevated to heaven, but swollen 
 with weeping. At the foot of the bed 
 lay the faithful dog, in sorrowful dumb- 
 ness. Over the bodies, Rebecca had 
 strewn some sprigs of rosemary, which, 
 with other flowers, perfumed the little 
 chamber. 
 
 The appearance of death is ever awful. 
 But to a troubled conscience, it wears an 
 aspect the most appalling. Sir Ambrose 
 was so taken by surprise at the mournful 
 scene he now beheld, that, wholly un- 
 prepared for such a one, he rushed out of 
 the dwelling, unable to speak, returning 
 with rapidity to Gloomore castle. 
 
 Rebecca, absorbed in griefi was un- 
 conscious of what had passed ; and was 
 so lost to even a sense of her own
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 63 
 
 calamitous situation, she had not be- 
 stowed a thought on what was to become 
 of her in future. She felt that she was 
 for ever deprived of her only friends and 
 protectors, and she mourned for them as 
 if she had really been their daughter. 
 
 Persons in an humble station of life, 
 are more friendly to each other in the 
 season of affliction, than those of higher 
 condition. Prosperity renders the heart 
 callous towards our fellow-creatures ; 
 whilst adversity, when attended by po- 
 verty, receives that sympathy which is 
 active, in friendly exertions, from some 
 benevolent neighbour in equally humble 
 life, who flies not from the house of 
 mourning, but seeks to administer com- 
 fort in the time of need. 
 
 Several of the neighbours visited Re- 
 becca in her affliction ; for Michael 
 Barton was well respected and esteemed 
 in his humble calling. He had been an 
 honest, industrious man. He owed no per- 
 son any thing. He was frugal and saving,
 
 64 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 without being penurious. Rebecca knew 
 he was possessed of a little money, at 
 least to bury him and his wife decently. 
 One of the neighbours kindly offered to 
 undertake the mournful office for her, 
 which she gratefully accepted. 
 
 Preparations were making for the fu- 
 neral, when a stranger entered the dwel- 
 ling ; addressing a plain, respectable- 
 looking, elderly woman, who was bearing 
 Rebecca company, he said he came from 
 Sir Ambrose Templeton, of Gloomore 
 castle, with an order, not only to defray 
 every necessary expence for the funeral 
 of the poor fisherman and his wife, but 
 he was desired also to bring their daughter 
 back to the castle. The woman to whom 
 the stranger addressed himself, said she 
 would step out and call her husband, for 
 she was ignorant of all these matters, 
 and he must consult the master. 
 
 John Martin was master of a pilot-boat, 
 a good-hearted, respectable person, and 
 had, with his wife, taken a very humane 
 18
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 05 
 
 part towards the now friendless Rebecca. 
 He was quite pleased at the information 
 communicated by the stranger respecting 
 Rebecca, who had requested to see 
 the maiden. 
 
 When she was told by Martin of her 
 good fortune, he was surprised and dis- 
 mayed, when, instead of hearing the 
 intelligence with delight, she cried aloud, 
 earnestly supplicating that she might be 
 suffered to stay by the remains of her 
 parents, and attend them to the grave. 
 
 "It is very strange," exclaimed Re- 
 becca, piteously, " what makes this Sir 
 Ambrose Templeton so anxious to pro- 
 vide for me, and his desire to take me 
 away from my poor, dear departed father 
 and mother. I am sure it was an evil 
 hour that first brought him here to inter- 
 rupt our happiness, and give the boat to 
 poor Michael Barton, who might have 
 been alive now, if he had not been so 
 venturesome." Martin tried to coax and 
 sooth Rebecca.
 
 66 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 " Somehow, Master Martin," she con- 
 tinued, "I am quite afraid of this Sir 
 Ambrose Templeton. He has such a 
 frowning, horrid look, he sets me all in 
 a tremble. I doubt he intends no good 
 towards me ; and his eyes are so piercing, 
 when he speaks, as if they flashed Are. 
 His Honour may mean kindly; but I wish 
 we had never seen him." 
 
 " You will affront Sir Ambrose," re- 
 plied Master Martin, " if you do not go 
 with the gentleman he has sent for 
 you." 
 
 " I should be sorry to offend his 
 Honour," she answered timidly ; " but till 
 father and mother are buried, I will never 
 leave the house. It is my duty, Master 
 Martin, to follow them to the grave — a 
 poor respect I owe their memory, for their 
 great, great tenderness to me. Oh ! Mas- 
 ter Martin, they loved me as if I had been 
 born their child. Blessed and respected 
 be their memory." 
 
 Rebecca, quite overcome with the
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 67 
 
 recollected kindness of her humble bene- 
 factors, burst into a flood of tears. 
 
 All persuasion was unavailing to bear 
 her from the spot. At length, however, 
 somewhat subdued by the generosity of 
 the stranger, in defraying what was re- 
 quired for the funeral expences and 
 decent mourning, she yielded a reluctant 
 consent to go to Gloomore castle for a 
 day the next time he came ; remem- 
 bering her foster. father had given a pro- 
 mise to that effect, which she now held 
 as sacred. 
 
 Rebecca, as chief mourner, of which 
 her tears and lamentations bore true tes- 
 timony, followed to the grave the poor 
 fisherman and his wife, attended by all 
 the inhabitants of the hamlet in which 
 they had dwelt, esteemed as they were 
 regretted in their humble calling.
 
 68 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 CHAP. VIII. 
 
 V alerno, Sir Ambrose's Italian valet, 
 who had undertaken to finally dispose of 
 Rebecca, by placing her in a convent 
 for life, (for the baronet's heart misgave 
 him at a second attempt to destroy the 
 innocent Rebecca,) was empowered to 
 convey her as secretly as possible out 
 of the kingdom; and it was settled, he 
 should proceed with her to Liverpool, 
 where they were to embark for Italy, 
 and conduct her to the convent Valerno 
 named, situated in the midst of the 
 Appenines. 
 
 Valerno was not at heart a villain, but 
 mean and avaricious ; inordinate love of 
 money had induced him to consent to 
 dispose of Rebecca in the way stated. 
 The large bribe offered by the baronet, 
 he had not resolution to withstand ; and 
 Sir Ambrose believing she now would
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 69 
 
 inevitably be placed beyond the reach 
 or possibility of the fate predicted, con- 
 sented to a plan which not merely eased 
 his conscience, but set his mind at rest. 
 Nor could he altogether forget her inno- 
 cent infantine prattle, her engaging 
 ways, which so often had beguiled him 
 of many miserable, solitary hours. 
 
 Rebecca, though unconscious that she 
 was departing for more than a single day, 
 notwithstanding took a sorrowful fare- 
 well of that humble home, now so deso- 
 late, where her childhood had so happily 
 been spent. She felt herself a solitary 
 being on the face of the earth, none to 
 love and cherish her, nor possessed of 
 one person that she had any natural 
 claims upon, either for affection or sup- 
 port. She wept bitterly when she thought 
 of her desolateness, but yet she felt in- 
 ward support, knowing the orphan and 
 the friendless are ever the peculiar care 
 of Providence. 
 
 She fain would have taken Michael's
 
 70 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 faithful dog along with her, for his ca- 
 resses and whines were quite distressing ; 
 but Master Martin and his wife promised 
 to take good care of Rover, and to give 
 her also shelter on her return from Gloo- 
 more castle, till she could find some de- 
 sirable situation for her support. 
 
 When Rebecca more closely observed 
 Valerno, who came to conduct her to Sir 
 Ambrose Templeton's, she was struck 
 with the bad expression of his counte- 
 ance, and involuntarily shrunk from the 
 peculiar cast of his small grey subtle eyes, 
 as they looked unmoved upon her. His 
 complexion was wan and sallow; his figure 
 tall and lank ; and though his voice was 
 low and gentle, his language was almost 
 unintelligible, from the broken English 
 which he spoke, which was so interlarded 
 with compliment and courtesy, that Re- 
 becca, used only to plain English blunt- 
 ness, was quite distressed and frightened 
 at a style of address so uncommon, and
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. Jl 
 
 took both alarm and disgust at his high 
 flown flattery. 
 
 Rebecca, as they proceeded on their 
 way, chid herself severely for the dislike 
 and prejudice she had formed against a 
 person to whom she was a perfect stranger, 
 yet she could not conquer that prejudice, 
 nor the fear and suspicion she began to 
 entertain of some evil design against her, 
 as the day advanced, and she understood 
 they had still a farther way ere they came 
 to the end of their journey. 
 
 Yet why, she mentally exclaimed, vain- 
 ly striving against her weakness, should 
 I be afraid of this man ? I have done no 
 wrong to any human being ; I have al- 
 ways endeavoured to fulfil my duty to 
 my departed benefactors. Am I not 
 questioning the protection of a superior 
 power by my idle fears ? 
 
 Having thus argued, she tried to con- 
 ciliate herself w^ith Valerno, but she could 
 not do it. The very courtesy of his man- 
 ners created suspicion and alarm, and she
 
 72 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 would rather he had been morose, for she 
 did not know what construction to put 
 on the extreme complacency of his man- 
 ners. 
 
 They stopt for an hour at a small lone- 
 ly inn, about the middle of the day, to 
 rest their horses, and take refreshment. 
 
 It was then that Rebecca first ventured 
 to enquire how much farther they had 
 to travel, for she had intended to return 
 home the next day ? 
 
 " We have yet a long journey to go," 
 returned Valerno with indifference, " but 
 don't be afraid, dear Missy, I will, on my 
 honour, take very much care of you ; 
 you are quite safe under my protection." 
 " Sir Ambrose Templeton lives a great 
 
 way from . I wish I had not given my 
 
 consent to leave home, for I cannot per- 
 ceive what good is to result to me from 
 my visit." 
 
 " My master is much your friend, and 
 he is a noble, generous gentleman." He 
 was proceeding with a number of com-
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. ^3 
 
 pliraents, which Rebecca put a stop to, 
 by such a dignified and resolute air, that 
 Valerno was daunted, and silently hung 
 down his head. 
 
 Rebecca now determined to remain 
 wholly silent, and endeavour to divert 
 her painful suspicions by gazing on the 
 passing objects. 
 
 She was just at that age to enjoy the 
 novelty of the new scenes presented to 
 her eye, having never gone two miles 
 beyond the city of York, which was not 
 very distant from the hamlet in which 
 she lived. She tasted a momentary de- 
 light in surveying the rich pastoral land- 
 scapes, diversified by rich woodlands 
 skirting the green meadows, filled with 
 sheep and cattle, fat and sleek, bespeak- 
 ing the fertility and thriving state of the 
 country. The well built substantial farms, 
 the peace, the plenty that seemed to 
 spread over the land ; she sighed heavily 
 at the cheerful appearance of the objects 
 around her, compared with her own de- 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 74 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 solate condition ; and the more she con- 
 templated Valerno's dark visage, the 
 more she became convinced some evil 
 was designed her. 
 
 More than once she thought of making 
 her escape, and throwing herself on the 
 mercy of some of the cottagers, whose 
 clean comfortable dwellings, with the wo- 
 men seated in the sunshine, spinning at 
 the door, looked so inviting. But to 
 elude Valerno's ever-watchful eye was 
 next to impossible, for, at the end of their 
 first day's journey he occupied the ad- 
 joining chamber, and secured the door 
 of hers ; therefore, to try to get away, 
 either on the road or at the places where 
 they rested, she feared would not only 
 prove useless, but render him furious to- 
 wards her. 
 
 After travelling two days and nights, 
 Rebecca, whose fears daily increased, at 
 length ventured to ask how much farther 
 they had to go, for it seemed a very long 
 way to Sir Ambrose Templeton's.
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. J5 
 
 Valerno carelessly replied, " they 
 should soon arrive at the place of their 
 destination, for there was the sea before 
 them." 
 
 Rebecca now gave herself up as lost, 
 and, in a transport of agony and despair, 
 exclaimed, " Whither do you mean to 
 take me ? Sir Ambrose Templeton's man- 
 sion is not far from Ouse-bridge ; we ap- 
 pear to be approaching some great city." 
 
 " Sir Ambrose," returned Valerno, 
 " has other mansions. You are ignorant 
 that he is a rich and powerful gentle- 
 
 man." 
 
 " I am, indeed," cried Rebecca, in a 
 desponding tone, and weeping bitterly. 
 " I wish, Mr. Valerno," she continued, 
 " you may not be deceiving a poor igno- 
 rant girl ; and whatever is your wicked 
 design, I pray God to protect an un- 
 happy friendless creature." 
 
 Valerno turned pale as ashes, while 
 he cast his eyes with an expression 
 on Rebecca that made her tremble. 
 e °2
 
 ?6 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 " I have not deceived you, Missy," he 
 exclaimed in a faltering accent j " I told 
 you we had a far way to travel. Make 
 your mind easy, no harm, no harm, on my 
 honour, is intended." Rebecca saw she 
 had no alternative, therefore meekly re- 
 signed herself to that Providence by 
 which she had hitherto been protected.
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 77 
 
 CHAP. IX. 
 
 1 hey now reached a vast populous sea- 
 port; the town extending, with its streets, 
 churches, public edifices, along the mouth 
 of the river Mersey, with its mass of 
 shipping riding in its noble harbour, and 
 the distant mountains of Flintshire blend- 
 ing their blue tops in the horizon. 
 
 Rebecca beheld the extent, the bustle, 
 the apparent commerce, in silent wonder. 
 She felt confused, alarmed, and deso- 
 late, for, amidst all the busy faces that 
 met her eye, she knew no one, nor was 
 there a single individual in this amazing 
 throng who took the smallest interest in 
 her existence. She sighed at her feeling 
 of estrangement, as Valerno hurried her 
 along, keeping close beside to the quay, 
 where he was to make enquiries for a ves- 
 e3
 
 78 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 sel, in which they could immediately em- 
 bark for Italy. 
 
 Valerno had left their horses at a pub- 
 lic-house, and was proceeding with quick 
 steps along the quay, Rebecca holding 
 his arm, when a gentleman addressed 
 him by name. Valerno turned round 
 with surprise, changed colour, and was 
 in great consternation. 
 
 " Whither, Valerno," said the person 
 of noble and dignified mien, " are you 
 going so rapidly ? What may bring you 
 to Liverpool, and who is this pretty 
 young maiden under your care ? I hope 
 you have not quitted my brother's ser- 
 vice ?" 
 
 Valerno again turned pale, and stam- 
 mering violently from agitation, he at 
 length said, " I will speak to you, Sir, 
 if you will honour me with a few mi- 
 nutes ; but not in the street." 
 
 " W r ell, do so. Follow me to this ta- 
 vern at a short distance, and there I will 
 listen to what you have to say. I am
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 79 
 
 anxious to hear of my brother ; for I un- 
 derstand his eccentricities have increased 
 to such a height, I should not wonder 
 if his brain became affected, absorbed as 
 he is in such wild chimerical studies, pry- 
 ing and scanning into futurity." 
 
 Rebecca, struck with the resemblance 
 the gentleman who addressed Valerno 
 bore to Sir Ambrose Templeton, listened 
 to him with breathless curiosity and in- 
 terest. He possessed a more mild and 
 benignant countenance ; but he had the 
 same noble air and expression, and a 
 voice of such conciliating sweetness, she 
 felt that she could have listened to him 
 for ever, and fancied that he seemed 
 sent by Providence as a guardian angel 
 to shield and rescue her from harm, as 
 he said, looking earnestly and compla- 
 cently upon her, " Is Senior Valerno, 
 my dear, your father?" She was going 
 to reply, but Valerno abruptly inter- 
 rupted. 
 
 " She is under my protection, Sir ;" 
 e 4
 
 80 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 and lowering his voice to a whisper added, 
 " I will explain when we reach the hotel." 
 
 When they entered the tavern, and 
 were shown into a room that looked upon 
 the quay, Valerno made Rebecca amuse 
 herself at the window, and the gentle- 
 man, seating himself, entered into dis- 
 course with Valerno, in an under tone 
 of voice, which Rebecca neither heard 
 nor attended to. 
 
 Valerno, during his journey with Re- 
 becca, had repented more than once 
 of the office he had undertaken ; so en- 
 tirely had the innocence and sweetness 
 of Rebecca gained upon him, his con- 
 science severely smote him for the trea- 
 cherous part he was acting towards a 
 simple young creature, that not a mo- 
 ment after he accidentally encountered 
 Mr. Frederic Templeton, on his ques- 
 tioning him respecting Rebecca, he re- 
 solved to open the whole of the affair to 
 Mr. Templeton. 
 
 The worthy gentleman listened to him
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 81 
 
 with surprise and horror. He contem- 
 plated the beautiful countenance of the 
 hapless young maiden, with an interest 
 that awakened so much compassion for 
 her forlorn state, that, with the natural 
 benevolence which distinguished every 
 action of his life, he told Valerno, that if 
 he would leave Rebecca under his care, 
 henceforth she should not want a friend ; 
 for he would adopt and protect her. 
 " To reward your honesty and candour," 
 continued Templeton, " I will settle 
 on you an annuity for life, provided, 
 instead of your going back to my brother, 
 you return to your native country, an$ 
 follow some useful occupation." 
 
 A load was taken off Valerno' s con- 
 science. He eagerly accepted the 
 proposal so generously made by Mr. 
 Templeton, and solemnly swore that he 
 would settle in Italy for the remainder 
 of his life. 
 
 It was at once arranged, that Rebecca 
 should return with him to Fairlawn hall, 
 e 5
 
 82 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 which was situated twelve miles from 
 Liverpool, on the road to Lancaster. 
 The timid sweetness of Rebecca, the 
 loveliness of her person, the pensive 
 tenderness of her countenance, with her 
 seeming wish to conciliate herself in Mr. 
 Templeton's favour, made such an im- 
 pression on him, he thought it a happy 
 circumstance having so accidentally met 
 Valerno ; and he spared no effort to 
 impress on the mind of the youthful 
 Rebecca in his favour, by speaking with 
 kindness to her. At the same time, his 
 manners were grave and dignified. 
 
 " Mr. Valerno tells me, my dear," 
 said Mr. Templeton, " you are called 
 Rebecca Barton, and that Sir Ambrose 
 Templeton desired him to place you 
 under the protection of those who were 
 in future to have the guardianship 
 of you. Do you think," he continued, 
 taking her hand, and earnestly regarding 
 her, "you should like to consider me 
 henceforth your protector and friend, 
 20
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. S3 
 
 and to make my house your future 
 asylum ?" 
 
 "Oh, sir," cried Rebecca, colouring 
 with pleasure and surprise, " I should be 
 too happy if you are in earnest, that such 
 is to be my future lot. You look, respect- 
 ed sir, so good, and speak so kindly, just 
 as poor father used, I am sure I would 
 endeavour to do all you wish and bid me." 
 " If you speak truth, Rebecca," he 
 replied, "you shall go with me to Fair- 
 lawn hall. If, by your good conduct, 
 you gain my esteem, there is no reason- 
 able indulgence in which you shall not 
 be gratified — no advantage in your 
 education you shall not derive from 
 proper instruction ; but all these things 
 must rest with yourself, as much depends 
 on your future behaviour. Mr. Valerno 
 shall depart, having no further occasion 
 for his services ; and I will conduct you, 
 after transacting some business in Liver- 
 pool, to my house." 
 
 That she was so easily to be rid of a 
 e 6
 
 84 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 person so disagreeable to her as Valerno, 
 was an event so joyful, she scarcely 
 could believe it possible. Rebecca was 
 not afraid of him, but she secretly 
 dreaded that he was going to destroy 
 her ; and at times her mind had been 
 impressed with the idea, not only from 
 his mysterious conduct, but the extraor- 
 dinary agitation and dismay pictured in 
 his countenance, when she questioned 
 him respecting the place of her future 
 destination. Even now, when every 
 thing wore so pleasing an aspect, she 
 could not help thinking the present 
 happy arrangement was sudden and acci- 
 dental. When she pondered on the 
 circumstance, it led to the belief that Sir 
 Ambrose Templeton was brother to the 
 benevolent stranger by whom she was 
 adopted - y for a sort of vague recollection 
 now carried her back to that infantine 
 period when some ideal figure her imagin- 
 ation pictured bore a resemblance to Sir
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 85 
 
 Ambrose Templeton, which the stranger's 
 similitude now recalled. 
 
 Mr. Templeton had some more private 
 conversation with Valerno, who took a 
 respectful leave of him and Rebecca, 
 and they left him at the tavern; he 
 proceeding in his post-chariot, along with 
 his new and interesting charge, to Fair- 
 lawn-hall. 

 
 86 DAME REBECCA BERRY* 
 
 CHAP. X. 
 
 FAiRLAWN-hall was an old-fashioned sub- 
 stantial mansion, built of grey stone, with 
 innumerable small, sashed windows. The 
 edifice stood beneath the shelter of the 
 surrounding hills, which, stretching as far 
 as Westmoreland, finally lost themselves 
 in the haze of distance. The approach 
 was through an avenue of venerable 
 elms, excluding, with their leafy canopy, 
 both light and sunshine. The avenue 
 was terminated by large iron gates, 
 bearing the family crest at each 
 angle, opening upon the velvet lawn, 
 upon which the feathery tribe of pea- 
 cocks, guinea-fowls, and pheasants, were 
 suffered to wander at large. The centre 
 of the lawn contained a marble basin, 
 whence issued a fountain, always playing, 
 surrounded by heavy stone figures, meant 
 to personify the Naiads. Broad terraces
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 87 
 
 terminated the green ; beyond were the 
 old-fashioned dove-cote, a rookery, par- 
 terres of flowers, formal gardens, clipped 
 hedges, and fish-ponds. Terrace above 
 terrace led to the portico, which opened 
 into a spacious hall. The walls were 
 hung with trophies of the chace, for Mr. 
 Templeton was a lover of field-sports. 
 Each end was terminated with large ma- 
 hogany doors, richly carved and gilt; 
 the noble, broad staircase, like polished 
 ebony, led into a gallery equally polished, 
 not ornamented, as usually is the case, with 
 a long line of formal figures drest in the 
 various fashions of their day, but adorned 
 with an amusing variety of landscapes, 
 grouped with horses, dogs, stags, herds of 
 deer ; representing, sometimes, an open 
 country, or partial woodlands, frequently 
 diversified with the chace. The sitting- 
 rooms were plainly furnished ; they con- 
 tained no useless or expensive ornaments; 
 and seemed intended alone for the com- 
 fort and convenience of the family.
 
 88 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 Mr. Templeton's housekeeper was a 
 decayed gentlewoman, much respected 
 in her vocation. 
 
 Mr. Templeton was a domestic man. 
 He had been used, till within the last 
 two years, to the enjoyment of a family 
 circle. He now felt desolate and dis- 
 pirited, for he had tasted the enjoyment 
 of conjugal felicity. All was now a 
 blank in his heart, which he had searched 
 for, in vain, to fill up ; for he had lost in 
 his amiable wife, the sum and bliss of all 
 his happiness. 
 
 It was under this feeling of desolate 
 loneliness that the lovely Rebecca, just 
 entered her fourteenth year, seemed to 
 promise a new object to excite interest : 
 and her destitution afforded the oppor- 
 tunity of exerting his benevolence, which 
 was never withheld when properly called 
 forth, and now on an occasion so laud- 
 able. 
 
 The fatherly kindness Mr. Templeton 
 showed Rebecca gave an elasticity to
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 89 
 
 her spirits, a contented cheerfulness to 
 her temper, such as she had never before 
 experienced. She formerly had only 
 known the most homely comforts, with- 
 out the advantages of education to refine 
 her taste, or expand her mind. It now 
 improved daily, and she acquired an ac- 
 quaintance with every useful branch of 
 knowledge, which her guardian beheld 
 with delight, though he knew little of the 
 modes of female education. 
 
 A few days after Rebecca's adoption, 
 Mr. Templeton took her to his sister-in- 
 law's at Liverpool, when he acquainted 
 Mrs. Chesterville with all the circum- 
 stances relating to the beautiful young 
 creature whom he introduced, and what 
 were his intentions respecting her. Re- 
 becca's extreme loveliness, united with 
 her gentle timid manners, soon gained 
 her a warm friend in Mrs. Chesterville. 
 She invited her, in the most graceful 
 manner, to spend as much time as was 
 agreeable for Mr. Templeton to spare
 
 90 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 her, along with her daughters, two very 
 engaging girls, of nearly her own age. 
 
 Mr. Templeton was gratified by Mrs. 
 Chesterville's attention, sensible of the 
 advantage she would derive from remain- 
 ing along with her at Liverpool for a few 
 days. It would not only divert her, for 
 Rebecca still mourned the loss of her 
 humble benefactors, but afford leisure 
 for her proper equipment, and Mr. 
 Templeton requested his sister would 
 spare no expence in doing it handsomely, 
 but at the same time in the plainest 
 style. His late wife was distinguished 
 for the simple elegance of her dress, and 
 he determined Rebecca should imitate 
 her as much as possible. He requested 
 Mrs. Chesterville to allow her to share 
 in the studies of her daughters, and have 
 the advantage of their masters during the 
 vacation ; for they went to an excellent 
 boarding-school, where Mr. Templeton 
 intended to place Rebecca. 
 
 In the society of the two young ladies
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 91 
 
 Rebecca became quite a new creature. 
 She knew neither care nor anxiety, and 
 thought the world full of happiness. In- 
 deed, she had an alluring picture of it in 
 the excellent family in which she had be- 
 come an inmate. She rose only to con- 
 tentment, and was so much caressed by 
 Mr. and Mrs. Chesterville, her heart 
 overflowed with gratitude and affection 
 towards her new and indulgent friends. 
 
 Mr. Templeton came over frequently 
 to Liverpool to visit his ward, fancying 
 that each time that he saw her he dis- 
 covered some new beauty and improve- 
 ment in her person and manners. He 
 was lavish in acts of generosity and kind- 
 ness, and thought nothing too good for 
 the lovely Rebecca, who increased in his 
 esteem by the innocence and sweetness 
 of her demeanour. The accomplishment 
 in which he wished her to excel was 
 music. There was an uncommon rich- 
 ness in her tuneful voice ; he was fond of 
 of music, and encouraged every means
 
 92 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 for her instruction in that science, for 
 which she had discovered a fine natural 
 taste. 
 
 When the period arrived that she was 
 to go to boarding-school, Mr. Templeton 
 could scarcely be prevailed on to part 
 with this interesting girl ; but when he 
 considered, that Rebecca was just at an 
 age when the mind is so capable of tak- 
 ing in instruction with facility, he con- 
 sented that the next two years of her life 
 should be devoted to those accomplish- 
 ments alone to be acquired by application 
 under the tuition of able instructors. 
 
 Fond of her young companions, Juliet 
 and Charlotte Chesterville, she was too 
 happy in not being separated from them 
 to feel more than a temporary regret in 
 parting from her kind and affectionate 
 guardian. 
 
 When Rebecca entered her eighteenth 
 year, Mr. Templeton took her home. He 
 introduced her to the world as the daugh-
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 93 
 
 ter of a deceased friend. She was taught 
 to consider him as her guardian, which 
 character he maintained with tenderness 
 and affection. 
 
 Rebecca's heart glowed with gratitude 
 and respect in return for all his liberal 
 acts of kindness.
 
 94 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 CHAP. XL 
 
 feiR Ambrose Templeton, in the mean 
 time, was lost in wonder and fruitless 
 conjecture respecting the fate of Valerno 
 and Rebecca. Certain, if he lived, he 
 would have come back for the reward 
 promised for his services ; as years passed 
 away, and still no tidings reached him, 
 at length he concluded they were both 
 lost at sea, and now believed he had 
 finally defeated the extraordinary pre- 
 diction. 
 
 More gloomy and abstracted than ever, 
 he returned to his former habits, and 
 again attempted to pry into that futurity 
 which rendered him so discontented and 
 miserable. 
 
 How differently were the days of his 
 brother rilled up ! Rebecca had opened 
 a new source of happiness and interest.
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 95 
 
 She cheered, she caressed, she soothed 
 his former sorrowful heart. There was 
 no indulgence which he denied her, 
 none even withheld that were at variance 
 with his own taste. Mr. Templeton was 
 not a man of letters, nor had he a fond- 
 ness for books ; consequently his library 
 was but scanty. Yet, when Rebecca ex- 
 pressed and discovered a taste for some 
 of the most eminent authors of her day, 
 Mr. Templeton good-naturedly indulged 
 what he called her " odd fancy " by fit- 
 ting up a small room for her exclusive 
 use, with a book-case, containing the 
 works of the most approved writers, hav- 
 ing submitted the selection to a learned 
 divine in the neighbourhood. 
 
 " I will not," said Mr. Templeton, 
 " balk the inclinations of my little ward 
 for reading, as she finds so much amuse- 
 ment in it ; but I cannot see what business 
 young women have with books. It is out 
 of their calling. Housewifery is their 
 vocation, and far better for them."
 
 96 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 " It is a very silly fancy of Rebecca's, 
 and yet I cannot find in my heart to con- 
 tradict her — the little gipsy has such a 
 winning, coaxing way of her own. I 
 shall, however, not allow her to sit too 
 long poring over these stupid volumes, to 
 spoil her pretty sparkling eyes, and take 
 the colour of the damask rose from her 
 cheeks." 
 
 " I hate a man," he continued, " that 
 is called a book-worm ; I have had enough 
 of such in my poor crazy brother ; a fine 
 hand he has made of it, with his huge 
 black letter volumes, all algebra to me ; 
 living like some old magician, and fright- 
 ening all the neighbourhood with his 
 sorceries. 
 
 " However, my good Doctor," pro- 
 ceeded Mr. Templeton, complacently 
 smiling, " Rebecca shall have her way 
 so far, that I have no objection to her 
 reading Shakspeare's plays, for in them 
 there is some wit and sense. When I 
 was in London I liked myself to see one
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 97 
 
 of those good old plays ; there is much 
 humour in that overgrown, over-fed Sir 
 John Falstaff. 
 
 " The history of her own country, no 
 doubt, she has at her fingers' end. But 
 with Homers and Virgils she is not to 
 bother me, I had enough of them when 
 I was a school-boy ; if she does, as sure as 
 she is alive, in a passion, I shall be tempt- 
 ed at once to make a bonfire of her whole 
 library. A bookish woman is always 
 despised by her own sex, setting herself 
 up as something above them. Then 
 as to your Romances, they only put all 
 sort of nonsense into a girl's head, driving 
 the little common sense God had given 
 her entirely away." 
 
 Dr. Arnold smiled at Mr. Templeton's 
 harangue, in which he could not but ad- 
 mit there was some truth and reason, and 
 promised faithfully to abide by his wishes 
 respecting Rebecca. 
 
 With grateful delight she took posses- 
 sion of her pretty apartment, containing an 
 
 VOL. i. f
 
 98 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 excellent ladies' library, with the accom- 
 paniment of globes, maps, port-folios 
 full of prints, and drawing materials. 
 Rebecca had finished at school so many- 
 coloured drawings, that Mr. Templeton, 
 proud of displaying her accomplishments, 
 hung them round a small room they 
 always occupied of an afternoon. 
 . There was not a family portrait in the 
 whole house, excepting one of Sir Am- 
 brose Templeton, done by Sir Peter Lely. 
 Most of the apartments were hung with 
 old storied tapestry. Rebecca often 
 gazed on the portrait of Sir Ambrose, 
 with a sensation of deep interest and 
 curiosity, for the picture awakened many 
 juvenile associations of ideas, which, 
 though obscure and confused, yet seem- 
 ed in her imagination to have had exist- 
 ence, though how she could not exactly 
 recall nor define. 
 
 Over the dining-room chimney-piece 
 hung a large oil painting, which exhi- 
 bited a portion of a gentleman's park, in
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 99 
 
 which stood an ancient and gloomy cas- 
 tle, with turrets at each angle, and port- 
 cullis. This heavy pile of building ap- 
 peared to be familiar to her. Often and 
 often she spent hours in contemplating 
 its massive walls, till she fancied she 
 once had been its inhabitant ; for the 
 longer she gazed on it, the more she be- 
 came convinced that one particular win- 
 dow (which, in fact, belonged to the 
 chamber which she had occupied) was 
 familiar to her. 
 
 Several times she had enquired of her 
 guardian to whom the ancient castle be- 
 longed, but Mr. Templeton always evaded 
 the subject; and once when she coax- 
 ingly pressed it, he said, peevishly, " I 
 perceive, Rebecca, you are, like the rest 
 of your sex, curious ; don't tease me with 
 idle questions ; what matters it to you to 
 whom that gloomy old place belongs? 
 The possessor is as gloomy as itself, and 
 only fit to be shut up in it for the rest 
 gf his life." 
 
 f 2
 
 100 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 " Mayn't I know what the castle is 
 called n 
 
 " You mayn't know," he replied, in a 
 more determined tone than he usually 
 spoke to Rebecca; but the next moment 
 after, turning kindly, and giving her a 
 pat on the cheek, good humouredly 
 added, " What makes you such a little 
 inquisitive gipsy ?" 
 
 Rebecca's face and neck glowed with 
 confusion ; she timidly begged his pardon, 
 and never more asked Mr. Templeton 
 any questions concerning either the por- 
 trait or the castle, though many and 
 various were her conjectures ; the most 
 prevalent, that her noble and benevolent 
 guardian must be brother to Sir Am- 
 brose Templeton, not merely as having 
 the same name, but from the great simi- 
 litude in their persons ; that of Sir Am- 
 brose was deeply impressed on her me- 
 mory from the encounter which occurred 
 at the small inn at the foot of the bridge. 
 
 Often she wondered who was the per-
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 101 
 
 son that had hung the amulet round 
 her neck, which, from time to time, she 
 anxiously examined, and carefully wore, 
 afraid to trust it away from her person, 
 hoping that finally the initials would lead 
 to a discovery to whom she belonged. 
 
 Mr. Templeton, like his brother, was 
 a very eccentric character. Though lie 
 viewed the world through a more favour- 
 able medium, it was only with a chosen 
 and select few he associated : like most 
 country gentlemen of his day, he amused 
 himself in rural sports, such as hawking 
 and hunting ; he was fond of the exercise 
 and recreation. But, unlike the nei^h- 
 bouring squires, he spent not the remain- 
 der of the day in the jolly festival of the 
 table, nor indulged in that excess of 
 drinking then so prevalent in the north- 
 ern counties. 
 
 Mr. Templeton always preferred the 
 enjoyment of domestic and female so- 
 ciety j those were comforts which gild 
 f 3
 
 102 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 one's days with a sober, tranquil felicity, 
 a happy contrast to those tumultuous 
 pleasures which thoughtless mirth and 
 convivial excesses excite.
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 103 
 
 CHAP. XII. 
 
 Rebecca was so initiated in the forms 
 of genteel life, she appeared to have 
 been born in that sphere ; for even 
 during the period of her abode with the 
 poor fisherman and his wife, she seemed 
 to be taken out of her natural habits. 
 There was an air of inborn dignity in 
 her demeanour which stampt the gen- 
 tlewoman. A delicacy of sentiment, a 
 refinement of taste, that often had ex- 
 cited the surprise of the neighbouring 
 ladies of condition, who used to send 
 for her. From the advantages of her 
 education, she had acquired a self-pos- 
 session, that gave an easy gracefulness 
 to her manners, which were now lively 
 though modest, and her conversation was 
 regulated by good sense and amiability. 
 Her beauty was the theme of the 
 f 4
 
 104 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 county, as well as of ill-natured envy, 
 amongst some of the neighbouring 
 misses, who regarded her with an eye of 
 jealousy and dislike. Sprung themselves 
 from ancient families, and the daughters 
 of opulent parents, they were filled with 
 the most contemptible of all pride, the 
 arrogance of riches. 
 
 The houses of the wealthy merchants 
 were furnished in the most costly 
 style y their servants clad in the most 
 gorgeous liveries; their tables loaded 
 with every luxury and dainty the season 
 afforded ; and the dress of the females 
 displayed the London fashions in the 
 most costly and showy finery, heaped on 
 in bad taste. 
 
 Rebecca's simple and plain attire was 
 criticised as an affectation of singularity, 
 or the studied art of what was most be- 
 coming. Her redundance of fair hair, 
 falling in natural graceful ringlets over 
 her face and neck, with no ornament, 
 except a simple rose or strings of pearls,
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 105 
 
 confining her silken tresses, after the 
 fashion of her day, is now to be seen in 
 the mode of dress which distinguished 
 King Charles' beauties at Hampton 
 Court Palace, with the long taper waist 
 and slashed sleeves, all remarkably suited 
 to the perfect symmetry of Rebecca's 
 form and finely turned arms. 
 
 Rebecca seemed to have opened a 
 new source of interest and happiness in 
 Mr. Templeton's life. From whatever 
 cause she had been deprived of her na- 
 tural parents, he felt that she had a 
 claim to the protection and benevolence 
 of some humane person who would 
 shelter and cherish so fair a flower from 
 the chilling blasts of adversity. Himself 
 without any tie of relationship, save his 
 extraordinary brother, possessed of an 
 ample fortune, he each succeeding day 
 became more satisfied that he could not 
 have fixed on a more deserving object, 
 on whom to bestow his wealth and affec- 
 tion. She had insensibly gained a per- 
 f 5
 
 106 DAME REBECCA BERRY, 
 
 feet ascendency over him by her winning 
 and attaching manners. She occupied 
 his sole thoughts, his sole attention. He 
 could scarcely define the nature of the 
 interest which she had excited in his 
 bosom ; but it was of that pure cha- 
 racter, that her reputation was so precious 
 to him, he resolved either to part from her 
 or make her his wife, rather than subject 
 her or himself to those animadversions 
 which her obscurity, beauty, and de- 
 pendence, had excited in the neighbour- 
 hood, where abundance of curiosity, 
 gossip, and ill-natured remark was pre- 
 valent. 
 
 An excellent author justly observes, 
 <« It is not enough that your designs and 
 actions are intrinsically good, you must 
 take care they shall appear so. If your 
 inside be never so beautiful, you must 
 preserve a fair outside also." 
 
 Weighing all these considerations, and 
 that while he was affording Rebecca a 
 desirable home, and lavishing on her
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 107 
 
 every luxury and indulgence wealth 
 could bestow, he was at the same time 
 exposing her spotless character to the 
 malevolence of the world, by suffering 
 her to remain, though in the character 
 of his ward, beneath his roof, without 
 any female protectress or companion ; he 
 determined to make an offer of his hand 
 and fortune, which, if she refused, he 
 would seek out for her another home, 
 and rather sacrifice his own happiness, 
 than ultimately injure so lovely and in- 
 nocent a young creature ; for Mr. Tem- 
 pleton could not shut his eyes to the 
 fact, that several of the proud families 
 in his immediate neighbourhood would 
 neither visit themselves at Fairlawn-hall, 
 nor suffer their daughters. 
 
 The lively, youthful Rebecca, whose 
 countenance was now lighted up with the 
 playful smiles of innocence and happiness, 
 a novice in the world, and wrapt up in 
 her own native integrity, knew and 
 guessed not what was passing around 
 f 6
 
 1JD8 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 her in that neighbourhood of which she 
 now had been a member for some months. 
 Virtuous, grateful, and esteeming Mr. 
 Templeton with the respectful tender- 
 ness of a daughter, she rose only to hap- 
 piness, and retired to her pillow with 
 peace and contentment,
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 109 
 
 CHAP. XIII. 
 
 One evening, after Mr. Templeton re- 
 turned home to a cheerful tete-a-tete 
 dinner with Rebecca, she sung to him, 
 in a soft, plaintive voice, the words of 
 the following air : — 
 
 " I envy not the proud their wealth, 
 Their equipage and state ; 
 Give me but innocence and health, 
 I ask not to be great. 
 
 " I in this sweet retirement find 
 A joy unknown to kings ; 
 For sceptres, to a virtuous mind, 
 Seem vain and empty things. 
 
 " Tumultuous days and restless nights, 
 Ambition ever knows, 
 A stranger to the calm delights 
 Of study and repose. 
 
 <l Then free from envy, care, and strife, 
 Keep me, ye Powers Divine ; 
 And pleased, when ye demand my life, 
 May I that life resign.*' 
 
 Old Song.
 
 110 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 He hung over her with looks of fond- 
 ness, and, after earnestly regarding her 
 in silence for some time, at length said, 
 with unusual seriousness, and tenderly 
 taking her hand, u Sweet is your song 
 — sweet and pure as yourself the words. 
 But tell me, and that with sincerity, if, 
 in the little experience you hitherto have 
 had of the world, you expect the wishes 
 you have just now expressed to be ful- 
 filled, and that it is possible to live ex- 
 empt from envy, care, and strife ?" 
 
 With a smile, and blush of modesty, 
 she cheerfully replied, " Why, Sir, should 
 I not ? — I envy no person, to care I am 
 a stranger, and, as to strife, I have neither 
 the inclination nor the opportunity of quar- 
 relling with any one ; for you, my dear 
 respected guardian, leave not a wish of 
 my heart unaccomplished, not a kindness 
 unbestowed." 
 
 Mr. Templeton's eyes glistened with 
 pleasure. "Yet, Rebecca, ,, he continued, 
 more gaily, " with these confessions,
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. Ill 
 
 that neither envy, care, nor strife are 
 inmates in your bosom, you have unwit- 
 tingly sown the seeds of envy and dissen- 
 sion in many." 
 
 Rebecca started, coloured crimson, 
 and the tears came into her eyes, as she 
 expressively and impatiently demanded 
 an explanation. 
 
 "You are young," returned he, "which 
 with women verging towards old maids, is 
 a matter of jealousy and envy. You are 
 considered beautiful, a still more reason- 
 able cause for dislike. Then every little 
 juvenile gaiety causes some peccadillo in 
 your conduct.. At this period, a siege 
 is raising against you by all the old cats 
 jn the neighbourhood, who wish not 
 better sport than to capperclaw you, and 
 put your nose out of joint." 
 
 Rebecca turned pale and red alter- 
 nately, and exclaimed, " I am indeed a 
 novice in the ways of the world, if it is 
 such as you, Sir, have described." 
 
 " Fear it not, Rebecca," proceeded
 
 112 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 Mr. Templeton ; " the virtuous ulti- 
 mately triumph." 
 
 "At least, I hope," said she, diffidently, 
 " my integrity will shield me from serious 
 harm." 
 
 "It shall, dear Rebecca," Mr. Temple- 
 ton cried, warmly: " now listen to me, 
 while I speak dispassionately, and ponder 
 on what I say." 
 
 " The lovely and virtuous woman," he 
 continued, with faltering voice, " who 
 now, alas! sleeps in her grave, taught me 
 to justly estimate your sex. Mrs. Tem- 
 pleton was the pattern of every female 
 excellence — sacred and precious is her 
 memory. I am a man of few words and 
 plain manners ; and, at my time of life, 
 I understand not the character of a 
 dangling, whining lover; a soft, simpering 
 creature, who makes a fool of the woman 
 with whom he intends to pass the re- 
 mainder of his days ; putting into her 
 head, in the first instance, nothing but 
 vanity and self-approbation, by his pala- 
 18
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 113 
 
 vering, fulsome flattery ; with all his 
 honied words, probably, before the honey- 
 moon (as the first three months after 
 marriage are called,) is over, he treats 
 the fair creature with as many impreca- 
 tions as he formerly did compliments; 
 without considering that, when a couple 
 embark together on the ocean of life, it is 
 'for better and for worse.' Perfection 
 is not in human nature. The grand and 
 true system of happiness is to bear and 
 forbear ; and in youth to make an interest 
 with each other, that, when old age creeps 
 on, they may each soften the infirmities 
 of decaying nature, and with good 
 humour mutually consent patiently to 
 endure the waywardness of frail mor- 
 tality." 
 
 " O, dear Sir," cried Rebecca, enthu- 
 siastically, " what a just picture have 
 you seemingly drawn of the way to en- 
 sure happiness through life." 
 
 " It' you think so," interrupted Mr. 
 Templeton, " suppose you make the ex-
 
 114f DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 periment. Such are the plain, solid truths 
 I have endeavoured to lay before you ; 
 consider them all: I give you twenty-four 
 hours to do so. If, at the end of that pe- 
 riod, you will accept me as the guardian of 
 your future life, for it is onlyin the charac- 
 ter of your husband, and under that title, 
 (so tender I am of your reputation,) I 
 can suffer you in future to remain beneath 
 my roof, — I will endeavour to act up to 
 that sacred name, with as much affection 
 towards you as a widowed heart admits. 
 
 "Be candid, be sincere," he continued, 
 with the utmost gravity, "your happiness 
 and mine now rests on your truth and 
 honour." 
 
 With these words Mr. Templeton rose 
 from his seat ; and quitting abruptly the 
 room, left Rebecca so lost in surprise and 
 contending emotions, she was powerless 
 to move for some time.
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 115 
 
 CHAR XIV. 
 
 Rebecca was struck with amazement at 
 her guardian's abrupt declaration, and 
 the offer of his hand and fortune. She 
 was powerless to remove, and remained 
 fixed for some time to her chair, for her 
 senses seemed bewildered. 
 
 Her youthful heart was a stranger to 
 the tender passion of love. She possessed 
 strong sensibility ; but it was only di- 
 rected in the channel of unbounded gra- 
 titude, and duteous affection, towards Mr. 
 Templeton. He had opened to her new 
 prospects ; and a rank so elevated, and a 
 character so respectable, that in contem- 
 plating a change so extraordinary, she 
 felt at a loss what reply to give to a per- 
 son whom she never for a moment ha 
 viewed in the rank of a lover. His grave 
 demeanour, parental authority, and pre- 
 cise habits stamped him rather as the
 
 116 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 guardian, and old bachelor, than a can- 
 didate in the Temple of Hymen. 
 
 The longer Rebecca pondered on Mr. 
 Templeton's recent proposal, less and 
 less did her inclination waver in giving 
 the decision in his favour. There was 
 something so noble, generous, and disin- 
 terested in his offer, of marrying a young 
 woman, of whose origin and connections 
 he was ignorant, and who, except for his 
 fatherly support, must, in all probability, 
 have been destitute and friendless, that 
 when she considered the motives which 
 alone could have induced his proposals, 
 she no longer hesitated to accede to the 
 wish Mr. Tempi eton had expressed, that 
 she should be his for ever. 
 
 Rebecca's affections were disengaged. 
 She never yet had seen the person on 
 whom she felt the least inclination to be- 
 stow them. Though no sentiment of 
 what might be called love guided her ac- 
 ceptance of Mr. Templeton, she experi- 
 enced for him such respectful tender-
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 117 
 
 ness, and warmth of gratitude, she 
 thought that, in devoting her future life 
 to his happiness, she could only make 
 such a return as he was entitled to, for the 
 deep interest he had shown in her wel- 
 fare, and that unbounded liberality, so 
 cheerfully at all times bestowed, to ren- 
 der her an accomplished and amiable 
 young woman. 
 
 After a sleepless night, Rebecca rose 
 in the morning, with the determination 
 not to keep her guardian in suspense, 
 when no longer undecided herself. Mr. 
 Templeton, who impatiently awaited her 
 appearance at the breakfast-table, when 
 she entered the room, cast on her a look 
 of anxious and penetrating enquiry, for 
 Rebecca was pale and agitated. 
 
 He took her hand, rather with respect- 
 ful tenderness, than with his accustomed 
 ease and familiarity ; and as he gently 
 pressed it, he said in a hurried manner, 
 " Have you, Rebecca, considered the 
 conversation of last night, and have you
 
 118 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 weighed it well ?" ardently gazing upon 
 her. 
 
 " I have, Sir," she returned in a falter- 
 ing accent, as a crimson glow spread over 
 her former colourless cheeks. 
 
 " Tell me then," he interrupted with 
 emotion, " and tell me without hesitation, 
 am I henceforth to consider you as the 
 wife of my bosom, or the daughter of my 
 adoption ?" 
 
 " As your wife," she replied in a cheer- 
 ful voice, " my dear, respected guardian, 
 if, indeed, you think me worthy of being 
 exalted to so high an honour." 
 
 " Think you deserving !" repeated Mr. 
 Templeton warmly. " By my soul I do ; 
 and to constitute your happiness, Re- 
 becca, shall be the study of my life. We 
 will smile at the jeers of the meddling 
 world ; for you will be called a young 
 fool for marrying a man old enough, it 
 will be said, to be your father, with 
 so much youth and beauty. But we do 
 no injury to that world, which can nei- 
 ther exalt nor depress us. If content
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 119 
 
 with the lot in which fortune has cast us, 
 spreads sunshine over our days, even let 
 the world scorn us as it may, we will 
 defy its malice. Curiosity, probably, will 
 lead the idle multitude to Fairlawn-hall. 
 Let them come — w 7 e will select society 
 for ourselves. The good and sensible 
 will appreciate your excellence j and, for 
 the rest, there are so many jack-a-dandies 
 of men, and butterflies in the shape of 
 women, they are only fit company for one 
 another — we will have none of them." 
 
 Rebecca listened with smiles of com- 
 placency to Mr. Templeton, who conti- 
 nued : " I am sorry your pretty, good- 
 humoured companion, Juliet Chesterville, 
 is not at home to keep you company ; I 
 will send a message without delay for her 
 mother, and request her to bring Char- 
 lotte. It is true she is rather a mad-cap, 
 but she is a good-natured girl in the 
 main. The society of a female compa- 
 nion, I know, at present, will be agree- 
 able ; and we shall want many little
 
 120 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 consultations, not myself understanding 
 any thing about women's gear." 
 
 " You are ever, dearest Sir," she re- 
 turned, " considerate and kind, in think- 
 ing what may best promote the happiness 
 of your greatly-favoured and grateful 
 Rebecca." 
 
 Mr. Templeton sat down and penned 
 the following letter to Mrs. Chesterville. 
 
 " My dear sister-in-law — You know 
 what a tender affection I had for my late 
 wife ; also how grievously I felt her loss. 
 It may, therefore, naturally prove to you 
 a matter of surprise, knowing how I have 
 mourned during my widowhood, to hear, 
 from that very cause, I am going once 
 more to enter the matrimonial state. Per- 
 haps too, you, like the rest of the world, 
 may jeer when you learn that it is the 
 pretty Rebecca I intend making my wife. 
 The young thing wants a protector that 
 not only will guard her from harm, but 
 the malice of the evil tongues that roam
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 121 
 
 abroad, and too frequently have no mercy 
 on the poor and friendless ; for which 
 cause, together with her innocent, win- 
 ning ways, she shall not want that tender 
 guardianship which a husband alone can 
 bestow. Rebecca freely consents to be 
 mine. She is formed for domestic life, 
 for she is a good, sensible young woman. 
 Her head is not turned with vanity and 
 self-conceit \ and, though she is rather 
 too bookish, yet she has too much dis- 
 cretion to teaze me with her learning. 
 
 " Come, then, dear Kate, and partake 
 in the happiness of the old dotard, as 
 some may call me. Bring the merry 
 Charlotte along with you ; she will make 
 a pretty bridesmaid to the bashful Re- 
 becca. 
 
 " I send my post-chariot for you ; 
 therefore do not refuse returning in it to 
 your affectionate brother-in-law, 
 
 11 Frederick Templeton. 
 
 " Fairlawn-hall, May 16." 
 VOL. I. G
 
 12% DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 Mrs. Chesterville was startled when 
 she first perused Mr. Templeton's singu- 
 lar epistle ; as it struck her at the mo- 
 ment he certainly was in his dotage, (un- 
 equal alliances were then quite uncom- 
 mon,) but, on giving his letter a second 
 reading, his intended union appeared in 
 a more favourable view ; and she saw 
 something so benevolent, disinterested, 
 and liberal in his conduct, she entered 
 with alacrity into Mr. Templeton's plans, 
 and bid her daughter Charlotte prepare 
 to accompany her to Fairlawn-hall with- 
 out delay. 
 
 When Mrs. Chesterville alighted at 
 the portico, Mr. Templeton was in wait- 
 ing to receive her. Eagerly taking her 
 hand, as he saluted her, he exclaimed 
 warmly, " Thank you, my dear sister-in- 
 law, for coming so quickly, and so cheer- 
 fully ; I thank you the more, because you 
 have not thrown cold water on my inten- 
 tions respecting the pretty Rebecca. But 
 not a word to her at present, it will only
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 123 
 
 abash her till I have prepared her for 
 your and Charlotte's arrival. I have left 
 her to herself, till you give her confi- 
 dence and support ; aye, and you must 
 support me likewise, sister Kate, for 
 you know what a babbling w T orld it is > 
 and I would not harm the sweet innocent 
 Rebecca, even in the world's opinion, for 
 all the wealth I possess." 
 
 " I believe you, from my heart," Mrs. 
 Chesterville replied, with a voice of en- 
 couragement ; " command my services, 
 Mr. Templeton ; I came here purposely 
 to do all you wish." " Well, well," he 
 replied, " you are a worthy creature, I 
 always thought you such ; and my little 
 mad-cap here (patting kindly Charlotte's 
 cheek) shall not repent coming to Fair- 
 lawn-hall with her mamma ; you shall 
 have a merry time of it, my dear, and 
 Rebecca will be so happy to see you." 
 
 Mr. Templeton now formally handed 
 Mrs. Chesterville into the great par- 
 lour, and went himself in search of Re- 
 g2
 
 124 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 becca. " Come, my pretty Rebecca," 
 exclaimed the delighted Mr. Templeton, 
 taking her hand, " and let me conduct 
 you to our kind friends below. Mrs. 
 Chesterville and Charlotte are arrived to 
 witness our happiness. I have told my 
 sister-in-law the happy man you are going 
 to make me in my old age, and she par- 
 ticipates in my felicity." 
 
 Rebecca was covered with blushes, as 
 she timidly cast a look of tenderness on 
 Mr. Templeton, and suffered him to lead 
 her to their friends. 
 
 She trembled and was confused when 
 presented to Mrs. Chesterville ; but her 
 countenance w r as illuminated with plea- 
 sure when her guardian said, " Sister 
 Kate, you must love my future wife for 
 my sake, for I feel that Rebecca is form- 
 ed to make me happy. You are no 
 stranger to the excellence of this young 
 creature, for it is you, Mrs. Chester- 
 ville, who have made her what she is, by 
 your precept and example."
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 125 
 
 " Dear Rebecca," cried Mrs. Ches- 
 terville, tenderly embracing her, "if you 
 are not happy it must be your own fault. 
 You possess every thing in the fair pros- 
 pect before you to make you so. God 
 bless and preserve you both," she added, 
 taking a hand of each, and uniting them. 
 
 " I am a poor hand at making 
 speeches," interrupted Mr. Templeton, 
 <c therefore cannot say half I feel or 
 wish ; but this 1 am certain, if kindness 
 and wealth can procure happiness, it is 
 Rebecca's for ever !" 
 
 Charlotte Chesterville, who stood in 
 silent wonder, contemplating a scene 
 which at first she did not comprehend, 
 now hastily exclaimed, patting Rebecca, 
 " O now I guess what all this means ;" 
 and looking archly in her face, " You 
 are going, Rebecca, to be married, and I 
 hope I am sent for to be bridesmaid; 
 not that I should have had that honour, 
 I suppose, had my elder sister been at 
 home ; so I shall even dance at your 
 g3
 
 126 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 wedding, and twine some white roses in 
 those fair silken tresses." 
 
 " And will you, dear saucy Char- 
 lotte," interrupted Rebecca, suffused 
 with blushes, " be my bridesmaid ?" 
 
 " To be sure I will ; I hope the wed- 
 ding is to be soon," she whispered, " for 
 delays are dangerous ; for, with a man 
 of Mr. Templeton's age, when the re- 
 port gets wing, we shall have all the 
 young fellows within a hundred miles 
 hanging and drowning themselves in 
 very spite, that your guardian has borne 
 off in triumph so lovely a prize." 
 
 Mr. Templeton and Mrs. Chester- 
 ville left the young people together, when 
 the lively Charlotte proceeded giddily : 
 " I should like, if old Time could clip at 
 least twenty years from Mr. Temple- 
 ton's age. Let me see, he would then 
 be, I should guess, about five and twen- 
 ty, and you not eighteen. Scatter a few 
 auburn locks, instead of that huge wig 
 over his forehead ; take those odious
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 1 L 27 
 
 spectacles from his nose, and, in short, 
 quite metamorphose him." 
 
 " Fie, fie, Charlotte," interrupted Re- 
 becca, somewhat hurt, and vainly try- 
 ing to smile, " you always allow your 
 vivacity to run away with your natural 
 good sense ; but I forgive you, assured 
 you would not, intentionally, give me 
 pain." 
 
 " You know I must have my joke," 
 replied Charlotte, very seriously, " though 
 I meant not at the expence of my friend. I 
 know Mr. Templetonis a worthy soul, and 
 I have no doubt will make you happy." 
 
 The thoughtless Charlotte then flew to 
 the harpsichord, and, in a sportive man- 
 ner, sung from Dryden's ode — 
 
 11 Happy, happy, happy pair, 
 
 None but the brave, 
 
 None but the brave, 
 
 None but the brave deserve the fair." 
 
 Mrs. Chesterville returned to the 
 parlour, and just caught the last words 
 of the air. " Charlotte is incorrigible," 
 g4
 
 128 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 she said gravely. " Nothing will cure 
 her except you deny her the pleasure of 
 being your bridesmaid, if she is not on 
 her good behaviour." 
 
 " Pray, dear mamma," she exclaimed 
 gaily, " does not the very name of a 
 wedding turn the heads of half the young 
 misses under twenty. Rebecca knows 
 that I mean no harm ; and, in all sober 
 dulness, I will put on a grave look, if you 
 desire it, or be as prim and formal as 
 the most starched old maid in the neigh- 
 bourhood." 
 
 The conversation was interrupted by 
 a summons to dinner ; and the afternoon 
 was devoted to business.
 
 DA3IE REBECCA BERRY. 1*29 
 
 CHAP. XV. 
 
 It was arranged for Charlotte to remain 
 at Fairlawn-hall, while Mr. Templeton 
 accompanied Mrs. Chesterville into Li- 
 verpool to make purchases, and see her 
 husband, in regard to the necessary 
 settlements. 
 
 Charlotte had just attained her fif- 
 teenth year. She was a tall, handsome 
 girl, with a clear brown complexion, and 
 a profusion of raven hair, falling in na- 
 tural ringlets over her open brow and 
 finely turned neck. Her large black 
 eyes sparkled with intelligence, and had 
 an arch expression of playfulness, the 
 heralds of a lively temper, and a mind to 
 which care was a stranger. Her Vermil- 
 lion lips and ivory teeth gave a lustrous 
 expression to her face, which, without 
 being strictly beautiful, was extremely 
 G 5
 
 130 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 captivating. She still wore the simple 
 dress of a girl, and was as great a romp. 
 
 Her buoyant spirits and lively sallies, 
 now restrained to good manners on the 
 present occasion, amused the naturally 
 pensive Rebecca, who at times seemed 
 to be lost in abstraction. The step she 
 was going to take was one of the utmost 
 importance, though she had no one 
 either to consult or guide her, and hi- 
 therto too young to have formed any at- 
 tachments, yet might not a time arrive 
 when a more youthful lover would have 
 gained her affections, and formed an 
 union more suitable in years, and where 
 not merely a sentiment of gratitude 
 would have bound them to each other. 
 
 Yet to refuse Mr. Templeton's gene- 
 rous proposals, to disappoint his wishes, 
 was altogether repugnant to her feelings. 
 But she involuntarily shrunk from the 
 dread of that ridicule to which so un- 
 equal an alliance would inevitably expose 
 her ; had not the lively Charlotte dies-
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 131 
 
 terville already seen it in such an absurd 
 point of view, as not to have escaped 
 her derision. 
 
 It was now, however, too late, had she 
 even been so inclined to withdraw her 
 consent ; but she painfully felt that it 
 was alone a sentiment of gratitude and 
 respect that bound her to Mr. Temple- 
 ton. Once, however, having promised 
 to become his wife, she resolved to en- 
 deavour to fulfil those sacred and tender 
 duties, with that watchful care for his 
 happiness which he so much deserved 
 and required from her. 
 
 The lively Charlotte was not given to 
 much reflection. Like many young peo- 
 ple, she acted from the impulse of the 
 moment, and therefore perpetually erred. 
 Warm-hearted, good humoured, and hu- 
 mane, she soon became aware that she 
 had hurt the sensitive Rebecca by her 
 heedlessness, and tried to make up for 
 it by a succession of grateful attentions, 
 which so entirely won her esteem, that 
 g 6
 
 132 DAME REBECCA BERRY* 
 
 the absence of her friend Juliet was the 
 less regretted. 
 
 Mrs. Chesterville, at the expiration 
 of a week, returned to Fairlawn-hall, 
 laden, not with finery, but a large assort- 
 ment of the most elegant and well-chosen 
 female attire. 
 
 Mr. Ternpleton the same evening 
 opened a casket, and taking thence a va* 
 luable pearl necklace, with strings of the 
 same, to decorate her hair, and a pair of 
 bracelets, to one of which was attached 
 his portrait, presented them to Rebecca. 
 " These simple ornaments, sweet 
 one," he exclaimed, " I consider more 
 befitting your youthful years, and the 
 loveliness of your mind and person, than 
 all the glittering gewgaws with which 
 females are generally too fond of be- 
 dizening themselves. These pearls are 
 an emblem of your spotless selfi and 
 though the old weather-beaten face af- 
 fixed to the bracelet is no ornament to an 
 arm so fair, yet, in after years, Rebecca,
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY* 133 
 
 when you may look upon it, then, per- 
 haps, it will call to mind the plain honest 
 man who ever had your welfare and hap- 
 piness nearest his heart." 
 
 Rebecca was quite subdued. Her tears 
 fell fast on the hand stretched out to- 
 wards her, which she silently pressed to 
 her lips, for utterance was at the moment 
 denied. 
 
 Charlotte Chesterville was penetrated 
 by the tender scene ; but wishing to rally 
 back Rebecca's spirits, she exclaimed, 
 gaily, " Have you not got, dear Sir, 
 some pretty wedding gift for the fair 
 bridesmaid ?" 
 
 " To be sure I have, my pretty Char- 
 lotte," he replied, significantly, and 
 drew from a case a locket containing 
 Rebecca's fair hair, set round with 
 pearls, and clasped it round her neck. 
 
 " This as kind, indeed," answered 
 Charlotte, her eyes sparkling with de- 
 light. " Dearest Rebecca, I shall hence- 
 forth always wear you as a precious
 
 134 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 bosom friend." She pressed the locket 
 to her lips, and gracefully acknowledged 
 Mr. Templeton's generous gift. 
 
 The following week the marriage was 
 to take place, at an early hour, by 
 special licence, in the adjacent village 
 church. Mr. Templeton did not mean 
 it to be private ; he wished to give it 
 publicity, by keeping open house for 
 three days to those guests who were in- 
 clined to witness his felicity ; nor was any 
 expense to be spared for sumptuous en- 
 tertainment. 
 
 The Reverend Doctor Arnold, who 
 was requested to select Rebecca's library 
 by Mr. Templeton, agreed to perform the 
 ceremony. He w r as a man highly re- 
 spected in Liverpool, where he held a 
 considerable living.
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 135 
 
 CHAP. XVI. 
 
 1 he day for the celebration of the mar- 
 riage at length arrived. 
 
 At an early hour all the house were 
 up and in commotion. Servants running 
 with preparations in all directions. 
 
 The morning was bright and lovely. 
 Every flower glittering with dew and 
 sunshine; myriads of birds, already with 
 their matin songs, were echoing in 
 the joyous day ; garlands of roses, en- 
 twined with lilies, were hung round the 
 hall, and marble vases, filled with the 
 finest exotics, stood on the mantel-piece, 
 emitting the most delicious perfume. 
 The old harper had come over from 
 Wales, and he struck up a lively tune, 
 which made the old walls reverberate 
 with its melody. The ancient house-
 
 136 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 keeper was drest in her yellow damask, 
 and the grey-haired butler in his dark 
 blue suit, laced with gold, and a large 
 bouquet of the choicest flowers placed in 
 his button-hole. Smiling happiness was 
 spread over every face. 
 
 In the midst of this gladsome scene, 
 (the bridal party all assembled, the bride 
 all loveliness, decked in her robe of white 
 satin,) a stranger rushed impetuously into 
 the room, and with a wild, haggard ap- 
 pearance, advanced towards Mr. Temple- 
 ton, who stood in silent amazement. It 
 was his brother ! 
 
 With looks of proud indignation he 
 surveyed the bridegroom, nor heeded 
 any of the company, not even the bride, 
 who had fainted. 
 
 " The report, then," he exclaimed 
 with vehemence, *' is not false. I come 
 myself to learn the truth. That my bro- 
 ther Templeton had become so great an 
 idiot as to marry a girl not yet seventeen,
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 137 
 
 a child in years, of low degree, pennyless 
 as low, I could not credit." 
 
 " I come, ,, he continued, with re- 
 proachful displeasure, " for the honour 
 of our ancient house, for the honour of 
 our noble name, to plead, to dissuade 
 you from so rash a step. Affix not, I 
 pray you, such a stigma to a family so 
 highly born. I have travelled far and 
 rapidly, for I dreaded being too late. 
 For your reputation's sake I have even 
 emerged again into the world — a world 
 I had forsworn for ever." 
 
 " Retreat from it again, Sir Ambrose," 
 cried Mr. Templeton, in a commanding 
 and indignant voice ; " your presence 
 here is neither sought nor required ; 
 except, indeed," he added, in milder 
 tone, " you are pleased to join that cere- 
 mony which so soon is to constitute the 
 future happiness of my life. Act as a 
 brother, and give away the bride." 
 
 Sir Ambrose, with a scornful smile, 
 darted his eyes towards the spot where
 
 138 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 Rebecca, pale and sinking with terror, 
 was just recovering from the swoon into 
 which she had fallen. 
 
 Mr. Templeton tenderly approached, 
 " Be not afraid," he said, with soothing 
 fondness. " Look up, my precious Re- 
 becca." 
 
 " Rebecca ! Rebecca !" exclaimed Sir 
 Ambrose, with an expression of horror, 
 an ashy paleness spreading over his face, 
 as he fearfully surveyed her. " Whence 
 come ye, fair vision of another world ?" 
 he continued, appalled. " It cannot be 
 — it is some terrible delusion of my optic 
 sense. But if, indeed, ye are Rebecca 
 Russell, the child predicted to be — not 
 your, but my wife ! — the child who — " 
 He paused, and stood with such a ghastly, 
 bewildered look, the ladies of the com- 
 pany slunk aside, and Rebecca, uttering 
 a piercing shriek, again sunk senseless on 
 the floor, as she vainly endeavoured to 
 grasp Mr. Templeton's hand. 
 
 M Yes, Sir Ambrose, it is Rebecca
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 139 
 
 Russell that you see," returned Mr. 
 Templeton, as he fixed his eye upon him, 
 with such a penetrating expression, he 
 shrunk beneath it. " See in her the 
 child of my adoption, and now see in her 
 my future wife. What I would further 
 say, it is best should meet alone your pri- 
 vate ear ; nor longer now detain us." 
 
 w Mr. Chesterville," continued he, 
 " conduct the lovely bride to her car- 
 
 riage." 
 
 Mr. Chesterville was going to lead Re- 
 becca forth, when Sir Ambrose, stepping 
 between them, exclaimed with fierceness, 
 " It may not be. Proceed no further. 
 By that Fate, which now I seek not to 
 overrule, Rebecca Russell is my destined 
 wife. The stars so predicted at her birth. 
 I cast her horoscope ; and in all various 
 shapes and figures that I formed, still 
 Rebecca was my destined wife. As such 
 1 claim her \ nor do we part except by 
 death alone." 
 
 Mr. Templeton stood aghast ; while
 
 140 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 all the gay assembled group believed a 
 madman had broke loose upon them, and 
 the ladies fled the room. 
 
 Rebecca, on coming to herself, cast 
 her eyes timidly around, and sighing 
 heavily, hid her face on Mr. Templeton's 
 arm, which gave her support. 
 
 " Fear not, beloved Rebecca," he 
 cried ; " with my life I will protect you. 
 You are mine, by every promise sacred 
 and honourable. My brother dare not — 
 he cannot tear you from me," 
 
 Sir Ambrose stood over her with looks 
 of interest and impatience. 
 
 " Do you not recollect me, Rebecca ?" 
 he said, in a reproachful tone of tender 
 enquiry. Do you not remember that it 
 was I who many a day in your early 
 childhood, fondled you on my knee at 
 Gloomore Castle ?" 
 
 " But," she interrupted quickly, and 
 with a bewildered look, as she ardently 
 gazed on him, " if I remember rightly, 
 you also left me ; and to the compassion
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 141 
 
 of poor Michael Barton I owe my present 
 existence. I was very young, and can only 
 imperfectly recall, like some fond, idle 
 dream, those days of childish prattle, when 
 somebody, it might be you, loved the little 
 Rebecca. But wherefore come you 
 now ?" she continued, with looks of 
 earnest enquiry, " my destiny is fixed, 
 unaltered, nor can you claim me." 
 
 " Then," interrupted Sir Ambrose, 
 impatiently, "you no longer love me; 
 and all those infantine caresses, once so 
 fondly lavished, are set at nought ?" 
 
 " I see you now, Sir Ambrose," she 
 returned, w 7 ith firmness, " as the brother 
 of my destined husband ; as such, I fain 
 respect, esteem you : but for those years 
 gone by, of which you speak, which live 
 so feebly in my memory, and are asso- 
 ciated with such a cloud of mystery, I 
 have yet to learn from whence I came, 
 and wherefore I became the child of 
 your adoption. I require you, Sir Am- 
 brose, to unfold my parentage and name."
 
 142 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 " It is unnecessary. Riches, titles, 
 honours, are before you. Young, beauti- 
 ful, though humbly born, you will adorn 
 that rank the Fates predicted for you." 
 
 " Rebecca," interrupted Mr. Temple- 
 ton, "your father's name isRussell, sprung 
 from honest and industrious parents; my 
 brother took you from your humble 
 parents, and by him you were adopted ; 
 why transferred to me, cannot be revealed. 
 But," he proceeded, impatiently, " time 
 wears away, and this delay, this interrup- 
 tion is most unseasonable." 
 
 " Brother," added Mr. Templeton, 
 " you shall give the bride away. Prove 
 the father you professed yourself, and 
 consider her as indeed your daughter." 
 
 "Not your bride, brother Frederic," 
 he exclaimed with vehemence, " but 
 mine — no marriage rites I witness, save 
 mine own. I forbid the ceremony to 
 pass, and at your peril attempt it." * 
 
 * Just as the time arrived for celebrating the 
 nuptials, the Yorkshire Knight arrived at his 
 
 18
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 143 
 
 "This contest, dear Rebecca," said 
 Mr. Templeton, " is unfitted for your 
 tender spirits. Retire to your chamber, 
 my love," gently leading her to the door ; 
 " whither Charlotte Chesterville will at- 
 tend you for the present." 
 
 Mrs. Chesterville remained, and Re- 
 becca left the drawing-room. 
 
 brother's seat in Lancashire, and was not a little 
 surprised to find this maiden, whom the stars had 
 portended so fatally, as he thought, to be his wife, 
 alive, and so near becoming his kinswoman. The 
 brothers had a great altercation, and the Yorkshire 
 Knight succeeded at last in suspending the nuptials. 
 
 Old Tradition.
 
 144 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 CHAP. XVII. 
 
 Rebecca was now convinced, of what 
 she had long conjectured, that Sir Am- 
 brose Templeton was the unknown, 
 mysterious person with whom, in infancy, 
 she had dwelt. But wherefore the au- 
 thority he now asserted, she could not 
 comprehend; or why impede her nuptials 
 with his brother, since Mr. Templeton 
 had just declared her parents were of 
 lowly state, and bore the name of Russell. 
 Stern, authoritative, as were the looks 
 and manner of Sir Ambrose,Rebecca, not- 
 withstanding, felt a sentiment of recollect- 
 ed tenderness revive in her bosom, on the 
 recognition that he was indeed the ideal 
 person whom her fancy had created as 
 the person who formerly had cherished 
 her with parental fondness. Whence the
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 145 
 
 cause why so suddenly he seemed to have 
 abandoned her, she knew nor guessed 
 not ; her grateful heart now throbbed 
 with something like esteem for the only 
 parent and benefactor she in infancy had 
 known. 
 
 There is a feeling of early associations 
 so closely linked with our existence, that 
 however pleasing the ties formed in riper 
 years, the heart insensibly recurs to that 
 youthful period which cannot be blotted 
 from the memory, and new awakened to- 
 wards Sir Ambrose Templeton a some- 
 thing bordering on regard. She viewed 
 him not as the sage magician, not as the 
 dissolver of an union, in which her affec- 
 tions took no warmer share than grati- 
 tude and esteem had prompted, but as the 
 object on whom alone her infantine af- 
 fection had been lavished, and who had 
 bestowed upon her every kindness and 
 indulgence in his power. 
 
 While these reflections were passing in 
 Rebecca's mind, a high disputation took 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 146 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 place between the brothers. Each claimed 
 a right and authority over Rebecca ; Sir 
 Ambrose convinced that nothing less 
 than a miracle could have thrown her 
 under his brother's cognizance ; and that 
 some over-ruling planet that preceded her 
 future destiny, had preserved her life. 
 Anxiously he sought to learn through 
 what means she had been consigned to 
 Mr. Templeton's care ; but on that subject 
 his brother maintained a determined 
 silence : he would not betray the confi- 
 dence Valerno had reposed in him, nor 
 the precious charge which he had com- 
 mitted to him. 
 
 Sir Ambrose, who firmly believed that 
 every event in life was guided by a des- 
 tiny it was impossible to avert, now as 
 ardently sought to obtain the lovely Re- 
 becca as before he had endeavoured to 
 defeat the prediction foretold in the 
 horoscope. 
 
 As neither of the brothers could be 
 induced, by any strength of argument, to 
 resign what they each considered their
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 147 
 
 just pretension to Rebecca, it was sug- 
 gested by Mr. Chesterville, the point 
 should be referred to herself, and learn 
 her real sentiments towards each. 
 
 The point being so arranged, Mrs. 
 Chesterville was sent to request Re- 
 becca's presence below, for Mr. Temple- 
 ton would hear from her lips alone a 
 suspension of that ceremony, which, in 
 less than an hour, would have made her 
 his for ever, and now deferred by so ex- 
 traordinary a circumstance as the present. 
 
 Rebecca , pale, trembling, and sinking 
 with the various emotions which over 
 whelmed her, was led into the drawing- 
 room (so recently presenting so different 
 a scene) by Mrs. Chesterville. 
 
 Each brother eagerly advanced at once 
 to address her, but Sir Ambrose, with 
 conscious and proud superiority, waving 
 his hand vehemently, exclaimed, " By 
 your leave, Mr. Templeton, I claim a 
 prior right to put a few questions to Re- 
 becca. First, by birth ; secondly, be- 
 
 H 2
 
 148 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 cause she was the child of my adoption 
 before she was known to you." 
 
 Mr. Templeton bit his lips, looked 
 very uneasy, and, with hasty steps, paced 
 the room. 
 
 " Rebecca," Sir Ambrose said, in a 
 voice of suppressed agitation, and fixing 
 his eagle eyes upon her, " I ask you 
 once more, if all the tenderness which I 
 bestowed on your infant years is forgot- 
 ten? 1 ask likewise to know, if it is 
 from sentiments of pure disinterested 
 affection you would have suffered my 
 brother to lead you to the altar ?" 
 
 " At the period, Sir Ambrose," re- 
 plied Rebecca, with dignity and courage, 
 " I became separated from you, I was too 
 young to possess sense how properly to 
 estimate the kindness you were pleased 
 to bestow upon me ; your tender indul- 
 gence I only remember as an imperfect 
 dream *, not such, Sir," she proceeded, look- 
 ing with beaming eyes towards Mr. Tem- 
 pleton, " is the remembrance of the pa- 
 
 18
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 149 
 
 rental care your respected brother has 
 taken of me since that early period. To 
 him I owe that education which he fond- 
 ly considers has rendered me not un- 
 worthy that sphere to which his kind 
 partiality would have exalted me. 
 
 " I am bound," she continued, " to 
 Mr. Templeton by every sentiment of 
 respect and gratitude ; to have rendered 
 him happy would have proved the sole 
 study of my life. But I feel, unfortu- 
 nately, that now I have no right to dis- 
 pose of myself, if, indeed, you are re- 
 solved to assert that authority and power 
 over me which, I suppose, my parents 
 allowed when consigned to your pro- 
 tection. 
 
 " If Sir," Rebecca proceeded, " I am, 
 as you say, of lowly birth, poor, but 
 descended from honest parents, I hum- 
 bly request that I now may be permitted 
 to return to them ; I am persuaded they 
 will rejoice to again receive their long ab- 
 sent child. 
 
 h 3
 
 150 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 " To them I return greatly enriched, 
 for I am given the means of contribut- 
 ing to their future support and comfort. 
 If I am blessed with brothers and sisters, 
 what new joy to be folded in their arms ?" 
 
 Neither of the brothers would listen 
 to Rebecca's proposal ; they displayed 
 the utmost impatience whilst she spoke, 
 nor would they relinquish the right they 
 considered they had of possession. 
 
 Vain was every argument used by 
 Rebecca, and Mr. and Mrs. Chester- 
 ville, to combat the violent emotions of 
 one brother, and the calm determined 
 firmness of the other. At length Mrs. 
 Chesterville wisely proposed that Re- 
 becca should accompany her back to 
 Liverpool, and there await the decision 
 of the brothers as to her future destiny. 
 
 Rebecca, sick at heart, from the ex- 
 traordinary events of the day, eagerly 
 entreated permission to go with Mrs. 
 Chesterville, which, after much debate, 
 was at length given, as the wisest alter-
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 151 
 
 native for the present, and Rebecca was 
 suffered to leave them, to take off her 
 bridal finery, and prepare for her short 
 journey. 
 
 All wedding festivities were now at an 
 end at Fairlawn-hall for that day, if not 
 for ever. The invited guests all, except 
 Mr. Chesterville, were quietly suffer- 
 ed to depart ; music no longer sounded 
 in the hall ; the peasantry were given 
 refreshments, and desired to go home ; 
 and nothing but an aspect of the most 
 gloomy melancholy succeeded to that 
 joyous air which prevailed at early dawn. 
 
 Rebecca, more dead than alive, stept 
 into the carriage along with Mrs. 
 Chesterville and Charlotte, who did ail 
 in their power to comfort her. 
 
 Sir Ambrose Templeton withdrew to 
 one of the now deserted apartments. 
 His brother left him to himself, and was 
 as much consoled as his disappointment 
 admitted by the friendly advice and socie- 
 ty of the warm-hearted Mr. Chesterville. 
 
 H 4t
 
 152 DAME REBECCA BERRY, 
 
 CHAP. XVIII. 
 
 When Rebecca was left to herself, with 
 leisure for reflection, she began to con- 
 sider the contest between the two bro- 
 thers of so serious a nature, she was now 
 desirous to withdraw her promised hand, 
 and finally give up Mr. Templeton. In 
 the alliance she only foresaw misery and 
 anxiety, under existing circumstances. 
 It was now her earnest wish to return to 
 her parents. Though they were strangers 
 to her, yet her heart yearned towards 
 them, and she suggested her wish 
 to Mrs. Chesterville. She, however, 
 thought, from Rebecca's refined educa- 
 tion, with the natural elegance of her 
 mind and manners, that a step by no 
 means advisable ; neither did she consider
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 153 
 
 it would be prudent for her in future to 
 reside at Fairlawn-hall ; she therefore 
 merely and kindly said, " Be assured, 
 dear Rebecca, we shall not tire of your 
 company ; therefore, I beg you will con- 
 sider our house your future home ; for, 
 under existing circumstances, it is the 
 most proper. Hereafter, it may be more 
 suitable to go to your parents. Just 
 now it would appear not merely indeli- 
 cate, but rebelling against the wishes of 
 poor Mr. Templeton, to place yourself 
 beneath any roof save mine/' 
 
 The more Rebecca pondered on the 
 events of former days, the more firmly 
 she became convinced of the propriety of 
 declining the honour of Mr. Templeton's 
 hand. She did not communicate her 
 intention to Mrs. Chesterville, afraid 
 she would plead in his behalf; but having 
 requested to be left alone, she sat down 
 and wrote the following letter, as soon as 
 she acquired sufficient composure. 
 H 5
 
 154) DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 " To Frederic Templeton, Esq. 
 
 " Liverpool, May 3, 16—. 
 
 "My Dear, Respected Guardian. — 
 As such, allow your highly favoured Re- 
 becca still to address you ; to express 
 my gratitude for all the generous benefits 
 conferred upon me ; to add that you, 
 Sir, will always possess that respectful 
 and duteous affection, it would have been 
 the study of my future life to have shown, 
 had I been exalted to the title of your 
 wife — a title which you did not consider 
 me unworthy to have claimed. 
 
 " I humbly and earnestly entreat, Sir, 
 I may not be the unhappy cause of 
 serious contention between two brothers, 
 for each of whom I entertain sincere 
 veneration — nor, wilfully, would I 
 give you a moment's pain ; but suffer me 
 to be released from those vows which so 
 nearly had been ratified at the altar ; 
 for, under existing circumstances, it is 
 impossible for me to acquiesce in the 
 honour you intended, in making me your
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 155 
 
 wife. Rather let me return to the lowly 
 sphere in which 1 was born. I consider 
 it no disgrace to belong to poor but 
 honest parents ; I am their offspring, and 
 as such, my heart yearns towards them. 
 
 " Sir Ambrose Templeton is not igno- 
 rant from whence he took me ; to him, 
 then, I respectfully refer, and require of 
 him to restore me to my parents. 
 
 * Forgive, my dear guardian, the bold- 
 ness of your wardj in thus presuming to 
 address you. Waiting with impatience 
 the indulgence of your answer, I remain, 
 most honoured Sir, 
 
 " Your ever grateful, humble servant, 
 
 " Rebecca." 
 
 Rebecca's mind was relieved after dis- 
 patching her letter, which was speedily 
 answered by the arrival of the brothers at 
 Liverpool, who, on being announced, 
 immediately demanded an interview. 
 
 Mrs. Chesterville was not surprised, 
 and by no means pleased, when she saw 
 h 6
 
 156 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 them each in a state of high agitation ; 
 she was, however, inexpressibly grieved, 
 when Mr. Templeton, on taking her 
 aside, showed her the contents of Rebec- 
 ca's letter ; as well as offended, that she 
 had not been consulted on the occasion. 
 
 Rebecca entered, pale and dejected, 
 her eyes heavy for want of sleep, and 
 her whole appearance languid. 
 
 " So far I am satisfied, Rebecca," cried 
 the knight, with a proud look of triumph, 
 " that you have given up, I understand, 
 all idea of marrying my brother. But 
 not so easily do I relinquish you. 
 
 " You are not ignorant," he continued, 
 " that I am a predestinarian, and cannot 
 over-rule our appointed destiny. It is 
 unnecessary now to relate my fruitless 
 attempts to circumvent the fate your 
 stars predicted — our fates, our destinies 
 are one. They are so closely linked 
 together, it is impossible to avert them. 
 
 " Disappointed," he continued, " in 
 my early prospects, blighted in my hap-
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 157 
 
 piness, deceived where most I trusted, 
 in a fatal moment I made a rash and 
 solemn vow of celibacy. But it is not 
 for man to determine for himself what he 
 wills. We must steer that course ap- 
 pointed from the hour of our birth, to 
 that which dooms us to oblivion, and 
 which no human power can controvert. 
 I therefore, Rebecca," he added, with a 
 determined firmness, " claim you as the 
 wife our fates have pointed out. To 
 controul the one, or over-rule the other, 
 is, I am now convinced, utterly im- 
 possible." 
 
 " Your arguments," interrupted Re- 
 becca, " are as futile as your opinions are 
 impious and erroneous — you build them 
 on a shallow foundation. Without reli- 
 gion or truth for your support, your 
 days are clouded by error. No sunshine 
 of hope gladdens your prospect ; you 
 seem to consider yourself only a machine, 
 which, acting upon certain springs, turns 
 alone to one point. You look not upon
 
 158 DAME REBECCA BERRY.] 
 
 yourself as a free agent. Influenced to 
 good, if under the Divine protection; 
 and actuated to all that is vicious, if 
 unhappily, under the dominion of the 
 Evil one." 
 
 "Well done, my little damsel," ex- 
 claimed Mr. Templeton, rubbing his 
 hands with delight, having listened to 
 Rebecca in silent admiration. " A 
 second Daniel, as Gratiano says, in the 
 Merchant of Venice ; a second Daniel. 
 Proceed, for there is sense and truth in 
 your wisdom. I shall henceforth have a 
 better opinion of the learning of women, 
 finding they can argue so ably when put 
 to the test." 
 
 "Women's words," cried Sir Ambrose, 
 with scornful impatience, " I set at 
 nought. This is mere folly and trifling. 
 Answer this question, Rebecca/' he pro- 
 ceeded, looking with earnest enquiry, 
 *' and do not deceive me. Wear you 
 not a certain charm, which I placed on 
 your person in infant years ? You surely
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 159 
 
 must ; for it has guarded you from danger 
 by sea and land ; and, whilst you wear it, 
 no harm can touch you." 
 
 " That I have worn it, Sir," she re- 
 plied, " and still do wear the amulet, is 
 most true. Think not it is from any 
 faith I put in it, but simply from the 
 hope that it might lead to the discovery 
 of my name and family; for I observed 
 on the ring to which the chain is fasten- 
 ed, are cut the initials of some of those 
 who are, perhaps, my kindred. But 
 since," she proceeded, with firmness and 
 indignation, "it is a magic charm, thus 
 I tear it from my bosom, and thus with 
 this protest I throw it from me. 
 
 " When this magic ring (taking off the 
 amulet) is found by me, then and only 
 then, Sir Ambrose Templeton shall claim 
 my hand, and lead me to the altar." 
 
 " Oh ye flowing river," she added, 
 with serious fervour, " bear this impious 
 ring into the deep recesses of your 
 mighty waters. To your fathomless deep
 
 160 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 I consign this amulet ; and may I never 
 see ye more." 
 
 She threw the ring, the chain, amulet 
 into the river Mersey, which flowed at 
 the foot of the lawn which bounded Mr. 
 Chesterville's pleasure-grounds. 
 
 " But remember, Rebecca," said Sir 
 Ambrose Templeton, snatching her arm, 
 " that if this ring, (for 'tis a magic one,) 
 ever meets your eye, that you are mine ; 
 I will follow, I will claim you, though it 
 were to the world's end." 
 
 " What I have said," she replied, " I 
 mean not to unsay. If this magic ring 
 returns to my possession, you may claim 
 me for your wife. I shall fulfil my pro- 
 mise, but not till then ; so hear me 
 Heaven !" 
 
 " So be it !" cried Sir Ambrose, with 
 a look of triumph. " For mine you will 
 be." 
 
 After this extraordinary prediction 
 he departed, with apparent satisfaction, 
 leaving Rebecca overwhelmed with terror 
 and dismay.
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. l6l 
 
 CHAP. XIX. 
 
 M.R.Templeton now tenderly approached 
 Rebecca, and taking her passive hand, 
 silently and fondly gazed on her. 
 
 " Leave me, dearest Sir, I entreat," 
 she said, in a feeble accent. u Think no 
 more of the wretched Rebecca. Suffer 
 me, I earnestly beg, to be restored to my 
 parents. You cannot be ignorant where 
 they dwell. To now listen to your 
 wishes respecting me is in vain. No- 
 thing but misery, I am convinced, could 
 ensue from so unequal an alliance. I 
 perceive it now in a proper point of view, 
 and wonder at my blindness and folly, 
 for which I am justly punished. I had 
 no right, no pretension to aspire to the 
 elevated sphere in which your fond par- 
 tiality would have placed me. My de- 
 termination is unalterably fixed. Even
 
 162 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 did I assent to our union, your brother, 
 so terrible in threats, would no doubt 
 endeavour to baffle it ; and, though he 
 might not succeed, his dreadful maledic- 
 tion would prove fatal to the happiness 
 of both. 
 
 " Return then, my dear, respected 
 guardian," she cried, bursting into a 
 flood of tears, " who so long have shel- 
 tered me by your bounty and tenderness ; 
 and if the knowledge," she added, quite 
 subdued, " that the poor Rebecca is not 
 less wretched than yourself will prove 
 any consolation, take with you that assur- 
 ance. May Heaven support and reward 
 you for all your goodness ! 
 
 " God bless you, dear Sir," she cried, 
 as she, with respectful tenderness, pressed 
 his hand to her lips, and would have quit- 
 ted him, for she was quite overcome ; but 
 Mr. Templeton forcibly detaining her, 
 said, " A word or two more, Rebecca, 
 before we part. 
 
 " If," Mr. Templeton continued, in a
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 163 
 
 tremulous voice, "you are determined, Re- 
 becca, not to marry me, which is somewhat 
 hard, and a sore trial, considering how 
 soon you would have been mine, in spite 
 of my crazy brother, promise, at least, 
 that for a short time you will remain with 
 my sister-in-law, and then I may have 
 the comfort of sometimes seeing you, my 
 sweet Rebecca." 
 
 " I will promise," she answered, with 
 a faint smile, " cheerfully promise, to 
 remain with Mrs. Chesterville, if, after a 
 stated time, you will suffer me to be con- 
 ducted to my parents. How unnatural 
 must they think their child, never to 
 have seen or enquired after them ?" 
 
 u Good-hearted, excellent Rebecca !" 
 interrupted Mr. Templeton, wiping a 
 falling tear from his eyes. " But," he 
 continued, " I am, I assure you, quite 
 ignorant where your parents live. I un- 
 derstand your father is an honest, indus- 
 trious farmer, of the name of Russell, and 
 rents a small place of my brother - 7 but
 
 164 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 however, my dear love, if it will set your 
 heart at rest, I will send one of my peo- 
 ple all the way to Gloomore Castle, to 
 find out from one of the domestics the 
 name of the place where Farmer Russell 
 lives." 
 
 The conversation was interrupted by 
 the entrance of Mrs. Chesterville, who 
 had intentionally kept away. With quick 
 steps she now advanced. " Sir Ambrose," 
 she said, "is just departed, apparently 
 beside himself. He vows vengeance 
 against you, Mr. Templeton, if you at- 
 tempt marrying Rebecca. With the ut- 
 most difficulty Mr. Chesterville prevented 
 him from carrying Rebecca, perforce, 
 back with him to Gloomore Castle. He 
 was so exasperated with Rebecca for 
 throwing her amulet into the river Mer- 
 sey, he was only to be pacified by the 
 assurance that she should remain for the 
 present with us. He then departed, say- 
 ing he should soon return." 
 
 Mrs. Chesterville prudently advised
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 165 
 
 Mr. Templeton to go back immediately 
 to Fairlawn-hall, kindly offering to ac- 
 company him thither. 
 
 He declined her proposal ; said, in his 
 melancholy state, he was best alone; 
 and, after taking a tender and affecting 
 leave of Rebecca, with a heavy heart 
 stepped into his carriage for his desolate 
 home. 
 
 Rebecca's frame and spirits were so 
 much shook by the late disastrous events, 
 she begged leave to pass her hours in her 
 chamber, for the bustle of Mr. Ches- 
 terville's house was too much for her. 
 She experienced comfort and conso- 
 lation from the unexpected return of 
 Juliet, who usually lived with her grand- 
 mother, but had come home in conse- 
 quence of having heard of the intended 
 wedding, for a few days. Naturally 
 serious and thoughtful, there was a ten- 
 derness and native delicacy in her cha- 
 racter, which, on the present occasion, 
 greatly soothed Rebecca's affliction. To
 
 166 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 Juliet she opened her heart, without re- 
 straint ; of Charlotte's raillery she was 
 half afraid, though her warm and ge- 
 nerous heart had displayed much sympa- 
 thy on the termination of their promised 
 rejoicings. 
 
 Mr. Chesterville was the complete 
 man of business. His sole thoughts and 
 time being occupied in his mercantile 
 concerns, for his was one of the largest 
 houses in Liverpool ; he never entered 
 into the domestic arrangements of his 
 family, which were all left to his wife. 
 He was a fond husband, an indulgent 
 father, and a man much respected for 
 the liberality, yet integrity of his cha- 
 racter. He did not speculate beyond 
 his means ; he defrauded no man ; but 
 he did acts of generosity and kindness 
 from his perfect knowledge of business, 
 and all his world centered in the count- 
 ing-house. His family were no less 
 flourishing than amiable. The young 
 men applied to business with diligence
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 167 
 
 and attention ; they were obliging and 
 polite without servility ; and Mr. Ches- 
 terville was considered the best mer- 
 cantile house in Liverpool for honesty, 
 application, and prosperity. His daugh- 
 ters were modest, unsophisticated girls ; 
 cheerful, good-humoured, with manners 
 at once easy and affable. They had 
 early been taught to consider the will of 
 their parents the law that was to govern 
 their actions ; and accustomed to endure 
 contradiction, though never denied rea- 
 sonable indulgence, they looked up to 
 their parents with reverence and un- 
 bounded affection. They bore no re- 
 semblance to the young women of the 
 present century, for they neither de- 
 spised nor scoffed at old age. They 
 venerated their grandmother ; and Juliet, 
 to lighten her infirmities, and cheer her 
 declining years, almost constantly lived 
 with her. They could laugh and enjoy 
 a lively joke ; but they were quite igno- 
 rant of that species of ridicule called
 
 168 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 quizzing; they were sprightly without 
 being flippant ; good-natured without 
 being silly. Such were the family of the 
 Chestervilles, with whom, for the pre- 
 sent, Rebecca took up her abode.
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 169 
 
 CHAP. XX. 
 
 Mrs. Chesterville, who marked with 
 alarm the wildness and disappoint- 
 ment pourtrayed in the countenance of 
 Sir Ambrose Templeton, and anticipat- 
 ing further molestation on behalf of Re- 
 becca, wisely proposed to her husband 
 removing from the neighbourhood for the 
 present, and accompanying her to the 
 borders of one of the most secluded of 
 the Lakes. 
 
 All was arranged for the journey, and 
 the chaise ordered to be at the door 
 early in the morning, when an hour or 
 two or before the time appointed for set- 
 ting out, the house was alarmed by the 
 arrival of the groom from Fairlawn^hall, 
 who had ridden with the swiftness of an 
 express. 
 
 He brought a letter for Mrs. Ches- 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 170 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 terville from the housekeeper, inform- 
 ing her that her master had been seized 
 with the gout in his stomach, in con- 
 sequence of the late agitations which 
 he had experienced, and now lay dan- 
 gerously ill from the violence of the 
 attack. 
 
 Not a moment was lost after perusing 
 the letter, in sending for the most skil- 
 ful physician in Liverpool. Mrs. Ches- 
 terville stept with him into the post- 
 chaise which was to have taken her and 
 Rebecca to Furness, after imparting to 
 her the sad intelligence. 
 
 Rebecca had earnestly entreated leave 
 to accompany Mrs. Chesterville, for she 
 loved and respected Mr. Templeton 
 with the affection of a daughter. Mrs- 
 Chesterville resisted her entreaty, sensi- 
 ble her presence would only agitate 
 the patient, and render Rebecca doubly 
 unhappy. 
 
 Dr. R found Mr. Templeton in 
 
 the last agonies of death ; no human aid
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 171 
 
 could save him ; but he was sensible, and 
 knew Mrs. Chesterville. 
 
 " This, my dear sister-in-law," he 
 said, grasping her hand, " is a melan- 
 choly ending of my intended happiness 
 with poor dear Rebecca ; but God's will 
 be done. I have," he added, faintly, 
 at broken intervals, " taken care of Re- 
 becca's interests. Mr. Chesterville wilt 
 see that justice is done by her in my 
 will. Your husband is my sole executor. 
 I have amply provided for the dear child. 
 I hope she will be happy in her future 
 lot. For yourself, my dear sister-in-law, 
 you will be rewarded for all the benefits 
 which you have rendered us." 
 
 All this was uttered in broken sen- 
 tences, to which he was hardly able to 
 give utterance. Soon after the excellent 
 Mr. Templeton expired. 
 
 The shock which he had sustained, 
 first, in being deprived of the lovely Re- 
 becca at the moment they were going to 
 be united ; and next, at his brother's 
 1 2
 
 172 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 cruel and flighty conduct, took such a 
 fatal effect upon a gouty constitution, 
 the disorder flew with sudden violence 
 to his stomach, that before medical as- 
 sistance could be obtained, his life was 
 in imminent danger. 
 
 Mrs. Chesterville had such a sincere 
 regard for Mr. Templeton, she was in- 
 expressibly shocked and grieved by an 
 event so sudden and afflictive. The be- 
 nevolence and excellence of his cha- 
 racter; the mildness of his manners; his 
 acts of charity to the necessitous, made 
 him so much respected and beloved in 
 the neighbourhood in which he lived, 
 that few persons would be more missed 
 than Mr. Templeton, and none more la- 
 mented. 
 
 Mrs. Chesterville felt much for Re- 
 becca, convinced that no wealth could 
 supply the loss she sustained in such a 
 tender indulgent friend as Mr. Temple- 
 ton had proved ; not only lavishing on 
 her every kindness, but rendering her an
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 173 
 
 accomplished and elegant young woman, 
 an ornament to society, and excellent in 
 every moral sense from her virtuous 
 education. 
 
 Mrs. Chesterville having put seals on 
 every thing, sent immediately for her 
 husband, and desired Rebecca (to whom 
 she wrote a few hasty lines, communi- 
 cating the sad intelligence,) to remain 
 with her daughter at Liverpool until her 
 return. 
 
 The news of Mr. Templeton's death 
 plunged Rebecca into the deepest afflic- 
 tion ; nor could all the soothing kindness 
 she received from Charlotte Chesterville 
 mitigate the anguish of her heart. 
 
 Mr. Templeton was so anxious, on the 
 annulment of his marriage, to render 
 Rebecca independent, he immediately, 
 on his return to Fairlawn-hall, put a co- 
 dicil to his will, bequeathing to his ward, 
 Rebecca Russel, ten thousand pounds in 
 funded property, together with his estate, 
 Grove-house, at Stratford-le-Bow, in the 
 I 3
 
 174 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 county of Essex. The estate on which 
 he resided went to his brother, Sir Am- 
 brose, at his demise. 
 
 He placed her, during her minority, 
 which was four years, under the entire 
 guardianship of Mr. Chesterville, with 
 whom she was to reside in the event of 
 her remaining unmarried, till she at- 
 tained the age of one-and-twenty.
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 175 
 
 CHAP. XXI. 
 
 Rebecca wore deep mourning for her 
 lamented guardian. She never more re- 
 turned to Fairlawn-hall, which she had 
 quitted under such afflictive circum- 
 stances. The rapid succession of events 
 which so recently happened, were of a 
 nature so extraordinary and mournful, 
 her health and spirits became materially 
 injured, and Mrs. Chesterville was so 
 alarmed, she at length consulted a phy- 
 sician, who gave it as his opinion that it 
 would be advisable to change the air to 
 a milder climate for some time. 
 
 On this suggestion Mr. Chesterville 
 desired his wife to accompany him, along 
 with Rebecca and Charlotte, to London, 
 and settle her in the neighbourhood, as 
 it was necessary for him to inspect the 
 estate at Stratford-le-Bow, bequeathed to 
 i 4
 
 176 DAME REBECCA BERRY, 
 
 her by Mr. Templeton. She henceforth 
 took the name of her parents, and was 
 now called Miss Russell. The sudden 
 death of her guardian placed her not mere- 
 ly in a state of independence, but in a sta- 
 tion of life which his extraordinary libe- 
 rality had rendered a subject of surprise 
 in the neighbourhood; for she now was 
 exalted to the title of an Heiress, and 
 meekly as she assumed the title, it was 
 with a painful sentiment of the envy she 
 excited, from the mystery which was 
 attached to her birth, and the family 
 from whom she sprang. 
 
 Rebecca, listless and unhappy, was 
 glad to change the scene, and made pre- 
 parations for a journey which, at another 
 time, would have been delightful. 
 
 The spring was forward and lovely ; 
 and, as they travelled by easy stages, she 
 had the opportunity of seeing the coun- 
 try to advantage. As they left the wild 
 barren scenery of the north, and entered 
 the southern counties, Rebecca was
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 177 
 
 charmed with the soft sylvan luxuriance 
 of that part of England. The graceful 
 beauty of the women and children she was 
 particularly struck with. Their gentle 
 manners, soft voices, pure accent, and 
 courteous way of speaking ; even their 
 rural villages seemed to possess a superior 
 air of refinement. Their gardens were so 
 neatly and tastefully drest up, as to give 
 a degree of elegance to even the small- 
 est habitations, embowered in woodbines 
 and roses. 
 
 How immense appeared the popu- 
 lation and traffic as they approached the 
 metropolis, yet it struck Rebecca as al- 
 most a region of smoke ; so heavy even 
 in the month of May was the atmosphere 
 amidst which rose the magnificent cu- 
 pola of St. Paul's, encompassed by one 
 interminable pile of buildings, with suc- 
 cession after succession of long narrow 
 streets, with ancient and irregular built 
 houses, scarcely admitting either a cur- 
 i 5
 
 178 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 rent of air, or room for carriages and 
 passengers without inconvenience. 
 
 Passing through the centre of the city 
 they were set down at the door of a spa- 
 cious mansion in Birchin Lane ; in so con- 
 fined a spot Rebecca was surprised to 
 find such a commodious dwelling ; when 
 they entered a handsome spacious hall, 
 and ascended a wide, noble staircase to 
 the apartment above. 
 
 It was the mercantile house of Mr. 
 Chesterville's friend. They were kindly 
 received by Mr. and Mrs. Mason, plain, 
 worthy people. 
 
 Their mode of life was much on the 
 same plan as what Rebecca had been 
 accustomed to at Liverpool \ except that 
 she found all the members of it wore a 
 look of greater ease and bustling activity. 
 
 Always used to the unrestrained free- 
 dom of the country, with a large garden, 
 even at Mr. Chesterville's, to range in, 
 she felt as if she now was shut up in a 
 prison, so close and dark was even the
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 179 
 
 most spacious of the apartments, and 
 where it seemed impossible for the sun 
 to penetrate. She literally, in her debi- 
 litated state, seemed to pant for air, and 
 was by no means delighted with her first 
 specimen of a London life, from the con- 
 finement and restraint she was compelled 
 to suffer. She learnt, with evident vex- 
 ation, that it was improper for young 
 ladies to go abroad unattended. When 
 she proposed to Charlotte to take a walk, 
 she opened her eyes with astonishment, 
 and exclaimed, " What did you say ? 
 Mamma would think, Rebecca, that you 
 had taken leave of your senses. In the 
 first place we should be stared at for two 
 country bumpkins ; and, in the next, 
 which would be far worse, we should 
 lose ourselves in the endless labyrinth of 
 streets by which you see we are sur- 
 rounded. I'll tell you what I will do, 
 however, to console you, that you may 
 not quite expire for want of air, though 
 I cannot vouch for its purity. 
 i 6
 
 180 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 " Come along with me," continued 
 the lively Charlotte, " to the top of the 
 house. You know I am a famous climb- 
 er; there you will find breathing room, 
 if you have a steadier head than the giddy 
 Charlotte to mount to the leads. In 
 truth, it is well worth your while, for 
 you will see a glorious prospect, a city of 
 churches, spires, towers, public edifices, 
 bridges, with a mass of shipping, making 
 altogether a surprising and most imposing 
 view. Follow me, Rebecca," she added, 
 taking her arm, " I will show you the 
 way. This morning little Tom, as they 
 called the shop-boy, climbed a sort of 
 stair ladder, and went up aloft so 
 dexterously, I had the curiosity (a qua- 
 lity females seldom want), after he had 
 departed, just to take a peep, and was 
 amply repaid for my trouble. 
 
 " Suppose," Charlotte proceeded, " I 
 call the boy to point out some of the 
 public edifices, for they are innumerable." 
 
 Away ran Charlotte, she soon returned
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 181 
 
 with little Tom, an acute lad ; he care- 
 fully handed the young ladies to the 
 leads. 
 
 Rebecca was filled with astonishment 
 and delight. The panoramic view she 
 had of London was magnificent. Little 
 Tom pointed out, rising above London 
 Bridge, the heavy fortress the Tower, 
 with its four pinnacles. Venerable and 
 grand Westminster Abbev, Lambeth 
 Palace, washed by the magnificent 
 Thames ; the noble structure, Somerset- 
 House ; the Temple Gardens ; St. Paul's 
 Cathedral, at that period rebuilding by 
 Sir Christopher Wren, with several of the 
 most prominent churches. 
 
 Rebecca could have gazed long, with- 
 out wearying, on this wonderful city ; 
 but the noble Thames, with its little world 
 of shipping, and the perpetual moving 
 scene of vessels, barges, boats, with the 
 traffic carried on upon the water, was by 
 far the most amusing objects, from the 
 activity and expertness in the people,
 
 182 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 conveying the idea that time was so im- 
 portant, that a minute lost would prove 
 their ruin. 
 
 Mrs. Chesterville was surprised when 
 Rebecca informed her where she had 
 been. 
 
 "That mad-cap Charlotte," exclaimed 
 she, " will certainly come to an untimely 
 end some day or another, climbing like a 
 torn-boy to the top of the house.'' 
 
 -" Really, mamma," she interrupted, 
 " if I had not taken pity on Rebecca she 
 actually would have died for want of air. 
 I thought, for variety's sake, she might 
 swallow some of the London smoke, 
 though not, I admit, the most fragrant 
 nosegay in the month of May ; but then 
 there is a breeze wafted from the river ; 
 and to die from suffocation, when she 
 came to taste the pleasures of London, 
 would be rather a mortifying circum- 
 stance." 
 
 " Charlotte has afforded me great de- 
 light and amusement," interrupted Re-
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 183 
 
 becca. " Being accustomed to the 
 bustle of a seaport at Liverpool, less 
 wonder was excited as I gazed on the 
 mass of shipping, than otherwise would 
 have been the case. The extent of Lon- 
 don, so crowded with buildings, so thick- 
 ly intermixed with noble edifices, and 
 such a countless number of grand 
 churches, have, I own, surpassed all that 
 my imagination could have painted of 
 the sublime and beautiful ; and I really 
 am very much obliged to Charlotte." 
 
 Mrs. Mason politely offered to attend 
 them to the play ; but Rebecca had no 
 inclination to see any public diversion, 
 and they remained satisfied with merely 
 visiting the Tower, Westminster Abbey, 
 and St. Paul's Cathedral.
 
 184 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 CHAP. XXII. 
 
 When Sir Ambrose Templeton officially 
 received the news of his brother's death, 
 he instantly would have set out for Fair- 
 lawn-hall, had not the late perturbed 
 state of his mind brought on a brain 
 fever, from which he was only just re- 
 covering. 
 
 The grace and beauty of Rebecca had 
 quite subdued him. His whole soul was 
 now bent on possessing her. He consi* 
 dered that he not only had a prior but a 
 fuller claim to her hand, and was resolved 
 to let no endeavour escape for the accom- 
 plishment of his wishes. He felt an in- 
 ternal conviction that she finally would 
 be his ; for that fate, which so wonder- 
 fully had defeated every attempt to de- 
 stroy her, would still preside over her 
 destiny, and ultimately effect their union.
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 185 
 
 The large property bequeathed to 
 Rebecca by his brother did not surprise 
 him ; neither was it displeasing. Pos- 
 sessed of an ample fortune, of which he 
 made little use, and experienced no en- 
 joyment, he quietly suffered her to come 
 into possession of the fortune which was 
 left her. 
 
 Rebecca, in the meantime, visited, 
 along with Mr. and Mrs. Chesterville, the 
 estate at Stratford-le-Bow ; the surround- 
 ing country (for in 16 — it was the coun- 
 try) affording little variety of prospect. 
 Rebecca, from being used to live amidst 
 wide tracts of uninclosed country, 
 bounded by lofty mountains, and watered 
 by clear, rapid streams, was much struck 
 with the different features of the present 
 scenery ; the rich verdant meadows, for- 
 mally intersected with green hedgerows, 
 now full of the white-blossomed thorn, 
 the flowering May, and crowned with the 
 thin, tall poplars, with the river Lea 
 sluggishly creeping through the plain.
 
 186 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 The number of populous villages spread 
 in all directions, with handsome spires 
 and towers of churches breaking their 
 uniformity, gave a cheerful aspect to 
 what seemed to be one unbounded level 
 plain. 
 
 Grove- House, the name of the late 
 Mr. Templeton's estate, was a large, 
 substantial mansion, formally built of red 
 brick; the front partially concealed by 
 venerable elm-trees, which divided the 
 road from the haw-haw leading to the 
 pleasure grounds. The entrance was 
 through heavy iron gates, surmounted 
 with grotesque figures cut in stone. The 
 pleasure-grounds were profusely filled 
 with flowering-shrubs, and a richer va- 
 riety, formally planted in beds, than at 
 Fairlawn-hall, of the most beautiful and 
 rare flowers, grew with studied uni- 
 formity. The pensile branches of the 
 golden laburnum, blending with the 
 fragrant and colored lilac, together with 
 the elegant balls of the gilder rose,
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 187 
 
 formed one interminable grove of over- 
 powering fragrance, as she passed along 
 the walk they bordered. There was a soft, 
 reposing loveliness in this southern spot, 
 which formed so great a contrast to the 
 bold, wild beauties of the northern 
 pleasure-grounds. But though she was 
 charmed with the imposing novelty of 
 the present scene, she, on the whole, 
 preferred the romantic and rude features 
 of that part of Lancashire where she lived.
 
 188 DAME REBECCA BERRY, 
 
 CHAP. XXIII. 
 
 Whether it was the close, confined air 
 of London, or the effect of the late shock 
 Rebecca had sustained, which so ma- 
 terially injured her health, Mrs. Ches- 
 terville could not decide, but she daily- 
 saw an alarming change in her appear- 
 ance. Her colour was entirely gone, and 
 she became so extremely emaciated, Mrs. 
 Chesterville determined to consult a 
 physician, who immediately prescribed 
 change of air, and that she ought to be 
 taken without delay to Bristol hot-wells. 
 Mrs. Chesterville had already been 
 absent from home longer than she in- 
 tended, and she was distressed at the 
 idea of either leaving Rebecca behind, 
 or taking her to the bleak climate of the 
 north, milder air having been strongly 
 recommended. Mr. Mason kindly ob- 
 viated all her difficulty, by proposing to
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 189 
 
 write to his friend Mr. Elton, a Turkey 
 merchant, residing at Bristol ; and make 
 enquiry whether Miss Russell could be 
 boarded with some genteel family, for the 
 benefit of milder air. 
 
 Mr. Thomas Elton, the gentleman he 
 addressed in behalf of Rebecca, returned 
 a speedy and satisfactory answer. He 
 invited the young lady to his house until 
 she could be established as a boarder in 
 some respectable family, which he would 
 seek out. 
 
 Rebecca, naturally timid, and cruelly 
 depressed in spirits from her late misfor- 
 tune, was quite distressed at the idea of 
 parting from such precious friends as 
 Mrs. Chesterville and her daughter. 
 They had soothed her mind, and miti- 
 gated her late heavy affliction, bv their 
 tenderness and affection. It was a severe 
 trial at the present time to take up her 
 abode with strangers, and in a strange 
 country ; she however endeavoured, un- 
 repiningly, to submit to her lot, and had
 
 190 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 sense and discernment to see the pro- 
 priety of her removal from Liverpool, or 
 its immediate neighbourhood, under 
 existing circumstances. 
 
 Mr. Mason obligingly undertook to 
 conduct her to his friend at Bristol — a 
 kindness of which Rebecca was duly 
 sensible. 
 
 The parting between the friends was 
 tender and affecting. Rebecca was quite 
 subdued — she attempted to speak, but 
 the words died on her lips, and she could 
 only inarticulately say, as she saluted 
 Mrs. Chesterville, "Take with you, 
 dearest Madam, my warmest gratitude, 
 my everlasting love and respect." 
 
 "Love, gratitude, and respect!" in- 
 terrupted the lively Charlotte, attempting 
 to smile through her tears, " What more 
 have you to add, dear Rebecca ?" 
 
 " Much, much more would I add," 
 she replied, " but — " 
 
 " But you are at a loss for words — 
 well, as mamma guesses all you would
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 191 
 
 say, we will waive all except a few more 
 salutations ?' affectionately embracing 
 her, and then ran away. 
 
 Mrs. Chesterville had cherished Re- 
 becca with so much fondness, and enter- 
 tained so high an opinion of her excel- 
 lence, the separation was very painful ; 
 and after many tears being shed, they 
 parted, with the assurance from Mrs. 
 Chesterville, that Rebecca at all times 
 should find a home with her, if she 
 required one. 
 
 Mrs. Chesterville and her daughter 
 proceeded into Lancashire, whilst Re- 
 becca journeyed with Mr. Mason towards 
 Bristol. 
 
 She endeavoured, from time to time, 
 to enter into something like conversation 
 with her friendly, good-humoured com- 
 panion, who did all in his power to cheer 
 her ; but Rebecca was sick at heart — 
 she was separated, perhaps for ever, from 
 the only persons who were dear to her 
 in the world. The family of the Ches-
 
 192 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 tervilles comprised her little world — 
 she found how inadequate was wealth to 
 purchase happiness ; and the sacrifice of 
 those she loved, could ill repay her for 
 the title of an heiress. Still she was 
 destitute, though no longer portionless ; 
 and, could she have exchanged her 
 present for her former lot, how gladly 
 would she have done so. In the little 
 circle in which she formerly had lived, 
 she was loved with fondness, and che- 
 rished with kindness. Now what a blank 
 was before her — and at every lengthened 
 mile, her spirits and courage seemed to 
 fail.
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 193 
 
 CHAP. XXIV. 
 
 On the evening of the third day, the 
 travellers reached the city of Bristol. 
 
 When Rebecca was ushered into the 
 house of strangers, she sensibly felt the 
 loss of her kind friends. Naturally timid, 
 she was abashed in the presence of the 
 two ladies to whom Mr. Mason intro- 
 duced her ; there was something so dig- 
 nified and superior in their appearance, 
 to any thing she had ever seen before. 
 
 Mr. Elton politely met his guests at 
 the door, and immediately conducted 
 them into the apartment where his lady 
 and daughter were seated. Lady Frances 
 Elton immediately rose from her embroi- 
 dery frame, and advanced to welcome 
 Rebecca ; whilst the young one, putting 
 down the book she had been reading, 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 194 DAME REBECCA BERRY, 
 
 stood with looks of complacency, as she 
 silently regarded Rebecca. 
 
 " Your countenance, young lady," 
 exclaimed her Ladyship, " is the herald 
 of all that is intelligent and amiable ; you 
 require not a more favourable passport of 
 introduction. " 
 
 Perhaps Rebecca had never looked 
 more lovely than at the present moment. 
 Her deep mourning gave an interest and 
 pensive softness to her whole appearance. 
 Her cheeks were tinged with a passing 
 hectic colour, which gave an unusual 
 brilliance to her large blue eyes, and the 
 transparent fairness of her skin seemed 
 to have received a dazzling whiteness, 
 from coming in contrast with her sable 
 garments. The silken ringlets of her 
 blond hair had escaped from beneath her 
 cap, partially shading her snowy fore- 
 head and neck. 
 
 If, thought Rebecca, you are sincere, 
 how flattering is my reception, and how 
 fortunate 1 am ; at any rate, you seem
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 195 
 
 to be too polite to daunt a poor friend- 
 less stranger. 
 
 Miss Elton kindly pressed Rebecca's 
 hand, and also bade her welcome. She 
 was a lovely young woman, like her mo- 
 ther, elegant and dignified ; but it was a 
 dignity so tempered by softness, as to 
 render her truly feminine, and Rebecca 
 felt that she could have taken the capti- 
 vating Constance Elton at once to her 
 heart. 
 
 The surprise of all was mutual. Re- 
 becca, without the refinement of Miss 
 Elton, possessed with her native sim- 
 plicity an inborn grace, which gave her 
 character an easy guilelessness so prepos- 
 sessing, as happily to advocate her cause 
 with Lady Frances so greatly in her 
 favour, she at once was inclined to re- 
 tain her for her guest. 
 
 Mr. Elton, during his travels, had met 
 
 with Lady Frances Maynard, who, struck 
 
 with his handsome person and unaffected 
 
 manners, fell in love with him ; and the 
 
 k 2
 
 196 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 impression he made on her youthful 
 heart was returned by him with a warmth 
 which led to their union . 
 
 Mr. Elton sprang from an ancient fa- 
 mily, and was so wealthy, that though 
 the daughter of a peer, her Ladyship's 
 father being very poor, was not averse 
 to marry his daughter to so desirable a 
 person as Mr. Elton. They were a re- 
 markably happy couple. One son and 
 daughter blessed their union. The 
 former was in partnership with his father, 
 while the daughter proved the companion 
 and joy of her mother. She had be- 
 stowed on her those elegant accomplish- 
 ments with which she was gifted. Con- 
 stance Elton had not only a knowledge 
 of various languages, but she excelled in 
 the sciences of music and painting, at- 
 tainments few young ladies then ac- 
 quired. 
 
 Rebecca's noble hostess and engaging 
 daughter, appeared to her of a superior 
 order of beings to any thing she had
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 197 
 
 seen before. She had always thought 
 Mrs. Chesterville had a claim to be 
 ranked as an elegant woman, but there 
 was a stiffness, a formality, in all her 
 words and actions, which now forcibly 
 struck her, when compared with the un- 
 studied grace of Lady Frances. She 
 looked like a queen, so noble was her 
 air, so full of courtesy her words and 
 manner. Her voice was so sweet, so 
 conciliating and persuasive, Rebecca 
 hung upon every word she uttered, 
 though she seemed to shrink into mor- 
 tifying insignificance in the presence 
 of so noble a lady. She was dressed in 
 a peculiar style, altogether foreign from 
 what she had seen before ; but it was, 
 though simple, remarkably becoming, 
 and set off her person and face to great 
 advantage. Miss Elton was habited in 
 the same costume. 
 
 " Constance," cried her Ladyship, 
 taking Rebecca's hand, and gracefully 
 putting it within Miss Elton's, " do all 
 
 K S
 
 198 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 in your power to make Miss Russell con- 
 sider herself at home, instead of regard- 
 ing us as strangers. She has a claim to 
 a kind reception from the introduction of 
 your father's friend ; and, I am per- 
 suaded, she will have a further one for 
 her own sake, if I am not greatly mis- 
 taken." 
 
 Rebecca, at a loss how to reply, could 
 only look her thanks, which glistened in 
 her eyes with an expression of pleasure. 
 
 She remarked there was a degree of 
 taste in the furniture of the apartment, 
 and in all the ornamental parts, which 
 had not the heavy clumsiness of the houses 
 she was used to inhabit. Every thing 
 was conducted by Lady Frances with a 
 regard to elegance, but was so divested 
 of cold ceremony as to set the com- 
 pany at ease, and diffuse a cheerfulness 
 at once pleasing and unrestrained. 
 
 Mr. Elton, though, like Mr. Chester- 
 ville and Mr. Mason, the complete man of 
 business, was more polished in his man-
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 199 
 
 ners, and more conversant with general 
 topics of conversation, from having tra- 
 velled more than either of the other gen- 
 tlemen. 
 
 Rebecca's reserve insensibly wore orli 
 and, before the evening closed, she be- 
 gan to feel at home with her new friends. 
 
 The next morning, before taking leave, 
 Mr. Mason proposed enquiring for some 
 respectable family with whom Miss Rus- 
 sell could be placed. 
 
 Lady Frances interrupted him with a 
 good humoured smile, and said, " I beg 
 to negative the proposal, at least give 
 Miss Russell a little time for repose, and 
 a fair trial how she likes her new ac- 
 quaintance." 
 
 " I am an excellent walker," cried 
 Miss Elton, " and shall be happy, if Miss 
 Russell can take exercise, to accompany 
 her to the Hot Wells, which, Mr. Mason 
 observed, are recommended. You will 
 be delighted with the wild beauties with 
 which Clifton abounds, Its wooded 
 K 4
 
 £00 DAME REBECCA BERRT. 
 
 rocks, its winding river, with a combi- 
 nation of objects to please the eye of 
 taste and fancy. Few parts of England 
 can boast a richer diversity of the sublime 
 and beautiful on a circumscribed scale." 
 
 Rebecca replied, " Miss Elton could 
 not afford her a higher enjoyment." 
 
 " I have travelled so much," conti- 
 nued Constance, " with my mother 
 abroad, as to have acquired a sort of 
 passion for all that is grand and lovely in 
 nature. During the fine weather I al- 
 most live amidst St. Vincent's rocks, to 
 the wonder and curiosity of the ladies in 
 the neighbourhood, who, no doubt, set 
 me down as a most extraordinary person. 
 
 " If you are fond of antiquity," she 
 proceeded, " you shall accompany me to 
 visit my uncle, the Abbot of St. Augus- 
 tine.* The abbey is a venerable go- 
 
 * Bristol has been a bishopric ever since the dis- 
 solution of religious houses in the reign of Henry 
 the Eighth. The present cathedral having been for- 
 merly the church of the Abbey of St. Augustine*
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 201 
 
 thic pile, solemn and monastic, worth 
 your surveying. " 
 
 What a field of information and know- 
 ledge was laid open to Rebecca. She 
 regarded her new friends with admira- 
 tion, and promised herself delight and 
 improvement in their future society. 
 
 Mr. Mason took a kind leave of Re- 
 becca, adding, " I leave you, dear Miss, 
 in such good hands, it would be a pity 
 to take you away, since my Lady is so 
 condescending as to wish for your com- 
 pany." 
 
 Rebecca gratefully thanked Mr. Mason 
 for having conducted her to Bristol ; 
 after his departure she sat down and 
 wrote to her respected friend Mrs. Ches- 
 terville, to whom she gave a warm and 
 flattering picture of Lady Frances and 
 Miss Elton, whose superior attractions 
 dazzled while they charmed her. 
 
 It was one of the exalted Abbeys, its head sitting 
 in Parliament as a spiritual lord, and exercising 
 all episcopal offices. 
 
 K 5
 
 £02 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 CHAR XXV. 
 
 In the society of the sensible and well- 
 bred, a very short acquaintance banishes 
 restraint ; ease and courtesy excite con- 
 fidence, and early beget friendship. 
 
 Rebecca, in the course of a week, felt 
 herself a happy member of Mr. Elton's 
 family. There was an innate delicacy 
 and refinement in Miss Elton's character ; 
 a softness, yet dignity in her manners, so 
 prepossessing, that while Rebecca felt 
 she commanded respect, she, at the same 
 time, created esteem, and Miss Elton 
 was only to be known to be beloved. 
 
 Her mind insensibly expanded, her 
 judgment became more correct, and, 
 though her taste was never fastidious, 
 under the judicious eye of Lady Frances 
 Elton, she had a high relish for those su- 
 perior attainments she saw had reached
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 203 
 
 perfection in her Ladyship and Miss 
 Elton. 
 
 Lady Frances's acquaintance with fo- 
 reign courts had refined her natural taste, 
 while it gave a playful vivacity to her 
 conversation, which abounded in wit, 
 but so corrected by good sense, that it 
 could neither offend nor prove displeas- 
 ing. Her manners were piquant and 
 prepossessing \ she had mixed in the 
 most brilliant Court in Europe, that of 
 Louis the Fourteenth ; she had seen the 
 simple, elegant La Valliere, the seducing 
 Montespan ; the wise, judicious, but 
 subtle Maintenon. She had cognizance 
 of them all ; she had been presented to 
 the most polished monarch Europe then 
 boasted, the French king. She had also 
 seen the gay Court of the gallant Charles, 
 blazing with the charms of such a train of 
 beauteous females, and where all the wits 
 and poets of the day bore contested rival- 
 ship ; it was quite a new era in poetry. 
 Since the time of Shakspeare no drama- 
 k 6
 
 204* DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 tic writer had appeared to compare with 
 Otway. The melting tenderness of his 
 lines ; the powerful dramatic interest 
 which he gave to his plays, made way at 
 once to the hearts of those gifted with 
 taste to enjoy them. The lofty subli- 
 mity of Dryden equally astonished and 
 charmed ; while the terse wit of Butler 
 drew forth laughter, and was a style so 
 original and novel of composition, as to 
 render him immortal, though, unhappily, 
 neither he nor his cotemporary, Otway, 
 were raised from penury by their fine 
 talents. 
 
 What a source of knowledge and enjoy- 
 ment was now unfolded to Rebecca from 
 Lady Frances's and Miss Elton's ac- 
 quaintance with these and other eminent 
 authors. In reading them aloud, they 
 pointed out their various beauties; for 
 Rebecca, notwithstanding her particular 
 taste for literature, had been hitherto 
 deprived'of the advantage of any commen- 
 tator, Mr. Templeton holding in aversion
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 205 
 
 what he called a bookish person; and 
 Mrs. Chesterville, though sensible and 
 tolerably well informed on general topics, 
 was too deeply immersed in the cares for 
 her family, to give her time to reading. 
 
 Rebecca's time now was completely 
 filled up in useful and elegant attain- 
 ments - 7 her health, from her removal 
 into a milder climate, soft air, and gentle 
 exercise, daily improved. Her eyes re- 
 gained their wonted lustre ; her cheeks, 
 their roseate hue. Though her thoughts 
 continually reverted to the former ex- 
 traordinary occurrences of her eventful 
 life, she was too sensible of her present 
 blessings, not to recover her peace of 
 mind. Of her romantic history her new 
 friends were ignorant. She had simply 
 been presented to them as Miss Russell, 
 a ward of the late Mr. Templeton's, of 
 Fairlawn-hall, and heiress to a consider- 
 able portion of his wealth. 
 
 Rebecca was naturally open-hearted, 
 ingenuous, and communicative; but to
 
 206 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 her new friends she was reserved — 
 averse, from an innate delicacy of feeling, 
 to unfold a tale seemingly so improbable 
 and romantic ; she always became ab- 
 stracted and confused, when the subject 
 led to any thing like an enquiry respect- 
 ing her family and connections. Though 
 not ashamed of her humble birth, she 
 had a great repugnance to disclose her 
 singular estrangement from her parents, 
 and the Predictions of Sir Ambrose 
 Templeton, as connected with the events 
 of her future life.
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 207 
 
 CHAP. XXVI. 
 
 About a fortnight after Rebecca's so- 
 journ at Bristol, she received the following 
 letter from Charlotte Chesterville : — 
 
 " Liverpool, June 12, 16—. 
 Dear Rebecca. — Mamma and I had 
 a long, dull journey back to Lancashire. 
 When we got home, the house appeared 
 to have lost its pleasantest inmate in our 
 sweet Rebecca. However, I give you 
 joy, my dear, in safely being out of 
 harm's way, where none of Sir Ambrose 
 Templeton's spies can trace you ; for 
 there has been a great hue and cry after 
 you throughout the country. The mad 
 knight has been here, storming at poor 
 dear papa, and demanding where he has 
 placed you. Luckily, papa is ignorant ; 
 for mamma is resolved to keep the
 
 £08 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 secret, that you may not be persecuted ; 
 but he declares that neither earth nor sea 
 can or shall separate you from him, for 
 the magic ring is a certain talisman, that 
 finally will bring you together. 
 
 " You give us a bewitching picture of 
 your new friends; so much so, that I am 
 afraid you will cast your mad-cap Char- 
 lotte aside for the all-accomplished and 
 elegant Miss Elton. In truth, Rebecca, 
 I must appear quite an ignoramus, com- 
 pared with such a refined young lady. 
 We, commercial people, look more to the 
 main chance, than to the beauties of the 
 mind ; wealth is the god of our idolatry, 
 and to that shrine we too readily bow — 
 considering that money alone produces 
 all the good things of life, and, without 
 moralizing, may I not add all the evil. 
 
 " Mamma and Juliet (who is with us), 
 send you love and kisses. 
 
 " Your affectionate mad-cap Friend, 
 " Charlotte Chesterville."
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 209 
 
 On perusing Charlotte's letter, she 
 turned pale with alarm at the part relat- 
 ing to Sir Ambrose Templeton's deter- 
 mined pursuit, and prediction. She sat 
 lost in thought, insensible of the presence 
 of Lady Frances and Miss Elton, who 
 were anxiously regarding her. 
 
 Rebecca's confusion increased ; and 
 she took the first moment to leave the 
 room, requesting their excuse, not feel- 
 ing very well, till dinner time. 
 
 " Miss Russell," Lady Frances said, 
 " is an interesting and lovely young 
 creature ; but, considering her extreme 
 youth, and apparent simplicity of charac- 
 ter, there is a closeness and reserve about 
 her that is unnatural. It is uncommon 
 for a person of sensibility and tenderness 
 never to speak of her parents or con- 
 nections. She has not, it is true, the 
 commanding air that belongs to high 
 birth, neither does she possess the mean 
 insignificance of one of low degree. Has
 
 210 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 she ever, Constance, talked to you of her 
 family?" 
 
 " Never ; though I confess, with a 
 little natural female curiosity, I have 
 sometimes endeavoured to lead to the 
 subject ; but Miss Russell has always 
 cautiously waved it. The only persons 
 she names are Mrs. and Miss Ches- 
 terville, the people who were on a visit 
 to Mr. and Mrs. Mason. With them, I 
 understood, she has passed much of her 
 time." 
 
 " My having admitted," replied her 
 Ladyship, " a stranger guest into my 
 house is, perhaps, rather incautious ; but 
 Mr. Elton, happy to oblige Mr. Mason, 
 proposed inviting the young lady hither ; 
 and there is something in Miss Russell's 
 countenance, and unsophisticated man- 
 ners, so prepossessing, I have been irre- 
 sistibly impelled to retain her ; though, 
 certainly, she daily has proposed depart- 
 ing, when a proper asylum is found. 
 
 " You, too, my dear," continued the
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 211 
 
 Lady, " seem to be so partial to Miss 
 Russell, I should be sorry to separate 
 you ; without,'" she added, " it is really 
 her wish to leave us." 
 
 " That, I am sure," returned Miss 
 Elton, warmly, " is not the case." Miss 
 Russell has always expressed herself 
 happy in being here." 
 
 The conversation dropped. 
 
 Rebecca, now alone, again perused 
 Charlotte's letter. " Am I never," she 
 mentally exclaimed, " to find a resting- 
 place ? and when most happy, by some 
 unforeseen calamity, to be driven from 
 the few friends I possess ?" 
 
 She seriously dwelt on the necessity 
 there appeared for her removal ; and de- 
 termined to summon resolution to name 
 the painful subject to the family. 
 
 Pale, dejected, her eyes swollen with 
 weeping, Rebecca made her appearance 
 at table. Lady Frances and her daugh- 
 ter perceived that she was unhappy, and 
 had been in tears. With the utmost kind-
 
 212 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 ness they addressed and regarded her, 
 but without asking any questions. 
 
 Mr. Elton, also, was struck with her 
 pallid looks ; and said, with a good- 
 humoured smile, " You will spoil your 
 pretty face, my dear Miss Russell, if you 
 shed so many tears, and do no credit to 
 our fine Bristol air. I hope you feel at 
 home with us. I am sure my wife and 
 daughter wish you to be so." 
 
 Rebecca, quite subdued by Mr. Elton's 
 kindness, burst into tears. " Indeed, 
 Sir," she exclaimed, " you are all kind- 
 ness ; it quite overpowers me." 
 
 " Something has affected your spirits, 
 dear Miss Russell," interrupted Lady 
 Frances. " Be on no ceremony, but 
 retire with my daughter. Submit your 
 griefs to Constance ; you will find her 
 worthy your friendship." 
 
 Miss Elton silently led Rebecca from 
 table, and proposed a turn in the air. 
 
 " I think it will revive me," Rebecca
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 213 
 
 faintly replied, " nor shall you find me, 
 Miss Elton, unworthy your kindness." 
 
 They proceeded to a sequestered shady 
 spot in one of the green recesses on 
 the banks of the Avon, where they 
 seated themselves. Rebecca took her 
 friend's hand, and pressing it with fer- 
 vour, exclaimed, " You see me, Miss 
 Eiton, an heiress, it is true ; but at the 
 same time you see me almost friendless, 
 destitute of a home, relations, and the 
 unfortunate victim of a magical delusion, 
 which has partially tinctured all my days 
 with sorrow.' ' 
 
 " To a candid mind," she continued, 
 as Miss Elton with earnest curiosity re- 
 garded her, rt reserve is most oppressive. 
 Yet I felt that I had no right to intrude 
 the history of my eventful life on 
 strangers ; but your amiable mother has 
 shown so much feeling, with so much 
 delicacy, so much kindness, with so 
 much liberality, that I shall be more at 
 ease when I have committed my tale to
 
 214 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 Lady Frances and your confidence ; 
 secure, that in your generous bosoms I 
 shall find sympathy." 
 
 Miss Elton assured her of their con- 
 tinued friendship. 
 
 Rebecca now gave a brief narrative of 
 the occurrences of her life. Constance 
 viewed her with interest and wonder. 
 When she had ended, Miss Elton ten- 
 derly embracing her, exclaimed, " Your 
 trials have been severe, dear Rebecca ; 
 but you have borne them with such 
 fortitude and resignation, you will se- 
 cure the friendship and esteem of my 
 mother \ for already you have made an 
 advocate in her bosom by your humility 
 and sweetness." 
 
 Rebecca found her spirits revive, for 
 her mind was more at ease after the 
 confidence she had reposed in Miss 
 Elton. 
 
 She now proposed returning home, 
 and on reaching Bristol went immedi- 
 diately to her own chamber, leaving her 
 17
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 215 
 
 new friend to relate to Lady Frances the 
 history of her life. 
 
 Lady Frances, generous, noble, feeling, 
 and humane, greatly commiserated the 
 trying situations in which Rebecca had 
 been placed, giving her great credit for 
 her prudence and forbearance. 
 
 When she again joined them, Lady 
 Frances, in the most delicate and grace- 
 ful manner, renewed her invitation, as 
 if she and Miss Elton would be the per- 
 sons obliged by her remaining, adding, 
 M Constance has found in you, dear 
 Miss Russell, a friend so congenial to 
 her heart, it really would be cruel in 
 you to leave us. Write, however, to 
 Mr. Chesterville, under whose guardian- 
 ship my husband tells me you are, for 
 permission to prolong your visit." 
 
 Rebecca's eyes overflowed with plea- 
 sure at a request so gratifying. She im- 
 mediately dispatched a letter to Mrs. 
 Chesterville, who lost no time in send- 
 ing a reply favourable to her wishes.
 
 216 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 CHAP. XXVII. 
 
 1 he remainder of the summer, and the 
 succeeding winter months, glided on 
 with Rebecca in one uninterrupted 
 scene of happiness and enjoyment. Miss 
 Elton and she seemed like two twin 
 sisters ; their pleasures, their pursuits, 
 their habits became the same ; and from 
 their congeniality of mind and taste, 
 their friendship proved as tender as it 
 became permanent. 
 
 " „ Like two artificial gods, 
 
 Created with needles both one flower, 
 
 Both on one sampler, sitting on one cushion ; 
 
 Both warbling of one song, both in one key ; 
 
 As if their hands, sides, voices, and minds 
 
 Had been incorporate. So they grew together 
 
 Like to a double cherry, seeming parted, 
 
 But yet an union in partition. 
 
 Two lovely berries moulded on one stem ; 
 
 Or with two seeming bodies but one heart ; 
 
 Two of the first like coats in heraldry, 
 
 Due but to one as crowned with one crest." 
 
 Midsummer Night's Dream.
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 217 
 
 But short-lived is all human bliss ! To 
 be for ever pure and unalloyed, is not 
 permitted in a world which is not an 
 abiding city. Like an April day's clouds 
 and sunshine, cheerful and overcast, al- 
 ternately gilding one day with enjoy- 
 ment, the next overshadowed by sorrow. 
 
 In a moment, the brightest ornament 
 of Mr. Elton's house was taken from 
 them, and one of the happiest families 
 desolated. Lady Frances Elton was re- 
 moved by sudden death to that blessed 
 region for which, from her exemplary 
 piety, she had long been prepared. 
 
 The event came like a thunderbolt to 
 crush and destroy them, so unprepared 
 were they all for a calamity so heavy. 
 The tender, the suffering daughter re- 
 quired all the consolation that was ad- 
 ministered by her uncle, the Abbot of 
 St. Augustine's, to soothe her mind, and 
 teach her resignation. 
 
 Rebecca was as deeply afflicted as her 
 friend, for she loved and revered Lady 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 218 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 Frances Elton with the affection of a 
 daughter. The younger Mr. Elton felt 
 his loss as heavily as his sister, but he 
 had more command over his passions, and 
 more effectually concealed his grief for 
 the sake of his father, whose silent sor- 
 row so materially injured his health, as 
 to endanger his life. 
 
 During this mournful season, they all 
 derived comfort from the frequent visits 
 of Mr. Elton's brother, the Abbot of 
 St. Augustine's. He was a man of re- 
 puted learning and piety, as his meek 
 and benignant countenance bore testi- 
 mony. There was a heavenly serenity 
 in his beaming eye, and his noble open 
 brow expressed the capaciousness of a 
 mind at peace with all the world. 
 
 It was during one of his late visits, 
 after time had somewhat ameliorated 
 their grief, a young man accompanied 
 him to his brother's, the son of a friend, 
 for whom the Abbot entertained the 
 warmest friendship.
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 219 
 
 " I have brought, Thomas," he said to 
 his nephew, " Captain Berry hither as 
 an acquaintance worthy your cultivating; 
 he has lately greatly distinguished him- 
 self by his valour and spirit. My seques- 
 tered and religious habits of life exclude 
 me from the world ; but you cannot 
 please me more than by showing my 
 friend's son every right of hospitality 
 and kindness. He is now on his return 
 from an expedition into France, and stopt 
 at Bristol by the desire of his father, Sir 
 Robert Berry, on purpose to enquire for 
 me." 
 
 Young Elton graciously received Cap- 
 tain Berry, and by the elder Mr. Elton 
 he was immediately invited to make his 
 house his home during the few days he 
 meant to pass in Bristol. 
 
 Berry was in the prime 6f life, with a 
 figure tall, elegant, and commanding, 
 such as became a young soldier. His 
 face was open, ingenuous, and intelligent; 
 his eyes full of fire and animation, with 
 l 2
 
 220 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 a complexion, though dark, florid with 
 health and severe service. His under- 
 standing was excellent, and had been 
 cultivated as highly as was then the 
 fashion of his day. His reputation stood 
 high in the army for courage, as well as 
 humanity. His father, Sir Robert Berry, 
 held an ancient baronetage, but his es- 
 tates had suffered so considerably from 
 the turbulence of the times, he allowed 
 his son, who was spirited and ambitious 
 of military fame, to enter the army. 
 
 Young Elton, open-hearted, friendly 
 and good humoured, soon became much 
 pleased with Captain Berry ; there was 
 an air of gallantry, high polish, and an 
 acquaintance with the world, which ren- 
 dered his conversation interesting and 
 agreeable to a young man, who, like 
 Elton, had always been so closely con- 
 fined to his father's house of business, 
 few opportunities had offered of culti- 
 vating the acquaintance of men of his 
 own age ; and, indeed, the domestic cir-
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 221 
 
 cle of his own fireside was so happy, 
 so uniformly cheerful, that Thomas, 
 when once seated in the midst of their 
 social party, never had a desire to go 
 further in search of enjoyment. 
 
 To the beauty and gentle sweetness of 
 Rebecca he was not insensible ; but the 
 esteem she excited was that of a brother. 
 He admired her extreme loveliness, but 
 it was without enthusiasm ; and he esti- 
 mated her excellence, knowing that her 
 virtues were regarded as they merited by 
 his lamented mother and sister. Her com- 
 pany had enlivened their little domestic 
 society. He was pleased to remark the 
 growing friendship between his sister 
 and Rebecca ; and, under their present 
 calamity, it greatly mitigated the affliction 
 of Constance to possess so estimable a 
 friend. 
 
 At this period, Captain Berry's arrival 
 
 was a great relief, as it broke the painful 
 
 monotony of their now desolate house. 
 
 The elder Mr. Elton visibly declined ; 
 
 l 3
 
 Q%2 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 and the effort he made to conceal from 
 his family that his heart was broken, 
 preyed on his constitution, and was 
 rapidly hurrying him to the grave.
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 223 
 
 CHAP. XXVIII. 
 
 Domesticated in Mr. Elton's family, 
 Captain Berry soon became captive to 
 the charms of the fair Rebecca. Though 
 Constance was scarcely less lovely than 
 her friend, yet, in the genuine simplicity 
 of Rebecca, there was something more 
 attaching. The lofty superiority of 
 Miss Elton, though tempered by a grace- 
 ful mildness, led not the way so easily to 
 the heart, and conveyed an idea of cold- 
 ness and caution which too generally 
 belong to persons accustomed to the 
 usage of the world. 
 
 The soft effulgence of Rebecca's eyes, 
 half curtained by her long, silken eye- 
 lashes, gave a pensive Madona expres- 
 sion to her features, which, without being 
 strictly regular, were so happy in their 
 formation, an artist would not have wish- 
 l 4
 
 %24f DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 ed them altered ; her mind beamed in 
 her face, and what she felt and thought 
 was there depicted. 
 
 Captain Berry hung over her, ena- 
 moured, as she sang to her lute a tender, 
 serious strain, not unlike one of the even- 
 ing hymns to the Virgin : the words were 
 composed by the abbot of St. Augustine. 
 The sensibility which she displayed 
 throughout the air, touched him to the 
 soul; and, almost forgetting Rebecca was 
 a terrestrial being, he rapturously ex- 
 claimed, as he attempted to take her 
 hand, I would say — 
 
 " That strain again ; 
 O, it came o'er my ear like the sweet south, 
 That breathes upon a bank of violets, 
 Stealing and giving odour." 
 
 Twelfth Night. 
 
 Rebecca coloured, and silently with- 
 drew her hand. It was the first compli- 
 ment she had ever received from Captain 
 Berry, indeed from almost any man, for 
 young Elton was not given to flattery;
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 225 
 
 and though he thought Rebecca a very 
 lovely girl, his regard for her was that of 
 a brother. Rebecca's heart fluttered, as 
 her timid eyes met the ardent gaze of 
 Berry ; a crimson glow covered her face 
 and bosom, as she stammered out her 
 inability to repeat the air, which was of 
 an affecting nature, for the words spoke 
 of departed spirits of the righteous, and 
 she thought of the pure one of Lady 
 Frances, which so lately had diffused joy 
 to all around her. 
 
 Miss Elton was also affected, but she 
 had more command over her feelings 
 than Rebecca, and checked the rising tear. 
 
 To somewhat dissipate the present 
 embarrassment of the lovers, Miss Elton 
 opened a porte-feuille, containing some 
 exquisite drawings of the scenery around 
 Clifton, which Berry carelessly turned 
 over, and soon after he took leave, with 
 a promise to see the ladies on the follow- 
 ing day. 
 
 Constance observed with anxiety the 
 l .5
 
 226 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 admiration which Rebecca had inspired. 
 Though there was every thing in Cap- 
 tain Berry's appearance and manner to 
 engage affection, the hazard attached to 
 a soldier's life was not likely to tend ul- 
 timately to the happiness of either ; and 
 Rebecca's retired habits rather shunned 
 than sought publicity. 
 
 She was reluctant to give her pain by 
 warning of her danger ; whilst Rebecca, 
 who on all former occasions sought 
 Miss Elton's confidence, now sedulously 
 avoided all subjects that could lead to 
 the name of Berry. Sleep fled her eyes 
 when she retired to her pillow. Captain 
 Berry had won upon her youthful heart, 
 and she retraced his look, his manner, 
 his conversation, with partial fondness. 
 
 He was more enlightened than most 
 young men of the age in which he lived. 
 The abbot had spent much time in his 
 father's house, and had taken great plea- 
 sure in instructing him in those various 
 branches of knowledge, which rendered
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 227 
 
 his conversation delightful to Miss Elton 
 and Rebecca. He was fond of music 
 and poetry to enthusiasm, and had cul- 
 tivated his taste for each at every fa- 
 vourable opportunity, 
 
 When Rebecca the following morn- 
 ing opened the book which contained the 
 air she had sung on the former evening, 
 she was surprised to find the following 
 lines from Milton's Paradise Lost, writ- 
 ten in a pencil beneath : — 
 
 " The angel ended, and in mine ear 
 So charming left her voice, that I awhile 
 Thought her still speaking." 
 
 It w T as easy for Rebecca to penetrate 
 what were the sentiments of Captain 
 Berry towards her. She readily gave 
 him that heart he had quite subdued, 
 and each day brought added felicity in 
 the society of one another. 
 
 Berry, spell-bound, heeded not the 
 lapse of time, till roused by the question 
 from the venerable- abbot, if it was not 
 l 6
 
 228 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 encroaching on the hospitality of his 
 kind brother by a stay so prolonged with- 
 out any particular motive ? 
 
 Berry at once opened his heart to the 
 holy man, and solicited his interest with 
 Mr. Elton in behalf of Rebecca. 
 
 His affection was pure and disinte- 
 rested. He was ignorant that she was 
 an heiress. His own possessions were 
 not large ; but as he was heir to a ba- 
 ronetage, they would be hereafter con- 
 siderable ; and even if Miss Russell was 
 portionless, how slender was that objec- 
 tion when put in competition with his 
 happiness. 
 
 The abbot heard him with a look of 
 stern rebuke. 
 
 " Silly boy i" he exclaimed, in a tone 
 of gravity, not very encouraging, " ho- 
 nour and arms should rather be a soldier's 
 theme than that of love ; the camp his 
 home ; the knapsack his pillow of re- 
 pose. These are not times to think on 
 tender ditties, — when your country is
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 229 
 
 so beset, and hourly you may be called 
 to your post of duty. Then what 
 becomes of the fair Rebecca, who, if 
 you marry, so delicate and tender, is not 
 formed to follow you through difficulty 
 and danger, when the cannon's roar 
 sounds in her ear, and, amidst the dead 
 and dying, she, with a woman's tender- 
 ness, feebly follows you to the scene of 
 war, think well what then will be your 
 anguish, as you strain her to that fond 
 bosom, perhaps to meet no more ?" 
 
 " Oh, horrible!" cried Berry, with 
 dismay, " the picture you have drawn; 
 rather reverse it, if you would not de- 
 stroy me quite ; and paint those hours 
 of bliss, which, in some sequestered 
 nook, we may pass together, if I may 
 but call Rebecca mine." 
 
 " Your attachment has not reason for 
 its basis j 'tis a romantic passion, a 
 youthful folly, which reflection will cool, 
 without it is founded on ambition." 
 
 " On ambition !" he interrupted warm-
 
 c 230 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 ly, " my love is founded ; the proud 
 ambition to possess Rebecca. If she be 
 portionless I care not, so she is content 
 to share a soldier's fortune. 'Tis 
 sympathy of soul, 'tis kindred minds, 
 that form the only basis of true hap- 
 piness." 
 
 "Your's," said the abbot, " is the 
 sophistry of inexperience, therefore fu- 
 tile. I object not to your choice, for 
 Rebecca is lovely, virtuous, and wise — 
 discreet, passing her tender years. Nei- 
 ther do I object to that lawful state of 
 holy matrimony ordained by God ; but it 
 is your childish years. Go then, until 
 experience gives you wisdom, and. pursue 
 that life of hostile warfare allotted for 
 you which scatters sorrow and desolation 
 over the earth. It is man that brings 
 strife ; and, brief as are his days, he can- 
 notbe atpeace till the grave receives him." 
 
 The conversation was here interrupted 
 by one of Mr. Elton's servants, whose 
 countenance bespoke his sorrowful er-
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 231 
 
 rand. His master for some days had 
 been rapidly declining, and now became 
 so much worse, Mr. Elton desired the 
 immediate attendance of his brother to 
 close his eyes. 
 
 " I am called," said the abbot, with a 
 look of meek resignation, " to fulfil the 
 last and mournful office humanity re- 
 quires. You, young man," he continued, 
 in an impressive voice, " are only begin- 
 ning your career in life ; may its end be 
 like my brother's, and you need not fear 
 death. God protect and guide you," 
 extending his arms in benediction. 
 
 " May I not, reverend father," ex- 
 claimed Berry, " await your return ? I 
 fain would know how poor Rebecca — " 
 
 " Chide that impetuosity of temper — 
 learn patience and forbearance. Go 
 home now to your father, and rest satis- 
 fied that, at a proper season, you shall 
 hear from me. Farewell !" 
 
 Thus repulsed, Berry dared not follow. 
 Listless and unhappy, he mounted his
 
 £32 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 horse, and directed his way towards his 
 paternal home in Leicestershire, pursued 
 by the fair form of Rebecca, to whom 
 there now seemed little prospect tyf 
 being united*
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 233 
 
 CHAP. XXIX. 
 
 The abbot found Mr. Elton, though 
 visibly approaching his end, sensible and 
 resigned. He was surrounded by his 
 family, who, in the deepest anguish, were 
 listening with respectful silence to the 
 last words which, in feeble accents, flow- 
 ed from his dying lips. 
 
 Every consolation that could be offered 
 on the awful occasion, the abbot poured 
 into the bosom of his brother, elevating 
 the thoughts of his afflicted family to 
 scenes beyond this terrestrial sphere. 
 
 Before morning, Mr. Elton's earthly 
 pilgrimage was ended. He expired on 
 the breast of his pious brother. 
 
 Constance Elton, since the death of 
 Lady Frances, spent much of her time 
 in a society of reformed nuns, living in 
 the vicinity of Bristol. Their meek de-
 
 234 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 votion, sequestered habits, and grave 
 demeanour, suited the pensiveness which 
 gained upon Miss Elton ever since she was 
 deprived of her mother. Fondly as she 
 loved Rebecca, yet the imposing and in- 
 sidious manners of the sisterhood gra- 
 dually weaned Miss Elton from the 
 pleasures of the world ; she regarded its 
 enjoyments as empty and vain gratifica- 
 tions ; and growing daily more attached 
 to their religious ceremonies, immediately 
 after the interment of her father, she 
 formed the determination to enter the 
 community. 
 
 Rebecca was quite distressed when 
 Miss Elton acquainted her with her in- 
 tention. To part from her only friend 
 at the present period, seemed to deprive 
 her of every joy in existence, and was so 
 heavy an affliction, she would have ac- 
 companied Constance into the convent, 
 had not her heart been devoted to 
 Captain Berry; hence a monastic life 
 was one the least suited to her inclination.
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 235 
 
 It was true, the suddenness of his depar- 
 ture, without any reason given, would 
 have wounded her deeply, had not the 
 circumstance of Mr. Elton's illness at the 
 time impeded all intercourse, or even 
 the opportunity of a tender farewell. 
 She therefore fondly indulged the hope 
 they soon should meet again. The pros- 
 pect was too pleasing not to cherish. A 
 thousand nameless attentions had con- 
 vinced Rebecca that she was not indiffe- 
 rent to him 5 and though the rules of 
 decorum and modesty forbade her re- 
 maining alone with young Elton in the 
 now desolate mansion of his lamented 
 parents, yet her heart sickened at the 
 idea of a convent, which would fatally 
 prove an eternal barrier between her and 
 Berry. 
 
 Miss Elton saw and pitied Rebecca's 
 distress ; she was too liberal minded to 
 persuade her to adopt that mode of life 
 which had become her own choice, and 
 kindly said, with delicacy and kindness,
 
 236 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 " You must, dear Rebecca, prove a sis- 
 ter to Thomas in my absence. He re- 
 gards and respects you as such. It 
 would be cruel to deprive him of you 
 also ; therefore, to obviate all impropriety 
 in your remaining here, a widowed sister 
 of my father's will take my place ; she is 
 a worthy woman, and will study both 
 your comforts. 
 
 " Though I am going, in some mea- 
 sure, to detach myself from the world, 
 my friendship for you will remain unal- 
 tered. At stated seasons we can always 
 meet, but I have a higher calling than 
 worldly pursuits, and even my sister, 
 Rebecca, cannot detain me from it ; for, 
 oh ! how weak are all earthly consider- 
 ations, when compared to being the child 
 of God?" 
 
 Constance, collected, steady, and per- 
 severing, took leave of Rebecca with a 
 calmness that showed her purpose was 
 fixed. Rebecca, young, ardent in feel- 
 ing, warm in affection, was quite sub-
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 237 
 
 dued by the various emotions which 
 overwhelmed her ; she clasped Constance 
 with tenderness to her heart, and, shed- 
 ding floods of tears, was unable, from 
 sobs, to articulate a sentence. 
 
 During her residence with Lady Frances 
 Elton and her daughter, Rebecca had 
 experienced every enjoyment their friend- 
 ship and refinement could bestow. There 
 was an elegance belonging to Lady Fran- 
 ces ; a correctness of taste and judg- 
 ment ; a dignity, so tempered with soft- 
 ness, in all her actions, that, while Re- 
 becca felt her loss irreparable, she held 
 her up in her " mind's eye" as the bright- 
 est pattern of every female excellence. 
 In Miss Elton she had found a friend of 
 congenial mind, with whom she had 
 shared the happiest hours of her life ; 
 their pursuits, their occupations, had 
 been the same ; and brief as were the 
 months they had spent together, from 
 Lady Frances and her daughter, Rebecca 
 had acquired more knowledge in every
 
 238 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 useful and elegant acquirement, than in 
 the four years spent at Liverpool. 
 
 She wrote Mrs. Chesterville an account 
 of the calamity which had befallen her. 
 Rebecca endeavoured to acquire compo- 
 sure to receive her new inmate Mrs. 
 Morgan, who was to supply the place of 
 her lost friend. 
 
 Mr. Elton's behaviour to Rebecca had 
 never been marked by any particular 
 attention, though uniformly friendly and 
 obliging; now, by every kindness, he 
 seemed to try to make up to her the loss 
 of Miss Elton ; he desired her to con- 
 sider herself as his younger sister, to 
 think herself at home, to command what- 
 ever she wished in his house, to feel no 
 restraint, for it was not more his inclina- 
 tion, than he deemed it his duty, to sup- 
 ply to her the place of those inestimable 
 parents of which it had been the will of 
 the Almighty to deprive him. 
 
 " Let us, dear Rebecca," he added 
 with emotion, " set them always before 
 18
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 239 
 
 our eyes ; follow their example, pre- 
 cepts, and actions ; imitate their virtues, 
 and so live as if they saw and approved 
 our deeds, and then we cannot greatly 
 err." He took her hand, and, pressing it 
 tenderly, continued, *' Henceforth look on 
 me as, indeed, your brother; your friend, 
 your adviser on all occasions. I have never 
 been indifferent to your interests, to your 
 happiness." He paused, and, colouring, 
 proceeded, " If, Rebecca, it is in my 
 power by any means to promote that 
 happiness, scruple not to claim my con- 
 fidence, my services." 
 
 After some hesitation he proceeded, 
 " I am not ignorant there is one not un- 
 worthy Rebecca's affections." 
 
 She coloured, and, in confusion, timid- 
 ly looked down, and remained silent. 
 " Had your heart been free," Mr. Elton 
 exclaimed with increased emotion, " per- 
 haps Rebecca would have looked with 
 an eye of favour on the brother of her 
 friend Constance. As it is," he added,
 
 <210 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 " I ask not, I presume not — all I soli- 
 cit, amiable, gentle Rebecca, is that you 
 will regard me as one warmly inclined to 
 promote your happiness, however unhap- 
 py myself." 
 
 Rebecca could not speak, she was sur- 
 prised, overwhelmed ; and, whilst her 
 eyes beamed with looks of ineffable sweet- 
 ness on Mr. Elton, he suddenly left the 
 room overcome by contending emotions. 
 
 It was not his intention to have re- 
 vealed to Rebecca the tender passion 
 which she had inspired in his bosom. 
 Indeed, he was scarcely sensible, that 
 she had inspired a sentiment of the kind, 
 until Captain Berry became their daily 
 guest; then, and then only, the truth 
 became revealed. A listlessness, a jea- 
 lousy, for which he could not account, 
 took possession of him. Berry's atten- 
 tions to Rebecca, he beheld with the most 
 painful emotion ; he was uneasy in their 
 presence, and often withdrew to chide 
 himself for indulging a hopeless passion ;
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 24l 
 
 but the more he strove to subdue his 
 feelings, the greater the ascendancy they 
 seemed to gain. To give way to a par- 
 tiality likely to prove so fatal to his re- 
 pose, he resolved to conquer, and, by a 
 powerful effort, nobly offer his interest 
 in promoting an alliance with his more 
 fortunate rival. He saw that Miss Rus- 
 sell's heart was devoted to Berry; he 
 read it in her bright intelligent eyes ; he 
 read it in the timid confusion which 
 came over her, which spread in blushing 
 smiles whenever Captain Berry was 
 named, or came into her presence. 
 
 He had openly declared to him the 
 admiration Rebecca had excited ; he 
 had, in confidence, avowed his passion, 
 and young Elton was convinced nothing, 
 except his father's fatal illness, had pre- 
 vented Berry making proposals to Miss 
 Russell, when he was so suddenly shut 
 out from all intercourse with them by 
 the death of the elder Mr. Elton. 
 
 Thomas Elton was a grave, sensible, 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 242 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 steady young man ; his education had 
 been confined to that which was suited 
 to a mercantile life ; he had not a parti- 
 cle of romance in his disposition ; his 
 temper was even ; his heart warm and 
 generous. It was Rebecca's excellence, 
 not her beauty, which, by degrees, had 
 established the affection she inspired; 
 he knew how tenderly she had been 
 loved by his mother, and that Rebecca, 
 in return, looked up to Lady Frances 
 with a degree of veneration and filial 
 regard, tinctured with the enthusiasm of 
 a young and ardent mind. His mother's 
 opinions were the rule of her conduct ; 
 her example the model of her life. To 
 displease Lady Frances, by the slightest 
 intended error, would have rendered her 
 miserable ; to possess and deserve her 
 favour and esteem was her highest am- 
 bition. 
 
 Young Elton lamented that his sister 
 had been led away from his family and 
 home, by what he considered the most 
 18
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 24-3 
 
 erroneous and misguided opinions. He 
 respected his uncle, the abbot, but he 
 pitied his bigotry and fanaticism and pre- 
 judices, though, from his genuine piety, 
 he knew him to be sincere, if in error. 
 He grieved that his influence over Con- 
 stance had alienated her affections from 
 her family, had detached her from the 
 world, and withdrawn her from his do- 
 mestic circle. Perceiving, or fancying 
 that he perceived, his niece's scheme of 
 life fixed in joining the sisterhood, the 
 abbot, zealous in the cause of what he 
 considered her eternal welfare, got her 
 elected prioress in the place of the 
 former principal, just dead, thus es- 
 tablishing Constance in the community. 
 
 Young Elton used all his influence and 
 exertion to oppose a measure he entirely 
 disapproved. It was unavailing. Con- 
 stance's resolution remained unshaken ; 
 and, upheld by her uncle, every argument 
 proved futile and unavailing. 
 
 Mrs. Morgan could ill supply to Re- 
 M °2
 
 ^44 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 becca the loss of her friends. She missed 
 the elegance which formerly had so emi- 
 nently distinguished their house above 
 every other in that part of the country. 
 The books she formerly had read with 
 Lady Frances and Miss Elton were cast 
 aside ; she could not open them, they 
 recalled so many tender and mournful 
 recollections. Mrs. Morgan had no taste 
 for reading ; Mr. Elton had not leisure. 
 Music no longer sounded in the pavilion, 
 the pencil no longer gave colouring, 
 life, and beauty to the romantic land- 
 scapes with which St. Vincent's rocks 
 abounded. She had no objects now to 
 create excitement ; she had, alas ! which 
 was more painful, no persons now on 
 whom to rest her affection, to exchange 
 looks of tenderness, to give the meed of 
 approbation. Cheerful, animated con- 
 versation had ceased to charm the ear 
 and the senses. Thought no longer met 
 thought. The chair her beloved bene- 
 factress had filled so gracefully, with
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 215 
 
 looks of benignant sweetness, was va- 
 cated. Constance's tambour-frame hung 
 useless; her lute was silent. All was 
 still, desolate, and solitary ! Rebecca 
 could not bear to occupy the apartment; 
 she fled from it with a feeling of despair ; 
 it was the tomb of her departed joys ; — 
 she looked around on vacancy ; she burst 
 into tears, and determined never more to 
 enter that room, where every scene of 
 happiness was departed for ever. 
 
 3l3
 
 24<6 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 CHAP. XXX. 
 
 Hebecca now spent much of her time 
 amidst the woody recesses of St. Vin- 
 cent's rocks. The pensile beauty of the 
 scene seemed to soothe the sadness of her 
 heart. The soft murmuring of the Avon, 
 as it glided at the foot of the impending 
 cliffs, blending their fantastic forms with 
 the rich, bright verdure of the trees ; the 
 roots of wild and fragrant flowers ena- 
 melling the banks ; the tender, soft 
 plaint of the stock-dove, and the more 
 lively notes of myriads of birds, pouring 
 forth their songs of gladness, were all 
 objects and melodies which peculiarly 
 harmonised with the melancholy tone of 
 her spirits. She was glad to fly from the 
 " busy hum of men," and in loneliness to 
 indulge in that dangerous despondence
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 247 
 
 which seems to shut out all hope and all 
 enjoyment. 
 
 Rebecca dwelt on the romantic events 
 of her extraordinary life, from the pe- 
 riod of her earliest recollection to the 
 present moment. How much had she 
 been the child of Providence — how 
 much its peculiar care, under all the 
 difficulties and dangers which she had 
 encountered. Her residence with Sir 
 Ambrose Templeton, when reason first 
 began to dawn in infancy ; next, her 
 rescue from a watery grave by the hu- 
 mane Michael Barton, and the tender 
 care of his wife Margery, bestowed upon 
 her while fostered beneath their lowly 
 dwelling ; next their melancholy death ; 
 and her sudden surprising transition 
 from poverty to affluence, in the man- 
 sion of her respected benefactor, Mr. 
 Templeton; the interruption of their 
 union by his brother, at the very mo- 
 ment it was to take place; the extra- 
 ordinary fate predicted by Sir Am- 
 m 4
 
 c 248 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 brose ; the spell which he affirmed 
 bound them together, which, though 
 she feared not, (considering it impossi- 
 ble) yet she shuddered to think upon, 
 if indeed it were to be fulfilled, and she 
 was to be united to a man who built his 
 faith on destiny, not God. Yet still, such 
 is the inconsistency of human nature, 
 Rebecca, though she feared Sir Ambrose 
 Templeton, disliked him not ; for he 
 had cherished her with fondness in in- 
 fancy ; she hung about him with a 
 daughter's love ; when she could but lisp 
 the name of father — but with that name 
 was linked all tenderness. Still a cloud 
 of mystery she could not penetrate, 
 hung over all that was connected with 
 Sir Ambrose Templeton ; and while she 
 could not hate, she yet dreaded him. 
 
 To the amiable Mrs. Chesterville she 
 owed the advantages of her youthful 
 education. She had passed the latter 
 years of childhood in heedless playful- 
 ness with her daughters, Juliet and
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 249 
 
 Charlotte, when free from care and sor- 
 row; and she thought of them with 
 fondness. 
 
 When her marriage was prevented 
 with Mr. Templeton by the wild phrenzy 
 of hjs brother, and the amulet, toge- 
 ther with the magic ring, plunged into 
 the Mersey, with the pledge affixed, that 
 should she ever find that fatal ring, he 
 then, and only then should claim her 
 his, and thus seal her destiny for life, 
 Rebecca turned sick at heart as the 
 idea crossed her, impossible as it ap- 
 peared such a destiny would ever be 
 fulfilled. 
 
 Next she dwelt on the generosity of 
 her noble benefactor, her betrothed hus- 
 band, Mr. Templeton, for whom she 
 entertained the deepest gratitude, the 
 purest esteem. She was not, however, 
 sorry she was free. It was an alliance 
 founded on gratitude alone ; and though 
 she would have fulfilled the duties of a 
 wife, with every effort to render Mr. 
 M 5
 
 250 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 Templeton happy, she then knew not 
 what it was to love. 
 
 Removed from Lancashire to avoid 
 Sir Ambrose Templeton, how felicitous 
 had been her days. Since her residence 
 at Bristol, how fraught with peace, with 
 love, and harmony. 
 
 There Captain Berry had won her 
 youthful heart, yet was he not worthy 
 the possession? Whatever might be her 
 future lot, and whether- or not they 
 were destined to come together, she la- 
 mented not the conquest he had gained. 
 Rebecca frequently visited the pri- 
 oress. Constance always met her with 
 looks of placid happiness ; and though 
 she spoke not of their former days of gay 
 enjoyment, yet she pressed Rebecca 
 with fondness to her heart, and gave 
 her the assurance her friendhsip and af- 
 fection was undiminished. 
 
 Rebecca saw Mr. Elton only at the 
 hour of meals, and sometimes of an 
 evening. The look of tender enquiry
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 251 
 
 with which he always viewed her gave 
 her pain ; and therefore, as much as 
 possible, she shunned his society. Mrs. 
 Morgan, engaged in domestic cares, 
 little heeded Rebecca, who, left almost 
 constantly to herself, began to turn her 
 thoughts to some occupation which 
 would call her mind from those mourn- 
 ful recollections which still too power- 
 fully pressed upon her. 
 
 m 6
 
 L 25% -DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 CHAP. XXXI. 
 
 boME months had elapsed since the 
 death of the elder Mr. Elton, and Con- 
 stance's removal to the convent, when 
 Rebecca was suddenly and unexpectedly 
 roused from the painful torpor which 
 preyed upon her by the arrival of the 
 following letter : — 
 
 " To Miss Russell. 
 " Madam, — Might I flatter myself 
 that a visit from me would not prove 
 displeasing, on the wings of love I would 
 instantly fly, and throw myself at your 
 feet, offering a heart which long has 
 been your's. It is not an heiress I seek 
 in Miss Russell — it is a friend — a 
 companion — a sweet solace in age, after 
 the vicissitudes and perils incidental to a 
 military life.
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. <253 
 
 " My fortune is sufficiently ample to 
 satisfy the station I fill ; a profusion of 
 wealth leads only to vain indulgences 
 and ostentatious pleasures. A certain 
 portion is perhaps requisite to comfort — 
 beyond that, how little does it ultimately 
 tend to happiness ; for wealth cannot 
 bring health, nor can it heal a broken 
 heart. 
 
 " Suffer me, lovely Rebecca, to look 
 forward to that felicity which, without 
 you, I cannot taste ; and with that 
 winning sweetness which bespeaks the 
 purity and gentleness of your heart, 
 admit to your presence the most devoted 
 of your servants, 
 
 " John Berry." 
 
 The throbbing tumult of Rebecca's 
 heart for some time prevented her taking 
 up her pen ; at length she answered Sir 
 John Berry to this effect : — 
 
 " The visit from Sir John Berry cannot
 
 254 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 prove displeasing 10 Rebecca : she is too 
 much flattered by his partiality to 
 negative his wishes." 
 
 Rebecca acted solely by the dictates of 
 her own feelings in the reply she gave 
 her lover. Though she would gladly 
 have consulted Constance on an occasion 
 so important to her future happiness, her 
 total exemption from all worldly con- 
 cerns had of late thrown a restraint over 
 Rebecca, which in former days did not 
 exist, when familiar confidence blended 
 with the warmth of their friendship ; 
 and she now shrank from the idea of 
 informing her of the unadvised step she 
 had taken, and determined to leave 
 the disclosure of her intended union to 
 be made by Sir John Berry to the abbot, 
 and thence communicated to Constance. 
 
 Berry, of a warm and ardent disposi- 
 tion, was transported at the ready and 
 cheerful consent given by Rebecca to 
 become his. Folding and putting her
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. Q55 
 
 letter in his bosom, he instantly set out 
 for Bristol, and stopped not until he 
 alighted in that city. 
 
 Rebecca, whose sedate deportment 
 was seldom altered by passing circum- 
 stances, now, however, assumed so 
 changed an aspect, as to be observed by 
 young Elton's ever quick and watchful 
 eye ; when every time the door opened, 
 Rebecca turned pale, trembled, then 
 became crimson. 
 
 All attempt at conversation was 
 fruitless. At length young Elton, with 
 a half smile and suppressed sigh, tenderly 
 regarding Rebecca, said, " I perceive, 
 Rebecca, you are on the tiptoe of ex- 
 pectation. Love lights up those tender 
 eyes with fond anxiety ; therefore think 
 not to play the hypocrite with me — you 
 cannot do it. Truth beams in that face, 
 guides every motion of your heart, and 
 you need not tell me that Sir John Berry 
 is expected."
 
 256 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 " It is even so," she faintly exclaimed, 
 her face suffused with blushes. 
 
 "Then why, lovely, and too fondly 
 loved Rebecca, conceal it from me? Let 
 us welcome him as becomes an expected 
 bridegroom, with smiles of joy. 
 
 "From my soul I wish you happy," 
 he continued, sighing heavily, "and you 
 will be happy. Sir John Berry is brave, 
 generous, humane ! He combines with 
 all the intrepidity of the soldier, the 
 proper feelings of a man — he is deserving 
 of Rebecca." 
 
 Such meed of praise from his rival 
 touched her deeply. There was a senti- 
 ment so noble and liberal in this tribute 
 of esteem, she insensibly took his hand, 
 and pressed it in cordial friendship. 
 
 A violent ring at the gate broke oft* 
 the conversation. In a few minutes Sir 
 John Berry was announced. He entered 
 the room in hurry and agitation, and, 
 without observing young Elton, rushed 
 into Rebecca's arms.
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 2<57 
 
 " Our good friend," said Rebecca, in 
 a faltering accent, " would bid you wel- 
 come," regarding Elton. 
 
 He now advanced towards Sir John, 
 and held out his hand, which trembled 
 like an aspin-leafi and the greetings 
 which he attempted to offer died on 
 his lips. 
 
 Berry, too full of happiness to remark 
 young Elton, had flown to Rebecca in a 
 transport of delight, and threw himself at 
 her feet, exclaiming, " Thus prostrate be- 
 fore you, sweetest Rebecca, suffer me to 
 pour forth my thanks, my gratitude — to 
 tell you that my heart, too full for utter- 
 ance, cannot express its joy. Thus, 
 then," he continued, taking her willing 
 hand, and pressing it with fervour to his 
 lips, " suffer the happiest of men to wor- 
 ship, to adore thee." 
 
 " Rise, Sir John Berry," she replied, 
 with modest dignity, " make me not the 
 idol of thy worship. I am a weak, unso- 
 phisticated creature. Yet, if truth and
 
 258 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 candour be any recommendation, then, 
 in truth, believe that you possess my 
 undivided affection ; and in selecting me 
 as the object of your choice, I am not 
 insensible of the honour you confer 
 upon me." 
 
 Young Elton, previous to Rebecca's 
 declaration, had glided out of the room ; 
 and when Sir John Berry rose to address 
 him, he was fled. 
 
 Berry forgot for the moment, in the 
 bright sunshine of his happiness, or en- 
 deavoured to forget, how soon it was 
 likely to be clouded by the pain of sepa- 
 ration. Little more time was given him 
 than to call Rebecca his, ere he must 
 return to the seat of war ; no sooner fold 
 her to his heart, call her by the endearing, 
 the precious name of wife, ere they must 
 be separated for ever. He chaced the 
 terrible idea from his mind, as he fondly 
 pressed her fair hand to his lips, and 
 earnestly entreated her not to delay their 
 nuptials ; but he would not pain her by
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 259 
 
 hinting that, by delay, he might leave 
 her for ever. 
 
 Rebecca, having once consented to 
 give her hand to Berry, was above all 
 female affectation ; and though delicate 
 in feeling as in sentiment, she scorned 
 keeping him in suspense, when he warmly 
 pleaded for an early day. 
 
 "Suffer me, sweetest Rebecca," he said 
 earnestly, " to go immediately to Abbot 
 Lawrence, and request him to unite us ; 
 he is not ignorant of the state of my heart. 
 Indeed, he discovered it before I was 
 sensible myself, how entirely my future 
 happiness depended on your favour and 
 reciprocal affection. The rigid abbot of 
 St. Augustine scarcely gives his sanction 
 to the rites of matrimony; therefore it 
 was not without much severity he chid 
 me, when he perceived that Miss Russell 
 had made an impression which few men 
 could withstand, where so many graces 
 combine to take the heart by surprise." 
 
 " Now," he proceeded, " that the
 
 260 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 issue proves happy beyond my fondest 
 expectation, I am bound to confide in, 
 to ^consult the abbot ; he was my late 
 father's friend; his consent will not be 
 withheld, though, no doubt, according 
 to his creed, he would rather make you 
 the spouse of God than of man, yet find- 
 ing you have made your election, and 
 your friend Constance failed also in her 
 power of conversion, he will not refuse 
 his benediction, nor the office of joining 
 our hands." 
 
 " If such," replied Rebecca, " is your 
 opinion, I have no excuse to offer for 
 delay. In truth, I wish for none. Per- 
 fect happiness is so rare an attainment, 
 that to wantonly throw it from us, when 
 within our reach, were surely to be un- 
 worthy a possession which cannot be 
 estimated too highly, nor accepted but 
 with gratitude and humility from the 
 wise Disposer of all human events. My 
 life, short as it hitherto has been, has yet 
 been too chequered to refuse the good,
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 261 
 
 while in my power; and, oh ! may I take 
 it with thankfulness, for the felicity now 
 promised, opens with the hope of years 
 of bliss beyond the common lot of huma- 
 nity." 
 
 " Excellent Rebecca — good, wise, so 
 exalted, yet so humble ! lovely in mind 
 as in person, how shall I sufficiently 
 speak my admiration ? 
 
 " Will you not," he added, " accom- 
 pany me, and pay a visit to the prioress ?" 
 
 " No," she answered, " I will rather 
 wait your return ; my anxiety," she con- 
 tinued blushing, " would, probably, show 
 my interest too greatly in worldly con- 
 cerns, not to draw on me, perhaps, a 
 rebuke from our pious sister, whose mind 
 and thoughts, now elevated above all sub- 
 lunary things, cannot enter into those 
 tender weaknesses which spring from 
 strong attachments." 
 
 " You judge right. I go then — mean- 
 while all good angels guard my precious 
 Rebecca."
 
 262 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 The abbot had received the account 
 of his friend's decease ; he was, there- 
 fore, the less surprised when his son, at 
 once, opened his views, and requested 
 his holy benediction and consent to unite 
 him to Rebecca. 
 
 " I shall not refuse my sanction," he 
 replied, gravely accompanied with a 
 benignant smile, " in consideration of 
 the ancient friendship which existed be- 
 tween your father and myself. Rebecca 
 Russell is a comely, modest young maid- 
 en ; she seems to have a mind so pure, 
 innocent, and good, it is to be lamented 
 that it is not beatified ; and worldly hap- 
 piness is more precious than becoming 
 one of the Benedictine daughters. But 
 we use no compulsion ; and as her 
 sainted sister (for she will become one in 
 time) has not been able to let her see her 
 error, I shall even, John Berry, for- 
 ward your carnal wishes by uniting you 
 to the fair Rebecca. I will consult with 
 the prioress respecting her sister's in- 
 tended change of condition."
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 263 
 
 The abbot withdrew, and soon return- 
 ing, he brought a letter from Constance 
 to Rebecca, which he gave in charge 
 to Sir John. 
 
 Rebecca required not to question her 
 lover on the success of his visit at the 
 convent, as his eyes beamed upon her 
 with renewed tenderness and delight, 
 on presenting the prioress's letter. It 
 w r as as follows : 
 
 " Though now withdrawn from all se- 
 cular pursuits, and devoted, in thought 
 and action, to the higher concerns of 
 my important calling, yet my sister and 
 friend, and always beloved Rebecca, be 
 assured that I wish you, from my heart, 
 all earthly happiness in the w 7 ay you now 
 are seeking it. You have a bright exam- 
 ple always before you in my sainted mo- 
 ther of what were the duties of a wife ; 
 of the conjugal affection of one whose 
 days, whose thoughts, were devoted to 
 the happiness and interests of her hus-
 
 c 26i> DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 band. Imitate her; walk in her path with 
 the same integrity, and then Sir John 
 Berry will have cause to give praise to 
 God for blessing him with such a spouse 
 as my Rebecca. 
 
 " My uncle, the abbot, will join your 
 hands in the cathedral, and I shall at- 
 tend the ceremony. 
 
 " You know our hours of leisure for 
 visiting the monastery. 
 
 Prioress of St. Augustine." 
 
 Thus, kindly invited, and her marriage 
 so happily sanctioned, Rebecca hastened 
 to the convent, and in the bosom of her 
 friend poured forth the fulness of her 
 joy. She wrote to Mrs. Chesterville and 
 Juliet, requesting the latter to be pre- 
 sent at her nuptials, which she would 
 defer until her arrival, could she obtain 
 permission to attend them. 
 
 Yet, amidst the sunshine of her happi- 
 ness, her thoughts naturally reverted to 
 the awful circumstances which attended
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. %65 
 
 her former engagement, she bestowed v. 
 sigh of mournful respect to the memon 
 of her generous benefactor and friend, 
 Mr. Templeton. Neither could she 
 banish altogether from her thoughts the 
 terrible vow she had made to Sir Am- 
 brose, nor divest herself of the terror 
 which he inspired, whenever the idea of 
 him obtruded on her mind. 
 
 Seated in pensive abstraction, she was 
 suddenly roused from her reverie by Sir 
 John, who, tenderly chiding her thought- 
 fulness, anxiously enquired what affected 
 her, for her brow was clouded with care, 
 her eyes suffused with tears, and a look 
 of timid apprehension spread over a face 
 pale and sorrowful. 
 
 Ever above disguise, open, ingenuous, 
 and sincere, she at once told Sir John, 
 there were so many mournful and pe- 
 culiar circumstances attached to her "ex- 
 traordinary life, that even her happiest 
 hours were sometimes embittered from 
 perfect enjoyment. " At some future pe- 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 %66 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 riod," she added, suppressing a sigh, 
 " when our felicities and sorrows are in- 
 terwoven together, he should be made 
 acquainted with the particulars ; at pre- 
 sent," she proceeded, sweetly smiling 
 upon Mm, " I will not cast a shade on 
 this felicitous period." 
 
 " Oh, quickly then," he cried, with 
 warmth, " let that blessed period arrive 
 when we shall be as one, that each 
 thought may be laid open. When your 
 gentleness and amiability shall soothe 
 every passing sorrow, and your cheer- 
 fulness and contentment gladden every 
 hour of that life which will always be 
 consecrated to your happiness. 
 
 " Oh, lovely Rebecca," he continued, 
 " let me not linger in suspence, but 
 at once name the day which secures you 
 mine for ever." She told him she only 
 waited the reply of letters from her 
 friends, the Chestervilles, and then would 
 accede to his wishes.
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 267 
 
 As speedily as the tardy conveyances 
 at that period admitted, arrived not 
 only Juliet Chesterville, but her father 
 also, to once more give Rebecca away. 
 
 N 2
 
 268 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 CHAP. XXXII. 
 
 Joyful was the nuptial morning to all. 
 In the cathedral the marriage ceremony 
 was performed by Abbot Laurence ; and 
 though conducted without pomp, the 
 solemnity of the place, the awfulness of 
 the ceremony, and the sacred duties 
 upon which she was entering, affected 
 Rebecca exceedingly ; and it was not 
 until folded in the arms of her husband, 
 and congratulations went round, she 
 smiled upon Sir John with that happy 
 countenance which gave him assurance 
 and delight. 
 
 Rebecca, during the ceremony, seemed 
 to dread some terrible interruption, as 
 on a former occasion ^ and, though she 
 endeavoured to collect her thoughts, and 
 felt the sacred and solemn ceremony 
 thrill to her soul, yet every now and
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 269 
 
 then the fearful figure of Sir Ambrose 
 Templeton seemed to glance before her, 
 and tear her from that altar at which she 
 was now offering her vows to the object 
 of her choice, to the object who was to 
 constitute her future happiness. 
 
 Mr. Chesterville gave her encourage- 
 ment and support, whilst the gentle Ju- 
 liet tenderly smiled upon her ; and the 
 pious, respected prioress, when the cere- 
 mony ended, pressed her to her bosom, 
 with many benedictions and cheering ex- 
 pressions of kindness. 
 
 Young Elton formed some feeble ex- 
 cuse for his absence. He had not forti- 
 tude to witness Rebecca's felicity with 
 another ; but he left a letter, written with 
 the affection of a brother and a friend, 
 enclosing, at the same time, as a tribute 
 of respect to his father's memory, a draft 
 of five hundred pounds for a marriage 
 present in any ornament she chose to 
 purchase. 
 
 " Reject not this little gift," he said, 
 n 3
 
 270 DAME REBECCA BERRY, 
 
 " nor wound my feelings by the refusal 
 of so poor a testimony of the brotherly 
 affection of one whose parents considered 
 you as a daughter. 
 
 " Felicity, pure as thyself, ever light 
 on thee I" 
 
 Rebecca, affected by this testimony of 
 young Elton's regard, rejected not his 
 proffered liberality ; with a sentiment of 
 tenderness and gratitude, she expressed 
 herself towards him. 
 
 From the cathedral Sir John and Lady 
 Berry proceeded to a rural habitation 
 called Woodside, a paternal cottage of 
 the Eltons, which the prioress insisted on 
 their occupying for the present \ and, in- 
 deed, had most generously proposed 
 making over to Rebecca. A proposal, 
 however, to which she would not accede, 
 though she cheerfully consented to spend 
 the first few weeks after her marriage at 
 Woodside. 
 
 The beautiful sequestered situation 
 was particularly suited to the taste of the
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 271 
 
 happy young couple : resting on the lux- 
 uriant banks of the Avon, embowered 
 in woods, and sheltered by the rocks 
 which bounded the prospect, they wanted 
 not society, and, apparently shut out 
 from the world, seemed to forget 
 
 " All times, all seasons, and its changes." 
 
 Sir John Berry the more readily agreed 
 to pass some weeks at Woodside, rather 
 than take his bride to his paternal estate 
 in Leicestershire, from the daily and 
 dreadful apprehension he felt of being 
 called on immediate duty. In the vici- 
 nity of Bristol his wife would not be left 
 quite desolate, as in a strange country, 
 and in the prioress she possessed always 
 an able adviser and steady friend. He 
 was sensible the tumultuous scene of war 
 was no place for the tender, timid Re- 
 becca, and, though gratefully he enjoyed 
 his present happiness, he was but too 
 sure of soon being called into action, 
 n 4
 
 272 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 and of being torn from all that render 
 existence precious. 
 
 These thoughts and feelings he care- 
 fully concealed in his own bosom ; he 
 gazed with delight on the happy, sedate 
 countenance of Rebecca, listened with 
 rapture to all she said ; hung upon every 
 word with the adulation of a lover ; yet, 
 as he did so, he daily discovered that 
 some new beauty of mind unfolded itself; 
 that she was meek, though dignified — 
 full of tenderness, divested of weakness, 
 and a strength of mind which could not 
 be easily subdued — she was graceful, 
 yet artless, and every action was so regu- 
 lated by principle and truth, that to err 
 seemed impossible ; she had all the na- 
 tural buoyancy of youth, but it was so 
 tempered by softness, as to give a pecu- 
 liar delicacy to her manners and cha- 
 racter. 
 
 In Sir John Berry, Rebecca had mar- 
 ried the only man to whom her heart 
 was ever entirely devoted. She would
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. QjS 
 
 have considered it an imperious duty to 
 have consecrated her life to the study or 
 Mr. Templeton's happiness, had they 
 been united, for he had inspired the 
 highest respect and gratitude ; but Sir 
 John Berry was the idol of her affection ; 
 she looked up to him as one she consign- 
 ed herself to, with the certainty, that if 
 happiness could be felt on earth, in him 
 alone it centered. She considered her 
 lot blest beyond what she could have 
 imagined ; and, though not elevated by 
 it to a sense of forge tfuln ess from what 
 source it sprang, she, at times, almost 
 trembled from the uncertainty of how 
 long she might be permitted to taste feli- 
 city so perfect. 
 
 N O
 
 274 DAME KEBECCA BERRY, 
 
 GHAP. XXXIII. 
 
 Oh ! how brief is happiness ! — how im- 
 possible to describe ! — only transiently 
 felt, it passes away like some delusive 
 dream, and the spirit again awakes but 
 to a sense of pain. 
 
 Pure felicity, a foretaste of heaven, is 
 not long permitted on earth ; else, creat- 
 ing a paradise for self, every faculty 
 would be absorbed in its own selfish en- 
 joyment, and forget this is but a pil- 
 grimage to a better world, a state of suf- 
 fering and of trial, to prove the test of 
 our virtue, faith, and resignation. 
 
 It was after one of the many happy days 
 of calm domestic felicity, Sir John and 
 Rebecca had shared together, a letter was 
 presented to him, which came by a spe- 
 cial messenger. From the outside he 
 saw it was official. Even before he pe- 
 19
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 9^5 
 
 rused the contents, he opened it with 
 emotion, not from a feeling of coward- 
 ice, for he gloried in the profession of a 
 soldier, but he trembled at the idea of 
 leaving his wife, who gave him the fond 
 promise of becoming a mother. 
 
 Rebecca's quick apprehensive eye saw, 
 as Sir John rose from his chair, and went 
 to the window to conceal his agitation, 
 that the news w r as sudden and unpropi- 
 tious. He spoke not, but folding the let- 
 ter, and putting it into his waistcoat 
 pocket, and taking pen and paper, wrote 
 a few hurried lines, which, having sealed, 
 he ordered the servant to give to the 
 messenger. 
 
 It was vain to conceal the emotion 
 which spoke in his dejected mien, in the 
 sorrowful expression of his eyes, and 
 that abstraction which for a time pos- 
 sessed him. " May I not learn," Re- 
 becca cried, in a timid tender accent, 
 " what has disturbed you, dear Sir John ? 
 Have I no claim to your confidence, that 
 n 6
 
 276 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 thus silently you remain, and will not 
 suffer me to participate in your anxi- 
 eties ?" She flung her snowy arms round 
 his neck, and anxiously regarded him. 
 " Oh, my precious Rebecca," he re- 
 turned, deeply penetrated, " ask not 
 — anticipate not what requires more 
 than manly fortitude to support. Soothe 
 me not ; a sweetness, a tenderness, 
 which quite overwhelms me. Existing 
 but in your presence, how can I endure 
 this terrible separation ? 
 
 " Life of my fondest affection," he con- 
 tinued, with emotion, " deserving the 
 most perfect felicity, why, ah, why did 
 you blend your destiny with that of 
 a soldier, whose life is that • of tumult, 
 and hangs on the most fearful uncer- 
 tainty ? Now to separate from you, — at a 
 moment when blessings seemed to mul- 
 tiply » 
 
 " With felicity so pure," interrupted 
 Rebecca, " which we of late have tasted, 
 think you it was to last for ever ? No,
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 277 
 
 best beloved, when I became your wife, 
 was it not to share the common lot of 
 humanity ? to meekly take the evil with 
 the good ? Though it is sad to part, is 
 it not, dear Sir John, in a glorious cause, 
 for the service of your country ? Had it 
 been ignobly, then would your Rebecca 
 have wept floods of bitter tears; but 
 those now shed spring only from fond 
 regret and pure affection. Take then 
 these as pledges, that my heart owns 
 no other lord, for you are its only 
 idol." 
 
 " With that sweet assurance," replied 
 her husband, much affected, " let us 
 then now separate. To listen to you 
 longer, to hear that soul-subduing voice 
 breathing such words of love and ten- 
 derness, will again unman me. Leave 
 :ne, exalted, gentle creature," he added, 
 pressing her to his bosom ; " for were you 
 pnger to remain, I could not collect 
 any thoughts for those important matters
 
 278 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 which must be settled ere I go ; per- 
 haps " 
 
 His voice here failed him ; and hur- 
 rying out of the room, he left his 
 wretched wife to solitary and mournful 
 meditation. 
 
 Some time Rebecca sat motionless, 
 almost deprived of sense or feeling, till 
 roused by her maid, who softly spoke to 
 her. Then, indeed, she awoke to a full 
 sense of her misery, and eagerly en- 
 quired for Sir John. 
 
 " My master," Amy replied, " is in his 
 study, and desired my Lady on no ac- 
 count to be disturbed. He is engaged 
 with Master Simpson, the attorney." 
 
 " I will remain here then till he is at 
 leisure : leave me, Amy." 
 
 " Pray, my Lady, go to bed. Sir John 
 ordered me to persuade you ; and I am 
 sure you are too ill to sit up. 
 
 " If," replied Rebecca, " Sir John 
 desired me to retire, I will obev him.
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 279 
 
 It is of little consequence where I am, 
 for sleep and peace have fled my pillow." 
 
 Pale, exhausted, her eyes swoln with 
 weeping, Lady Berry withdrew to her 
 chamber, having desired, when Sir John 
 rang, he might be informed she had re- 
 tired. 
 
 Amy Watson, a good-natured faithful 
 girl, earnestly asked permission to sit 
 beside her lady. Rebecca, glad to be 
 alone, declined her offer, that she might 
 indulge her grief where no eye could see 
 her ; and hiding her face on her pillow 
 gave way to an unrestrained burst of 
 grief, for her heart was full and heavy. 
 
 In vain she watched, and wept the 
 most part of the night away, till, quite 
 exhausted, she fell into a disturbed and 
 feverish slumber. 
 
 Sir John Berry sat up till nearly morn- 
 ing, settling his worldly concerns. Aware 
 of the uncertaintv of a soldier's life when 
 called into action, he wished to spare 
 his beloved Kebecca all future anxiety,
 
 280 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 by putting her in immediate possession 
 of his Leicestershire estate, until their 
 child (should it be a son) came of age. 
 
 He now softly stole to the arms of his 
 precious wife. For some minutes he 
 stood gazing on her, as she slept, in an 
 agony of grief and tenderness. Her 
 sleep seemed heavy and disturbed ; her 
 cheek flushed with fever ; and from be- 
 neath her silken eye-lash rested a tear 
 just shed. 
 
 " Oh ! my Rebecca, wife of my bosom, 
 lovely as beloved, more precious than 
 the air I breathe, receive my choicest 
 blessings," clasping his hands in anguish, 
 as he fondly hung over her. "Peace, such 
 as angels know, light on your pillow, 
 bless your slumbers. Brief, indeed, 
 has been my felicity ; but, ah, how un- 
 mixed till now with sorrow ! " 
 
 " Let me," he continued, with bitter- 
 ness, " in this last, this agonizing mo- 
 ment spare you, sweetest Rebecca, one 
 pang of suffering. Sleep on, angelic crea-
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 281 
 
 ture! wake not now to a sense of misery." 
 He gently raised her extended hand, 
 pressed it to his heart, and in that pres- 
 sure took a long and last farewell. 
 
 He rushed from the chamber, and in- 
 stantly prepared to leave that home of 
 bliss which contained all which could 
 render life desirable. 
 
 Sir John left on her dressing-table the 
 two following stanzas, which, with her 
 pen and paper scattered before him, he 
 had hastily written. 
 
 " Sweet sleep upon thy eyelids rest, 
 No anxious cares thy soul molest; 
 Soft be the dreams that visit thee ; 
 And in those dreams remember me ! 
 
 " And when thy gentle slumbers fly ; 
 Nor dreams fictitious joys supply ; 
 Awake. May pleasure dwell with thee, 
 And waking — still remember me !" 
 
 Sir John Berry had scarcely left Wood- 
 side ere Rebecca awoke. Hastily rising, 
 she heard with dismay that her husband 
 was actually gone.
 
 £82 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 She rather would have lived through 
 the agonizing moment of hearing his fare- 
 well accent, than to thus have separated 
 — have caught his last look — have pressed 
 him to her heart, and prayed for his re- 
 turn and victory. But it could not be — 
 all now was silent, desolate, and melan- 
 choly. Every faculty seemed so stupified 
 by sorrow, that it was not until she began 
 to turn over her papers she discovered 
 the tender lines he had addressed to her, 
 which seemed, in some degree, to recall 
 her to a sense of suffering, and relieve 
 her oppressed heart in a flood of tears. 
 Amy advised her lady either to go to the 
 convent, or entreat the prioress to come 
 to Woodside to comfort her. But Re- 
 becca preferred being alone ; and, shut- 
 ting herself up in her chamber, gave way 
 to all those sad forebodings which over- 
 whelm the mind in the hour of separation 
 from those we love. 
 
 The day past heavily ; but the evening 
 offered some consolation in the following
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 283 
 
 tender letter, which was brought her 
 from her husband, dated twenty miles 
 from Bristol, on the w r ay to join his regi- 
 ment. 
 
 " To Lady Berry. 
 
 " It would have been inhuman, oh, 
 best beloved of my soul ! to have awakened 
 you from even temporary repose to a 
 sense of that misery which this separation 
 will cost you. I have, therefore, dearest 
 Rebecca, endeavoured to spare you the 
 pang of such a moment. Oh, with forti- 
 tude sustain yourself, for the sake of an 
 adoring husband. 
 
 " Seek consolation in the bosom of the 
 prioress Constance. In the stillness of 
 that sanctuary which shelters the afflicted; 
 in the monastery of the Benedictines I 
 advise you to board, till you hear further 
 from me. Woodside will prove but a 
 mournful solitude ; and the holy abbot 
 and the prioress will sympathize and 
 comfort you.
 
 284 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 " Soon, on the wings of love, I hope 
 to fly to my Rebecca, and remain always 
 her 
 
 " Most affectionate husband, 
 
 " John Berry."
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 285 
 
 CHAP. XXXIV. 
 
 Rebecca became more composed and 
 collected after perusing Sir John's letter. 
 
 On the following day she went to the 
 convent, where, in prayer, and consol- 
 ation from her friend, she found support. 
 She became more reconciled to her lot; 
 and, though she could not prevail on 
 herself to wholly abandon Woodside, she, 
 according to her husband's desire, spent 
 the most of her time at Bristol. She 
 asked Sir John's permission to retain this 
 little paradise ; for she loved its mourn- 
 ful solitude. She loved to sit in the 
 apartment where they had sat together; 
 to wander in the impervious woods, 
 where in sweet communion they had 
 walked together, recalling his image 
 amidst its sequestered shades. 
 
 A few days after Rebecca had joined
 
 286 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 the little community, the prioress, who 
 held correspondence with the holy mo- 
 ther of a convent of the same order in 
 Normandy, received intimation from the 
 lady abbess, that a young novice of high 
 rank was to be professed on such a day, 
 and invited the prioress to come over 
 and preside at the ceremony. 
 
 The prioress accepted the invitation ; 
 and asked Lady Berry to accompany her 
 into Normandy, persuaded the voyage 
 and novel scene would naturally awaken 
 an interest, which would rouse her from 
 the state of depression and restless anx- 
 iety into which she had fallen, in conse- 
 quence of her husband's sudden and 
 unlooked-for absence. 
 
 Rebecca, wholly absorbed in one sub- 
 ject, felt an apathy concerning all others; 
 and to the proposal of her friend gave a 
 refusal, glad of an excuse to return to 
 her beloved Woodside, where she long 
 wished to be once more, that she might
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 287 
 
 give a free indulgence to that grief which 
 daily was increasing upon her. 
 
 The prioress seriously contended with 
 her on the impiety of an immoderate in- 
 dulgence of sorrow, and too ardently 
 fixing her affections on any worldly ob- 
 ject, if it was to wean her from more 
 important and higher concerns ; and at 
 length she so persuasively pleaded with 
 Rebecca, as to draw from her a reluctant 
 consent to go with her into Normandy, as 
 their absence was to be very short ; stay- 
 ing only during the period of the solemn 
 festival. 
 
 One powerful motive also induced 
 Lady Berry to accede to her friend's 
 desire, the conviction that her beloved 
 husband would be pleased to find she 
 had engaged in any pursuit that might 
 divert her mind during his absence. 
 
 The friends embarked at Bristol, and 
 were, after a short and favourable voyage, 
 landed in the beautiful and magnificent 
 harbour at Havre-de-Grace,
 
 288 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 Insensibly, Rebecca's thoughts were 
 called off from mournful ideas to th( 
 contemplation of the lively objects which 
 for the first time, she now surveyed in a 
 different kingdom. The antique houses, 
 many stories high, irregularly branching 
 into narrow streets, yet full of bustle, 
 and crowded with persons whose attire 
 was of the most grotesque description, 
 quite surprised and amused her. The 
 high fantastic head-dress worn by the 
 females, the short striped petticoat, high 
 boddice and apron, all composed of dif 
 ferent colours, with the pendant gold ear- 
 rings, chain, and cross of sparkling gems, 
 had a most whimsical, yet picturesque 
 appearance ; but their light, gracefu 
 carriage and courteous manners parti 
 cularly attracted and pleased her. 
 
 The surrounding scenery was grand 
 and beautiful, with the romantic village 
 of d'Engonville, scattered on the brow 
 of the hill which hangs over the town. 
 
 The convent was situated in one o:
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 289 
 
 those sequestered and richly-wooded 
 recesses often to be met with amidst the 
 rich plains of Normandy, on the banks of 
 the Seine, not far from the beautiful 
 village of Harfleur. 
 
 The prioress and her fair friend were 
 most graciously received by the Lady 
 Abbess; but there was a stern and 
 solemn dignity in her demeanour, from 
 which the youthful and depressed Re- 
 becca shrank with apprehension and 
 timidity. She surveyed this living se- 
 pulchre with a degree of horror, when 
 she saw so many young and interest- 
 ing women doomed " to waste their 
 sweetness" and bloom within its dismal 
 walls. 
 
 A strong emotion of tenderness and 
 pity took possession of her heart for the 
 young and beautiful novice, who, on the 
 day following, was to take the veil — for 
 she had been the theme of conversation; 
 and a young English boarder, called 
 
 vol. i. o
 
 £90 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 Geraldine Beaumont, had spoken of the 
 lovely Rosalie with such enthusiasm and 
 interest, that Lady Berry could not dis- 
 miss her from her thoughts.
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 291 
 
 CHAP. XXXV. 
 
 Rosalie's history was true and sad * — 
 she was the only daughter of the Marquis 
 
 de V , the heiress of , and the 
 
 beauty of Provence. Her's was a face 
 in which loveliness was perfect ; her eyes 
 were the heralds of a soul elevated to 
 Heaven ; for she looked not of this 
 earth, but like some bright spirit that, 
 wandering from its native home, had 
 missed its way, and lingered here. 
 
 Fifteen summers had scarcely passed, 
 ere numbers of the most illustrious fami- 
 lies in France sought her alliance — all, 
 
 unsuccessfully, until Eugene d'l 
 
 breathed into the young ear of Rosalie, a 
 passion as pure as it was boundless. 
 
 Eugene was by no means the most 
 
 * A fact. 
 o 2
 
 292 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 wealthy of her suitors, a circumstance 
 which at first created serious opposition 
 from her father ; but to her the lack of 
 gold was as nothing. It was enough to 
 know Eugene — France had rung with 
 the fame of his exploits. The blood of 
 Bayard flowed through his veins, and, 
 like his great ancestor, he also was sans 
 pen?*, et sans reproche. True, the famous 
 gold sword was lost with which that 
 prince of chivalry had knighted Francis 
 the First, but the young hero boasted of 
 still having in his possession the steel 
 weapon which the good knight had gird- 
 ed on in his first crusade. 
 
 Rosalie's heart beat high at the end- 
 less tales of her lover's valour, whose 
 deeds of arms had gained for him the 
 title of the modern Bayard. Fired with 
 ambition, he had been called to the 
 field of glory in one of Louis the Four- 
 teenth's successful victories, where he 
 eminently distinguished himself, and 
 though his parting with Rosalie appeared
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. '293 
 
 the climax of his misery, yet Eugene 
 again preferred the laurel to woman's 
 love. 
 
 The two succeeding months brought 
 tidings of Eugene's welfare and repeti- 
 tions of his constancy, but soon, too soon, 
 his letters became less frequent, and at 
 length they came no longer. 
 
 At first Rosalie's father tried to 
 soothe and to console her; but finding 
 all his efforts unavailing, he called upon 
 her pride to banish from her thoughts a 
 person it was evident had long ceased 
 to remember her. 
 
 From that moment the name of Eu- 
 gene never escaped her lips, but remain- 
 ed in a heart that had too long been its 
 home for pride or reason to repel. 
 
 The calmness of despair the Marquis 
 mistook for resignation or forgetfulness, 
 though he perceived the cheek of his 
 once peerless Rosalie became every day 
 more colourless, except when the flitting 
 tenderness of some thought flashed 
 o3
 
 294 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 across it, and, for a moment, restored 
 the glowing tints of which grief had 
 robbed it; yet, though wasted, it still 
 was lovely, 
 
 " As if the white rose triumph'd o'er the red." 
 
 A year elapsed without any tidings of 
 the faithless Eugene; and the Marquis 
 
 de V , who had resolved from her 
 
 childhood that his daughter should be 
 the medium through which his wildest 
 dreams of ambition were to be realized, 
 acquainted her, with an air cf triumph, 
 accompanied with the most cruel ani- 
 madversions on Eugene's worthlessness 
 and inconstancy, of the proposals of 
 
 the Duke de M , one of the most 
 
 powerful men in France. He accom- 
 panied this intelligence with a sort of 
 compulsatory entreaty, which parents of 
 the Marquis's description use on the like 
 occasions. Rosalie felt as if she were 
 losing Eugene anew, when urged so 
 warmly to accept the Duke.
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 295 
 
 Upon her mildly, yet firmly, declaring 
 her intention of never marrying, the rage 
 and resentment of her father was as bound- 
 less as the ambition which prompted him 
 to sacrifice his daughter's happiness to 
 her aggrandizement. Finding that threats 
 and persuasions were alike powerless in 
 dissuading her from her purpose, he ba- 
 nished her to the convent of , in 
 
 Normandy, and settled all her fortune 
 on her brother. 
 
 During the first year of Rosalie's se- 
 clusion, her father seemed to have for- 
 gotten such a person existed as his 
 once darling child, for he neither wrote 
 nor made any enquiries concerning her. 
 
 Three months after she had entered 
 on her novitiate, the Marquis arrived at 
 the convent in deep mourning, in all the 
 agitation of despair and affliction. His 
 only son, on whom he had bestowed un- 
 bounded wealth, by his injustice to his 
 daughter, had just fallen in a duel at 
 Paris. Frantic with grief and disap- 
 o 4
 
 296 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 pointment, he hastened to his formerly 
 deserted child, in whom now his sole 
 hope and expectation centered, impatient 
 to rescue her from the retreat in which 
 le had immured her. 
 
 Rosalie, noble spirited, tender, and 
 affectionate, forgot all the injuries she 
 had sustained when she beheld her fa- 
 ther's grief, and was deeply touched 
 with the account of her brother's pre- 
 mature and violent death ; with the most 
 caressing fondness she tried to soothe and 
 console him, and had almost consented 
 to return with him to that world she de- 
 termined to renounce for ever, when, 
 with no consideration for his daughter's 
 feelings, he abruptly announced to her, 
 that Eugene also was no more ; and with 
 the same breath urged vehemently the 
 Duke's suit, and his intention to bestow 
 her hand upon him. 
 
 For some time Rosalie was incapable 
 of speaking, from the dreadful shock 
 which she sustained ; but, when suffi-
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. '297 
 
 ciently restored to her faculties, she 
 calmly told her father, her predilection 
 was for a religious life, and when her 
 few probationary months expired, her 
 determination was fixed to take the black 
 veil. 
 
 Her father rushed from her, speech- 
 less with rage, whilst the poor Rosalie 
 crept to her cell, where she shut herself 
 up with that desolate feeling of having 
 lost every thing precious to her on earth, 
 and for some time gave way to unavailing 
 sorrow and despair. 
 
 Rosalie was fondly beloved by the 
 nuns. From the kindness they lavished 
 on her, she soon experienced the reality 
 of that resignation which her beatified 
 appearance had given to her countenance 
 and air. 
 
 A young English scholar in the con- 
 vent, Geraldine Beaumont, spent hours 
 weeping over the lovely Rosalie, and 
 imploring her to return to Provence. 
 In short, to do any thing rather than 
 o 5
 
 298 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 immure herself within the impenetrable 
 walls of a cloister. The young novice 
 answered, " She had now no hope, no 
 joy, beyond its walls ; and that in Eu- 
 gene's grave was buried that happiness 
 which now had shed so sweet a pro- 
 mise over futurity. Here then," she 
 added, with a look of meek resignation, 
 " I will live, here die. Attempt not, 
 dear Geraldine, to shake my purpose, 
 or weaken my mind by vain arguments 
 against the solemn vows which so soon 
 are to be performed."
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 299 
 
 CHAP. XXXVI. 
 
 The last night of Rosalie's being free 
 had now arrived; and her young English 
 friend hastened to her cell to offer her 
 last and most powerful arguments, to 
 dissuade her from pronouncing the irre- 
 vocable vow. 
 
 When Geraldine Beaumont entered, 
 Rosalie was kneeling before a crucifix, 
 her beautiful eyes uplifted in prayer. 
 It was a night all bright and lovely; 
 no lamp burnt on the shrine before 
 which the fair novice knelt. The soft 
 uncertain light which the moon-beam 
 shed around her, gave to her face and 
 figure, partially concealed by her snowy 
 veil, more the appearance of some fair 
 vision, than a being of this nether 
 world. 
 
 o 6
 
 300 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 " And this," thought Geraldine, as 
 she mournfully gazed on her friend, " is 
 the creature that would here immure 
 herself for ever. True, she is fitter for 
 heaven than earth," she exclaimed, 
 with a heavy sigh. 
 
 The sigh caused Rosalie to cast her 
 eyes around. On perceiving her friend, 
 she rose, and throwing herself on the 
 bosom of the weeping girl, said, " Ah ! 
 my poor Geraldine ! I know, too well, 
 the purport of your visit ; but why per- 
 suade me to return to a world where 
 only misery for me is prepared. How 
 delusive have proved its brightest plea- 
 sures ; here then is my surest anchor ; 
 the haven of perpetual rest ; the truest 
 foretaste of the world to come." 
 
 Geraldine could only weep, for she 
 was unable to reply. 
 
 " How often," continued Rosalie, as- 
 suming a more cheerful tone, " have you 
 wished to see me in all the glittering
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 301 
 
 decorations of a court attire. Pray ob- 
 serve how I shall look in this finery to- 
 morrow,' ' pointing to where lay a costly 
 dress of the purest white, with a casket 
 of pearls beside it. On the back of the 
 chair hung a bridal coronet of orange 
 blossoms, and a silver veil, all to deck 
 her in the morning in nuptial mockery. 
 
 Geraldine cast her streaming eyes 
 upon them, but as quickly turned away. 
 Sick at heart, she burst into a paroxysm 
 of grief, and weeping as she fondly hung 
 over Rosalie, again and again entreated 
 her not to renounce the world. 
 
 Rosalie distressed, disturbed beyond 
 measure, because unshaken in her re^ 
 solve, was going to speak, when she 
 was startled by the light notes of a guitar, 
 accompanied by a low sweet voice, and 
 trembling violently as she raised her 
 head to catch the floating sound, heard 
 distinctly the well-remembered air and 
 words so oft she sang in Provence : -—
 
 302 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 " By the grief, that has blighted the bloom of my 
 
 years ; 
 By life's moments of bliss, and its ages of tears ; 
 By hope's buds which in flowers for an instant have 
 
 blush'd, 
 And the next by despair's withering touch have 
 
 been crush'd ; 
 By these — nay and more, by the joys I've known 
 
 never, 
 Though hopeless, though fruitless, III love thee for 
 
 ever ! 
 
 " By the pilgrim, that's knelt at some far distant 
 
 shrine, 
 (Yet ne'er felt a purer devotion than mine ;) 
 By the wild thrilling notes, those fairy harps fling 
 On the gale, when they're swept by the air-spirit's 
 
 wing; 
 By these— -nay and more, by thy voice, whose 
 
 tones never 
 Can sleep in my soul — Til love thee for ever ! 
 
 " By yon moon, which like memory shines out at 
 
 night, 
 And reflects back each past sunny ray of delight ; 
 By that true bird, that sings but for one valued 
 
 flower, 
 Though others more lovely should bloom the same 
 
 hour ; 
 By these — nay and more, by thine image, which 
 
 never 
 Shall be lured from my heart — Til love thee for 
 
 ever!
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 303 
 
 " By thy look when we parted (that sweet summer 
 
 night), 
 That beam'd such a ling'ring farewell to delight ; 
 By the hope that it gave, and the tear it received, 
 By thy softly breath'd vows, I so fondly believed ; 
 By these — nay and more, by each thought, which 
 
 can never 
 But be of thee only — I'll love thee for ever /" 
 
 " Do not leave me, dear Geraldine," 
 cried she, in agitation. " Oh, that air 
 — those words — whence come they ? 
 none, save Eugene, could know them. 
 It was a romance which he composed in 
 our days of happiness and love ; surely it 
 is some illusion which steals upon my 
 senses, to try my fidelity to that heaven 
 I am preparing to devote myself. 
 
 " O, my God," she continued with 
 fervour, throwing herself on her knees 
 before the crucifix, and raising her clasped 
 hands in the act of devotion, " Thine I 
 am, and thine I will be, in all sincerity of 
 heart." 
 
 " It is no illusion," returned Geral- 
 dine, " only listen," as she attempted to
 
 304* DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 clamber up to the high window that 
 fronted the road, that she might discover 
 the interesting performer ; but the music 
 had ceased, and she saw no person 
 whatever. 
 
 "But I think it an illusion," said the 
 sister Hypolita, entering the cell, with a 
 lamp which she held full in Geraldine's 
 face, as she descended from the window ; 
 "for surely they must deceive me, when 
 they show me the Mademoiselle Beau- 
 mont out of her bed at this hour of 
 night. Besides," turning to Rosalie, 
 " she is unfitting by such vigils, and 
 doubtless idle talk, our dear child here, 
 for the glorious day she is to have to- 
 morrow." 
 
 The lady Hypolita being mother of the 
 novices, next in command to the abbess, 
 was much too formidable and important 
 a personage to be disobeyed ; this she 
 knew — consequently her mandates were 
 like the laws of the Medes and Persians, 
 " which altereth not."
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 505 
 
 Geraldine imprinted a kiss on the 
 cheek of her friend ; and in so doing, 
 felt not that sentiment of despair she 
 would have experienced, had she taken 
 leave of her a few minutes sooner. Ah ! 
 for the sunny morning of life, when hope 
 can build on so slight a foundation as 
 the wild notes of a passing song — yet 
 that song seemed to breathe something 
 prophetic to the lively imagination of 
 Geraldine, of happiness to Rosalie, which 
 she could not fancy existing within a 
 convent's wall. 
 
 Hope ! sweet Hope ! let philosophers 
 analyze thee into nothing — let stoics 
 discard thee to seek for realities that 
 exist not — let those who have lost thee 
 rail, like the fallen angels, at the Paradise 
 they cannot regain ; thou wilt still have 
 thy votaries in the good, the young, the 
 innocent, and the beautiful, who know 
 that thou art the telescope through 
 which alone all that is bright andglorious, 
 and above them, may be approached.
 
 306 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 As Geraldine was crossing the cor- 
 ridor that led to the dormitory, a lay- 
 sister passed her, and putting a twisted 
 paper into her hand, hastily with- 
 drew. She went to a lamp, and, looking 
 anxiously around, opened it; but what 
 was her astonishment on finding it was a 
 billet to Rosalie, signed " Eugene d' — ." 
 It was not to her ; she read no more — 
 it was transport enough to know the 
 young Viscomte d'l , by some sur- 
 prising miracle, was actually alive, and 
 that her beloved Rosalie might yet be 
 happy. 
 
 She had no room for conjectures about 
 Eugene's resurrection. Joy absorbed 
 every faculty; and, almost wild with 
 delight, she was retracing, with hurried 
 steps, her way to Rosalie's cell, till the 
 thought struck her that Hypolita might 
 still be there ; reflecting, at the same 
 time, how imprudent it would be to 
 acquaint her friend in so abrupt a man- 
 ner of Eugene's existence, she turned
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 307 
 
 back, resolved to wait another hour as 
 patiently as she could, as that night it 
 was her turn to trim the Virgin's lamp, 
 which would form a feasible excuse 
 should she meet any of the nuns, as she 
 must pass the door of Rosalie's cell in 
 her way to and from the chapel. 
 
 When she reached the dormitory, she 
 threw herself on the bed, and began 
 revolving on the best method of commu- 
 nicating the joyous tidings of which she 
 was the herald. 
 
 Never had time appeared to move on 
 such leaden wings as on that night. "The 
 iron tongue of midnight," whose sum-, 
 mons she reluctantly obeyed to proceed 
 to the cold chapel, was now watched for 
 with as much impatience and anxiety as a 
 lover would listen for the steps of his be- 
 loved. The heavy bell at length tolled ; 
 and never before had its call been obeyed 
 with such alacrity. 
 
 Geraldine rose ere it ceased to sound ; 
 and, taking the precaution to secrete the
 
 308 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 precious billet in her bosom, she seized 
 the lamp, and ran, or rather flew, along 
 the passage, and was just turning into 
 the one which contained the cell of the 
 young novice, when she was greeted with 
 a " Santa Maria" from the inquisitive 
 Lady Hypolita, who asked, " where she 
 was going in such haste ?" On being 
 told it was to trim the Virgin's lamp, she 
 graciously signified her intention of ac- 
 companying her, and assisting in the 
 pious office. 
 
 Resistance was vain ; therefore Ge- 
 raldine had only to comply with the best 
 grace she could assume, and they pro- 
 ceeded together, her thoughts distracted, 
 and her frame agitated by disappoint- 
 ment, in thus having her intentions so 
 cruelly frustrated by so untoward a cir- 
 cumstance. 
 
 The Lady Hypolita was in one of her 
 talking moods, and chattered without 
 ceasing. She was one of those who pos- 
 sessed that happy species of loquacity,
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 309 
 
 which consists in putting a million of 
 questions which never require answers 
 from those to whom they are addressed. 
 
 When they reached the chapel, Ge- 
 raldine felt a sort of anticipated triumph, 
 as she looked at the preparations for the 
 approaching sacrifice, and knew, or ra- 
 ther hoped (for at her age hope is cer- 
 tainty,) that they were all making in 
 vain. As she passed the choir, she per- 
 ceived that every book w r as open at 
 Mozart's Requiem, and next to it were 
 the hymns of rejoicing. From the walls 
 hung wreathed white roses, intermixed 
 with cypress branches. 
 
 A chill stole over her heart as she 
 gazed on them. 
 
 Was not this mingling of blight and 
 bloom, of love, of death, of beauty, and 
 desolation, an emblem of all earthly 
 things ? 
 
 Bright were the perfumed flames that 
 issued from the gilded censers; but where 
 did their lights fall ? On graves.
 
 310 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 It was a scene there was no dwelling 
 upon. She hurried away to the outer 
 chapel, where her task was soon per- 
 formed. As she cast her eyes on the 
 divine image before her, she almost 
 ceased to wonder at those who knelt and 
 worshipped there ; it was a face of such 
 pure beatified sweetness, a form of such 
 soul-fraught disembodied loveliness. Cor- 
 regio ! thou art worthy heaven, who 
 could so pourtray its attributes ! 
 
 Geraldine hoped that the Lady Hypo- 
 lita (who had knelt down on the first 
 step of the altar,) would remain, and 
 piously prolong her orisons ; but again 
 she was disappointed, for on perceiving 
 that Geraldine was about to withdraw, 
 she gabbled an Ave Maria over the last 
 bead of her rosary, and rising hastily, 
 followed her. 
 
 Geraldine's last hope was gone on 
 finding the nun close to her, when she 
 reached the door of Rosalie's cell ; till, 
 recollecting that she had left her chaplet
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 311 
 
 there, she boldly put her hand on the 
 lock, but was prevented opening it by 
 Hypolita seizing her arm, and asking 
 what she wanted there. 
 
 On being told, she replied, " O, you 
 are pious to-night, Mademoiselle ; but 
 here is mine for you, which will answer 
 till the morning, when I will bring your 
 own, without disturbing our good sister 
 for it now. Don't be alarmed, you shall 
 have it time enough ; I shall be with you 
 at seven, as I dress at six, to have the 
 happiness of attending our dear sister at 
 her profession, and the honour of break- 
 fasting with our holy mother." 
 
 To this there was no appeal, and Ge- 
 raldine was obliged to follow her tor- 
 mentor in silent vexation, as she offi- 
 ciously insisted on helping her to undress. 
 
 It was customary for one of the nuns 
 to patrol up and down the dormitory all 
 night: this duty the Lady Hypolita 
 thought proper to perform on the present
 
 312 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 occasion ; therefore her prisoner had no 
 chance of escape. 
 
 Never did lover, murderer, or peni- 
 tent pass a more sleepless, anxious night 
 than poor Geraldine. 
 
 She arose in the morning long before 
 the nun appeared to assist at her toilet. 
 The sun shone with more brilliancy, the 
 flowers looked more lovely, the air felt 
 more balmy, she fancied, than usual, and 
 she hailed them all as some propitious 
 omen. From the windows was to be 
 seen the beautiful lake, sparkling in the 
 sunbeams which danced on its glassy 
 surface, and all nature seemed with 
 gladness to hail this auspicious morning. 
 
 Spite of the ill success of her billet, she 
 still hoped that all would be well. She 
 now presented herself to Geraldine at 
 the same moment Hypolita entered, 
 laden with white dresses, white veils, 
 and white roses. While adjusting Ge- 
 raldine's share of them, she expatiated 
 largely on the advantages Rosalie was 
 18
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 313 
 
 about to derive in renouncing such gauds 
 and vanities for ever ; and was beginning 
 to enter, for the hundredth time, on the 
 history of St. Marie de Palle, the founder 
 of the convent, and all the glories apper- 
 taining thereto, when the last breakfast- 
 bell rang, and she was compelled to 
 release her auditor, but not without 
 escorting her to the refectory. 
 
 Non Nobis Domine had commenced. 
 Hypolita led Geraldine up to the supe- 
 rior's table, where the other five attendants 
 of the young novice were already as- 
 sembled. Geraldine looked earnestly 
 around, but no Rosalie appeared ; and it 
 was in vain that she and her companions 
 ate the finest fruits, drank the choicest 
 wines, and had the honour of sitting at 
 the same table with the abbess, and 
 feasting their eyes on her ruby rosary, 
 golden crucifix, diamond reliquery, and 
 all her other trappings of office, they still 
 felt sick at heart at the thoughts of what 
 was to follow. Even Geraldine's last 
 
 vol. 1. p
 
 314 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 hope faded away when she learnt that 
 they should not see Rosalie till they saw 
 her in the chapel, as it was against the 
 monastic rules for a nun-elect to hold 
 communion with anyone on the day of her 
 profession, until the ceremony was over. 
 
 The breakfast seemed endless, and the 
 sermon (which on that morning treated 
 of nothing but the horrors of the world, 
 and the joys of a cloister,) still more so. 
 At length both ended, and the whole 
 assemblage passed from the refectory to 
 the chapel. 
 
 Geraldine made one of the six girls 
 who attended the poor victim ; each, as 
 they entered the chapel, received a 
 lighted torch, and a silver urn filled with 
 flowers. 
 
 Geraldine Beaumont was a lovely 
 young matron, with a complexion trans- 
 parently fair, and a blooming soft co- 
 lour, radiant as a tender summer rose. 
 Her eyes were large, dark, and brilliant ; 
 her eyebrows arched, and finely pen-
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 315 
 
 tilled ; her raven hair was partially 
 shaded with the chaplet of roses, which 
 encircled her brows, with a white veil 
 forming the drapery ; her mouth exqui- 
 sitely beautiful, was usually dimpled 
 with smiles, but now every expression 
 was changed into sadness ; for though 
 Geraldine was blessed with all the 
 hilarity of youth, good temper, and a 
 lively imagination, yet she possessed, 
 with a firmness of character very un- 
 common in so young a person, a tender- 
 ness and warmth of heart, though some- 
 what tinctured with enthusiasm, which 
 rendered her a very attaching character. 
 The sable curtain was not yet with- 
 drawn before the grate, but hung like 
 the dark shadow of the wings of death. 
 The bishops, priests, and choristers, were 
 gorgeously apparelled. The atmosphere 
 was heavy with incense ; one long aisle 
 of the church was lined with nuns, the 
 other was occupied by the novices. Near 
 the grate was a raised platform, round 
 p 2
 
 316 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 which the six attendants of the destined 
 nun were stationed. On the daes were 
 placed three crimson velvet seats, richly 
 embroidered in gold. That on the 
 right was filled by the Lady Abbess \ the 
 one on the left by the Lady Hypolita $ 
 and in the centre sat Rosalie, attired, 
 and looking like an imperial bride, or 
 rather the effigy of one — 
 
 " Pale and silent like a shadowy thing 
 
 That had look'd on the other world, and known 
 
 The secrets of the grave." 
 
 L. E. L. 
 
 She was, indeed, lovely beyond de- 
 scription. Her eyes saw nothing but 
 the ground, and the snowy lids that 
 veiled them, made her appear as if she 
 were sleeping the calm cold sleep of 
 death, whilst her sunny hair waved in 
 redundant beauty for the last time over 
 her fair forehead and shoulders. 
 
 The morning light streamed in a thou- 
 sand colours through the long-painted
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 317 
 
 windows, as if to outvie the false glare 
 of the countless torches ; it seemed a 
 struggle of nature with art ; at length 
 nature conquered. The sun forced his 
 way like an eastern monarch, and filled 
 the space with all his glory. A death- 
 like silence reigned for the space of a 
 minute, when the curtain was withdrawn 
 from before the grate, so as to give a 
 full view of all that passed within to the 
 spectators in the outward chapel, which 
 was crowded to excess. 
 
 Murmurs of pity and regret almost 
 universally arose at sight of the youth 
 and beauty of the destined victim. They 
 soon, however, were drowned by the 
 loud peal of the organ, and the swelling 
 voices of the choristers. 
 
 The music ceased, and the bishop 
 commenced his exhortation, which lasted 
 about an hour, when he descended from 
 the pulpit, and advancing towards the 
 grate, (where the novice had knelt during 
 the sermon,) he placed his hands upon 
 p 3
 
 318 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 her head, and after pronouncing a bene- 
 diction on her, solemnly enquired, if 
 there was any just or reasonable objec- 
 tion to her entering into the holy state 
 of life she was about to embrace? 
 She firmly answered, " None!" 
 Her six attendants then advanced, and 
 strewing flowers at her feet, she trampled 
 on them, saying, " It was so she should 
 henceforth spurn the pleasures of the 
 world !" 
 
 The abbess next came forward, and 
 undid the white wreath, silver veil, and 
 diamond fillet that confined her hair, 
 which being flung on the ground, she 
 crushed, as she previously had done the 
 flowers. This was not enough ; the 
 greatest of all her ornaments was yet to 
 share the same fate ; the lovely glossy 
 ringlets of auburn hair, which fell in a 
 thousand natural curls below her waist, 
 were now unconfined, the priest took in 
 his hand, and in a tremulous voice said, 
 " And these tresses too, the gift of na- 
 18
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 319 
 
 ture, art thou, daughter of heaven, as 
 willing to renounce, as those ornaments 
 of art ?" 
 
 She again replied in the affirmative. 
 At the moment many left the chapel, 
 overcome by the solemn and affecting 
 scene, while tears drowned every eye of 
 those who remained, when they beheld 
 the fatal scissors suspended over her soft 
 silken curls, ready to sever them for 
 ever from the beautifully formed head 
 on which they grew. 
 Still the priest paused. 
 Rosalie raised her dove-like eyes to 
 his, as if to enquire the cause of his de- 
 lay. He asked her again, more slowly 
 than before, " If she had no reluctance 
 in making such a sacrifice ?" as he held 
 her lovely tresses in his hand. 
 
 Rosalie was ready to reply once more 
 that she had not, when a sudden and vio- 
 lent tumult arose in the outer chapel, 
 and the ceremony was suspended by a 
 man rushing through the crowd, crying,
 
 3€0 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 with breathless vehemence, " Stop — I 
 conjure you, stop." 
 
 It was the Marquis de V , Rosalie's 
 
 father. 
 
 " Oh, my father !" she exclaimed, now 
 agitated for the first time almost to faint- 
 ing, as she flung herself at his feet, 
 " how cruel, at such a moment, to thus 
 interrupt the holy calm which Heaven 
 had shed upon me. Wherefore come you, 
 when I cannot now retract ?" 
 
 " I meant not that you should, my 
 child," said the Marquis, raising her, as 
 he folded her to his breast ; " but here 
 is one," he continued, with a sort of 
 proud triumph, " that merits more con- 
 sideration from my Rosalie," drawing a 
 young man forward. 
 
 She uttered a wild scream, and sank 
 lifeless into the arms of Eugene. 
 
 Geraldine, almost frantic with joy that 
 at last her anxious hopes were actually 
 realized, could scarcely contain the tu-
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 321 
 
 mult of her feelings as she beheld the 
 interesting scene. 
 
 The Lady Hypolita, afraid they would 
 be scandalised by such a scene, suddenly 
 drew the curtain closely over the grate ; 
 whilst all those within, and those without 
 the chapel, waited, in breathless anxiety 
 and impatience, to see what would prove 
 the result. 
 
 It was long ere Rosalie revived. But 
 her lover's tender voice calling on her 
 was not heard in vain j there was life and 
 happiness in the sound, and when at 
 length she opened her beautiful eyes, 
 they did not close again, as softly they 
 beamed upon Eugene. 
 
 Wherefore the abrupt and extraordi- 
 nary interruption of a ceremony so so- 
 lemn and so holy, a circumstance almost 
 unprecedented, required to be explained. 
 
 The Marquis de V , on Rosalie's 
 
 recovering herself withdrew the curtain, 
 and, stepping forward, addressed the 
 auditory, by publicly confessing, he had
 
 322 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 
 
 fabricated the death of the young man, 
 
 Comte Eugene d'l , they now saw; had 
 
 intercepted all his letters to his daughter, 
 in the hope that at length he should 
 
 prevail on her to accept the Duke , 
 
 whose union with her he was anxious to 
 promote. That to the young Comte he 
 had written, Rosalie had changed her 
 sentiments towards him, and was on the 
 eve of becoming the wife of another. 
 
 These facts, so humiliating to relate, 
 the Marquis told with a frankness and 
 contrition which in some measure atoned 
 for his former cruel conduct. 
 
 Always in extremes, the Marquis now 
 insisted on Rosalie's being immediately 
 united to Eugene, before all those who 
 were assembled to witness a very different 
 spectacle. 
 
 With what rapture did the warm- 
 hearted Geraldine Beaumont replace the 
 nuptial wreath and veil, which now 
 shone in their proper place, on the hair 
 of the beautiful and happy young bride.
 
 DAME REBECCA BERRY. 323 
 
 No sooner had Rosalie become the 
 Viscountess d'l , than the acclama- 
 tions of the crowd were rather louder 
 and longer than decorum quite sanction- 
 ed in such a place. 
 
 The Marquis remained, to console the 
 abbess and sisterhood by rich presents 
 and magnificent endowments for the loss 
 of his daughter ; while the bridal pair, 
 accompanied by the faithful Geraldine, 
 instantly quitted the convent, and set off 
 for the family chateau of Eugene's father, 
 situated in Provence. 
 
 END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.
 
 London : 
 
 Printed by A. & It. Spottiswoode, 
 
 New- Street- Square. 

 
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