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 Of ILLINOIS 
 
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 sponsible for its return to the library from 
 which it was withdrawn on or before the 
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 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS LIBRARY AT URBANA-CHAMPAIGN 
 
 2819?^ 
 
 
 L161 — O-1096
 
 i SANTO SEBASTIANO: 
 
 THE YOUNG PROTECTOR. 
 
 VOL. L
 
 , PRINTED BY J. MOYES, 
 
 Creville Street, Hatteu Qardeo, Lond«B.
 
 SAxVTO SEBASTIAXO;. 
 
 OK, 
 
 THE YOUNG PROTECTOR. 
 
 IN FIVE VOLUMES. 
 
 BY 
 
 THE AUTHOR OF 
 
 " ADELAIDE ; OR, THE COUNTERCHARM :" — " THE 
 
 ROMANCE OF THE PYRENEES:" — AND "THE 
 
 FOREST OF MONTALBANO," ic. &c. 
 
 (JjJ^CL THIRD EDITION. ^^LcJ/if 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 ?F.INTED TOR G. AND S. ROBINSON; LONGMAN, HURST. 
 
 AM) CO.; CRADOCK AND JOY; PATERNOSTER-ROW : AND 
 
 A. K. NEWMAN AND CO. LEADENHALL STRtET. 
 
 1814.
 
 
 SANTO SEBASTIANO: 
 
 OK, 
 
 THE YOUNG PROTECTOR, 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Early one morning in November, 1800, 
 a gentleman looking out of a hackney 
 coach to learn what impeded his driver's 
 progress, in Great Russel Street, Blooms- 
 bury, London, beheld a crowd of people 
 thronged round a hearse. 
 
 '• No accident, I hope, has happened?" 
 said the gentleman to his coachman. 
 
 " Why, yes, your honour, rather a rumish 
 sort of a one,*' replied the fellow unfeel- 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 ingly ; " two sharks have nabbed the same 
 prey at once — Death and a bailey V^ 
 
 " What do you mean?" exclaimed the 
 gentleman impatiently. 
 
 " Only, your honour, a corpse seized for 
 debtl" 
 
 The gentleman's exclamation of pity and 
 concern was now delivered in a tone so ex- 
 pressive of humanity, that it instantly drew 
 to the coach window Mrs. Leek, a green 
 grocer, who had been standing at her shop 
 door to observe the commotion. 
 
 " It is the copse of a widor, sir," said 
 Mrs. Leek, addressing the gentleman. 
 ** She lodged, poor lady ! for some months 
 past at Goodwin the bookseller's, and only 
 died this morning for fright, on being ar- 
 rested. The baileys have brought this hearse 
 and a shell, to take the scarce cold body 
 away, sir. I hears too, that it is not a just 
 debt, but all through the spite of an enemy 
 who seduced her, from living lady-like, to 
 want almost the common necessities oiWfty 
 and during her illness — for she has been 
 very bad a long time — it would have gone 
 hard enough with her, (for I don't think
 
 she would have even had doctor's stuff,) 
 only for the kindness of Mr. and Mrs. 
 Goodwin, who can ill afford to assist any 
 one, having such an ejvorbitarit family of 
 their own." 
 
 Tears had started to the gentleman's eyes 
 ere he could get the coach door open ; and, 
 without waiting to let the step down, he 
 leaped upon the pavement. 
 
 ** Hillo ! your honour!" exclaimed the 
 alarmed coachman, hastily dismounting; 
 " I hop^s no offence — but sure as how you 
 does not mean to bilk me I" 
 
 " Unfeeling savage !" replied the gentle- 
 man, throwing money to him; and then 
 hastening to Goodwin's shop door, (for to 
 the private one the mob rendered a passage 
 impossible,) he loudly knocked, waited 
 impatiently the twentieth part of a second, 
 and then knocked again ; when a neat, 
 pretty-looking, female domestic, with eyes 
 swollen by excess of weeping, unbolted the 
 doQr, and cautiously let him in. 
 
 ** I want to see Mr. Goodwin imme- 
 diately," said he. 
 
 " Faith! and you must want it, sir," re- 
 B 2
 
 plied the young woman in a strong Hiber- 
 nian accent, rendered almost inarticulate 
 by a new burst of tears. *' Sorrow one of 
 the master can you see, at all, at all ! — Sure 
 it's he that is standing guard over the dead 
 corpse, Heaven preserve us ! to save it 
 from those d — Is in grain who kilt the 
 poor ould lady, and now want to bring her 
 away." 
 
 *^ But I will not detain Mr. Goodwin a 
 moment: or, if my seeing him is wholly 
 impossible, Mrs. Goodwin may surely allow 
 me to speak to her." 
 
 '• Is it to speak to her now, when it's she 
 that's supporting, and preventing from 
 dying, the lifeless body of poor, dear, sweet, 
 darling Miss Juke ; and crying over her for 
 all the world as if she was one of her own 
 ckilderr 
 
 ** Some other of the family, then, may 
 let me speak to them." 
 
 *' Why, sorrow one of the family, then, 
 
 but myself, but what are all in fits. — Oh ! 
 
 then, more grief to me for not being in fits 
 
 too, and having more nature for the mis- 
 
 Jbrtu7iate, than to bear all this so hard-
 
 heartedly!" and she burst into a new flood 
 of tears. 
 
 " But, my good compassionate girl! you 
 can better evince your kindness to the un- 
 fortunate, by allowing me to see some one 
 of Mr. Goodwin's family. Go and tell them 
 a person who can assist them is here, anxious 
 to have his services accepted" — and he 
 now offered the almost-howlino- orirl some 
 money, to ensure compliance. 
 
 ** No, no, thank you!" she replied, dis- 
 dainfully recoiling from the offered money — 
 " You may be after belonging to that old 
 white-livered fellow Laroche; 'tis like 
 enough you are his spalpeen of a son, for I 
 hear he is as beautiful a young man as ever 
 two looking eyes were clapt upon; and I 
 am sure, if you are any of that cruel crew, 
 and were to offer me all the golden guineas 
 that ever were coined, I would not touch 
 one brass farthing of them !" 
 
 This importunate young man assured 
 her, *' he was not in league with the cruel 
 crew." But Biddy O'Connor (so was this 
 honest simple girl named) would not take 
 his money ; who, after retiring a few
 
 steps to go on his embassy, suddenly re- 
 turned. 
 
 *' May be," she exclaimed, " I ouglit not 
 to have you in the shop where all the mas- 
 ter's and poor childeis' property is (although 
 you do look like a gentleman bred and 
 born) : so myself is after thinking you had 
 better wait in the parlour, where there is 
 nothing at all, at all, to take, unless you 
 open the buffet and pocket the little mo- 
 dicam of plate there, which you might soon 
 do — ril tell no lie; and as for the Lon- 
 doners, they are up to any thing of that kind. 
 People think themselves mighty clever in 
 disparaging poor Ireland, when all the 
 rogues that are there come here; for this is 
 the soil for rogues to thrive in: and such pila- 
 ver too about Irish blunders and bulls! But 
 what bigger blunder could an Irish bailey 
 make, myself would be mighty glad to know, 
 than to seize a dead body to pay it's debts? 
 I am sure, if that was not a tiger in a bull's 
 iiide, my name is not Biddy O'Connor!" 
 
 By the time Biddy had completed her 
 oration, which had been interrupted by 
 Tuany sobs, she had conducted tlie stranger
 
 to a neat parlour, where be beheld an un- 
 commonly fine youth, of about fifteen years 
 of age, administeriHg water to, and striving 
 to compose, his sister, a most beautiful girl, 
 just entered on her teens, who was sobbing 
 hysterically, whilst he himself was weeping 
 piteously. 
 
 " Master Charkss;' said Biddy, '' I be- 
 lieve this is a gentleman, and he wants to 
 see the master about Madam St. Clair." 
 
 *' St. Clair!" repeated the stranger, in ex- 
 treme and visible emotion — '* St. Clair!" 
 Then suddenly collecting his self-possession, 
 and advancing to Charles Goodwin, grace- 
 fully and benignly said — 
 
 *' Accidentally I heard of the calamity 
 your family are now unfortunately doomed 
 to witness, and have taken the liberty of 
 thus intruding, to offer my services to Mr. 
 Goodwin." 
 
 *' Will you have the goodness to be 
 seated, sir?" said Charles Goodwin, motion- 
 ing to the stranger to take a seat, but still 
 persevering in his attentions to his sister; 
 ** My sister is quite subdued, sir; she is 
 so fondly attached to Miss De Clifford."—
 
 Again the stranger's emotion was extreme, 
 and visible : but Charles, unmindful of it, 
 continued — " So indeed are we ail, for who 
 can help loving Miss De Clifford? But, 
 even were we not attached to her, our hearts 
 must be hard indeed, could we see her pre- 
 sent distress unmoved." — Charles here has- 
 tily wiped his eyes, and, by every exertion, 
 strove to resume a steady voice. — ** The 
 servant said, sir, you wished to see my 
 father; but I fear it is not now in his power 
 to wait upon you, for he is guarding the 
 body of ]\Irs. St. Clair, until my uncle re- 
 turns with money to redeem it." 
 
 *' At whose suit was Mrs. St. Clair ar- 
 rested?" asked the stranger, in a voice 
 tremulous from suppressed emotion. 
 
 '* At the suit of a wicked, very wicked 
 man, named Laroche, sir, a supposed friend 
 of her husband's, the late General St. Clair. 
 He arrested her once before, and sent her, 
 (he did indeed, sir, if you 11 believe me,) old 
 and infirm as she was, to prison. Some un- 
 known friend then set her free, and she came 
 immediately from prison, with her grand- 
 daughter, to lodge with us. — Poor old lady '
 
 9 
 
 she bad but few comforts left when most she 
 wanted them: she had little money, and not 
 one servant; no, not one; but very soon the 
 sweetness and goodness of Miss De Clifford 
 made us all her willing servants. It was, 
 indeed, a pleasure to oblige her; but very 
 hard to assist Mrs. St. Clair in any way, she 
 was 80 proud : but my father and mother 
 soon loved, as well as pitied, Miss De 
 Clifford, and, in spite of all the struggles of 
 Mrs. St. Clair's pride, did all they could to 
 serve her; — but indeed, sir, that was not 
 much, for my father is not rich, and has ten 
 children. Mrs. St. Clair's health was in a 
 very declining state when she came here: — 
 it grew every day rapidly worse. ]\Iy uncle, 
 Avho is considered a skilful apothecary, at- 
 tended her carefully, and obtained other, 
 and as he thought better, advice for her: 
 but all would not do ; and my uncle was of 
 opinion she could not hold out many days 
 longer. She was very restless all last night, 
 and about seven this morning fell into a 
 deep sleep; my mother, Miss De Clifford, 
 and Biddy, watching by her easy chair (as 
 for many weeks she could not rest in bed) : 
 B 5
 
 10 
 
 but, oh, sir! sir! think how her sleep was 
 broken ! four bailiffs rushed in through the 
 shop while the shutters were taking down 
 this morning, and, finding their way to her 
 chamber, arrested her, oh ! sir, as she slept ! 
 Their touch awoke her ; the shock was too 
 much for her feeble frame to endure, and 
 she almost immediately expired, as poor 
 Miss De Clifford, nearly frantic with horror 
 and distress, strove to rescue her from the 
 unfeeling ruffians: but since Miss De Clif- 
 ford could not melt their cruel hearts, 
 nothing could. My father offered bail : but 
 it was a malicious arrest, and they would 
 have the-money instantly, or the body; for 
 which, to add to their barbarity, they im- 
 mediately brought a shell from a neighbour- 
 ing undertaker's. My father was greatly 
 distressed at their rejection of liis bail. 
 My mother urged him to pay the money 
 out of a little legacy lately bequeathed to 
 him by a man who had once been shopman 
 to my father, in more prosperous times ;^ — a 
 legacy my father had determined not to 
 touch, but to leave for my mother's use and 
 ours, when he, alas! should be called from
 
 11 
 
 protecting us. My father's own heart 
 urged him to do all that pity prompted; but 
 he looked on my mother and his ten chil- 
 dren, and shrunk from the idea of injuring 
 us : but I, as eldest of all his children, in the 
 name of those who could understand the 
 fatal business, prayed him to release the 
 body ; and when I am a man, I will work 
 day and iiight, so I will, to make up this 
 two hundred pounds to my little brothers 
 and sisters; for, if I live, they shall not lose 
 their share of it." 
 
 " They shall not, by Heaven !" exclaimed 
 the agitated stranger, taking Bank of Eng- 
 land notes, to the amount of five hundred 
 pounds, out of a pocket-book, which, with 
 tears of sympathy, had been for some 
 moments drawn forth by Charles's narrative, 
 *' Give these, most excellent boy! to your 
 good father; tell him to release the body of 
 Mrs. St. Clair, and handsomely inter it, and 
 then to dispose of the remainder for the 
 present comforts of Miss De Clifford. — Tell 
 him Julia De Clifford has a sincere and able 
 friend, who will watch, as her guardian
 
 spirit, over her destiny, and provide for her 
 future fortunes." 
 
 Charles, in a burst of tears, awakened by 
 genuine sensibility, pressed the stranger's 
 hand to his heart. 
 
 ** Farewell ! " said the stranger : " I am 
 now going to leave England ; but should I 
 live to return to it, remember that Charles 
 Goodwin shall find in me a zealous friend !" 
 
 The stranger departed ; and the agitated 
 boy took the notes to his astonished father. 
 ' — The bodv of Mrs. St. Clair was redeemed ; 
 the bailiffs departed, and the mob dispersed.
 
 13 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 In about two months after the decease of 
 Mrs. St. Clair, as Mr. Goodwin one day 
 looked over the morning papers, an ad- 
 vertisement, importing, '* that a lady of 
 quality wanted immediately a young gentle- 
 woman, of good character, &c. as a com- 
 panion," caught his attention ; and with 
 the paper in his hand he hastened to Miss 
 De ClitTord, who, notwithstanding the 
 stranger's benevolent gift and promise, was 
 still anxious to secure some situation in 
 which she could honourably earn her own 
 subsistence ; for the stranger was represent- 
 ed as so young and handsome a man, that 
 she feared, if he lived to return to England, 
 being further indebted to his bounty and 
 protection might not prove quite consistent 
 with propriety. At her request now, Mr. 
 Goodwin readilv undertook to make in- 
 quiry relative to this situation mentioned in
 
 J4 
 
 the advertisement; and he instantly hent 
 his anxious steps to a shop in Bond Street, 
 the place of reference pointed out, and 
 where he was directed to the Earl of Dela* 
 more's house, in Grosvenor Square. Lady 
 Delamore ranked high amongst the most 
 amiable of the British peeresses ; and Mr. 
 Goodwin's heart beat with fervent hopes 
 and wishes foi- success. 
 
 At Delamore-house he inquired, as direct- 
 ed, for Mrs. Ward; and was instantly shown 
 into an apartment, where sat lounging, at a 
 luxurious dejeun6, a but half-awake cox- 
 comb, in a ton'ish robe de chambre, and a 
 dashing female, adorned in all the elegance 
 of a modern dishabille. 
 
 " This gentleman," said the footman 
 who ushered in Mr. Goodwin, " is come 
 in answer to the advertisement of this 
 morning." 
 
 " Bless me, sir! what, come at this im- 
 mensely early hour?" exclaimed Mrs. Ward, 
 gargUng her words in her throat, to show 
 how tonishly refined she was : " but pray 
 be seated; and allow me to offer you some
 
 15 
 
 coffee, or meats and liqueurs, as it is totally 
 impossible you can yet have even dreamed 
 of breakfast." 
 
 " My good madam," replied Mr. Good- 
 win, *' my breakfast has been rather more 
 than a dream : I realized a most substantial 
 one about four hours ago." 
 
 Mrs. Ward gave a well-executed tragedy 
 start of amazed horror ; and the beau, who 
 seemed dozing over a poHtical pamphlet, 
 raised his heavy eyes, exclaiming — 
 
 •' The d — 1, sir ! do you rise in the middle 
 of the night ?" 
 
 " No, sir: but I am in business; and 
 generally rise at seven to mind it, and at- 
 tend my customers." 
 
 *' Ha ! ha ! honest friend ! a shopkeeper, I 
 presume? — Ay, true; business must be 
 minded, and customers served. And pray, 
 most industrious drudge ! what may be your 
 trade — your occupation — your business?" 
 
 '^ My business here, sir," replied Mr. 
 Goodwin dryly, *' is relative to an ad- 
 vertisement I saw in the papers this morn- 
 
 ing. 
 
 " But, honest friend," said Mrs. Ward
 
 16 
 
 with marked disdain, *' I suppose it is for 
 some daughter or grand-daughter of your 
 own you make your application ; but excuse 
 me, none of the canaille will do for us 1" 
 
 '* The young lady, madam, whom I have 
 the honour to be here as agent for," replied 
 Mr. Goodwin with dignity, *' is no plebeian; 
 and if Lady Delamore condescends to see 
 me, I trust " 
 
 " Lady Delamore," said Mrs. Ward, in- 
 terrupting him, and with an audible yawn, 
 ** is an invalid, too ill to see any body ; 
 therefore, it is ray lady — Lady Selina 
 Southerland, her ladyship's eldest daughter, 
 who is to arrange this matter, and she will 
 not be visible this age; so, good man, you 
 must make your communications to n^e." 
 
 " I will call at any hour you have the good- 
 ness to appoint, as most likely for .me to 
 see Lady Selina Southerland ; for the things 
 which I have to communicate, not being 
 relative to myself, I do not think I am at 
 liberty to disclose to any third person." 
 
 " Well then, I suppose you can write 
 them ?'* said the offended Abioail. *' There 
 are writing materials on yonder table, and
 
 17 
 
 a dictionary too, which pray make use of; 
 for if the speUing is bad, my lady will not 
 look at your letter." 
 
 Mr. Goodwin, without vouchsafing a 
 reply, seated himself at the writing table, 
 and composedly set about a letter. 
 
 And now a footman announced *' Mr. 
 Sharp;" and a well-dressed young man, 
 very pale and haggard, entered. Mrs. 
 Ward simpered, and bowed graciously; 
 while the 7'obe de chambre elegant held out 
 a hand to welcome him. 
 
 *' My dear Sharp ! how came you up so 
 soon ?" 
 
 " So late you mean, Jones. — My lord 
 spent his night at the signora's, and I mine 
 at our club. I had such a d — lish run of 
 good luck, I would not flinch while a pigeon 
 remained to pluck a feather from; and now 
 I don't think it worth while to go to bed, 
 as we expect an execution in our house 
 presently." 
 
 " The d — 1 !" replied Mr. Jones, yawn- 
 ing: — " then it will be all up with you at 
 last." 
 
 ** No, my dear fellow ! we shan't fare the
 
 worse for it. The noodles of creditors will 
 find nothing of consequence to seize ; for 
 we mortgaged every thing valuable in our 
 possession long ago: and, thanks to the 
 peerage ! our person is safe ; so we don't 
 mind this bagatelle'' 
 
 ''But you will leave your situation, now 
 matters are become so desperate?" said 
 Jones. 
 
 " No, d n me if I do ! I know when I 
 
 am well. I have lived with my lord nearly 
 three years; and though I have not fingered 
 a shilling of my salary, yet it has been the 
 most lucrative place I was ever in. A 
 ruined man, you know, can have no interest 
 in economy ; he will neither investigate 
 stewards' accounts nor domestic arranae- 
 ments.; he has nothing to lose : prodigality 
 is therefore the order of the day ; and a 
 master will not presume to call a servant to 
 account for any thing relative to money 
 transactions, when conscious he has not the 
 means to pay his stipend. But surely, Jones, 
 you know the sweets of all this — for, if fame 
 says true, Sir Charles is cursedly out at the 
 elbows too.''
 
 19 
 
 ■* Yes, a little; but never so (unfortu- 
 nately for us) bad as to adoiit of our taking 
 the reins — and now, you know, we are 
 going to marry well." 
 
 *' Ay," cried jVIrs. Ward, smirking, " we 
 are going to patch Sir Charles's elbows with 
 our gold; and to furnish a new wardrobe, 
 fit for an emperor." 
 
 " Sir Charles is a fortunate man, Mrs. 
 Ward — but we cannot follow his golden 
 rule; for my lord is so d — lishly unlucky as 
 to be already married, and cannot get rid 
 of his wife any way — she has such cursed 
 good health, and is such a d^ned quizical 
 pattern of every female virtue." 
 
 " Ah, more's the pity !" said ^Irs. Ward. 
 
 And now Mr. Sharp precipitately arose 
 at the chiming of a timepiece in the room, 
 exclaiming — 
 
 ** Zounds ! 'tis half past twelve — and if 
 I do not hasten home, I shall miss the fun 
 at our house !" and Avith a most careless, 
 fashionable congt, made his exit. 
 
 At length Mr. Goodwin having com- 
 pleted his letter, delivered it to Mrs, Ward;
 
 '20 
 
 and with "a good morning, madam !" and 
 a civil bow, quitted the room. 
 
 Mr. Goodwin's letter was addressed to 
 the Right Hon. Countess Delamore; and we 
 have thus faithfully copied it, for the perusal 
 of our readers. 
 
 " Madam, 
 
 *' The Honourable Augustus 
 Frederick De Clifford (father of the young 
 lady in whose behalf I now have the honour 
 of addressing your ladyship) entered the 
 army at a very early period of life, and dis- 
 tinguished himself as a rising hero upon 
 many occasions, in our numerous engage- 
 ments during the latter part of our unfor- 
 tunate contest with America, and war with 
 France and Spain. In his career of glory, 
 however, he received a severe wound, which 
 obliged him to return to England ; when he 
 hastened to the arms of his father, the Earl 
 of Castlehaven, fully expecting every exer- 
 tion from his lordship for that promotion 
 in his profession which his juvenile am-
 
 bition and heroic ardour eagerly panted 
 for. 
 
 " Lord Castlehaven, madam, was, as you 
 may probably know, descended from one of 
 the most antient and illustrious houses in 
 Great Britain ; but very moderate was his 
 portion of riches : and though his vanity 
 was highly gratified by the unfading laurels 
 the young soldier had acquired, instead of 
 following the dictates of paternal affection, 
 and rewarding such conspicuous merit, he 
 ungenerously resolved to let the hero depend 
 upon that merit alone for promotion, that 
 his whole stock of wealth might devolve to 
 his other and favourite child, Lord Almerino. 
 
 " Mr. De Clifford, deeply wounded by 
 his father's cruel and illiberal conduct to- 
 wards him, with grief and indignation pain- 
 fully mingled, quitted the paternal roof — 
 never, as fate decreed, to re-enter it. And 
 very shortly after, Lord Castlehaven paid 
 his debt to nature, leaving the whole of his 
 property to Lord Almerino; for as Lord 
 Castlehaven had married clandestinely 
 whilst in his minority, no settlement had 
 been made upon his wife, or younger
 
 22 
 
 children. Lady Castlehaven dying long 
 before her lord, Mr. De Clifford was the 
 only sufferer from this circumstance. 
 
 " The unnatural conduct of the late Lord 
 Castlehaven, and the unfraternal hatred 
 and unkindness of the new one to his ami- 
 able brother, were universally reprobated. 
 Our gracious Sovereign heard of all ; and 
 Mr. De Clifford's rapid promotion was the 
 consequence. At the age of twenty-three 
 he had obtained the tank of lieutenant- 
 colonel : and his Majesty's kindness most 
 probably had not terminated there, had Co- 
 lonel De Clifford's life been spared ; but the 
 toil of many severe campaigns, before his 
 strength had been suf^ciently matured to 
 sustain him through them, with manifold 
 domestic sorrows, undermined his constitu- 
 tion, and consigned him to an early tomb. 
 He eloped to Scotland with the woman of 
 his first and fondest affections, the beautiful 
 Lady Adelaide Montrose, younger daughter 
 to the present Duke of Avondale. A too 
 implacable fate deprived him almost im- 
 mediately of his tenderly beloved wife. 
 Health, long nienaced, now fell a sacrifice ;
 
 23 
 
 his physicians recommended change of 
 scene, and a more salubrious climate. 
 
 " At Florence, he met with the widow 
 and beautiful daughter of a General St. 
 Clair, who had been in our service, 
 though descended from one of the perse- 
 cuted noblesse, who took refuge in this 
 kingdom at the time of the memorable re- 
 vocation of the edict of Nantes. Mrs. St. 
 Clair resided abroad, both from partiality to 
 foreign countries, and being unable to live 
 in England upon a very moderate income. 
 Colonel De Clifford had long been acquaint- 
 ed with Miss St. Clair, who had as long 
 been secretly attached to him : — she now 
 sympathized in his affliction, soothed his 
 griefs ; and, fascinated once more, Colonel 
 De Clifford knelt at the altar of Hymen. 
 His friends now hoped that happiness and 
 long life would be his ; but death had aimed 
 his shafts too truly, and Colonel De Clifford 
 only survived his second marriage five years; 
 and his lovely and heart-rent widow did not 
 long linger after him : — she outlived him 
 only a very few months, leaving a daughter
 
 24 
 
 of four years old to the protection of Hea- 
 ven, and the deeply-afRicted Mrs. St. Clain 
 
 " Mrs. St. Clair was, as well as her late 
 husband, one of the French rtfugik fami- 
 lies whom this country sheltered ; and was 
 a descendant of the Montmorencis. Par- 
 tial to Italy, she still continued to reside 
 there, even after the premature death of her 
 adored daughter, until the success of the 
 French arms in that country rendered it 
 expedient for her to quit it. But still at- 
 tached to the Continent, she took up her 
 abode for a few months in Holland ; where 
 a train was laid for the most unmerited 
 misfortunes, and cruel persecution. To 
 England now she was obliged, with her 
 grand-daughter, to fly for refuge. She took 
 a small cottage in Sussex, where her im- 
 placable foe traced her out ; by a succession 
 of villanous scheming iniquity, deprived her 
 of every earthly comfort ; and forced her 
 at length, about seven months since, with- 
 out any attendant but her dutiful grand- 
 child, to become a lodger in my house. 
 
 " Mrs. St. Clair's health had yielded more
 
 25 
 
 to the heavy pressure of many calamities, 
 than to old age : and when she became an 
 inmate in my house, her complaints had 
 assumed a fatal appearance. Ill health and 
 affliction had, perhaps, increased the in- 
 firmities of a naturally bad temper; for now 
 the asperity, and never to be soothed pee- 
 vishness of Mrs. St. Clair, must have been 
 found insupportable by every one but the 
 heaven-inspired, dutiful, uncomplaining 
 meekness that was doomed to encounter it. 
 ** The tender solicitude, unremitting care, 
 and (surely, madam, I shall not be deemed 
 profane if I add, celestially mild forbearance; 
 no, such meekness could only spring from a 
 celestial source,) filial piety with which Miss 
 De Clifford undeviatingly attended this 
 most petulant, impatient invalid, gave birth 
 to that esteem and admiration which have 
 since risen to affection, almost parental, in 
 Mrs. Goodwin and myself, for this most 
 excellent, exemplary child ; who had resided 
 about five months in my house, when Mrs. 
 St. Clair was arrested by order of her cruel 
 oppressor, anfl expired in the arms of the 
 vox-. I, , c
 
 26 
 
 bailiffs, as they were tearing her from her 
 easy chair, where the hand of duty had 
 smoothed the pillows that supported her. 
 Nor could the pathetic supplications of the 
 kneeling, weeping, lovely grandchild soften 
 their savage nature: — they spurned, with 
 contumely, the sweet pleader from them ; 
 and, in the execution of the civil law, tore 
 the lifeless body from the arms of filial 
 piety. 
 
 *' Hitherto Miss De Clifford had met 
 misfortune with a degree of firmness that 
 would not have disgraced maturer years; 
 but here her fortitude forsook her. Her 
 grandmother had long been the only rela- 
 tive known to her: she now felt as if left 
 alone in a pitiless world ; and her spirit 
 seemed broken with the thread, of Mrs. St. 
 Clair's life. She fell upon the bosom of my 
 wife, in an agony of woe: her lamentations 
 sprung from an innocent and feeling heart, 
 and they wrung my very soul. In truth, 
 madam, it was a sad, sad scene. My 
 children, ten in number, had gathered round 
 her: MissDe Clifford they adore— her griefs
 
 S7 
 
 were theirs ; and even the youngest, a 
 babe of three years old, dropped his artless 
 tears of sympathy. 
 
 " And now, madam, the hand of al- 
 mighty Providence intervened. My eldest 
 girl, overcome by excess of feeling, was 
 taken by my eldest boy from the heart-rend- 
 ing scene. A gentleman— a stranger, madam 
 — directed by the hand of Heaven, and 
 matchless benevolence, appeared ; gave my 
 boy five hundred pounds to liberate the 
 corpse of Mrs. St. Clair, and the remainder 
 for her grandchild's use ; said Miss De Clif- 
 ford had one steady and powerful friend: — 
 but, alas ! she cannot guess even at the name 
 of that friend ; and never have we been able 
 to trace this stranger out. But wherever he 
 is, the blessing of the orphan whom he has 
 befriended attends him still; and may he 
 never experience less genuine satisfaction 
 than he felt at the moment his hand was 
 held out to relieve her ! 
 
 " Miss De Clifford's grief for the melan- 
 choly fate of her grandmother soon sub- 
 dued her every faculty. She fell danger- 
 ously ill. In the first moments of her 
 c 2
 
 m 
 
 anguish, she had called upoa me to be her 
 protector. As the child of sorrow, she 
 claims my care; but as the child of my 
 affection, she should share with my own 
 offspring the little I possess, would she but 
 accept it: but no, she will not; her noble 
 mind shrinks from the thought of being a 
 burthen to me. While she continued in 
 the delirium of a very dangerous fever, I 
 acted as the guardian she had chosen ; and 
 according to the appointment of the be- 
 nevolent stranger, I released the corpse of 
 Mrs. St. Clair, and had it respectably in- 
 terred ; paid her few remaining debts; 
 parted with all her unnecessary effects ; and 
 then found her amiable grandchild's all 
 amounted to little more than two hundred 
 and fifty pounds. 
 
 ** The vigour of an unimpaired constitu- 
 tion at length conquered sickness, and a 
 just sense of that resignation with which a 
 Christian should sustain the decrees of Pro- 
 vidence, dispelled the excess of unavailing 
 sorrow ; and Miss De Clifford earnestly en- 
 treated me to mark out some method for 
 her to earn her own subsistence in. She is
 
 29 
 
 mistress of numerous accomplishments ; but 
 I cannot throw her upon the favour of the 
 world i;i any public line. Her voice is 
 perfection, tutored by science; but lovely, 
 young, and unprotected, what dangers would 
 she not be exposed to? — Vice, I am confi- 
 dent, could never find influence over her 
 heart; but, alas! how often, madam, has 
 unsuspecting innocence fallen a prey to art 
 and villany ! — As governess in a private 
 family, I know her morals, temper, and edu- 
 cation, would render her a treasure; and as 
 foreigners are generally preferred for such 
 situations, her accent and language being- 
 tinctured with the foreign idiom could prove 
 no objection. For such a situation I have 
 made frequent applications; but her youth 
 and exquisite beauty Have ever proved in- 
 superable obstacles to those 1 have applied 
 •to. Such, madam, have been the misfor- 
 tunes of Miss De Clifford, now one month 
 _ entered upon her seventeenth year; whose 
 personal loveliness few can equal — whose 
 mental perfections none can surpass. 
 
 " Should I demand protection for my 
 charge from her cousin, Lord Castlehaven
 
 $0 
 
 (son to her perfidious uncle, who has been 
 some years dead), it is very possible he 
 might afford it her. But Lord Casilehaven, 
 inadaim, in the pursuit of what he imagines 
 pleasure, has lost the esteem of all good 
 men; and never will 1 expose this sweet 
 and lovely blossom of perfection to the 
 noxious breath of sensual libertinism. 
 
 ** To Lady Delamore I need say nothing 
 further; as her ladyship's own heart will 
 dictate every thing that 1 can wish, or hu- 
 manity inspire. 
 
 *' I have the honour to be, 
 ^' Madam, 
 " With profound respect, 
 " Your ladyship's 
 ** Most obedient, 
 " And very humble servant, 
 
 " George Goodvjn. 
 
 " George Goodwin, Bookseller, 
 Great Russel Street, Bloomsbury,''
 
 SI 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 When Mr. Goodwin returned home, he 
 received the grateful thanks of Julia De 
 Clifford for the trouble he had thus kindly 
 taken for her; and in the course of the 
 evening a footman arrived from Delamore- 
 house with a note. 
 
 '* To Mr. Goodwin, 
 
 " Sir, 
 
 " I return many thanks to you 
 for the opportunity you have thus kindly 
 afforded me of rescuing merit from distress. 
 I regret extremely that my state of health 
 will not, at present, admit of my seeing you; 
 but I anxiously hope Miss De Clifford will 
 have no objection to entering an invalid's 
 apartments, and pay me a visit to-morrow, 
 at two o'clock. 
 
 ** As I shall send my own carriage and
 
 servants for Miss De Clifford, I hope you 
 and Mrs. Goodwin will entertain no fears 
 for the safety of your interesting charge. 
 
 *' I am, Sir, 
 
 *' Your sincere 
 
 " And obedient servant, 
 
 ** Emily Delamore. 
 
 *' Gmsvenor Square, 
 February the 4th, 1801.'' 
 
 This billet from Lady Deiamore appear- 
 ed to Julia and the Goodwins a balm 
 likely to heal the wounds of adversity ; and 
 though our heroine was grateful to Heaven 
 for this new-raised hope, she was far from 
 
 composed. She felt as If the morrow was 
 the day from which the future fate of her 
 life was to trace it's source. Her perturbed 
 spirits deprived her night of rest; and she 
 arose even unusually early, with heavy eyes, 
 a languid frame, and a bosom anxious, and 
 agitated by ten thousand hopes and fears. 
 
 Poor Mrs. Goodwin was most sincerely 
 mortified at perceiving her beloved Miss 
 De Clifford looking so very ill; for on this 
 day she wished her natural beauty to be
 
 33 
 
 in a full blaze of radiance, for she was a 
 wonderful enthusiast ^ov Jirst imp7^essio7is ; 
 and even the very copy the children had 
 to write that morning said — *' A pleasing 
 countenance is a silent commendation:'* 
 and poor Julia, although a heroine, was 
 mortal enough to have her looks materially 
 affected by want of rest. 
 
 A few minutes after two, Lady Dela- 
 more's coach arrived, attended by two fa- 
 mously fine footmen. As the note of Lady 
 Delamore was a prohibition to any one 
 accompanying Julia, she was obliged to go 
 alone, and set off in this lord's fine coach, 
 to the inexpressible delight of the young 
 Goodwins and Biddy O'Connor; particu- 
 larly the latter, as she had found out, while 
 she stood at the door, that the footmen 
 were both from Connaught. 
 
 It had been the peculiar fate of Julia 
 De Clifford through her life to be almost 
 always thrown among strangers, and to 
 make her own way with them ; so that she 
 had not now to combat with those uneasy 
 sensations awakened by natural reserve, 
 
 c5
 
 34 
 
 upon the idea of an interview with total 
 strangers : but, for the first time in her life, 
 she was going, and without a friend to en- 
 courage and support her, to supplicate for 
 protection, as an object of charity. The 
 forlorn, insulated situation she now felt 
 herself in, struck painfully upon her heart. 
 She wept in anguish ; and ere she was aware 
 of the impropriety of indulging her ago- 
 nized feelings at such a moment, the coach 
 stopped at Delamore-house. The knockers 
 were muffled, and straw was spread before 
 the house ; but the attentive porter opened 
 the door without any signal. Julia, now 
 called upon to exert her firmness, hastily 
 suppressed her tears ; but, inimical to a 
 favourable first impression, her excess of 
 weeping had left it's trace behind, in a vio- 
 lent red circle round each eye; which was 
 certainly, we must acknowledge, any thing 
 but an. improvement to her beauty. 
 
 Julia was received in the hall by Mrs. 
 Ward ; who, though she regarded our poor 
 disfigured herome with a supercilious sneer, 
 yet with affected respect conducted her to
 
 35 
 
 an elegant boudoir, where were assembled 
 four ladies and one gentleman. 
 
 Lad} Selina Southerland, one of the ladies, 
 a pretty woman, in her three-and-twentieth 
 year, who^e whole frame and countenance 
 seemed convulsed by affectation, was seated 
 at a table, busily employed in writing; but 
 the moment Miss De Clifford entered she 
 hastily dropped her pen, took up her glass, 
 and steadily and composedly surveyed poor 
 Julia through it. 
 
 Miss Modeley, another lady of about 
 nine-and- twenty, with a face strongly 
 marked with harsh lines, neither handsome 
 nor pleasing, and in height, bulk, and limbs, 
 almost colossal, was skipping, or rather 
 leaping, in one corner, for exercise, until 
 the appearance of our heroine, wlien she 
 instantly ceased, and seated herself upon 
 the sofa by Lady Selina, in an interestingly 
 languid position. 
 
 Another of the party was Lady Isabella 
 Harville, a very beautiful girl of sixteen, 
 who was occupied daubing flowers, and 
 scrawling conundrums and rebusses upon a 
 fire-screen. The fourth lady, the Dowager
 
 S6 
 
 Countess of Hollowell, a very pretty little 
 bold-looking woman of thirty-two, was then 
 just six weeks a widow ; and in the first 
 stage of her weeds was playing upon the 
 harp " The D— I among the Tailors." When 
 Mrs. Ward announced Miss De Clifford 
 her ladyship immediately ceased playing, 
 and strove what she could do, with a pair 
 of large, prominent, dark eyes, to stare 
 the young and trembling stranger out of 
 countenance. 
 
 The Hon. Villars Harville, brother to 
 Lady Isabella, and about eighteen years old, 
 was the gentleman. He had been trying 
 a new opera-glass when Julia appeared be- 
 fore him ; and without mercy he steadfastly 
 levelled it at her, exclaiming, in an audible 
 whisper, to his sister — 
 
 ** The prodigy appears, and a prodigy it 
 proves ! 'Fore Heaven ! it is the head of 
 my uncle Tony's white terrier, w^ith red 
 eyes stuck upon the black greyhound's 
 shoulders. Bet you what you will; Isabella,, 
 that I make a conundrum upon it which 
 shall puzzle every one." 
 
 Lady Isabella burst into an immoderate
 
 37 
 
 fit of laughter. Poor Julia, shocked at 
 such unexpected rudeness, with difficulty 
 disobeyed the first impulse of her vvounded 
 feelings, which would have instantly led 
 her out of the room. 
 
 To account for the wit of this young 
 gentleman, we must confess to our readers 
 that Mr.Goodwin had described our heroine, 
 in his letter to Lady Delamore, as what she 
 had been, and what he doubted not she 
 would be again when her health was re- 
 established ; but the partial, good man 
 seemed to forget what she actually then 
 was — a very spectre. Her long and fa- 
 tiguing attendance upon her grandmother, 
 united to a variety of mental sufferings, had 
 dimmed the lustre of her eyes, and faded the 
 glowing bloom of her complexion. A severe 
 malignant fever had attenuated her form so 
 grievously, and she had shot up so surpris- 
 ingly in height after it, that now her tall, 
 lank figure, in deep mourning, was not ill 
 adapted to the polite young man's simile. 
 
 Lady Selina Southerland, who had gazed 
 undauntedly at our heroine until she had 
 reached the spot Mrs. Ward had placed a
 
 38 
 
 chair for her in, now graciously bowed, 
 motioned for Julia to be seated, and thus 
 addressed her : — 
 
 " Lady Delamore is truly grieved that 
 an increase of indisposition this morning 
 prevents the possibility of her having the 
 honour of seeing you, or the infinite plea- 
 sure of being serviceable to you, Miss De 
 Clifford. Bi't what to her ladyship is a 
 source of severe regret will prove to some 
 of the small circle present a matter of 
 considerable happiness ; for we trust it will 
 be in the power of some one of us essen- 
 tially to serve you." 
 
 Julia gracefully bowed her thanks; but 
 there was infinitely too much of study in 
 this address to touch her heart. 
 
 ** Two of these my friends," her ladyship 
 continued, *' have, as well as myself, highly 
 eligible situations to offer for your accept- 
 ance ; but you shall hear the particulars of 
 each, and then your own inclination and 
 judgement must make your election. 
 
 " A most estimable friend of mine — a 
 woman advanced in life, though still un- 
 n)arried, with an immense fortune and most
 
 39 
 
 liberal disposition — has commissioned me to 
 look out for an amiable, highly accomplish- 
 ed young woman, of good family, to reside 
 with her as a sister and a friend. Her 
 generosity is unparalleled; but as she pos- 
 sesses some little eccentricities (the illiberal 
 may term them weaknesses), which call 
 upon this young friend to play a part, I 
 will not deceive you, but briefly relate the 
 part you will have to sustain. My friend is 
 a woman of wonderful genius, deep learn- 
 ing, and has not only travelled through 
 every country which curiosity ever led a 
 human being to explore, but has trod all of 
 classic ground which history or science have 
 ever celebrated. But with all these first-rate 
 talents and advantages she is still — a wo- 
 man ; and women will be sometimes vain. 
 She is anxious to display her wonderful ac- 
 complishments; but hating the confessed 
 egotist, and wishing not, herself, to obtrude 
 her knowledge upon the admiring world, is 
 solicitous for a well-informed companion, 
 who can judiciously manage this important 
 business for her. 
 
 ** Now as you have travelled too, Miss Dc
 
 40 
 
 Clifford, and are yourself higbly accom- 
 plished, you are the very being marked out 
 for my friend. It will be your province to 
 watch every opportunity of winding the 
 conversation to what must draw forth the 
 talents of your patroness ; and, as if by acci- 
 dent, skilfully to awaken curiosity, and lead 
 inquiry to ask those accounts of her travels 
 in which the diversity of her acquirements 
 can be most displayed. Adroitly, too, you 
 must draw her into argument, by never, in 
 company, being of her opinion. You must, 
 hov/ever, always take the weak side of the 
 question ; though, with much ingenious so- 
 phistry, you must strive to give a plausi- 
 bility to your arguments, to throw a more 
 striking force upon hers. 
 
 " In private, your task will have even 
 lessof difficulty in it; for you will have 
 only to yield your own opinion in every 
 thing to hers. To be silent, when she is 
 disinclined to talk — to be gay, when she is 
 cheerful — to be melancholy, when she is 
 grave — in short, to simplify the task at once, 
 it is merely to be a barometer, actuated by 
 the mercury of her caprices."
 
 41 
 
 " Oh, poverty!" said Julia, mentally, 
 *' what insults must your hapless children 
 bear !" Her heart throbbed indignantly, but 
 she had sufficient command over her feel- 
 ings mildly to reply ; but her manner spoke 
 gracefully impressive dignity. 
 
 " My attainments, you have too much, 
 rated, madam, in supposition, for my pos- 
 sibility to equal being at all, for situation, 
 you have kindness now, to offer me. With 
 adversity, my acquaintance has not been, 
 of time long; and dependence has not, for 
 yet, my feelings conquered ; for post of so 
 much accomplished, a parasite." And 
 Julia now, gracefully bowing, was about 
 to rise. 
 
 *' Nay." replied Lady Selina, colouring 
 hignly, ** I must request one moment's stay. 
 Though you despise the lucrative situation 
 I have offered to you, Miss De Clifford, 
 perhaps my friends may prove more suc- 
 cessful in what they liave to propose." 
 
 Julia again bowed, and was reseated. 
 " *' The situation I have to offer requires 
 no sacrifice from pride," said Miss Modeley, 
 softening the natural harshness of her voice
 
 42 
 
 with the most apparent care. " It will 
 only be a demand upon amiable kindness 
 and tender pity. It is for a young, blind 
 relation of my own ; a being possessed of 
 every perfection under heaven, deprived of 
 sight in the flower of youth, of prosperity, 
 that I solicit your kindness." 
 
 Julia's heart throbbed with compassion, 
 and her countenance beamed with the 
 sweetest and most touching rays of melt- 
 ing pity ; and eagerly she said, " I will, 
 take this, situation, dearest madam; and so 
 soon too, as you will permit for me; if I 
 can, be for use, or consolation, in her, so 
 great deal terrible calamity." 
 
 *' Dear, kind creature I you quite affect 
 me," ]\liss Modeiey replied: " my relation 
 is not a lady, but a man of twenty four, 
 transcendent ly handsome, amiable, and 
 highly informed. lie is a baron, and heir 
 prtjsumptive to an earldom. His fortune 
 noble, his spirit more so ; and is unmarried. 
 A few months since he was deprived of 
 sight, by cataracts; and in due time, the 
 oculisis say, he may successfully be couch- 
 ed ; but as a few years must necessarily
 
 43 
 
 elapse before the operation can with cer- 
 tainty be performed, it is expedient to 
 have some tender friend to reside with 
 and take care of him. Unfortunately he 
 has neither mother nor sister. A female 
 friend he particularly wishes for, to soothe^ 
 to comfort, and tenderly to protect him ; 
 to beguile his melancholy, by her nume- 
 rous accomplishments ; to make his dark- 
 ness perpetual day, by her fascinating con- 
 versation, her melting voice, whether at- 
 tuned to poetry or song. And could I 
 make for him a more judicious choice than 
 Miss De Clifford ? His is a most tender 
 disposition — highly romantic; and such an 
 admirer of beauty, that when the happy 
 moment shall arrive in which Heaven, in 
 it's kindness, restores his blessed sight, who 
 but can foresee you will find an everlasting 
 captive in your grateful protege." 
 
 Astonishment, with indignation pain- 
 fully blended, agitated our heroine's mind 
 during this most extraordinary statement; 
 and, at it's conclusion, she almost believed 
 she had been invited ihithtr to be made a 
 jest of. Her natural temper was sweet to
 
 44 • 
 
 perfection, but recent illness had given a 
 degree of irritability to her nerves which 
 she had been hitherto unacquainted with ; 
 and possessing a large share of dignified 
 pride and innate purity, she scarcely knew 
 how to suppress her feelings ; but pride, 
 now her best auxiliary, supported her; and 
 with gentle sweetness^ tinctured with mild, 
 impressive dignity, she replied — 
 
 " For very certainly, madam, pride has 
 not here, of sacrifice to make, except, in sup- 
 pression of the much resentment, wounded 
 delicacy, has great, feel for ; from what, for 
 my comprehension, did sound not like to the 
 offer from propriety, to young girl, in search 
 for the safe protection." 
 
 *' I told you," said Lady Hollowell, now 
 breaking silence, whh a kind of disgustingly 
 dashing air — " 1 told you, girls, the situa- 
 tions you had to offer might a little militate 
 against the sensitive feelings of pride and 
 fastidiousness; two qualities likely to be 
 found in the breast of a young novice in 
 the school of adversity and dependence. 
 Attend to me, thou little touchy thing! I 
 shall not offend your fi.ue and exquisite feel-
 
 45 
 
 ings, although I belong to the matter of 
 fact family. I adhere closely to homely 
 truth; nor ever once stoop to borrow the 
 glossy disguises which might adorn pUin 
 facts, and make them more- seducing : 
 therefore, in my own way, to the matter 
 at once. 
 
 ** Fortune frowns upon you. You want 
 to earn your bread in an honest way. I 
 can provide for you at once, and amply too. 
 An antient dowager, aunt to my ci-devant 
 spouse, has set her originally shallow brains 
 a madding, by a constant and indefatigable 
 study of romances and novels. , She has 
 turned critic too, and now wants to com- 
 mence author: but she must write from 
 nature, she says ; and as she means hers to 
 be a pattern for all other novel writers, hers 
 is to be a true story. She has, therefore, 
 employed me to look out a heroine for her, 
 to send down, with all- convenient speed, for 
 one of her grandsons to fall in love with; 
 to raise a commotion in the family for her 
 to work upon, in the form of every thing 
 essential for a modern novel. I see you 
 have many requisites for a heroine : — you 
 arc young, beautiful, accomplished; of a
 
 46 
 
 great family, though reduced to interesting 
 distress ; possess feeHngs the most refined 
 and fastidious; and quite pride sufficient 
 for a countess, which my aunt means you 
 shall be in three months' time. Only one 
 thing more, relative to your qualifications, 
 I wish to know, before I pack you oif in a 
 chaise and four to her; and that is — have 
 you lost your character?" 
 
 The deep flush of resentment which had 
 mantled Julia s cheeks now heightened to a 
 vermilion tint; and, with a look of amaze- 
 ment, she repeated — *' Lost my character, 
 madam !" 
 
 " Yes, your reputation, child! — a most 
 essential matter for a modern heroine. Ab 
 you will no longer be in the fangs of ad- 
 versity, you will have no opportunity of ac- 
 quiring this high accomplishment; and if 
 your integrity or vestal fame are unblemish- 
 ed we are in a great dilemma — sadly at a 
 stand; for }/ou know, child, your interest- 
 ing distress, and bewitching perplexities, 
 cannot have reached their climax unless 
 your fair fame has been so completely and 
 ingeniously tarnished, that thcuigh your 
 faithful inamorato beiieves you imaiaculate,
 
 47 
 
 all the rest of the world are either to be left 
 in doubt, or convinced of your having been 
 a defaulter. Come, my dear I recollect 
 yourself; this is too great a provision to 
 be slighted. — Reflect ! — Has no notorious 
 libertine ever been discovered concealed in 
 your boudoir? — Have you never been tre- 
 panned into a house of ill fame? — Has no 
 old rake or married man been your con- 
 fessed supporter? — Have you never fallen 
 into improper company?" 
 
 ** My recollection is not of any, madam, 
 that I ever did blush at all for, until this 
 moment," said Julia, rising, with the most 
 striking dignity, to take her leave; and as 
 she reached out her hand to remove a chair 
 which impeded her way, she found it gently 
 taken: she looked to see by whom, and be- 
 held a gentleman whom she had not before 
 observed. 
 
 *' And permit me, madam," this gentle- 
 man said, '* to lead you from that company, 
 who, forgetting the respect and kindness 
 which is the just claim of the unfortunate, 
 have taught me, too, to blush for them." 
 
 " Tore Heaven!"— Lady Hollowell ex-
 
 > 48 
 
 claimed, with a face glowing through her 
 rouge, — " 'fore Heaven ! Fitzroy, we were 
 but in jest, to try the temper and under- 
 standing of this sensitive thing, before we 
 served her, which we mean to do." 
 
 " Jest, madam ! " he replied — " Is it a jest 
 to break the bruised reed? to rend the torn 
 heart? — And you, Lady Selina, how I blush 
 for you, to enter at all into this reprehensible 
 mode of qiihing. Had you only attacked 
 each other in harmless mirth;, or levelled 
 your jests at vice or folly, it might have 
 been excusable; but surely, surely the feel- 
 ings of adversity were too sacred to be 
 sported with !" 
 
 The voice of kindness had done what in- 
 sult had not power to effect ; the wounded 
 and almost-bursting heart of Julia found 
 relief in tears — and she was now sobbing 
 most audibly. 
 
 " For my part," said Lady Selina, dis- 
 dainfully, *' I am not in the least degree 
 sorry for what has been said to wound the 
 feelings of this ill-tempered miss'' 
 
 *^ Ill-tempered!" exclaimed Fitzroy: "if 
 want of feeUng is a proof of good temper,
 
 49 
 
 how enviably sweet are the tempers of the 
 party I am quitting!" — He now rang the 
 bell, and inquired from Julia, *' How she 
 had come?" 
 
 She told him, " Lady Delamore's car- 
 riage had been her conveyance." 
 
 " Lady Delamore's carriage bring you 
 hither to be insulted !" he said, with strong 
 marked feeling. " And this immensely 
 witty prank is played whilst my incompa- 
 rable aunt is lying dangerously ill; while, 
 perhaps, the most exemplary of mothers 
 is on the bed of death. — Oh Selina! — Per- 
 mit me, madam, to lead you from those 
 who have been much more degraded by this 
 scene than you have been." And he led 
 the trembling, sobbing Julia to the door. 
 
 Lady Hollowell now burst into an im- 
 moderate fit of noisy risibility, exclaiming, 
 *' Bravo ! most sanctimonious Fitzroy ! she 
 will do for the mad dowager's heroine yet. 
 Here's love at first sight ! — Interesting situa- 
 tions! — Heroic sentiment ! — Glowing gra- 
 titude, melting and resistless ! — Do i/ou at- 
 tend her home, the sentimental protector 
 of your lovely protege ; and the impcdi- 
 
 VOL. I, D
 
 50 
 
 ment to my aunt's purpose, an unblemished 
 reputation, is at once removed." 
 
 Fitzroy, with a countenance glowing in 
 resentment, cast a look of disdain upon 
 her ladyship as he left the room, leading 
 out Julia. A footman at the same moment 
 met them. Fitzroy inquired, " If Lady 
 Delamore's coach was in waiting?" — ** No/* 
 the man replied; " Lady Selina had order- 
 ed, the moment it came from Russel Street, 
 that it should go into Westminster for an- 
 other lady, who had answered the last ad- 
 vertisement." 
 
 " The moment it returns," said Fitzroy, 
 " let it draw up for the conveyance of this 
 lady home; and immediately inform me of 
 it, in Mrs. Beville's room." 
 
 Fitzroy now conducted Julia into a long 
 gallery, at a door in which he gently tap- 
 ped, and instantly it was opened by a vene- 
 rable looking woman, long passed the me- 
 ridian of life. Her dress was the fashion 
 of years that were gone ; and in it were 
 cleanliness and simplicity most happily 
 blended. Her silver hair, parting in the 
 centre, was neatly combed, to lie close be-
 
 51 
 
 neath her snow-white laced cap and hood. 
 Her countenance spoke eloquently the lan- 
 guage of benevolence; but she looked fa- 
 tigued, and her e^^es were suffused with tears, 
 which were streaming down her cheeks. 
 
 " Mrs. Beville, how, how is my dear 
 aunt?" said Fitzroy. 
 
 ** Oh ! thanks, thanks be to Heaven ! 
 my dear sir," Mrs. Beville replied, smiling 
 joyfully through her tears, " my sweet, 
 blessed child is out of danger ! The phy- 
 sicians are not above half an hour gone, 
 and were unanimous in declaring there re- 
 mains not now an unfavourable symptom 
 about her." 
 
 Fitzroy was so overcome by joy at this in- 
 telligence, that he let go our heroine's trem- 
 bling hand, sunk into a chair, and hid his 
 face with his hands, to conceal his emotion. 
 
 " Whilst I thought I should lose her I 
 had not a tear to shed," said Mrs. Beville ; 
 '' and now they come in^ torrents from my 
 eyes, as if my heart still was breaking." 
 
 For a moment only w^as Fitzroy forget- 
 ful of his fair charge : he arose precipi- 
 tately, and retook her hand. ** Forgive 
 D 2 
 
 i id
 
 5^ 
 
 my inattention/' he said ; '* but my aunt 
 is inexpressibly dear to me." 
 
 The tears of Mrs. Beviile, and the sti- 
 fled emotion of Fitzroy, made their effect 
 upon the sympathizing heart of Julia. 
 
 Fitzroy now demanded '' Where Lady 
 Theodosia was?" 
 
 " My dear, beloved lady has persuaded 
 the sweet soul to go to bed, where she has 
 not been for upwards of sixty hours, sir," 
 replied Mrs. Beville. " My dear lady thinks 
 that I am gone to rest too; but I am now 
 too happy to sleep." 
 
 ". Dear, volatile Theodosia I" said Fitz- 
 roy, *' how unlike her graver sister is she ! 
 How differently has Lady Selina been em- 
 ployed ! not with filial tenderness watching 
 by the bed of her sick mother, but in 
 wounding the afflicted heart, and insulting 
 the unfortunate. As I went into Selina's 
 little book-room (where I concluded she 
 was) to inquire particularly al)out my dear 
 aunt, I overheard Lady SeHna and her 
 amiable coterie amusing themselves by 
 quizingy in the most insulting manner, this 
 lady. The door into the boudoii' was open.
 
 53 
 
 I stood ill the door-way, a silent observer of 
 the scene, unnoticed by any one; as the hu- 
 mane society sat with their backs to me, and 
 the patient sufferer too much oppressed to 
 look about her. I continued a spectator 
 until my indignation grew too powerful for 
 concealment, when I rescued their interest- 
 ing prey from further insult ; and now claim 
 your protection for her, until Lady Dela- 
 more's coach returns from Westminster 
 with more fi^od for their cruel sport." 
 
 " Miss De Clifford, is it not? — the un- 
 fortunate young lady whom the good book- 
 seller wrote such a melanchol}^ letter about?" 
 said Mrs. Beville, respectfully. 
 
 " My name, madam, is De Clifford; and 
 the amiable Mr. Goodwin did of me write, 
 to Lady Delamore." 
 
 " Ah !" said Mrs. Beville, '' that letter 
 was never delivered to my lady; who knows 
 nothing of these advertisenients, which 
 Lady Seiina and lier friends have got into 
 the habit of inserting, to amuse their morn- 
 ings by quizing the unlucky people who 
 answer them. But my lady's chambermaid 
 was so particularly struck by the worthy 
 Mr. Goodwins letter relative to you,
 
 54 
 
 madam (which Mrs. Ward read for her 
 yesterday, and the note too which was to 
 beguile you hither), that she informed me 
 of it to prevent your coming ; and I fully 
 determined to communicate it all to Lady 
 Theodosia, who I knew would protect you: 
 but forgive me, my good young lady. The 
 danger I thought my dear lady (whom I 
 suckled myself, and have never since been 
 separated from) was in through the night 
 put every thing out of my head but her. 
 And now how grieved I am to think I for- 
 got you, and left you to be so cruelly in- 
 sulted !^' 
 
 ** Oh ! forgive I, you, most truly. — Cold 
 and aifectionless, your heart had been, 
 could it have thought for me, in such a 
 strong time of grief" — Julia replied, with 
 sweet and resistless sympathy. 
 
 ** Alas !" said Mrs. Beville, looking in- 
 tently at her, with a tear of pity glistening 
 in her eyes — " and had they the cruelty to 
 insult so young, so artless, so sweet a look» 
 ing creature?'' 
 
 Poor Jul a*s little remaining firmness was 
 now completely overthrown by the voice 
 of pity. Mrs. Beville saw how she was
 
 55 
 
 affected ; caught her in her arms, and in 
 her anxiety to save her from fainting, has- 
 tily took off our heroine's bonnet, when 
 the air playing freely round her, her respi- 
 ration soon became more easy ; and the fu- 
 gitive blood was beginning to retint, most 
 beautifully, the lips and cheeks of Julia, as 
 Fitzroy returned with hartshorn from Mrs. 
 Beville's medicine-chest. 
 
 This restorative soon perfected Julia's 
 recovery ; and in the sweetest tones she 
 thanked them for their kindness. — '* I am 
 not subject to, so greatly sudden, indisposi- 
 tions," she added, " but lately I have been 
 very much ill. And I knew not at all, 
 until now, how great deal weakness, that 
 illness has njade for me ; how much 
 unfitted me for the agitation, or exer- 
 tion." 
 
 Julia now raised her eyes, to look at 
 those whom she addressed ; and beheld 
 Fitzroy intently gazing at her. She deeply 
 blushed ; and her eyes sought the ground. 
 Fitzroy, observing the painful confusion of 
 her sweet timidity, instantly withdrew his 
 almost-entranced glances, to steal them 
 more secretly at her; and our heroine, with
 
 66 
 
 a trembling hand, hastily put on her 
 bonnet. 
 
 A footman now announced the return of 
 the carriage. *^ I know not what to do, 
 Mrs, Beville," said Fitzroy. " Miss De 
 Cliiford is totally unfit to go home alone; 
 and I would be an improper attendant for 
 her. Indeed, after the malicious insinua- 
 tions of Lady Hollowell, for Miss De Clif- 
 ford's sake, I dare not go." 
 
 '* I will go with her myself," said Mrs. 
 Beville. " My lady believes I am in bed, 
 so will not send for me; and a little airing 
 will do me good." 
 
 Fitzroy seemed much pleased ; and Julia 
 was penetrated with the most lively gra- 
 titude, by the delicate consideration and 
 humanity of the one, and the kindness of 
 the other. In a few moments Mrs. Be- 
 ville was ready. Fitzroy handed our now 
 almost perfectly recovered heroine to the 
 carriage ; and as they went along to it, she 
 again, with ail the simple eloquence her 
 truly grateful heart inspired, thanked him 
 for his kindness and humanity to her; and 
 as he withdrew his hand from hers, upon 
 her getting into the coach, he softly said,
 
 57 
 
 " I hope, Miss De Clifford, we may meet 
 again." And with quick and marked art- 
 lessness Julia replied aloud — Indeed, I do 
 hope, a great deal, that we may." 
 
 Mrs. Beville now got into the carriage ; 
 and Fitzroy stood on the steps before the 
 house, gazing intently into it until it 
 rolled away. 
 
 On their road to Great Russel Street, 
 Julia again thanked Mrs. Beville, with 
 sweetness peculiar to herself, for her great 
 kindness and attention to her. 
 
 " Say nothing more of it, I beseech you^ 
 dear young lady_!" replied the venerable 
 woman. *' Surely I ought to do every 
 thing in my power to show respect for 
 you, after your bearing so sweetly the 
 cruel insults you received at our house ; 
 and truly shocked at and ashamed of the 
 matter I am. Ah ! had it not been for 
 the unfortunate indisposition of my dear 
 Jady it could not have happened; but 
 there is a wise Providence over all things, 
 who often decrees that good shall come out 
 of evil. Had it not been for this shameful 
 prank, my lady perhaps might have never 
 known you ; nor you experience the kind- 
 le 5
 
 38 
 
 ncss of one of the most really amiable 
 women that ever existed. As it is, my 
 lady shall know you. She will be kind to 
 ycni, and you will love her: but it must be 
 some time before I can venture to inform 
 her of this day's prank, for her complaints 
 are chiefly nervous ; proceeding, in fact, 
 from a diseased mind — for Lady Delamore 
 is not a happy woman." Mrs. Beville 
 sighed heavily ; and, after a thoughtful 
 pause, proceeded — 
 
 ** There is, Miss De Clifford, in almost 
 every family a dark closet, where the pub- 
 lic eye cannot penetrate; and how often 
 do we see the envied great with smiling 
 countenance, when, could we dive into 
 their hearts, we should find them torn with 
 many griefs ! My beloved lady has feelings 
 too acute for either her health or peace; 
 and even to me, who know all and see all 
 the causes which rend her heart, she never 
 has uttered one complaint. Surely, surely 
 she deserved a better fate than to be made 
 wretched by those who ought to cherish 
 and reverence her. But this painful subject 
 is drawing me from what 1 wished to say to 
 you. My dear lady will be so shocked
 
 69 
 
 when she hears of the cruel treatment you 
 this morning received, that- • • •'* 
 
 " But wliy should she at all to hear of 
 it?" said Julia, mildly Interrupting her. 
 " Cannot you have the goodness for, men- 
 tioning my unfortunate situation, when lier 
 ladyship is quite enough, well, to bestow a 
 thought for me; without saying, of the 
 unkind treatment, I had experience of in 
 her house? And sure I am, should I have 
 the happiness, ever, for being known of 
 Lady Delamore, I will not at all, mention 
 it, since it would give so great pain, for 
 her." 
 
 " How very amiable is this unmerited 
 forbearance in you, Miss De Clifford, to 
 your unfeeling oppressors ! " Mrs. Beville 
 replied. — " I will tell Mr. Fitzroy what you 
 say, and will, with him, consult Lady Tbeo- 
 dosia. Indeed I doubt not he will himself 
 tell Lady Theodosia every thing that pass- 
 ed; for well he knows, that though she is 
 wild as colt untamed, she is her mother's 
 own child in benevolence ; and you could 
 not have a warmer or a steadier friend." 
 
 The coach now stopped at Mr. Good- 
 win's door. Julia again expressed her lively
 
 60 
 
 gratitude to Mrs. Beville, who bade her 
 a kind adieu, and assured her it should not 
 be one moment longer than necessity 
 required before she should really be intro- 
 duced to Lady Delamore.
 
 61 
 
 CHAPTER IV< 
 
 The sanguine Goodwins had allowed their 
 affection for our heroine to raise their ex- 
 pectations to the highest flights of hope; 
 and great, in consequence, was their disap- 
 pointment, when she faithfully informed 
 them of the transactions of the morn ins:. 
 Their neat and comfortable dinner (which 
 Mrs. Goodwin had herself superintended 
 the cookery of, that it might be particu- 
 larly good, to tempt her dear Miss De 
 Clifford to eat after her fatigue and natu- 
 ral agitation) was sent away, nearly un- 
 touched. The good old man's chagrin and 
 indignation were too profound to find re- 
 lief in speech : he sat with flushed cheeks 
 and downcast eyes in pensive sadness, 
 ashamed of the depravity of human nature, 
 that it could insult a being so young, so 
 unprotected, so faultless; whilst the resent- 
 ment of the more volatile partner of his
 
 62 
 
 bosom evaporated In alternate fits of cry- 
 ing, and the most severe revilings. 
 
 After supper again (when the children 
 had all retired) Mrs. Goodwin entreated 
 Julia to tell her once more all that had pass- 
 ed at Delamore-house ; and Julia, with her 
 accustomed fascinating sweetness, instantly 
 complied. Mr. Goodwin was thoughtfully 
 attentive; and in some moments after our 
 heroine ceased her little narrative he asked 
 her, " What sort of man this very bene- 
 volent Mr. Fitzroy was?" 
 
 " Oh ! an infinitely more amiable, and 
 elegant-looking young man, that I did ever 
 expect for to see; — with so sweet manners! 
 and handsome, very extremely;" said Ju- 
 lia, unhesitatingly. 
 
 " Extremely handsome!" repeated Mr. 
 Goodwin. 
 
 ** Yes," she replied, " extremely hand- 
 some — I believe, I ought for to say, beau- 
 tiful. I do not think, I have, before, 
 seen a man so handsome." After a mo- 
 ment's pause, she continued, " No, my 
 memory is not of, ever to have seen, any 
 
 man so * fascinatingly handsome/ 
 
 was the expression, my fancy prompted;
 
 65 
 
 and so I do say it: for once, sir, he did 
 remind me — Oh! more than once, it was 
 — so strongly, of my dear, and beautiful 
 Lady Cecilia Hume, or, as I should call 
 her, Lady Storamond ! I wonder, sir, is he 
 to her, a relation ? I wish I had asked 
 good Mrs. Beville, for I do think, it 
 must be so. And yet, I don't know 
 where, in what feature, the likeness is: — 
 but it is; — and most greatly forcible it 
 struck me, at the time, of when I so was 
 near to faint, and Mr. Fitzroy, intently 
 so looked to see if I was quite recovered; 
 then it was, he did look — Oh! so exactly, 
 as Lady Cecilia used to do, when talking 
 earnestly for me, that he made my heart 
 bound, quite much, just as if, I had the 
 greatly joyful thought, of expectation, that 
 moment for to see, my dear, beloved, 
 Lady Storamond." 
 
 '' Indeed!" said Mr. Goodwin. 
 
 '^ In veroy'' replied Julia. 
 
 ** I wish," said Mr. Goodwin, " Lord 
 Storamond was returned from abroad." 
 
 ** Oh! how I wish that, devoutly!" re- 
 plied Julia. ** Then, I should no more 
 want, the assistance of Lady Delamore ;
 
 64 
 
 for Cecilia would be, all friend for me : for 
 I do know, she loved me, tenderly; and I 
 loved her so truly much, that many a tear 
 I shed, to think it is doomed (so torturing 
 fancy tells to me) we shall no more meet, 
 again." 
 
 For a fortnight after this memorable visit 
 to Delamore-house, Julia was perfectly easy 
 at hearing nothing from thence; but when 
 the whole month of Ftbruary passed, and 
 no message from Lady Theodosia Souther- 
 land or Mrs. Beville, our poor heroine be- 
 gan to experience the bitter pangs of dis- 
 appointed hope. 
 
 That it was very strange, was the opinion 
 of the Goodwins, as well as herself; and 
 when March too had glided by, without 
 any intelligence from Delamore-house, they 
 all began to lose their expectations from 
 thence, and to fix their grateful thoughts 
 upon the more active benevolence of the 
 stranger. 
 
 For the last three months, the long-de- 
 clining business of Mr. Goodwin increased 
 in so rapid, and almost miraculous, a man- 
 ner, that he was forced to hire a shopman; 
 and scarcely a day passed without bringing
 
 him some new customer of distinction, all 
 which he doubted not were recommended 
 by the stranger ; and, indeed, felt con- 
 vinced of it, when, the latter end of April, 
 to his utter amazement, one of the East- 
 India directors sejst to inform him, " tliat 
 his son, Charles Goodwin, was appointed 
 a writer to the company at Bengal." Mr. 
 Goodwin, full of thankfulness, waited upon 
 the director to express his gratitude, and to 
 learn to whom it was particularly due. 
 
 " That," said the director, ** 1 am not 
 at liberty to inform you, sir; but your son 
 has fortunately obtained a most powerful 
 and zealous friend. I have directions to fit 
 him out in a style of the greatest respecta- 
 bility, entirely free of expense to you ; 
 and as his friend thinks, that making pre- 
 parations for so long a separation must na- 
 turally wound the feelings of his mother, 
 has left a request with me, to prevent the 
 necessity of any thing being provided for 
 him at home : therefore, you have nothing 
 to think of, sir, but to make up your mind 
 to parting with your son next October; 
 when I pledge myself to have every thing 
 arranged for his departure; comfortable con-
 
 66 
 
 veyance to Bengal, and kind reception 
 when he arrives there." 
 
 Mr. Goodwin^s heart dilated with thank- 
 fulness to Providence, and the benevolent 
 stranger, for this unexpected flow of pro- 
 sperity; nor was he less grateful for the 
 good this provision for his son portended 
 to his lovely charge. 
 
 " My dear Miss De Clifford," said he to 
 Julia, " there is, there can be no doubt, that 
 the stranger is your sincere and able friend, 
 watching over and providing for your for- 
 tunes ; therefore, cease to think of provid- 
 ing for your own, but rest contented here, 
 where it is apparent this guardian protec- 
 tor of yours wishes you at present to re- 
 main, until he finds a situation more eligi- 
 ble for you : nor need your sense of deli- 
 cacy and propriety lead you to shrink from 
 his protection, whose own feelings of deli- 
 cacy and respect for you, teach him not to 
 appear in these his generous proceedings. 
 He pours in wealth upon me, that from me 
 you may receive every comfort and assists 
 ance you can require, without the shadow 
 of impropriety. I stand as the agent be- 
 tween your generous friend and you ; I am
 
 67 
 
 enriched, solely to be your guardian and 
 your banker. A most sacred and most 
 honourable trust is confided to me; and I 
 hope, and believe, my heart will prove 
 worthy of the precious deposit." 
 
 The tears which trickled down the cheeks 
 of Julia, as she pressed with fervour the 
 hand of Mr. Goodwin to her lips, expressed 
 most accurately the feelings his conduct had 
 awakened in her breast, where such gene- 
 rosity, integrity, and kindness, could not 
 fail of making a deep and indelible impres- 
 sion; and most awfully penetrated she found 
 herself by the care of her future destiny, 
 which, with Mr. Goodwin, she now be- 
 lieved Divine Providence had delegated to 
 the benevolent stranger; and, from this 
 belief, she now promised Mr. Goodwin to 
 rest contented for the present, nor to seek 
 further for a situation for her to earn her 
 subsistence in, unless that, in the course 
 of one year, they should find cause to 
 change their present opinion relative to 
 the source of Mr. Goodwin's amended for- 
 tune. 
 
 The gratified pride of Mrs. Goodwin soon 
 conquered the tenderness of her maternal
 
 6S 
 
 feelings, and reconciled her to the prospect 
 of so long a separation from her favourite 
 child. Mr. Goodwin was reconciled to it, 
 because it was for his sons advantage; but 
 the distant prospect of again beholding 
 him surrounded by all that affluence could 
 bestow, which cheered the sanguine mo- 
 ther, the father's advanced age denied. 
 Mr. Goodwin felt convinced, that when he 
 parted from his boy it would be an eternal 
 adieu ; yet he brought his mind to some- 
 thing like resignation : while Mrs. Good- 
 win, elated with a variety of long-estran- 
 ged prosperity, wrote to her only sister 
 (with whom, of late, she seldom corres- 
 ponded) a full account of Mr. Goodwin's 
 miraculous increase of business, and the 
 great appointment of her eldest son. The 
 answer to this letter brought a very polite 
 and pressing invitation to INIrs. Goodwin, 
 Miss De Cliftbrd, and Charles, to spend 
 the period of an approaching election at Z. 
 the county town of — — , about thirty miles 
 from London, at Doctor Hargrave's, Mrs. 
 Goodwin's brother-in law, who was rector 
 of the principal parish at Z — . 
 
 Mrs. Goodw^iu was a native of Ireland,
 
 69 
 
 Her father, Doctor O'Neil, had been a 
 clergyman, who, unfortunately fancying 
 himself the first theological writer in Eu- 
 rope, directed his whole time and thoughts 
 to his pen ; neglected his parochial duties 
 and his domestic concerns ; and by de- 
 grees deranging his affairs so completely, 
 from his neglect, that he was at length 
 compelled to give up every thing he pos- 
 sessed to his creditors, and with all that 
 death had spared to him of a once large 
 family, two very pretty daughters, came 
 over to England to publish his works, asto- 
 nish the world, and make his fortune. 
 
 Part only of this golden dream was re- 
 alized. — He published his works, with little 
 profit, and less fame; and very shortly- 
 after died, leaving his daughters in very 
 distressed circumstances, far from their 
 own friends, and at that moment unable to 
 command a sum sufficient to take them 
 back to their native country. 
 
 Mr. Goodwin, at that period, was mar- 
 ried to a very excellent woman, of an age 
 congenial to his own; was in high prospe- 
 rity ; had a capital house in the city, a 
 coach, and a beautiful villa at Highgate;
 
 70 
 
 and, by being considered a judicious cri- 
 tic, possessed such influence over his bro- 
 thers in the trade, and was of such known 
 integrity, that his patronage was sought 
 for, and courted, by incalculable myriads 
 of authors. In the way of business, Mr. 
 Goodwin became acquainted with Doctor 
 O'Neil ; and, although he w^ould not pur- 
 chase his works, he liked the man, and in- 
 vited him to his house; by which means 
 Mrs. Goodwin was introduced to his daugh- 
 ters, and soon became so attached to the 
 eldest, that she felt almost unhappy out of 
 her society ; and Miss O'Neil (who was all 
 good-nature) kindly condescended to ride 
 about in a tradesman's coach, and to pass 
 months at a time at Highgate, surrounded 
 by every luxury that wealth could pur- 
 chase. 
 
 Upon the death of Doctor O'Neil, Mrs. 
 Goodwin invited both his orphans to live 
 with her, as long as they found it agree- 
 able or convenient to them. This truly kind 
 and benevolent invitation was thankfully 
 accepted ; and shortly after, Mrs. Goodwin, 
 who had long been in a delicate state of 
 health, fell seriously ill, and afforded Miss
 
 71 
 
 0*Neil an opportunity of evincing the 
 goodness of her heart and strength of her 
 gratitude. She proved to her true aud be- 
 loved friend, Mrs. Goodwin, a most tender, 
 kind, and attentive nurse; nor did she 
 quit the bed-side of her friend, night or 
 day, until that valuable friend's existence 
 terminated; when the sincerely afflicted 
 Miss O'Neil, and her sister Matilda, re- 
 turned to their former obscure lodging at 
 Lambeth. 
 
 In the last moments of Mrs. Goodwin, 
 she particularly recommended Harriot 
 O'Neil to her disconsolate husband as her 
 successor. — ** You are of too domestic a 
 turn," she said, ** to live happily in a state 
 of widowhood ; and, though she is young 
 enough to be your daughter, persuade her, 
 if you can, to be your wife, for she will 
 naake you happy." According to the pre- 
 dictions of his lamented wife, Mr. Goodwin 
 soon found his house a forlorn; comfortless 
 abode, without a domestic partner to. cheer 
 it, when, fatigued with the toils of the day, 
 he returned to an unsocial dinner there ; 
 and as soon as decorum would permit, and 
 solely in compliance with his late wife's
 
 72 
 
 advice, he offered himself as a husband to 
 Miss O'Neil. 
 
 Harriot O'Neil was then in her twenty- 
 iirst year ; extremely handsome, lively, 
 sweet-tempered, and accomplished. She 
 was astonished at Mr. Goodwin's offer. 
 Her pride revolted ; and vanity whispered, 
 she might marry much better ; but the 
 stings of fast-approaching poverty, with 
 the well-known comforts of Mr. Goodwin's 
 excellent houses, his carriage, and heavy 
 purse, with the advantages to be found in 
 his protection for her adored sister, all 
 combined to conquer, and in a short time 
 she bestowed her hand upon a man even 
 older than her late father. 
 
 Harriot, gay and thoughtless, now dashed 
 about in high spirits, and spent her hus- 
 band's money with all the graces of a 
 duchess, except the appellation. She re- 
 stored comfort and cheerfulness to his house, 
 and happiness to the bosom of Mr. Good- 
 win. His first wife never had any family ; 
 and the birth of a lovely boy, our reader's 
 acquaintance Charles, made him the hap- 
 piest of mankind : — his child he adored, his 
 young wife he idolized, and now seemed to
 
 73 
 
 live only to indulge her in, and even anti- 
 cipate, her every wish. 
 
 Innumerable of Harriot's relations (for 
 the genealogical tree flourishes and spreads 
 in Ireland to a most surprising extent), 
 who had forgotten the Miss O'Neils were 
 in England, now thronged round Mrs. 
 Goodwin, and experienced a most hospi- 
 table reception from their new-claimed re- 
 lation, Mr. Goodwin, whom, with much 
 condescension, they cordially acknowledg- 
 ed : and many of these gentlemen of reno- 
 vated memory, being authors, had their 
 cause espoused by the good-natured Har- 
 riot, who persuaded her indulgent husband, 
 and often against his sober judgement, to 
 publish works by which he frequently lost 
 considerably. Sometimes these ninety- 
 ninth cousins would condescend to borrow 
 sums of money, which another relapse 
 into loss of memory would lead them to 
 omit the reimbursement of. In short, 
 myriads of those locusts — \vhom the air 
 of their native country (alike ungenial to 
 venomous reptiles and the wily adventurer) 
 would not nourish, and who in London, 
 with the outcasts of every country^ can 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 74 
 
 live by their wits — who pretended to be, 
 even in the most remote degree, related to 
 Mrs. Goodwin, were acknowledged by 
 her; who now, like the queen bee, at- 
 tracted the whole swarm around her, to 
 be befriended, and fed, by her infatuated 
 husband. 
 
 The most prodigal hospitality was now 
 the order of the day ; and waste, with all 
 it's concomitant evils, was the consequence. 
 Mr. Goodwin's once full cofters were per- 
 ceptibly draining, when unfortunately form- 
 ing a party, with some of his wife's real 
 and very dashing relations, to dine at 
 Shooter's Hill, as he v/as returning to town, 
 in full gallop, with a set of jovial claret- 
 primed beaux, he fell from his horse upon bis 
 head, and received a most violent concussion. 
 For ten days he continued in a state of to- 
 tal insensibility, his life despaired of; and 
 when, by slow degrees, his reason seemed 
 feebly to return, the most serious apprehen- 
 sions were entertained for his intellect. At 
 length, all fears happily subsided ; and a 
 total alienation of his mind, from every 
 kind of thought or care, was expressly 
 commanded by his physicians, and a tour
 
 IS 
 
 to the coast, for amusement, in a quiet 
 way, prescribed. 
 
 His now almost broken-hearted wife' at- 
 tended him unremittingly through his ill- 
 ness, with the most animated and affection- 
 ate tenderness and care; and, after an ab- 
 sence of some months, Mr. Goodwin re- 
 turned, in perfect health, to the metropolis, 
 where he was soon doomed to experience a 
 sad reverse of fortune. 
 
 He had a partner, to whom, in his long 
 absence, the whole care of the business had 
 devolved. This man was wary, sordid, and 
 devoid of integrity. He had observed the 
 profusion of Goodwin's style of living was 
 leading him into difficulties, which he ju- 
 diciously resolved to shun ; but, following 
 the dictates of a bad heart, he, during Mr. 
 Goodwin's unavoidable absence, by well- 
 arranged manoeuvring, not only defrauded 
 him of several large sums, but, by invi- 
 dious reports relative to his intellects, ir- 
 reparably injured him in his business. The 
 moment Mr. Goodwin returned, and be- 
 fore the perfect re-establishment of his con- 
 stitutional health permitted, as heretofore, 
 E 2
 
 76 
 
 his taking an active part in business, at 
 this perfidious man's request the partnei*^ 
 ship was dissolved. 
 
 Goodwin, alone, found his business had 
 most fatally decreased ; and, instead of ex- 
 erting the energies of his mind, to rally 
 and restore it, he gave way to that ner- 
 vous languor of spirits his recent indisposi- 
 tion had given birth to — at once desponded, 
 and all was lost. 
 
 In the first step of reform, their coach 
 was laid down, without a murmur from 
 Harriot; in the next, the villa at PJighgate. 
 Then, their house in town they found too 
 great for their reduced finances; and they 
 removed to a smaller one : still Mrs. Good- 
 win submitted, with smiling resignation ; 
 but when, at length, dire necessity com- 
 pelled them to take their Charles, then ten 
 years old, from Westminster school, where 
 for three years he had been putting forth 
 the most promising blossoms, her firmness 
 forsook h^r, and bitterly she wept for this 
 darling, the pride of her heart, being de- 
 graded into a common ignorant boy, to re- 
 ceive his education at a shabby day-school.
 
 77 
 
 At length, the poor Goodwins were com- 
 pelled even to leave^ their comparatively 
 small house in tlie city, and take even a 
 smaller one in Great Russel Street, to strive, 
 by letting' lodgings, to assist their trifling 
 remaining business in supporting their 
 large, (and in despite of misfortune) fine, 
 and promising family. 
 
 Mrs. Goodwin's own sense (for her ador- 
 ing husband had never even breathed a hint 
 of the kind) having convinced her, that her 
 thoughtless folly and extravagance had been, 
 in a very reprehensible degree, the cause 
 of their present adversity, she considered 
 herself as doubly bound to soothe, with 
 unremitting tenderness, the wounded n.ind 
 of her excellent husband, and to meliorate, 
 as much as her strenuous exertions could 
 affect it, the sad alteration in his circum- 
 stances. HeYjbstcj^'Sister (who had attend- 
 ed the O'Neils to England, and who proved 
 a most attached and faithful servant) and 
 Biddy O'Connor, then a mere giil, and 
 daughter to this honest and affectionate do- 
 mestic, now formed the househokl; yet the 
 most conspicuous neatness, and comfort- 
 able order, reigned not only in the nursery,
 
 78 
 
 but throughout the house, and, although 
 this once luxurious family were now com- 
 pelled to partake only of the most frugal 
 repasts, yet still rigid decorum, in all the 
 propriety of polished manners, was perse- 
 vered in, and the appointments, neatness, 
 and comfort, of good order, ever pre- 
 vailed. 
 
 The economy of Mrs. Goodwin was now 
 also obliged to extend itself even to the 
 dress of her children ; and here, too, it 
 assumed a pleasing aspect ; the uncommon 
 simplicity, blended with the striking neat- 
 ness of their dress, took off completely 
 from the homeliness of the materials, and 
 was, in fact, so becoming, that it added to, 
 rather than diminished, the natural beauty 
 of the children: and the education, too, of 
 her girls, which she anxiously undertook, 
 reflected infinite credit upon her abilities 
 and judgement, by the evident improve- 
 ment they rapidly evinced, and the judi- 
 cious choice of their attainments. 
 
 The lot of Matilda O'Neil had been very 
 imlike her sister's. It is not for us to pre- 
 sume to seek for the causes why the most 
 deserving are frequently the least fortunate:
 
 79 
 
 it is enough that we feel convinced it is 
 right that it should be so, or unerring V/is- 
 dom would not decree it. In her brother- 
 in-lau% JNIatilda O'Neil found a kind, a 
 tender, generous protector, who, imme- 
 diately upon his marriage, invited her to 
 live entirely with her sister; and for two 
 years, during which she resided in his 
 house, she experienced the most affection- 
 ate treatment from him. Harriot was all 
 kind and partial indulgence to her : she 
 allowed her as much command over her 
 carriage aiul servants as slie had lierself. 
 Mr. Goorlvvin was liberal to excess in pre- 
 sents to her; and the thoughtless, gay, and 
 then extravagant, Harriot, never purchased 
 any article of dress for herself, that she did 
 not present her sister w^ith it's counter- 
 part. 
 
 ^Harriot was but scarcely of the middle 
 stature; something inclining to embonpoint ; 
 but with a very fine face, dazzling com- 
 plexion, eyes sparkling with animated in- 
 telligence, and a countenance beaming 
 with sweetness, benevolence, and vivacity. 
 Matilda possessed a tall and finely-formed 
 figure; a handsome face, without bloom;
 
 80 
 
 large blue languishing eyes; and was quite 
 a languid beauty, too indolent for any ex- 
 ertion but that of adorning her person, 
 .ind studying those altitudes most likely to 
 display the graces of her form to the most 
 striking advantage. 
 
 A4nongst the numerous guests entertain- 
 ed at Mr. Goodwin's, a Mr. Kargrave ap- 
 peared, — a young man of uncommonly 
 great .personal attractions, and, excelling 
 in the eloquence of conversation, his socie- 
 ty was much courted. No one could clear- 
 ly ascertain what soil he sprung from, as 
 family and country were subjects he ever 
 sedulously shunned. His accent was pure 
 English ; his education had been, to a cer- 
 tainty, good; and his talents, in many re- 
 spects, far from contemptible ; but his 
 prime excellence lay in his oratorio abilities, 
 and his wisdom was chiefly worldly. He 
 had been nearly three years adventuring in 
 the public eye, in various ways striving to 
 obtain subsistence; and now, having turn- 
 ed his versatile genius to divinity, bad got, 
 by some contrivance, into orders, and was 
 publishing sermons, certainly above medio- 
 crity, which introduced him to the acquaint-
 
 81 
 
 ance of Mr. Goodwin, and obtained for 
 him a frequent admission to his hospitable 
 table, where lie saw the languishingly- 
 beautiful Miss O'Neil, and became deeply 
 enamoured. Tlie flame was mutual: the 
 Goodwins highly disapproved the match; 
 but the fair Matilda was resolutely deter- 
 mined to die, unless she were united to Mr. 
 Hargrave; — a determination that instantly 
 won upon her affectionate sister, to offer 
 no further advice against the measure. Mr. 
 Goodwin, too, was silenced by this dread- 
 ful alternative ; and, believing it vain to 
 contend with a woman resolved upon doing 
 an imprudent thing, benevolently guarded 
 against her ever knowing the stings of 
 actual poverty, by presenting her with 
 two thousand pounds, which he settled 
 upon her, solely out of the power of her 
 husband, or even herself, to touch the 
 principal of; while Mrs. Goodwin, with a 
 prodigal hand, provided the wedding ward- 
 robe of her sister, and made her many 
 valuable presents beside. 
 
 By the interest of Mr. Goodwin, Har- 
 grave was appointed curate at a very fashion- 
 able chapel-of-ease ; where, by preaching to 
 E 5
 
 8£ 
 
 the passions, he won all the fair part of his 
 congregation, but particular!}^ the old dow- 
 agers who frequented that place of worship, 
 by whose advice he set up a school for twelve 
 young noblemen, or boys of fortune, which 
 succeeded bevond his most sans^uine ex- 
 pectations; and in a very few years he 
 found himself enabled to give up this ardu- 
 ous, though lucrative, undertaking, by very 
 great church preferment, bestowed upon 
 him through the exertions of some of his 
 fascinated congregation. 
 
 While the Goodwins were gliding down 
 into the vale of Adversity, Hargrave had 
 climbed up the hill of Prosperity. He now 
 wrote LL. D. after his name; and resided 
 at the pleasantest of his two considerable 
 rectories, near to, and under the avowed 
 patronage of, a very dissipated noble- 
 man, the Earl of Gay thorn. Mrs. Har- 
 grave had condescended, as often as she 
 had been incommoded by the annoyance 
 of increasing her family, to be confined at 
 her sister's house, even in Russel Street; 
 ^nd Doctor Hargrave, whenever he came 
 to town unaccompanied by his lady, with 
 great affability, and persevering good-
 
 83 
 
 humour, accepted a bed for himself, and 
 another for his servant, at Brother Good- 
 win's; and was humble enough to take his 
 meals constantly there, as well as his ser- 
 vant, when no other engagement inter- 
 vened; and in return — ^to prove that the 
 most sisterly intercourse was still kept up 
 — Mrs. Hargrave, v/ith scrupulous punc- 
 tuality, sent constantly, a goose at Michael- 
 mas, and a turkey and chine at Christmas, 
 presents to *' her poor dear unfortunate 
 Harriot." 
 
 This invitation to Z. was so unexpected 
 to Mrs. Goodwin, that mortified pride and 
 wounded sisterly affection led her to de- 
 clare, with vehemence, she would not ac- 
 cept it; but, after a thoughtful pause, her 
 heart softened her indignant resolution, and 
 those very feelings which at first prompted 
 a negative, at length (with some other 
 motives) led her to send a letter of accept- 
 ance to this long, long withheld invitation.
 
 84 
 
 CliAPTEIl V 
 
 *^ Sweet are the uses of adversity !" said 
 Mrs. Goodwin, as she eagerly set about 
 arranging her wardrobe, which during the 
 long period of her distress had never ex- 
 perienced any addition ; and now, although 
 her indulgent husband laid no restraint 
 upon her fancy, she blended that simpli- 
 city she had acquired from economy, with 
 her natural elegance of taste in dress, in her 
 preparations for not disgracing her sister, 
 by her shabby appearance, during this short 
 visit. 
 
 Julia was now in her last stage of mourn- 
 ing ; and she had grown so much in the last 
 six months, that the clothes she had worn 
 prior to Mrs. St. Clair's death required the 
 greatest exertions of Mrs. Goodwin's inge- 
 nuity, and her own, to transform them into 
 what pride and fashion wished for. 
 
 Mrs. Goodwin, though well they ma-
 
 85 
 
 naged them, was by no means satisfied ; 
 and one morning, after an unusual length 
 of absence, she returned with a piece of 
 beautiful, fine, plain muslin, which she had 
 walked six miles to persuade the wife of a 
 purser belonging to an East-Indiaman to 
 let her have, a great bargain; and, telling 
 Julia " that it was cheap as dirt, she had 
 ventured to buy it for her, as it would make 
 her two lovely dresses." Julia thought so 
 too; but fearing Mrs. Goodwin's genero- 
 sity of heart, and partiality towards her, 
 had led her to give a large sum for what, 
 she said, cost so little, resolutely refused to 
 have it, until her mind was satisfied by see- 
 ing the bill and receipt. 
 
 These gowns were made up differently, 
 and very fashionably, by two dresses be- 
 longing to a very elegant woman of quality, 
 which Mrs. Goodwin contrived to borrow; 
 and both without any ornament but tuckers, 
 made of some very beautiful and modern 
 lace, of which, Mrs. St. Clair had possessed a 
 great quantity, and of which Julia had given 
 Mrs. Goodwin as much as she could per- 
 suade her into accepting from her. Mrs.
 
 86 
 
 St. Clair, too, had in her possession some 
 jet, which Mrs. Goodwin now had set into 
 simple ornaments for Julia. 
 
 Mrs. Goodwin's long mortified pride 
 would not permit her going to her fine sis- 
 ter's v\ ithont a female attendant for Miss 
 De Clifford and herself; and Biddy O'Con- 
 nor was fixed upon, to act as their Jiiie de 
 chambre. 
 
 At length the day arrived, in the first 
 week of May, for our travellers to go to 
 Z. Charles, at an early hour, set off, in 
 the stage, for that place, provided by his 
 attentive mother with as many sandwiches 
 as would have nearly sufficed for his voyage 
 to India: and about nine o'clock a chaise 
 and pair drove to the door, for the con- 
 veyance of the rtst of the Z. party ; when 
 the grief of this affectionate family burst 
 forth with vi(^lcuce, and any uninformed 
 spectator must have supposed the separa- 
 tion about to take place was to be for ever. 
 It was the first sc|)aration of Mrs. Goodwin 
 from her husband ^'iid children; and the 
 torrents of tears, aid sobs of anguish, 
 which burst forth upon the occasion,
 
 87 
 
 seemed to declare all hearts were rent with 
 sorrow : and Mr. Goodwin found that part- 
 ing with his Harriot was indeed a trial of 
 fortitude; which the melancholy composure 
 of his looks so forcibly declared, that had 
 not Charles been already gone, and where 
 he would so much want the encouraging 
 smiles of his mother, both Mrs. Goodwin 
 and Julia would gladly have dismissed the 
 chaise, and finally have given up this ex- 
 pedition. 
 
 At length Mis. S. Goodwin (the apo- 
 thecary's wife, who was come to take care 
 of the family during the absence of her 
 sister-in-law) interfered, and persuaded 
 Mrs. Goodwin to tear herself from the af- 
 fectionate embrace of her husband, and the 
 tender pressure and often repeated kisses 
 of her darling children, and she got into 
 the chaise, with eyes swollen, and sobbing 
 most audibly. Her excess of grief had not 
 been a little augmented by Biddy O'Con- 
 nor's; for that poor simple girl, fondly at- 
 tached to the children, found her heart 
 quite torn at even this short separation, and 
 had been crying over each of them, by
 
 88 
 
 turns, all the morning, and making their 
 little hearts sadder by her violent lamenta- 
 tions. 
 
 Whilst our travellers passed through 
 London, and for several miles upon the 
 road, Mrs. Goodwin and Biddy were too 
 much occupied by the remembrance of 
 those they had left, to admit of their cow- 
 ardice being awakened ; but at length, 
 coming to the verge of a steep and 
 long hill, open on one side to a deep 
 valley, roused Biddy's fears, which were 
 instantly communicated to her mis- 
 tress, and both at once now called 
 vehemently to the post-boy to let them 
 out. 
 
 Although Mrs. Goodwin had for some 
 years, after her marriage, dashed about in 
 her own carriage, she had never been fa- 
 mous for courage in it; yet custom had then, 
 in a great degree, conquered her natural ap- 
 prehensions, and pride led her, when pos- 
 sible, to conceal them : but for the last few 
 years of her life she had never been in a 
 carriage of any description; and now, her 
 fears, awakened by long disuse, added to
 
 89 
 
 the smacking of the post-boy's whip, and 
 the rapidity with which two spirited horses 
 whirled them on, were increased to agonies, 
 only to be surpassed by Biddy O'Connor's; 
 and the remainder of this little journey 
 was performed almost on foot by our 
 travellers; which to Julia proved rather 
 a pleasant circumstance : for when in 
 the carriage, Mrs. Goodwin, and com- 
 panion, in terror, spent their time in 
 letting down the windows, as fear of over- 
 turns perpetually recurred, in squalling, 
 groaning, sighing, praying, and ex- 
 claiming to the driver to take care 
 of them. 
 
 There were three stages from London to 
 Z. Their first driver was a remarkably 
 civil man, who attended to all their fears, 
 and kindly soothed them : the second posti- 
 lion proved a sullen fellow; offended at 
 their want of confidence in his skill, and 
 enraged at being so long detained by their 
 choosing to walk so much; and the addi- 
 tional delay of stopping so often to let 
 them in and out, when he said, " Time 
 was so precious, upon account of the ap- 
 proaching contested election at Z., which
 
 90 
 
 gave them so much to do, that it was not 
 worth while to drazvl along with cowardly 
 foolish women, who did not ought to take 
 up chaises and horses, in that there creep- 
 ing manner, but ought for to go in the 
 vehicle most fitted for such cowards — the 
 common staoe wair^'on." 
 
 This was an insula Biddy's pride, wound- 
 ed for Miss De Ciifibrd, and tiic blood of 
 the O'Neils, could not endure ; and the rest 
 of this stage Vv'as spent in her altercations 
 with the siuly feilovv, and in Mrs. Good- 
 win's vaiii attempts to bubdue his wrath. 
 The last posst boy turned out to he a hu- 
 morist ; who in revenge for being so long 
 detained, unnecessarily, upon the road, 
 maliciously augniented their terrors, by 
 gravely giving in tu them, and enumerating 
 for them, with a demure countenance, all 
 the shocking overturns, and consequent ac- 
 cidents, as lately happening upon that very 
 road, which he could possibly rack his 
 brain plausibly to invent. 
 
 As they approached ucarer to Z., the 
 bustle of the election (which was to com- 
 mence next day but one) increased. Every 
 person and horse they sa\v were decorated
 
 91 
 
 with party-coloured ribands; and as they pas- 
 sedalong, from Mrs. Goodwin's straw hat be- 
 ing trimmed with purple, and Biddy having 
 a fine pink top-knot on (the colours of the 
 two most unpopular candidates), they got 
 most horribly mobbed and hooted, particu- 
 larly by the women. 
 
 When they had arrived within about four 
 miles of Z., as they were all, miraculously, 
 in the carriage, Mrs. Goodwin and Biddy 
 fanning themselves most laboriously, striv- 
 ing to cool their faces — which, from their 
 excess of weeping in the morning, and 
 their subsequent terrors, and walking so 
 much in an intensely hot sun, were now 
 become of a blight carmine tint — they 
 heard, all at once, the most violent and 
 joyous shouting, from the last village they 
 had passed through; and shortly after, a 
 sociable and six, gayly ornamented with 
 orange and pale blue banners, rib;mds, &c. 
 attended by several out-riders, swiftly pas- 
 sed them, yet not so rapidly as to prevent 
 Julia's perceiving that one of the four gen- 
 tlemen the sociable contained, was Mr. 
 Fitzroy ; and most fervently did she con- 
 gratulate herself, upon her party's being,
 
 at that moment, fortunately out of the way 
 of observation. 
 
 They travelled about a mile further, when 
 they passed this very sociable, which was 
 standing emjDty at the door of a farm- 
 house: — " Fitzroy for ever!" exclaimed 
 their post-boy, which was loudly reiterated 
 by several men who were standing, with 
 the servants, round the sociable : and as tli^y 
 proceeded further on, they found the parties 
 of pvdesiriaiis and equestrians going to and 
 returning fr'in Z. accumulating to a sur- 
 prising decree, when their driver told them 
 " it being market-day, added to the ap- 
 proaching eit'ction, caused the great con- 
 course of people they saw." 
 
 Immediately below the town arose a very 
 steep, and certainly a formidable, hill, 
 which Mrs. Goodwin and her fearful at- 
 tendant, of course, determined to walk 
 up ; but Julia, apprehensive of being over- 
 taken by the sociable, and seen by Mr. 
 Fitzroy with two such attractive compa- 
 nions, induced her to plead (what she really 
 felt) fatigue, and to remain in the chaise. 
 Nor can we wonder at our heroine's not 
 wishmg to be recognised by any one, while
 
 93 
 
 walking with such a terror-struck pair. 
 For, beside the obnoxious colours they 
 wore, rendering them marked objects 
 for derision and insult, the carmine of 
 their countenances, and the strange dis- 
 order of their dress, made them con- 
 spicuous. Mrs. Goodwin had takea off 
 her pelisse, and untied her hat, to cool 
 the heat her walking and terrors had 
 thrown her into ; and Biddy had taken 
 off her bonnet entirely, to show more 
 plainly, as it seemed, her fine pink ri- 
 band : — her gloves, too, she had dis- 
 carded ; her gown sieves were both ripped 
 almost off, in getting so often into the 
 chaise ; and the skirt was tattered, and 
 torn, by some brambles she had, to escape 
 a fancied impending overturn, alit amongst: 
 and added to this, the pins which had 
 fastened her apron, at a modern length 
 of waist, were all now lost, by such 
 pitpetual motion ; and the binding of 
 her apron, now slipped down to her 
 hips, completed the wildness of her ap- 
 pearance. 
 
 Hooted at and ridiculed by almost every 
 one, Mrs. Goodwin and Biddy proceeded
 
 94i 
 
 up the hill, our heroine slowly following 
 in the chaise. Biddy still talking to her 
 mistress, her brogue was so glaring, that 
 a number of witticisms were passed upon 
 her. One fellow remarked, *' that though 
 she had left home in such a hurry as to 
 forget her hat and gloves, she had not left 
 a brogue behind;" another accosted her 
 with, ** Arrah, Paddy ! which way does 
 the bull run?" 
 
 *' Faith, sir, out of your mouth this 
 time I" Biddy quietly replied; " ^ov Paddy 
 is a man's name." 
 
 At length a fellow, with a Fitzroy-cock- 
 ade, who had been making potent libations 
 to Fitzroy's success at the shrine of Bac- 
 chus, overtaking poor Biddy, demanded 
 " if she was come from Botany Bay to vote 
 for 'Squire Rackrent?" (the pink riband 
 candidate.) Biddy quickly answered, "Yes;" 
 and bade him *• beware; for the tender 
 which had brought her from thence, Wcts 
 waiting for a freight to carry back." The 
 inebriated ruffian, fancying that a terrible 
 insult, which was merely a retort, was in- 
 stantly inflamed to uncontrolled rage; and, 
 calling her some scurrilous names, snatched
 
 96 
 
 at her pink top-knot, and tore it from her 
 head. Poor Biddy screamed ; and Mrs. 
 Goodwin, though dreadfully alarmed, mild- 
 ly, and with tears in her eyes, entreated 
 the ruffian to recollect himself; but in vain; 
 and the savage was aiming a serious blow 
 at Biddy, when his arm w'd.s arrested by 
 Fitzroy, who had just come up in time to 
 see the fellow assault a woman, and in- 
 stantly leaped from the sociable to defend 
 her. 
 
 " Ruffian! desist!" exclaimed Fitzroy. 
 
 '^ I'll be d — n'd if I uulil" returned 
 the savage, renewing his aim ; when Fitz- 
 roy, instantly tripping up his heels, laid 
 him sprnuling in the dust. 
 
 *' D — n you!'* roared out the exasperated 
 coward — *' I am a freeholder; and you have 
 lost my vote by this pretty business — ay, 
 and a plumper too !" 
 
 " I sincerely rejoice at it," returned 
 Fitzroy, with animation ; '* for I should 
 blush to owe my election to a scoundrel, 
 who could, for a moment, forget he was a 
 man, and insult and assault that sex, w^iich 
 it is the pride and glory of every true- 
 hearted Eno-lishman to defend."
 
 9S 
 
 This short speech was received with the 
 most rapturous acclamations; and a sturdy, 
 saturnine looking, elderly man, without 
 any distinguishing mark of party about 
 him, who, in a carter's frock, was compo- 
 sedly smoking his pipe, an attentive ob- 
 server, now accosted Fitzroy. — 
 
 " Ne'er do yaw moind the loss of his'n 
 plumper; for yaw ha gotten moine, by 
 this here business, and moy hap a hun- 
 dred votes to boot. My name is John 
 Russet ; and not a freeholder in the county 
 can command more votes than I. I was 
 duberous who to vote for, thinking as how i 
 yaw would all alike promise us great things, 
 to gain yaur ends ; but that there cowardly 
 scoundrel has proved yaw be fit to repre- 
 sent a free people, when yaw scorn to 
 cringe to a rascally coward for a vote, and 
 dare do yaur duty tho'f yaw lose a plumper 
 by it." 
 
 Fitzroy and Russet now cordially shook 
 hands, amid shouts of applause ; and Fitz- 
 roy then taking Mrs. Goodwin and Biddy 
 under his protection, led them to the 
 chaise. 
 
 Julia, who had been a most alarmed
 
 97 
 
 spectator of the affray, had earnestly en- 
 treated the post-boy to let her out, that she 
 might o'o to her friends. 
 
 " No, miss," replied the man, '* I shall 
 not let you out: — You be safer where 
 you be." 
 
 *' Oh! that I do, know!" said Julia; 
 " but to get them, into the carriage, is 
 why for, I want to go, sir." 
 
 " A}^ well," he answered, " but I shall 
 take care of you, and keep you out of 
 harm's way. I am glad, however, they 
 have got a real fright, to teach them to stay 
 where there is protection for them. — And 
 do stay quiet, miss, and don't you fret and 
 fidget. You would do no good by going 
 to them ; for that there pretty innocent face 
 would only make folk gaze the more; and 
 men who have been drinking might say 
 things which, by the looks on you, you 
 would not like to hear, I be very cer- 
 tain." 
 
 Julia now", blushing at this young clown's 
 rough compliments, drew back into the 
 carriage; but not before she had excited 
 the attention and fixed admiration of two 
 gentlemen who had remained in Fitzroy's 
 
 VOL. r. , F
 
 9S 
 
 carriage; and now remarking their obser- 
 vation of her, she turned her head to look 
 out of the opposite window, to avoid their 
 earnest gaze, by which means she lost the 
 recognition of Fitzroy, when he handed 
 Mrs. Goodwin into the chaise, which now 
 soon whirled them to Doctor Hargrave's, 
 Mrs. Goodwin faithfully recounting, by the 
 way, the gallant conduct of Fitzroy ; and 
 Julia in return, informed her, that this 
 was the identical Mr. Fitzroy who had 
 rescued her from the merciless quizers 
 at Delamore-house; which, in addition 
 to the service he had now rendered to 
 the distressed party, made them all unani- 
 mous in his praise; and Biddy declared, 
 '* had she a thousand votes, and ten thou- 
 sand at the back of them, she would give 
 them all to Mr, Fitzroy, and her blessing 
 to boot."
 
 99 
 
 CHAPTER VI, 
 
 The Rectory was an excellent mansion, si- 
 tuated in a very pretty paddock : the gar- 
 dens, and grounds belonging to it, were ex- 
 tensive, well-stored and laid out ; and the 
 farm-yard was plentifully stocked, as well 
 as the hot-houses, with all that could be 
 wanting to supply a luxurious table. 
 
 Our female travellers had spent so much 
 time in taking leave in the mornrng, and 
 in their pedestrian excursion from town, 
 that it was seven o'clock before they ar- 
 rived at the Rectory, where they had been 
 expected by two; and the family were now 
 all gone to a dinner in the neighbourhood, 
 at which Mrs. Goodwin and Julia had been 
 expected; and poor Charles, who had ar- 
 rived at an early hour, accompanied Doc- 
 tor and Mrs. Hargrave, with a heart agi- 
 tated by ten thousand fears for the safety 
 of his beloved mother and Miss De Clifford* 
 F 2
 
 100 
 
 Our heroine was by no means sorry for the 
 absence of the family, as the toils and ter- 
 rors of the day had completely wearied her; 
 and she was so unwell, with a severe head- 
 ach, that Mrs. Goodwin insisted upon her 
 retiring to rest, before the return of Doc- 
 tor and Mrs. Hargrave ; so that she was 
 not introduced to them that night, nor wit- 
 nessed the reception Mr«. Goodwin receiv- 
 ed from her sister, which, however, was 
 more cordial than Mrs. Goodwin expected, 
 and therefore made her very happy. 
 
 Julia's chamber was a very excellent, 
 airy room, so remote from every kind of 
 noise, and her fatigue had been so great, 
 that she fell at once into a profound slum- 
 ber, which lasted until eight o'clock next 
 morning, when, as she opened her eyes, 
 she beheld a pretty looking girl, of about 
 twelve years old, curiously peeping at her 
 through the bottom curtains of her bed, 
 who, the moment she was espied by our 
 heroine, scampered oif, and banged the 
 rooni-( oor after h^r. 
 
 Julia instantly arose; and finding, by the 
 disorder her clothes and dressing-case were 
 in, that this prying miss, or some other cu-
 
 101 
 
 rious inspector, liad been there, and wishing 
 for no sucli inquisitors whilst she dressed, 
 wisely bolted her door. At length, Biddy 
 ()'Ci)nnor rcujiiested admission; when Julia 
 told ber wby sbe had so secured herself 
 from interruption. — 
 
 *' Faitb, jewel! you were in the right;" 
 said Biddy. — " Til be turnkey now, to keep 
 out tbat limb. — Sure, it's Miss Hargrave, 
 piping bot from a boarding school, Lord 
 bless us! Ob! tben, if it is not she, that's 
 the flog of all tbat ever I saw! Moll Fing- 
 gins, wbo led tbe bear tlir(jugh Connaugbt, 
 was a mannerly lamb to ber. If slie bus not 
 been percbcd below, in the servants' hall, 
 upon tbe top of the coat horse ! and there 
 giving such toleration to ber tongue ! — and 
 quite disparaging herself, gossiping with the 
 futmen ; and telling them, jewel, how she 
 played old Gooseberry in your room, while 
 you slept; and how she rummaged your 
 dressing-box, to look for your rudge ; but 
 she was after supposing you were too cun- 
 ning to leave it there. — ' 1lien is it paint, 
 you're after meaning, miss?' says I — 
 * Och! tben you may look, and that until 
 you have occasion for spectacles, before
 
 102 
 
 you find any paint about Miss De CllflTord. 
 Is it Miss Julee paint! when her skin is 
 like a snow-drop, and her cheeks would 
 make a rose blush deeper, to see it's own 
 beauty so outdone." 
 
 ** My good, good, Biddy !" replied Julia, 
 blushing, " I do wish you, had spared, 
 your so great, extravagant, encomiums, for 
 my complexion." 
 
 "Why, sorrow take me, jewel! but 
 I 'd say it if the queen was by ; and sure it 
 is true, for me." 
 
 At this moment Mrs. Goodwin asked for 
 admission, — " I am really shocked, my 
 dear Miss De Clifford," she said, *' to find, 
 from Biddy, that my rude niece has taken 
 the liberty of making you an inquisitorial 
 visit, while you slept. I am truly grieved, 
 to see her so ruined by indulgence. She 
 is the only surviving child of my sister; 
 and her father allows her not to be contra- 
 dicted, as it is the fashion, I find, to con- 
 quer bad habits in children by argument, 
 and to subdue all impropriety in mind and 
 manner by convincing their reason that 
 such things are wrong." 
 
 Julia now being ready to leave her cham-
 
 ber, Mrs. Goodwin conducted her down; 
 and introduced her to Doctor and Mrs. 
 Hargrave, and a party assembled in the 
 break fa St- room. 
 
 Our heroine's figure, now no longer at- 
 tenuated by recent sickness, nor her Hmbs 
 unstrung by languor, combined in it all thp 
 harmony of exquisite symmetry : every 
 movement displayed the perfection of 
 graceful ease; and her whole appearance 
 was truly feminine and lovely. Hers was 
 a countenance that spoke instantly to the 
 heart, her beauty was blended with such 
 fascinating sweetness, such a bewitching 
 expression of all that was amiable. She 
 looked so intelligent and sensible, yet so 
 mild and artless; ber voice was so touch- 
 ingly melodious, and her accent and lan- 
 guage so prettily tinctured with the foreign 
 idiom (she, until the last year of her life, 
 scarcely ever having attempted to converse 
 in English), giving to all she uttered so 
 much winning simplicity ; that no being of 
 sensibility could behold ber, for a moment, 
 without feeling interested for her happi- 
 ness — could not listen to her an hour, 
 without wishing to promote it.
 
 ]0^ 
 
 Julia saw that Doctor and Mrs. Har- 
 grave were still uncommonly handsome ; 
 but both strikingly affected, and their man- 
 ners unpleasantly artificial. She was re- 
 ceived by the doctor with supercilious 
 courtesy; by Mrs. Hargrave, with words 
 expressive of cordiality ; — but her counte- 
 nance sparkled not with it, as Mrs. Good- 
 win's would have done, while bidding a 
 stranger welcome. Doctor Sydenham and 
 ]\Ir. Bloomer, clergymen belonging to the 
 county, who were come to stay at Doctor 
 Ilargrave's during the election ; Miss Pen- 
 rose, a pretty missy girl of seventeen, a 
 school-fellow of Miss Margrave's; Charles 
 Goodwin, Celestina Hargrave, her parrot, 
 and three yelping puppy dogs, formed the 
 party assembled. 
 
 Mrs. Hargrave, in imitation of the Coun- 
 tess of Gay thorn, was become a wonderful 
 admirer of beauty ; and no one now could 
 expect her favour, who was not handsome. 
 
 *^ I have been in company with so many 
 hideous women, of late," said Mrs. Har- 
 grave, when they were all seated at the 
 breakfast- table, *' that it is really quite re- 
 freshing to look at Miss De Clifford. — You
 
 ]05 
 
 must have heaps of lovers, Miss De Clif- 
 ford.".... 
 
 " Not one, at all, that I know of, 
 madam," replied Julia, blushing; " except 
 Henry Goodwin, wl:io is for my acknow- 
 ledged, caro sposo.'' 
 
 *' That is your youngest boy, if I recol- 
 lect right, Harriot? said Mrs. Hargrave. 
 *^ Pray is Rosa improving in her looks? Is 
 she growing up any thing approaching to 
 pretty ?" 
 
 i\Irs. Goodwin smiled, while a deep blush 
 heightened her natural line bloom, but was 
 silent. Julia blushed too, with resent- 
 ment; and with vivacity replied — Miss 
 Goodwin, before I did ever see her, had 
 passed approach^ for pretty ; and was arriv- 
 ed, quite, 2ii peifection of beauty,'' 
 
 " Indeed!" said Mrs. Hargrave; *^ I am 
 vastly happy at hearing this surprising- 
 news. I have not seen Rosa since slie was 
 in the small-pox, which I thought must 
 have completed her beauty ; and I always 
 forgot to ask how she fared." 
 
 " My dear sister !" replied Mrs. Good- 
 win, *' surely you have been often at my 
 house since Rosa had the small-pox!" 
 F 5
 
 106 
 
 " Well!" answered Mrs. Hargrave; '^ but 
 I never looked at her/' 
 
 Tears started to Mrs. Goodwin's eyes; 
 and she hastily bent them to the ground, to 
 conceal what trembled in tliem. 
 
 ** In 'ccro^'' said Julia, ** I am, a great 
 deal astonished, why for, any one could, 
 not, look, at Rosa Goodwin ; for yet, I 
 never did behold, so much attractive a 
 countenance. — Oh! so lovely, that when 
 walked I have, sometimes, with her, in the 
 Museum Garden, I have been distressed, 
 very strongly, by the observation, she 
 awakened; for not a being, did ever pass 
 her, who did not turn to gaze, and 
 make exclamations, expressive of their 
 much admiration, for such sweet, mild, 
 beauty." 
 
 The clergymen looked at each other, 
 and smiled. — " Great, indeed," said Doc- 
 tor Sydenham, " must Miss Goodwin's 
 beauty be, if she could be the object of 
 attraction when her companion was Miss 
 De Clifford." 
 
 Julia's cheeks were again suffused with a 
 vermilion tint; and, with a smde, she re- 
 plied — '* Indeed, I could nothing claim,
 
 107 
 
 for the admiration excited : for I was such 
 a spectre, of illness, that the only emotion, 
 could I awaken, was pity very much in the 
 beholder." 
 
 " I know not what you then might hav.e 
 been," returned this pleaeant-looking, cheer- 
 ful old man ; " but I see you are now ex- 
 actly what I should wish to be my wife, 
 was I five-and-twenty." 
 
 Julia answered him, playfully ; and a 
 lively, spirited dialogue, was carried on by 
 them. 
 
 " Do not put faith in his protestations, 
 Miss De Clifford," said Mrs. Hargrave ; 
 " for Dr. Sydenham is the greatest flirt in 
 the world." 
 
 Mrs. Hargrave's information was pretty 
 accurate: — Doctor Sydenham was a noto- 
 rious flirt, and favourite of all the young 
 women in the country. He was a bachelor, 
 of seventy. In his youth he had been too 
 poor, and in his old age too wise, to marry. 
 He had often felt the influence of the blind 
 nrchin ; but so frequently did he sigh in 
 hopelessness, that his heart became cal- 
 lous to disappointment; and he could now 
 make love to the daughters and grand-
 
 108 
 
 daughters of those very beauties he had 
 formerly sighed for, without a paug of fond 
 regret. Not until he had ahiiost attained 
 his grand chmacteric, was his merit (which 
 was certainly conspicuous) rewarded; — 
 then, after being long reconciled to a fate 
 which seemed to say he was to live and die 
 a curate, most unexpectedly, a large living 
 was presented to him; and to which he was 
 scarcely inducted, when another, even more 
 considerable, w^as bestowed upon him. It 
 was now too late, he thought, to com- 
 mence a wedded life. His parochial flock 
 he adopted as his children, who all honoured 
 their pastor, and loved him as a father. He 
 was kind to his relations; benevolent to the 
 poor; possessed the esteem of the old, and 
 the affection of the young. His house, 
 the seat of hospitality, was often filled with 
 guests; and harmless mirth, and innocent 
 amusement, were ever promoted by the 
 cheerful, venerable host. 
 
 Mr. Bloomer, by some preternatural in- 
 fluence, had obtained the singular favour 
 of inverting the order of nature; and after 
 he had passed his fiftieth year, tinie took, 
 with him, a retrograde motion, and every
 
 109 
 
 birth-day his age decreased one year; so 
 that now he was only forty, though had he 
 gone on as men (and women too, though 
 often against their inchnation,) usually do, 
 he must certainly have numbered sixty 
 years. This man possessed a large fortune, 
 independent of his church preferment, which 
 was considerable. He had been called 
 ^^ Beauty Bloomer" in his youth; and still 
 thought himself an Adonis; and he was, 
 and ever had been, so devoted to himself, 
 that no expense his own purse could sup- 
 ply, no trouble which others could take, 
 was ever spared by him for his gratifica- 
 tions. He was the most formal, pre- 
 cise-looking being, that ever prim Exact- 
 ness modelled. That dust, or soil, which 
 the wear of the day gave to others, and 
 even the neatest people, never approached 
 him; for he constantly appeared as if an 
 invisible glass-case, or some ethereal sub- 
 stance, shielded him from all which could 
 discompose or disorder his appearance : 
 and now, at breakfast, he was seated pow- 
 dered, perfumed, and polished up, to the 
 highest degree of lustre, displaying his fine
 
 no 
 
 teeth and white hands to the greatest ad- 
 vantage; and hoping, most fervently, that 
 this young and beautiful stranger was ad- 
 miring him ; when, just as Mrs. Hargrave 
 
 had completed the sentence ' Doctor 
 
 Sydenham is the greatest flirt in the world,' 
 Celestina's immense parrot suddenly fiew 
 from his perch, and alir upon Mr. Bloomer's 
 head, and, with a horrible, discordant imita- 
 tion of laughter, began to flap his wings 
 with all his might, covering the whole 
 tea equipage, and filling the surrounding 
 air with clouds of perfumed powder. 
 
 Nothing could exceed the rage of Mr. 
 Bloomer, except the boisterous mirth of 
 Celestina, whose shouts of laughter and 
 hooting, at the universally powdered cox- 
 comb, only increased Poll's din and exer- 
 cise. Doctor Hargrave, jumping up, seized 
 the parrot, to extricate his friend ; but 
 Poll, either from obstinacy or liking the 
 sport, set her beak fas't in Mr. Bloomer's 
 hair, and maintained her ground. Doctor 
 Hargrave was compelled to his utmost exer- 
 tions, to drag Poll from the head ; which 
 he would not loosen his hold of, but
 
 in 
 
 dragged too — a peruke off, and left the 
 bald-pated beau an absolute friar, with only 
 a tonsure round his face. 
 
 Mr. Bloomer had not temper to bear such 
 an unexpected mortification; he aimed at 
 instant retreat : but treading upon one of 
 the puppies, a dreadful yelping succeeded, 
 which brought Celestina to it's aid, who 
 having taken the wig from Poll, now, in a 
 rage, slapped it in Mr. Bloomer's face. Doc- 
 tor Hargrave attempted to apologize; but 
 the now insulted beau, not deigning to hear 
 a word, precipitately retreated from the 
 room, and as soon as possible left the house. 
 
 *' You should, Celestina, my love," said 
 Doctor Hargrave, as, with lofty compo- 
 sure, he was returning to his seat, after 
 Mr. Bloomer haughtily refused to hear his 
 oiFe red apology — " You should contrive to 
 make your favourites less annoying, and 
 more amenable to command." 
 
 '• Not 1, indeed, pa," replied Miss Har- 
 grave, saucily ; " and those who don't like 
 my favourites as they are, need not come 
 to the house. As for tiiat old vamped-up 
 thing, he may go to the D — 1, and shake 
 himself."
 
 112 
 
 '^ Hell and furies!" exclaimed Doctor 
 Hargrave, at tliis moment observing one of 
 the puppies busily employed in tearing a ma- 
 nuscript pamphlet — '' IMy exquisitely writ- 
 ten French Revolution, which I had only 
 completed this very morning!" And now, 
 with passion- far exceeding Mr. Bloomer's, 
 he kicked the puppy, with violence, to the 
 other end of the room ; and, with savage 
 rage, shook his daughter by the arm, and 
 ordered her instantly to quit his presence: 
 — *' And he would take care," he vocife- 
 rated, " to have the necks wrung off her 
 infernal plagues !" 
 
 Miss Hargrave set up a hideous yell of 
 crying; and peremptorily declared — " She 
 zvouid not leave the room." 
 
 " Sir," said Charles, timidly, '^ the manu- 
 script I saw you correcting before break- 
 fast, is now lying behind the cushion of the 
 sofa, where you left it; and this the dog 
 has unfortunately torn," picking up some 
 of the fragments — '* this was a sermon, I 
 
 believe Oh ! dear me ! and, I am 
 
 afraid, upon the Resurrection."- • • • 
 
 '' Thank Heaven! it w^as nothing of 
 consequence !" cried Doctor Hargrave, run-
 
 113 
 
 ni ng to the sofa. — *' Ay, you are right, 
 Charles; iny treasure is safe. — Really, 
 really I am quite shocked, to have appear- 
 ed in such a pet; but you can feel for me, 
 Sydenham. Authors, you know, have quick 
 feelings; are ever tenderly alive to the fate 
 of the offspring of their invention:" and 
 Doctor Hargrave attempted to sm/ile. 
 
 " Ay," said Doctor Sydenham, " the 
 Lead of an author, as well as a beau, is his 
 hobby horse ; and we must forgive their 
 Jbeinga little disconcerted, if any foe should 
 attack either the head or the offspring with 
 hostilities." 
 
 Doctor Hargrave, feeling a little too silly 
 to succeed in the smile he still aimed at, 
 now called his bellowing daughter to him. 
 *' Come hither, Celestina, my dear love ! 
 come hither, and kiss me. I am sincerely 
 sorry, my mistaking what your favourite 
 had torn, should lead me to rebuke you. — 
 Come, love, kiss and be friends." 
 
 *' Never do you believe that," replied 
 Miss Hargrave, sullenly. " Don't think 
 you shall break my head, and give me a 
 plaster." 
 
 '' ^yell!" said her father, '^ T shall not
 
 114 
 
 at present contest the point with you : I 
 shall wait until your judgement is unbiassed 
 by indignation ; and then, I know, your 
 reason will lead you to my arms." And 
 now, feeling himself particularly pleased 
 with Charles, for having proved the herald 
 of joyful tidings to him, Doctor Hargrave 
 suddenly addressed Mrs. Goodwin'. — 
 
 " Really, madam, your son is a vastly 
 fine youth. I was much pleased with his 
 conduct yesderday, at table; — it was so 
 truly gentlemanly. He carved with so 
 much ease and dexterity; — was so unob- 
 trusively polite; — so attentive to the ladies 
 near him, without servility or officiousness ; 
 — that I was infinitely charmed with him ; 
 and I am sure his appearance and man- 
 ners are such, he will rapidly make his way 
 
 in India But pray, Mrs. Goodwin, 
 
 may I ask, at whose table Charles learned 
 such a gentlemanly deportment?" 
 
 *' At his father's, sir," replied Mrs. 
 Goodwin, with dignity softened by the 
 natural sweetness of her disposition. 
 
 At this moment the door was thrown 
 open; '* Lord Gay thorn," announced ; and 
 a very tall genteel-looking; elderly man,
 
 115 
 
 with a countenance of such undaunted 
 boldness, that no woman of delicacy could 
 behold him without disgust^ entered; dart- 
 ed up to Mrs. Hargrave, and, taking her 
 hand with much familiarity, expressed his 
 happiness at '* seeing her look so lovely." 
 And now the rector contrived to obtrude 
 upon the notice of his lordship ; who, the 
 instant he could escape the homage of the 
 doctor, v/hose bows sent his mouth to kiss 
 the carpet in reverence, turned to observe 
 Mrs. Hargrave's companions, and on be- 
 holding Julia, started. Our heroine started 
 not, but felt nothing like satisfaction, at 
 recognising in him one of Fitzroy's com- 
 panions, who had remained in the sociable, 
 and so much distressed her, the preceding 
 evening, by his rudely indefatigable gaze. 
 His lordship now hastily requested Mrs. 
 Hargrave to introduce him to her fair 
 friends ; and Mrs. Hargrave announced 
 Lord Gay thorn and the three ladies to 
 each other. 
 
 *^ Mrs. Goodwin," said his lordship, 
 with all the appearance of interest he could 
 muster upon the occasion, " I rejoice to
 
 115 
 
 see you so perfectly recovered from your 
 dreadful alarm. My friend Fitzroy, and 
 myself, could talk of nothing since, but 
 your interesting terror, surrounded by such 
 a savage multitude: and had my friend 
 Fitzroy known where he could have had 
 the happiness of finding you, he would (for 
 he is the most attentive man, to the ladies, 
 in the world) have done himself the honour, 
 even amidst the bustle of canvassing, of 
 calling to inquire for you." 
 
 Doctor and Mrs. Hargrave were now 
 highly disconcerted, at finding their guests 
 had been seen, by his lordship, travelling 
 in a hack chaise, without even the protec- 
 tion of a footman, the objects of ridicule 
 and insult : and now, even more than they 
 had done the last two days, regretted hav- 
 ing given so unhicky an invitation to Mrs. 
 Goodwin; which they would by no means 
 have done, only long feeling a scruple of 
 conscience relative to their neglect of this 
 inestimable relation (to whom they owed 
 such a debt of gratitndv), and thinking this 
 election aiforded an excellent opportunity 
 of inviting her to Z., when the variety of
 
 117 
 
 people entertained at every house, would 
 sanction a woman of no fashion being at 
 the Rectory; and the constant bustle every 
 gossip would be engaged in, would occupy 
 tbem too much to indulge their curiosity: 
 and, above all, Lurd and Lady Gay thorn 
 were in London, where they had resolved 
 to remain during the election; but upon 
 Fitzroy starting up as a candidate, and his 
 lordship Lelonging to the party which es- 
 poused him, he found himself compelled to 
 be present at Z. during the contesr : and 
 Lady Gay thorn, too, had been obliged, 
 for the same cause, to return to the Priory, 
 his lordship's seat, near Z., the evening be- 
 fore the last; — the first moment his pa- 
 tron's intended presence at the election, 
 was announced to the dismayed rector, 
 when it was too late to put off the visit of 
 Mrs. Goodwin. 
 
 Lord Gaythorn having made his speech 
 to Mrs. Goodwin, with a bold stare, and 
 languishing manner, addressed some high 
 sounding compliments and congratulations 
 to Julia, upon *' her apparent recovery, 
 from her sweetly-expressive terror, the pre-
 
 118 
 
 ceding evening ;" which she received with 
 a formal bow, of repulsive ceremony. His 
 lordship then, observing Celestina sobbing, 
 over her still yelping favourite, kindly de- 
 manded '' What ailed his pretty romp?" 
 
 " Only a row with my father," said she; 
 ** who was such a brute as to kick my beau- 
 tiful darling, for tearing a dab of a trum- 
 pery sermon." 
 
 Lord Gaythorn, shocked at this unduti- 
 ful speech, instantly turned to Mrs. Har- 
 grave, saying — " I perceive you have not 
 changed your daughter's school." 
 
 '* No, my lord, nor do I mean it," Mrs. 
 Hargrave replied. I was dissatisfied cer- 
 tainly ; but now they have got the first 
 dancing-master in England. Scamperini 
 teaches there." 
 
 " And can a mother wish for more ?" 
 said Doctor Sydenham. 
 
 " I am sure, sir, a mother must be diffi* 
 cult to please, who could," returned Miss 
 Penrose; *' for Miss Hargrave has im- 
 proved so rapidly, and surprisingly, under 
 his tuition, that she is the wonder of every 
 beholder. She is now our principal dancer;
 
 119 
 
 and on our last public day, all the specta- 
 tors were in raptures with her : and beside 
 that, she has learned from him to arrange 
 her drapery, better than any girl in the 
 school." 
 
 '* What !" exclaimed Lord Gaythorn, 
 ** does Signor Scamperini teach the misses 
 to dress, as well as dance?" 
 
 " No, my lord, no; only the arrange- 
 ment of the frock — to hold it so, when we 
 walk, as to display the whole contour of 
 the figure to the greatest advantage:" re- 
 plied Miss Penrose, consequentially. 
 
 '' So, my lord, so". . . . cried Celestina, 
 now flattered into good humour, and sud- 
 denly dashing down her beautiful darling, 
 
 ** I could show it better had I a thin 
 
 ner frock on. Our governess makes us 
 practise this a great deal; — -but some of the 
 girls, who are rickety, don't like it at all. 
 Ay, and if there is an election ball, I'll 
 show you, too, what good dancing is ; — I'll 
 dash through Parisot's hornpipe, like mad : 
 — ni make the company stare, I'll war- 
 rant me !" 
 
 '' That, I have no doubt of,'* said Doctor 
 Sydenham.
 
 1^0 
 
 The rector now, with profound respect, 
 asked his lordship some questions relative 
 to the election; and Lord Gaythorn told 
 in his replies, '' that Fitzroy was a guest 
 at the Priory ; that he was then gone far 
 into the country, to canvass, and had de- 
 ferred waiting upon Doctor Hargrave until 
 evening, of whose vote his lordship had 
 assured him." 
 
 *' Does your lordship favour any other 
 of the candidates ?" Doctor Hargrave 
 asked. 
 
 " No," returned his lordship; ** I am for 
 Fitzroy alone." 
 
 ** Does her ladyship?" said the rector. 
 
 " Certainly you have not seen my friend 
 Fitzroy, t)r you could not ask that question. 
 — All the ladies are for Fitzroy;" returned 
 Lord Gaythorn. 
 
 ^^ So must all discerning men too, since 
 he js Lord Gay thorn's friend," said Doctor 
 Hargrave, bowing to the ground. *' There- 
 fore, permit me to say, my lord, that I am 
 for Fitzroy alone." 
 
 *' That is kind," said Lord Gaythorn^ 
 shaking the rector's hand. — '* And pray, 
 Doctor Sydenham," he continued, " may I
 
 121 
 
 ask, who is to have the honour of your vote 
 and interest?" 
 
 " I am at present," replied Doctor 
 Sydenham, smiling, ** devoted to Miss De 
 Clifford, my lord ; who must have the good- 
 ness to determine for me." 
 
 *' Must I?" said Julia, smiling too; 
 " then if you have, great, many, hundred, 
 votes, I wish them all, to be given, for 
 Mr. Fitzroy." 
 
 " Indeed!" said his lordship. — " His 
 kntght-errantry to your fair friend has won, 
 I see, your interest for him." 
 
 " My knowledge of Mr. Fitzroy," re- 
 plied Julia, feelingly, ^' was of longer time, 
 than his, so kind rescue, of Mrs. Good- 
 win's servant. I am of myself, under ob- 
 ligation, to him :" and her cheeks glowed 
 with, and her eyes spoke, the most animated 
 gratitude, while she continued : — " I was 
 once, in so great distress — insulted, morti- 
 fied, derided (by my own sex, it was ; who 
 had no shame, to do it) — I had friend, none 
 near me — Oh I it was to me, a moment, 
 of strong suffering ! — but Mr. Fitzroy, 
 Came, and came to my help. Mr, Fitzroy, 
 
 VOL. r. G
 
 122 
 
 was a stranger; but that, for him, was 
 nothing; his heart was benevolent, I want- 
 ed of him aid, and he gave me, safe protec- 
 tion." 
 
 " My vote and interest, then, are his," 
 said Doctor Sydenham, with emphatic feel- 
 ing. 
 
 " Happy Fitzroy ! to have such a resist- 
 less advocate !" said his lordship, looking 
 expressively at Julia, who gravely replied 
 — '* That man, indeed, is most happy, my 
 lord; whose own merits, claim, and secure 
 to him, the so honourable support, of such 
 a venerable, and so good a friend, as Doc- 
 tor Sydenham." 
 
 Lord Gaythorn now entered pleasingly 
 into general conversation : and at length, 
 when he arose to take leave, he, with much 
 politeness and hospitality, invited the whole 
 party at the Rectory to dinner, next even- 
 ing, at seven o'clock ; — an invitation which 
 was most cordially accepted by Doctor 
 and Mrs. Hargravc; — and his lordship de- 
 parted, attended to the very outward gate 
 by the obsequious rector. 
 
 The morning was chiefly taken up by a
 
 123 
 
 variety of insipid visitors to Mrs. Hargrave; 
 and at dinner, a large company assembled. 
 The dinner was fatiguingly pompous, yet 
 excellently good ; but went off heavily, the 
 whole conversation turning upon the elec- 
 tion. 
 
 G S
 
 IM 
 
 CHAPTER Til. 
 
 When the ladies withdrew from the dinino;- 
 room, they all went to walk in the grounds; 
 and Celestina was so importunate in her 
 entreaties to Miss Penrose and Julia, to 
 accompany her a little way down a lane 
 that joined the grounds, to see a beautiful 
 owl the pew-opener was rearing for her, 
 that they were at length obliged to ac- 
 quiesce ; when Miss Hargrave led them 
 away from th« rest of the party, through 
 tht- shrubbery, to a wicket, which she let 
 them out of; then following them, after 
 locking the door, she threw the key into a 
 deep stream, which ran at one side of the 
 lane they now were in ; and, bursting into 
 a loud laugh at her exploit, cried out — 
 ** Ecod ! I have played you a nice trick! 
 for we cannot getback through the grounds, 
 that's a sure thing: — so needs must, my 
 dears, when somebody drives ; and through
 
 T25 
 
 the whole town you must parade, to gel 
 home — and by the hustings, where I want 
 to go sadly, but knew, if I asked you to 
 go with me, you would not, you are both 
 such mimiiii primims, — So now I have 
 tricked you nicely into it." 
 
 Julia and Miss Penrose looked on each 
 other in amaze and consternation, to the 
 high delight of Miss Hargrave. They saw, 
 that climbing the pales would be as impos- 
 sible for them, as regaining the key, which 
 had instantly sunk in the muddy stream. 
 They neither of them knew a step of the 
 way (Miss Penrose only having arrived the 
 day before our heroine); had no protection; 
 no guide, but Celestina, whom they had no 
 confidence in. They were both very nicely 
 dressed for the 'drawing-room, but not the 
 street. Luckily Mrs. Goodwin had thrown 
 round Julia a thin muslin shawl, she had 
 found in the hall as they passed through it, 
 which our heroine now converted into a 
 veil ; and assisted Miss Penrose in making 
 the same substitute, of some drapery which 
 hung, merely as an ornament, from Miss 
 Penrose's shoulder : and these happy con-
 
 n6 
 
 trivances served both as a good and graceful 
 covering for them. 
 
 Preceded now by Celestina, who, in spite 
 of every remonstrance from her trembling 
 companions, shouted **Fitzroy forever!" to 
 every individual she met, our poor dismay- 
 ed heroine and Miss Penrose set forward : — 
 the latter, a pretty, smart, showy girl, suffi- 
 ciently attractive to be in a most unpleasant 
 situation ; and Julia De Clifford, strikingly 
 lovely and elegant, but added to the perils 
 of their walk. 
 
 As they entered the town, they were met 
 by numbers, who gazed in surprise and ad- 
 miration upon them, as, arm-and-arm, they 
 clung to each other for mutual protection; 
 but their boisterous companion being uni- 
 versally known, spared them from any in- 
 sult. At length they reached the market- 
 place, where they were forced to pass the 
 principal inn, every window of which was 
 filled with men. And now, Celestina, 
 darting from them, made directly to the 
 hustings, where she saw old Dick (her own 
 carpenter, who worked for her favourites) 
 doing something to a door.
 
 127 
 
 Her dismayed companions now hesitated, 
 to consider what they could or ought to 
 do. They had neither of them ever been 
 in the market-place before ; and knew not 
 which turning would take them to the Rec- 
 tory. All the shops were shut, upon ac- 
 count of expected tumults, as evening 
 should draw in, and the different public 
 houses should be disembogued of their pot- 
 valiant heroes: when hearing Celestina say, 
 as she sprang forward, " There is old Dick !" 
 they concluded this man to be known to the 
 Hargraves, and therefore they hastily deter- 
 mined to ask him to conduct them home. 
 
 By the time they had reached the hust- 
 ings, Miss Ilargrave and Dick had entered 
 the booth. Julia and Miss Penrose entered 
 too, to seek their hoped-for cotivoy ; and 
 saw him hobbling after Celestina, w^ho had 
 now got out upon the hustings, and clam- 
 bering over every impediment she met 
 with. They had the whole length of the 
 gallery to walk, to the furthest extremity 
 of the building, to pursue those they sought; 
 and they were congratulating each other, 
 upon there being only themselves in the
 
 booth, when they heard the sound of fast- 
 approaching footsteps. They were both 
 too prudent to look behind ; but they 
 quickened their pace with palpitating 
 hearts, and increased terror. Their speed, 
 however, was vain ; they were overtaken 
 by two dashing, gay young men, ex- 
 tremely inebriated, who each rudely seized 
 a trembling girt, and, in the moment of 
 surprise and terror, separated them. 
 
 Julia's persecutor was infinitely the most 
 inebriated of the two ; and the moment he 
 lost the supporting arm of his friend, he 
 seemed ready to fall prostrate at the feet 
 of Julia, who he swore '* was an angel, and 
 that he would have a kiss." Our heroine's 
 indignation, now combined with agonized 
 terror, gave her strength to break from the 
 rudesby ; and, the moment she eluded his 
 grasp, she ran forward, and reaching the 
 termination of the gallery, bounded over 
 the rail upon the hustings, and was, with- 
 out hesitation, about to jump oiF the plat- 
 form into the area (where she now saw 
 Miss Hargrave and her limping attendant), 
 when she was prevented by an encircling
 
 129 
 
 arm, and an exclamation of — ^^ Dear crea- 
 ture ! desist, you know not the danger you 
 would brave !" 
 
 ** Oh, Mr. Fitzroy ! what much, distress- 
 ing situation, you have again, found for 
 me !" said Julia, turning her lovely face to- 
 wards him; but her agitation was so violent, 
 her articulation was scarcely to be heard. 
 
 ** Miss De Clifford !" exclaimed Fitzroy, 
 in visible surprise ; — " Miss De Clifford! 
 
 — How came you why are you here, 
 
 dearest madam? — why do I find you here, 
 in so unprotected a situation ?" 
 
 Julia's little stock of courage had done 
 as much as it could do for her, and now 
 was completely exhausted. Her heart 
 throbbed, as if it would break from it's 
 boundary. She panted for breath ; she 
 trembled so, she was scarcely able to stand. 
 To speak was impossible; and, from the 
 variation of her colour, Fitzroy was dread- 
 fully alarmed, fearing she would faint: but 
 he kindly soothed her terrors, by assurances 
 " of her being now in perfect safety, as he 
 would protect her from every insult." At 
 length the courage of our poor heroine 
 raUied a little; she disengaged herself from 
 G 5
 
 130 
 
 Fitzroy's support, and leaned against the 
 railing of the scaffolding. 
 
 '' Miss De Clifford," said Fitzroy, look- 
 ing anxiously at her, *' will you not speak 
 tome? — Will you not tell me, who you 
 are with at Z. ?" 
 
 *^ Speak to you !" she replied: — " sure 
 I will ; for I have a great deal, of many 
 thanks, to give you : — and — and though I 
 am here, in so greatly awkward situation, 
 I did not, to Z. come, with any one im- 
 proper. I did come, with Mrs. Goodwin, to 
 make a visit, to Doctor Margrave's." 
 
 ** Doctor Margrave's 1" exclaimed Fitz- 
 roy, his countenance portraying the most 
 animated pleasure : — '' Then, then, at last, 
 I shall be alloxved the happiness of seeing 
 you! 
 
 *' Oh !'' said Julia, '* you come this 
 evening — Lord Gaytliorn did say so, at 
 the Rectory, this morning; and I was very 
 glad, for I wanted still, to give thanks, for 
 your so great goodness to me, at Delamore- 
 house.— But now I am, again, so fortunate, 
 as to be protected of your kindness, let me 
 not forget, my poor companion, in so 
 awkward, distress."
 
 131 
 
 " Fear nothing for her," replied Fitzroy ; 
 " she has got the very soul of honour for 
 her champion — my particular friend, Lord 
 Francis Loraine; who, in fact, has now 
 given me the happiness of being useful to 
 you. As you })assed the Castle Inn, you 
 attracted his attention ; and he saw you 
 followed by two very inebriated young 
 men, and he led me after you (little think- 
 ing whom I was pursuing), to protect you, 
 should you require protection; — and see, 
 your fair friend approaches, w^ith Lord 
 Francis." 
 
 Miss Penrose now joined our heroine, 
 attended by a very elegant-looking young 
 man, whom Julia recognised as the same 
 who had, with Fitzroy, leaped from the 
 sociable to Biddy's rescue, and v/hom Fitz- 
 roy now introduced to her. And Julia has- 
 tened, briefly to account for the awkward 
 situation they had been found in, by relating 
 to Lord Francis and Fitzroy the ingenious 
 device of Miss Hargrave, to lure them to 
 the hustings; and both young men wxre 
 extremely hurt, at the distressing situation 
 the highly-reprehensible conduct of Miss
 
 13^ 
 
 Hargrave had thrown two such very young 
 women into. 
 
 " We cannot leave Miss Hargrave here," 
 said Miss Penrose ; " and to get her home 
 against her inclination would be impos- 
 sible." 
 
 " Then let us not attempt it, replied 
 Lord Francis; ** but leave the young tor- 
 ment to her own inventions." 
 
 " We certainly will not delay a moment, 
 upon her account," said Fitzroy. 
 
 " Though not, for her, account," said 
 Julia, " yet, the effort we should make. 
 We, who are, the guest, to Doctor and Mrs. 
 Hargrave, surely ought not, to leave their 
 child, exposed for so great danger; and in- 
 sults, very much." 
 
 ** I wish," replied Fitzroy, smiling, *'you 
 were not so very good. Miss De Clifford ; 
 for I own it is with reluctance I shall make 
 any effort for this abominable girl's secu- 
 rity : but, as it is your wish, 1 " 
 
 At this moment they beheld Celestina 
 catch old Dick by the arm, and hurry out 
 of the area with him into the street. 
 
 '* Nay," exclaimed Julia, " I do give
 
 133 
 
 her up: — as successfully, might we, make 
 pursuit for an ignis-fatuus." 
 
 Lord Francis now conducted Miss Pen- 
 rose, and Fitzroy Julia, to the Rectory-gate; 
 where they bade them adieu, for a short 
 period, being to go in form, in the course 
 of the evening, to be introduced, by Lord 
 Gaythorn, to Doctor Hargrave. 
 
 Julia hastened to communicate her dis- 
 tressing adventure to Mrs. Goodwin, who 
 felt very much hurt at her niece's conduct : 
 and fearing lest our heroine's feet had been 
 wet in the expedition, she persuaded her to 
 go to her chamber, to prevent any evil con- 
 sequence by necessary precaution : and 
 when she got her there, knowing that 
 Mr. Fitzroy was expected at the Rectory 
 in the course of the evening (but without 
 telling her this, as a reason), recommended 
 her to dress her head again, as the shawl 
 had terribly disordered her hair; and when 
 Julia complied, and was ready to attend 
 her down, Mrs. Goodwin looked on her 
 with approving delight, and many a san- 
 guine expectation. 
 
 About nine o'clock, Lords Gaythorn
 
 134 
 
 and Francis Loraine, Mr. FItzroy, and four 
 other electioneering friends, arrived at the 
 Rectory ; and after the form of introduc- 
 tion to Doctor and Mrs. Hargrave, Lord 
 Gay thorn led Fitzroy to Julia (who was 
 seated between Doctor Sydenham and 
 Charles Goodwin), and told him, ** to that 
 lady's resistless powers for canvassing, he 
 owed the vote and interest of Doctor Sy- 
 denham." 
 
 The eyes of Fitzroy now sparkled with 
 additional lustre. — " I wished, most anxi- 
 ously," said he, " for the vote and interest 
 of Doctor Sydenham ; because 1 considered 
 them as amongst the highest honours I 
 could receive : but coming from such a 
 source, increases their value above all 
 estimation." 
 
 *' Mr. Fitzroy," said Doctor Sydenham, 
 ** I had predetermined not to give my 
 vote at all upon this occasion ; but one 
 little anecdote, told by artless Innocence, 
 was conviction to me, that I could not 
 bestov/ my vote more honourably for 
 myself, more beneficially for my country, 
 than by giving it to you."
 
 135 
 
 Fitzroy bowed gracefully to this excel- 
 lent old man; whilst his eyes, beaming with 
 gratitude and satisfaction, were rivetted 
 upon the blushing Julia ; and the world 
 would he have given to have heard her tell 
 that anecdote, which had thus gained for 
 him a partisan of so much importance. 
 
 Charles Goodwin had modestly arisen 
 from his seat, upon the approach of Lord 
 Gay thorn, and was now beckoned away 
 by his attentive mother; when instantly 
 Fitzroy took the vacant chair, and joined 
 in conversation with our heroine and 
 Doctor Sydenham ; until, at length, Lord 
 Francis Loraine approached, and took 
 an opportunity of saying softly to Fitz- 
 roy, but still loud enough for Julia to 
 hear — 
 
 *' You are a dreadful dunce at election- 
 eering, Horatio! — Your attention should 
 not thus be devoted to one object, however 
 fascinating." Fitzroy coloured highly; and, 
 though smiling, arose with reluctance, ad- 
 dressed every one most graciously by turns, 
 and paid his attentions indiscriminately for 
 the remainder of the evening.
 
 136 
 
 But Doctor Hargrave, the man of the 
 world, and of acute observation, had seen 
 enough, in this short attention paid by 
 Fitzroy to Julia, that indicated more than 
 a common interest. — He saw Lord Francis 
 Loraine take the place of his friend, and 
 pay her every respect. — He also beheld 
 Lord Gaythorn's undisguised admiration of 
 her; and heard his enthusiastic encomiums 
 upon her beauty and elegance of manners ; 
 — from all which he took a lesson to adapt 
 his own demeanour by ; and his before 
 frigid conduct to our heroine thawed at 
 once, and he became her zealous panegy- 
 rist, and most devoted and obsequious very 
 humble servant. 
 
 By half past ten, all the visitors, except 
 the inmates of the Rectory, had taken their 
 departure ; and about twelve, all separated 
 for the night, when Julia took care to 
 secure her chamber from the incursions of 
 Miss Hargrave. Though Julia had en- 
 countered no bodily fatigue that day, her 
 spirits had gone through a good deal of 
 exertion ; and she was glad to get to bed, 
 where she made the most use of her time,
 
 137 
 
 by sleeping uninterruptedly until her usual 
 hour for waking in a morning, when she 
 arose cheerful and well ; and, according to 
 an appointment of the preceding night, took 
 a most delightful walk, of three miles, before 
 breakfast, with Doctor Sydenham and her 
 great friend and favourite Charles Goodwin* 
 She found the doctor so entertaining, cheer- 
 ful, and instructive a companion, that the 
 walk seemed as nothing of fatigue to her ; 
 and with reluctance she returned to the 
 Rectory, when Dr. Hargrave failed not to 
 admire the beautiful addition Miss De 
 Clifford had made to the roses of her 
 cheeks, by her morning's ramble. 
 
 The gentlemen hastily despatched their 
 breakfast, that they might attend their 
 favoured candidate to the hustings ; and 
 Celestina chose to be of their party. 
 
 At one o'clock, Dr. Hargrave's coach 
 was announced ; and the four ladies set 
 out in It to the Priory, for Mrs. Har- 
 grave to pay her compliments to Lady 
 Gay thorn. 
 
 " Does her ladyship never call upon you, 
 Matilda?" asked Mrs. Goodwin.
 
 13« 
 
 " Frequently." 
 
 *' I wonder, then, she has not called 
 upon your female guests, knowing my lord 
 has invited them to dinner at the Priory; 
 or, at least, seconded his invitation." 
 
 *^ La, Harriot ! she never thinks of such 
 forms. She is a charming creature ; but 
 very odd. — Strangers sometimes think her 
 rude, and ill-bred : but people who know 
 her, don't mind her, as it is her way." 
 
 " To be rude!" said Mrs. Goodwin, 
 smiling. " Well, was I a resident here, 
 I would not go to the Priory upon Lord 
 Gaythorn's invitation solely : but as Miss 
 De CUflbrd and myself are only birds of 
 passage, it matters not; and we will have 
 as much amusement as we can." 
 
 *' Were Lady Gaythorn's singularities 
 solely comprised in her inattention to 
 the forms of good-breeding?" Julia in- 
 quired. 
 
 *' No no," replied Mrs. Hargrave ; 
 " she is eccentric in every thing she says 
 and does. She is very beautiful; and only 
 four and twenty. She is my lord's second 
 wife; and cares as little for him, as he now
 
 139 
 
 does for her, though he married her for love, 
 two years ago. She was an honourable, 
 without fortune : but she is a sweet crea- 
 ture; although she seems to have no ideas 
 about even the common forms of society : 
 but she is very amiable ; and, when in 
 a gay humour, she is as lively and wild as 
 Celestina." 
 
 ** That must be very delightful, indeed,'* 
 said Mrs. Goodwin. 
 
 They now arrived at the Priory : Mrs. 
 Hargrave was admitted ; and the rest of 
 the party remained in the carriage. Mrs. 
 Hargrave's visit was pretty long, and 
 wearied the patience of the ladies in wait- 
 ing : — but her ladyship was in high spirits, 
 ** and so agreeable, and so droll!" Mrs. 
 Hargrave re-entered her carriage quite 
 exhausted by laughter. 
 
 Thej now proceeded to pay several visits 
 in the neighbourhood ; but were not ad- 
 mitted any-where, as the ladies were all 
 gone to the hustings. 
 
 " How vulgar the people all are!" cried 
 Mrs. Hargrave, " to run in such a wonder- 
 ful hurry, to see the raree-show the first day I
 
 140 
 
 — We shall all go to-morrow; as it will 
 then be style; — for Lady Gajthorn goes 
 to-morrow." 
 
 At length they completed their morning 
 visits, and airing ; returned home ; got 
 something to eat, to enable them to wait 
 for the evening's dinner; and, in due time, 
 they all retired to dress. — At the toilet of 
 our heroine, Mrs. Goodwin failed not to 
 preside, lest Biddy O'Connor should not 
 succeed in her department, and that one of 
 the beautiful new muslin dresses should not 
 be put on to every advantage. At length 
 Julias toilet was finished; and Mrs. 
 Goodwin thought, in her own mind, 
 that Fitzroy must this day be completely 
 vanquished.
 
 141 
 
 CHAPTER VIII, 
 
 The pure country air, the exercise she 
 had taken, the constant amusement and 
 change of scene, by withdrawing her 
 thoughts from gloomy retrospections, with 
 two nights of tranquil, undisturbed repose, 
 had all combined to improve our heroine's 
 looks in an astonishingly visible degree; 
 and most strikingly elegant and lovely she 
 entered the 'drawing-room, at the Priory, 
 where numerous guests were already as- 
 sembled; — for Mrs. Hargrave thought it 
 stylish, always to be last ; but upon this 
 day she seemed to have lost her charter, 
 for, late as she came, a number of the com- 
 pany arrived after her party, nor was Loi% 
 Gay thorn himself in the room. 
 
 Fitzroy was standing near the door tell- 
 ing the high-sheriff, and Mr. Smith (one 
 of his brother-candidates), something of
 
 142 
 
 consequence, as the Rectory party entered; 
 when suddenly he lost the tiiread of his dis* 
 course — he hesitated — he stammered : the 
 sheriff listened attentively : Mr. Smith 
 (who was a little longer than a fashionable 
 fan) raised himself on tip- toe, to peer in his 
 face, to see if he was taken ill ; and beheld 
 the eyes of Fitzroy fascinated by, and 
 with his whole thoughts fixed upon, the 
 beautiful Julia De Clifford, as she moved to 
 her seat, about half way up the room, 
 where Mrs. Hargrave placed herself and 
 party. 
 
 '' Well, sir," said the sheriff, " I am all 
 attention." 
 
 '' So is Mr. Fitzroy," said Mr. Smith, 
 archly. 
 
 This remark brought Fitzroy to himself; 
 and he gravely went on with the subject he 
 was before engaged in. 
 
 " Matilda!" said Mrs. Goodwin, " are 
 we not to be presented to the lady of the 
 mansion ?" 
 
 '' No," replied Mrs. Hargrave; " it is 
 not the way of the house. She knows not 
 half the company here ; nor desires to 
 know them. She only notices her guests
 
 143 
 
 {gis she is in the humour; and her guests are 
 not to notice her. — At present, I see, she 
 IS dozing. 
 
 Mrs. Goodwin and Julia now looked to 
 the upper end of the room, and saw, lean- 
 ing back on a sofa, with her feet upon a 
 Turkish cushion, a very beautiful young 
 woman (extremely pale); carelessly dressed, 
 with her eyes closed, and a book lying 
 open on her lap. 
 
 *' Is this the new school?" said Mrs. 
 Goodwin. '' If it is, I have lived long 
 enough out of the world to be amazed 
 at it." 
 
 ** Not absolutely," returned her sister; 
 ^* but ease, without ceremony, is the pre- 
 sent mode." 
 
 " Upon that, sedio, there are, very cer- 
 tainly, both," said Julia, smiling. 
 
 It was very easy to distinguish the stran- 
 gers, in this assemblage, from those who 
 were acquainted with the xvay of the house. 
 The former sat wonder-struck, formal, 
 and uncomfortable ; while the latter formed 
 themselves in unconcerned groups, and 
 chatted away, with as much easy freedom 
 as if collected before dinner in the public
 
 144 
 
 rooms at Buxton, Matlock, or any similar 
 place, where each guest was to pay for hia 
 dinner. 
 
 '* Does not Lady Gaythorn look beauti- 
 ful asleep?" said Mrs. Hargrave. 
 
 " Yes," replied Julia; " but I should 
 admire her, greatly more, if awake, she 
 was." 
 
 Just at this moment, the sleeping beauty 
 opened her eyes ; and the first object they 
 encountered was Julia. Her ladyship 
 started from her recumbent posture; and, 
 with a gracious smile, beckoned our he- 
 roine, who instantly arose, and with a timid 
 grace, peculiar to herself, approached Lady 
 Gaythorn; and Fitzroy's discourse with 
 the sheriff again became confused and 
 broken. 
 
 '* Take that seat,^' said Lady Gaythorn, 
 pointing to a chair which was lying in an 
 oblique direction before the sofa; " and 
 do tell me who you came with here?" 
 
 *' I did come, with Mrs. Hargrave, ma- 
 dam; at whose house I stay;" replied Julia, 
 in much astonishment at the cool ease, 
 and supineness, of her ladyship's man- 
 ner.
 
 145 
 
 ** Do tell me, how you came to be at 
 her house ?" 
 
 *' With Mrs. Hargrave's sister, I did 
 come, there." 
 
 " Mrs. Hargrave's sister! — Oh! I re- 
 member to have heard something about that 
 woman. She married vastly beneath her- 
 self; — some horrible mechanic; — and is 
 
 not producible. S — o! you came to 
 
 Z. with that woman. — Humph 1" and her 
 ladyship now sunk back into her former 
 position ; when seeing Julia about to rise, 
 and rejoin her party, she hastily exclaim- 
 ed — ** Don't go : — I shall think of some- 
 thing else to say to you, presently," 
 
 At this instant, Fitzroy approached : — 
 *' Miss De Clifford," said he, " I have 
 been very anxious to find a moment, again 
 to thank you for the important support of 
 Doctor Sydenham. My cause was going 
 on but languidly, until the good doctor 
 voted; and then a tide turned in my 
 favour, so great, it appeared almost mi 
 raculous." 
 
 Julia was just beginning to declare, 
 what her countenance had eloquently ex- 
 pressed, " the great pleasure she experi- 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 146 
 
 enced in having procured any advantage 
 for him," when Lady Gaythorn, suddenly 
 starting from her intended slumber, called 
 to Fitzroy to sit by her on the sofa; and 
 then earnestly talked to him, in a low 
 voice; but the sounds were not so low 
 as to escape being distinctly heard by 
 Julia. — 
 
 ** You know that fascinating creature?'' 
 said her ladyship. 
 
 " I have that honour," Fitzroy replied* 
 *^ Honour! — Nonsense! — But, seriously, 
 I am quite grieved that she has been 
 brought to this election, to throw her in 
 th^ way of observation ; and of so many 
 men of rank and fortune ! none of whom 
 will marry her ; for, transcendently beauti- 
 ful and highly fashioned as she is, she can 
 be nobody, from the people she is come 
 with: and I foretel her fate. — By next 
 winter we shall see her, glittering in gems, 
 
 at public places; where " 
 
 " My dear Lady Gaythorn !" softly ex- 
 claimed Fitzroy, whilst his face was suf- 
 fused with the deepest carmine tint, " you 
 know not who she is ; that she cannot fall 
 to that degraded state your feeling heart
 
 147 
 
 has led you to apprehend. She is a De 
 Clifford; grand-daughter to the fourteenth 
 Earl of Castlehaven : and, by her mother's 
 side, descended from the Di Montmorenci 
 family." 
 
 ** Indeed !" — then, why is she with such 
 people?" 
 
 " I cannot exactly tell you," said Fitz- 
 roy; " but suppose — believe — nay, I — I 
 think — I know — that is, I mean, it is very 
 possible, some of her mother's relations — 
 some of those emigrant dukes and mar- 
 quesses — not being overburthened with 
 riches, may have placed her with Mrs. 
 Goodwin." 
 
 " What for?" asked Lady Gaythorn. 
 
 ** To, to a— ~.to learn English. You 
 find, she still retains something of the 
 foreign idiom." 
 
 " But it would be an absolute crime, to 
 despoil her of that; it sounds so interest- 
 
 ing — so innocent. 
 
 "So I think, too; but she might not 
 always have spoken so bewitchingly, when 
 she understood less of English." 
 
 " But, learn English from a mechanic's 
 wife !— The thing's impossible. Where did 
 H 2
 
 14S 
 
 you become acquainted with Miss De 
 Clifford?" 
 
 " At Lord Delamore's/' replied Fitzroy, 
 unhesitatingly. 
 
 " Indeed ! Then I may notice her, with- 
 out impropriety." 
 
 At this moment Lord Gaythorn (who 
 had at last appeared) called Fitzroy out of 
 the room, upon business; and Lady Gay- 
 thorn graciously requested the deeply- 
 mortified Juha to sit on the sofa with 
 her. 
 
 Our heroine, during the foregoing conver- 
 sation, was most unpleasantly situated. Her 
 first feelings would have instantly led her 
 away; had not pride interposed, and com- 
 manded her to stay, and affect not to hear 
 the humiliating conference. She therefore, 
 although a novice in art, attempted to ap- 
 pear totally absorbed in admiration of some 
 beautiful plants which were near her. She 
 was very grateful for Fitzroy 's kindness, 
 in striving to raise her consequence; but 
 felt hurt, and grieved, that he had stooped 
 to the aid of a subterfuge to effect it. 
 
 Lord Francis Loraine now joined Lady 
 Gaythorn, and took Julia's just vacated
 
 .149 
 
 chair, at the moment Mrs. Goodwin at« 
 tracted her ladyship's attention. — 
 
 " That's a gentlewoman," said Lady Gay- 
 thorn ; " simple and elegant in her appear- 
 ance : and such sweetness and intelligence 
 of countenance I have seldom seen. — Who 
 can tell me her name?" 
 
 " That, madam," said Julia, *' is, to Mrs. 
 Hargrave, sister." 
 
 " A mechanic's wife, so elegant! — asto- 
 nishing!" exclaimed her ladyship; and 
 she now yawned in Lord Francis's face, 
 leaned back on the sofa, with eyes half 
 closed, and looking so drowsy, it was with 
 the utmost difficulty his lordship and our 
 heroine could repress the sympathy she 
 excited; Lord Francis contrived, however, 
 to change his involuntary convulsion into 
 a smile. — 
 
 " Do, Miss De Clifford," said he, " look 
 at your Jriendy Miss Hargrave." 
 
 Julia looked, and beheld a most extraor- 
 dinary countenanced man, with grotesque 
 gesticulation, holding forth to an odd group 
 of over-dressed country gentlewomen ; and 
 Celestina Hargrave, standing close behind
 
 150 
 
 him, caricaturing every action with all the 
 strongly-marked force of comic mimicry. 
 Julia did now, what she had not done for 
 nearly two years; — she laughed outright. 
 Lord Francis, infected by the natural inno- 
 cence of her laugh, laughed too. Lady 
 Gaythorn, roused by their risibility, looked 
 up, saw Celestina, and laughed until the 
 tears ran down her cheeks. 
 
 And now the 'drawing-room door burst 
 open ; and an uncommonly dashing, fine, 
 little man, with an enormous opera hat, 
 rushed in, and flying up to Lady Gaythorn, 
 made her several profound bows. Instantly 
 her ladyship's countenance changed, from 
 plebeian mirth to afixed stare, combining sur- 
 prise and apathy mingled in it's expression. 
 
 *' Your ladyship did not expect me to- 
 day, I believe," said the fine little man, 
 hesitatingly. 
 
 " No," replied Lady Gaythorn; " nor 
 any day that I recollect." 
 
 *' My lord," said this spruce beau, a 
 little nettled, '' invited me hmself, upon 
 the hustings." 
 
 '' Very likely," replied her ladyship.—
 
 151 
 
 *' My lord, I do suppose, invited all the 
 people present:" and now she took up her 
 book, and began earnestly to read. 
 
 The little man seemed greatly discon- 
 certed ; but yet resolved not to be so 
 pusillanimously discomfited. — " This has 
 been a very charming day, Lady Gay thorn/' 
 said he, perseveringly. 
 
 " Thank you," she replied : " but I have 
 been out, and observed the weather." 
 
 The little man now. seemed at his wits' 
 ends; but after a pause, he spoke again, — 
 *' I am vastly happy to find Mr. Fitzroy 
 goes on so swimmingly: — his voters were 
 enormous to-day." 
 
 ** You, then, did not vote for him?" said 
 her ladyship. 
 
 *' I have no vote in this county," replied 
 the little beau, now completely morti- 
 fied. 
 
 " Then what could possibly have in- 
 duced my lord to invite him here?" said 
 her ladyship, in an audible whisper, to Lord 
 Francis ; while the little consequential, find- 
 ing he was not likely to make his way in 
 the favour of Lady Gaythorn, slunk away : 
 but ere he had walked a dozen paces his self-
 
 152 
 
 importance was restored; — he erected bis 
 crest, re-plumed, and addressed every party 
 he came near, with some common-place 
 observation, or piece of universally-known 
 news, until he met with some one to listen 
 complacently to him. At length, Lord 
 Gaytborn re-entered ; when the little man 
 seized his lordship (who was all condescen- 
 sion to every guest in his house) by the 
 arm, and walked up the room, with an 
 air of triumph, to convince Lady Gay- 
 thorn how vastly intimate he was with 
 her lord. 
 
 *' Heavens!" exclaimed her ladyship, 
 " what is to become of me 1 — I shall be 
 absolutely annihilated, by that little man's 
 looks of resentment, and my lord's angry 
 glances, which I perfectly understand. By 
 my monopolizing Miss De Clifford, I de- 
 molish some of his honourable projects. — 
 He certainly has had some plot in his 
 head against you, my dear ; and being 
 with me is your place of safety, as he 
 never approaches the air which I con- 
 taminate." 
 
 Julia was shocked at the careless manner 
 in which Lady Gaytborn talked of her bus-
 
 153 
 
 band's depravity; but resolved, if being near 
 her ladyship was to secure her from the 
 fulsome adulation and distressing gaze of 
 Lord Gaythorn, to remain with her as long 
 as her ladyship's caprice would permit 
 her. 
 
 '^ As to that atom," continued her lady- 
 ship, *M suppose he thinks I sit here to be 
 civil to all the people my lord invites to his 
 table!" 
 
 *' The little gentleman may be something 
 unreasonable," replied Lord Francis, smil- 
 ing; '* but was I Lord Gaythorn, I own 
 I should expect a little of such condescen- 
 sion from my wife." 
 
 " Were you Lord Gaythorn, perhaps 
 you might : but my lord has no such ex- 
 pectation : for it would be absolute slavery, 
 — Consider the motley throng."* • • • 
 
 " But do you consider the occasion — 
 an election?" 
 
 " It is always like an election in my 
 house. I never know if I am to have the 
 happiness of dining tete-a-tete with my 
 lord, or to be fatigued with a party of 
 twenty, as equally odious creatures. My 
 lord is afflicted with such a phrensied hos- 
 H 5
 
 pitality, that he has lost all power of dis- 
 crimination. If a woman has a pretty face, 
 or a man says a clever or a civil thing to 
 him, he instantly invites their whole tribe 
 to dinner. This little undaunted was over- 
 turned, with five sisters, in a hackney-coach, 
 at my door, in the winter, in town ; my 
 lord, who saw the accident, hauled them all 
 out of the coach, with the straw about their 
 heels, into my 'drawing-room ; and because 
 some of the girls were good looking, he was 
 so unreasonable as to insist upon my car- 
 riage taking them home (to Wapping, I 
 believe, on my life, it really was!) It cost 
 ine a fortune in lavender-water-, to purify 
 my coach, after six Sunday people being 
 stewed in it. My lord scrambled up an 
 acquaintance with the Hottentots; and ab- 
 solutely brought the Tom Thumb brother 
 to my box, at the opera, when I was ac- 
 tually in it; though he refused to tell me 
 the man's name — I am sure, because he 
 was ashamed to reveal it. After this anec- 
 dote, can you wonder at niy inattention 
 to my lord's far from select guests ; or when 
 1 do happen to notice them, if it is only to 
 make them stare at mv eccentricities?"
 
 155 
 
 Julia would have commiserated Lady 
 Gay thorn, for being united to a man so 
 every way ill calculated for domestic 
 happiness, had she not been in posses- 
 sion of an anecdote which Doctor Sy- 
 denham had that morning communicated 
 to her. 
 
 By his former marriage, Lord Gaythorn 
 had three sons; the two eldest were mar- 
 ried, and each had a numerous family. The 
 youngest, and infinitely the most amiable of 
 the whole race, had long been attached to 
 the present Lady Gay thorn, who gave him 
 every encouragement, and was, in fact, 
 under a serious eugagement to hiai ; when, 
 in consequence of his application for his 
 father's consent to his marriage with the 
 object of his tender affections, his lordship 
 became acquainted with his son's choice, 
 who instantly became his own also. He 
 offered himself, and was accepted instead of 
 his son, with whom she stood no chance 
 (from the already mentioned impediments) 
 of wearing a coronet ; though she very 
 shortly after did mourning, for the martyr 
 to her perfidy, who, in the rtrmy, and care- 
 less of life, threw himself into the wav of"
 
 156 
 
 destruction, and fell in battle, universally 
 lamented. 
 
 " But does not your ladyship, sometimes, 
 allow your eccentricity to carry you a 
 little too far, by giving offence to the 
 neighbourhood, in which you reside?" said 
 Lord Francis. 
 
 ^' Oh ! yes, frequently ; but then I 
 know how to appease the people, and 
 be forgiven. — I have only to issue cards 
 for a flte, a masqued ball, or something 
 very gay; — have every thing superb; — 
 play the agreeable condescending hostess: 
 — my offences are wiped off, and I begin a 
 new score." 
 
 The long-expected dinner was now an- 
 nounced. Lord Gay thorn handed the high 
 sheriff's lady to it. The rest of the party 
 followed, as inclination or vicinity to the 
 door prompted. — Lady Gay thorn gave her 
 hand to Lord Francis; and desired Fitzroy, 
 who now hastily joined her ladyship's 
 party, to take care of Miss De Clifford, and 
 not to let the people separate them : — *' As 
 I choose,'' said Lady Gaythorn, " that Miss 
 De Clifford should sit next to me at 
 dinner,"
 
 157 
 
 Fitzroy, with evident satisfaction, under- 
 took the care of Julia ; whom he led to the 
 dining-room, placed next her ladyship, and 
 himself heside her. Lord Gay thorn and 
 his chaplain performed the honours of the 
 table: and Lady Gay thorn placed herself, 
 unconcernedly, at one side of the festive 
 board, as one of the guests. 
 
 Julia, seated at table, looked anxiously 
 round for Mrs. Goodwin and Charles, and 
 had the pleasure of finding them, with the 
 rest of the Rectory party, sitting exactly 
 opposite to her : Mrs. Hargrave deriving 
 high consolation, since she was not noticed 
 herself by Lady Gay thorn, from her visitor 
 being the only lady who was. 
 
 Lady Gaythorn now pointed out to our 
 heroine, and Lord Francis, many a gro- 
 tesque group and figure in this motley as- 
 semblage. — " As to Fitzroy," said her lady- 
 ship, " he is upon his good behaviour here; 
 and must not do any thing but be civil, 
 and admire the quizes at Lord Gaythorn's 
 tahlt'dhoter 
 
 Several ludicrous incidents occurred dur- 
 ing dinner, which proved almost too much 
 for the politesse of Julia, Lord Francis, and
 
 158 
 
 Fitzroy, to keep their risibility in subjec- 
 tion ; but Lady Gaythorn made no at- 
 tempt to conceal her feelings, and laugHed 
 at every thing absurd she saw. 
 
 There were so many electioneering de- 
 mands upon Fitzroy's attention during din- 
 ner, that Julia did not wholly monopoi^e 
 them ; but every word, look, and assiduity, 
 which he could spare from duty, were 
 eagerly devoted to her ; except when, now 
 and then, a transient fit of thoughtfulness 
 seemed to steal him from her and all around 
 him. He told Julia, however, in their 
 broken conversation, *' that, since he had 
 met her at Delamore-house, Lady Theodo- 
 sia had been seriously indisposed, from her 
 anxious and fatiguing attendance upon her 
 mother, who had recovered but slowly ; 
 and being ordered frequent change of air 
 and scene, had been scarcely a day in Lon- 
 don since she had been able to quit it. 
 That Lord Delamore, too, had just been 
 taken dangerously ill, at the family seat, in 
 Dorsetshire; and upon an express arriving 
 in town with the alarming intelligence, 
 Lady Theodosia (though scarcely recovered) 
 went instantly to her father; while Lady
 
 159 
 
 Selina, his favourite, and most indulged 
 child, although in perfect'health, refused to 
 go: nor did she remain in tawn from duty 
 to her mother, as Lady Delamore was at, 
 Tunbridge Wells, and still too much of an 
 invalid to hear even of her husband's indis- 
 position : and Lady Theodosia havmg staid 
 in London, not being considered by her 
 physicians sufficiently recovered to accom- 
 pany her mother to Tunbridge, her sudden 
 and hazardous expedition to Delamore 
 Castle was undertaken unknown to Lady 
 Delamore. 
 
 Fitzroy now made along, and profoundly 
 thoughtful pause, apparently of indeci- 
 sion ; and at length, with a counte- 
 nance suddenly animated, as if with joy 
 at having at last determined something of 
 painful irresolution, he again addressed 
 Julia. — 
 
 *' When my fate here is decided," he 
 said, " and that we both return to town, I 
 hope, Miss De Clifford, you will have the 
 goodness to prevail upon Mr. Goodwin to 
 allow me the honour and happiness of pay- 
 ing my respects to you r" 
 
 Julia readily undertook to promise for
 
 160 
 
 Mr. Goodwin's prompt permission ; and 
 from this moment the abstracted reveries of 
 Fitzroy vanished, his countenance beatned 
 with cloudless animation, and his conver- 
 sation to every one became at once spirited, 
 brilliant, and fascinating. Mrs. Goodwin 
 was delighted, and full of sanguine expect- 
 ations ; and Doctor Sydenham was an at- 
 tentive observer. 
 
 " Pray," said Lady Gay thorn, suddenly 
 addressing Fitzroy, "is this true, that Lord 
 Francis tells me — Had your uncle really 
 no other child than the late marquess?" 
 
 " Poor Penraorva was my uncle's only 
 child," replied Fitzroy. 
 
 " Well, I always thought there was 
 another boy living. — So, then, you are ab- 
 solutely heir-presumptive to the dukedom 
 of Bridgetower?" said Lady Gay thorn. 
 
 " Absolutely," returned Fitzroy. 
 
 Mrs. Goodwin coloured to a crimson 
 tint, and her eyes danced with joy at this 
 unexpected intelligence ; while Julia looked 
 as composed as if she had heard their ma- 
 jesties had taken an airing ; although she 
 knew not before any thing further of Fitz- 
 roy 's family, than that he was nephew to
 
 161 
 
 Lady Delamore, and that his elder, only, 
 and half brother, was a baronet. 
 
 '' And do tell me, Fitzroy," said her 
 ladyship, '' when Sir Charles Stratton is to 
 marry your odious cousin ?" 
 
 ** My odious cous'm, as your ladyship 
 pleasantly terms her, is to become my sister 
 some time this autumn." 
 
 " But surely your brother was deranged, 
 Fitzroy, not to choose the other Lady 
 Southerland !" 
 
 " His affairs were, and therefore he 
 chose the one most likely to bring him the 
 largest portion. Infatuated Charles has, 
 
 I fear But, dear Lady Gay thorn I 
 
 allow me to change this, to me, most 
 distressing subject ; by inquiring if my 
 hopes are to be reahzed by your honour- 
 ing the hustings with your presence to- 
 morrow ?" 
 
 " Most certainly. — I go, with a select 
 party of my own friends, to support you." 
 Fitzroy bowed; and Lady Gay thorn con- 
 tinued.^ — " And take you care of your heart 
 to morrow ; for I mean to take a blaze of 
 beauty with me, that shall not be surpassed 
 upon the hustings."
 
 16£ 
 
 " I fear not your beauties : for I am now 
 invulnerable to any blaze of charms that 
 may assail me ;" said Fitzroy. 
 
 *' Do not be too confident, I advise you." 
 
 " I am confident," he replied, " that no 
 beauty can surpass that which I see, at 
 Lord Gaythorn's table, this present mo- 
 ment." 
 
 ** Well, remember I tell you," said Lady 
 Gaythorn, *' that you will pay homage at 
 my shrine to-morrow, by worshipping the 
 
 most lovely of my votaries But I am 
 
 weary of talking now — ^^and, indeed, of 
 company !" and she rose precipitately from 
 table, and hurried away, taking no notice 
 of Julia, or any other person. 
 
 All the ladies considered this as a signal 
 for their departure; which they instantly 
 obeyed. Fitzroy having conducted our 
 heroine to her female friends, she, with 
 them and the other ladies, hastened into 
 the hall ; where they all gladly remained 
 for some moments, to inhale the fresh 
 breezes which here were admitted on every 
 side, and to regale their senses with a beau- 
 tiful collection of green house plants, which, 
 with transparencies and variegated lamps,
 
 165 
 
 were dispersed about, having the most 
 pleasing effect. 
 
 " What are we to do now, Matilda r' 
 asked Mrs. Goodwin. 
 
 '^ What we please," replied Mrs. Har. 
 grave. '* So we will go into the 'draw- 
 ing-room, and see if there are cards pre- 
 pared for us." 
 
 Those who knew the zvai/ of the house 
 went, as inclination led them, to the 'draw- 
 ing-room ; and the strangers, who were 
 not initiated in the mysteries of the man- 
 sion, cunningly followed the knowing 
 ones. 
 
 It had been intensely warm in the din- 
 ing-room, both from the heat of the even- 
 ing (which was uncommonly sultry for the 
 time of year) and the number of people 
 collected there ; then infinite was the asto- 
 nishment of the wondering guests, to find 
 her ladyship sitting upon a Turkish cushion, 
 before one of the fire-places in the 'draw- 
 ing-room, with a wax taper in her hand, 
 setting a combustible ready-laid pile into a 
 blaze; and then, with a beautiful small 
 pair of Tunbridge-ware bellows, blowing 
 the flame, until she accomplished the task
 
 164 
 
 of making an excellent Christmas fire. 
 This done, she snugged herself upon her 
 little cushion, up close to the fire ; while 
 her husband's guests, some promenading, 
 some formally seated, fanning themselves, 
 all gazing in amazement at her employ- 
 ment, and wondering at the necessity she 
 could possibly feel for it. 
 
 Amongst the promenaders, were the Rec- 
 tory party ; and, as they once passed near 
 her ladyship, she caught a glimpse of Mrs. 
 Hargrave, and eagerly exclaimed — 
 
 " Dear Mrs. Hargrave! how do you? 
 Why, 'tis an age since I saw you. Are 
 you not perishing with cold? — Do come, 
 and sit by my nice fire. — You'll find a 
 cushion somewhere." 
 
 Mrs. Hargrave had been complaining 
 loudly of the heat ; and by fretting about 
 it, and fanning, she had thrown herself into 
 an actual flame : but the moment her lady- 
 ship graciously supposed she was cold, 
 and asked her to sit beside her, she was 
 seized with an accommodating shivering fit; 
 and finding a cushion, sat down in great 
 triumph for the honour of being baked 
 with a countess : while some of the initiated
 
 165; 
 
 formed parties at cards, for their own 
 amusement, ai<d some of the novices fol- 
 lowed their example. 
 
 At length the party in the dining-room 
 broke up. Many of them went away, 
 without making their appearance, but a 
 great number flocked to the 'drawing-room. 
 Doctor Sydenham and Charles Goodwin 
 had gone home early. Lord Francis joined 
 the two comets ; and Lord Gaythorn, and 
 Fitzroy, allured by a different attraction, 
 sought our heroine, and joined her little 
 party. Lord Gaythorn, from having made 
 large libations with his guests, was even 
 more disgustingly annoying to poor Julia 
 than usual; which Mrs. Goodwin and Fitz- 
 roy observing, they united their efforts to 
 relieve her from his attentions. 
 
 At length, the carriages were announced, 
 and the guests began their general depar- 
 ture : when Lord Gaythorn was compelled 
 to leave his station by our heroine, to bid 
 his company good-night, and hand the dif- 
 ferent ladies to their respective carriages; 
 in which ceremony the four candidates 
 found themselves under the necessity cf as- 
 sisting his lordship.
 
 166 
 
 When Doctor Hargrave's coach was pro* 
 claimed, Mrs. Goodwin, Jittia, Miss Pen- 
 rose, and Celestina, drew near the fire. 
 Doctor Hargrave called to his wife; and 
 Lady Gay thorn started up. — 
 
 " My dear Miss De CiifFord !" said her 
 ladyship, with the most winning politeness 
 and cordiality, " I hope you will give me 
 the pleasure of your company at dinner to- 
 morrow, to meet a party of my friends, 
 whom I am sure you will admire, as much 
 as they must be charmed with you." 
 
 ** Augusta!" cried Lord Gaythorn an- 
 grily, who was now in waiting to hand out 
 Julia — " Augusta! how can you ask such 
 a thing, or suppose Miss De CiifFord will 
 leave Mrs. Hargrave, whose guest she is, to 
 dine with you?" 
 
 '' I obtained Mrs. Hargrave's permission, 
 before I attempted to ask the favour of Miss 
 De CiifFord ; with whom I shall feel myself 
 exceedingly jealous, if, when she accepted 
 your invitation, my lord, she rejects mine;" 
 said her ladyship, with a sweet and play- 
 fully arch smile. 
 
 " Since, Mrs. Hargrave, has had so very 
 much goodness, to give for me leave,
 
 167 
 
 madam, I shall with pleasure great deal 
 accept the invitation, you so honour me 
 with," said Julia, courtesying gracefully; 
 and most happy in an opportunity of doing 
 any thing that was displeasing to his 
 lordship. 
 
 " And still further, I wish to trespass 
 on your goodness. Miss De Clifford," said 
 Lady Gay thorn. — '* By Mrs. Hargrave's 
 kind permission, and your willing assent, 
 I trust you will accompany me to thehust* 
 ings to-morrow : I shall have the plea- 
 sure of calling for you, myself, at twelve 
 o'clock." 
 
 Julia gracefully assented ; and Lady 
 Gaythorn now looked significantly at Fitz- 
 roy, and smiled. Fitzroy's countenance 
 was instantly suffused with the deepest- 
 tinted blush ; and Lord Francis, gliding be- 
 hind him, softly said— " Her ladyship has 
 discovered your secret, Horatio !" 
 
 Our heroine was led to the carriage by 
 Fitzroy, who had taken her hand several 
 minutes sooner than there was the smallest 
 necessity for; and she had left it with him, 
 fearing Lord Gaythorn should escort her 
 out, as she perceived by his manoeuvring 
 he meant to do.
 
 J68 
 
 As the ladies got into the coach, the 
 horses seemed unwilling to stand. Mrs. 
 Goodwin's cowardice took the alarm; but 
 fearing Doctor Hargrave (who was only 
 stopping to bid Lord Gaythorn, again, 
 good-night), she kept her apprehensions 
 to herself. The rector waiting to make 
 more bows to his patron, displayed to the 
 party in the coach the four candidates, 
 standing in a row together ; and nothing, 
 undoubtedly, could have been done to show 
 Fitzroy's strikingly fine, tall, graceful figure, 
 and handsome face, to more forcible advan- 
 tage. -r- Mr. Smith, we have already inti- 
 mated, was of the first order of dwarf hood; 
 with an immense head, curving legs, and 
 an enormous nose, red as Bardolph's. Sir 
 Samuel Clodly was an inert structure of 
 powerless bones and sinews, badly formed, 
 and worse put together ; with a face in 
 which each feature might be discerned at 
 some leagues' distance at sea, without the 
 aid of a telescope. Mr. Rackrent was long 
 past the prime of life; and had shrivelled 
 up his face and person, by perpetual fret- 
 ting; and had frowned upon all around 
 him, until his countenance became an ob» 
 ject of extreme terror to children and all
 
 169 
 
 his inferiors, of disgust to all his equals and 
 superiors. 
 
 The contrast struck Celestina (who was 
 no respecter of persons) so forcibly, that, 
 to the dismay of her companions, she sud- 
 denly exclaimed — " No hobgoblins! Fitz- 
 roy, for ever !" 
 
 " Hobgoblins! child !— Although the 
 night is impenetrably dark, you cannot fear 
 any, with such a coachful;" said her 
 highly disconcerted father, hastily getting 
 into the carriage, which now moved on, 
 rather uneasily, in a kind of jerking, zigzag 
 direction. 
 
 " Celestina, my love,'* said Doctor Har- 
 grave, " your reason should teach you, not 
 
 to shock the feelings of those who " 
 
 Suddenly the coach stopped ; voices were 
 heard surrounding it; and some one seemed 
 to dismount, awkwardly, from the box. 
 Doctor Hargrave, in alarm, demanded 
 *' what was the matter ?" and was answered 
 by Mr. Smith — 
 
 " Nothing now, doctor. There was a 
 little impediment in your way, which has 
 been fortunately removed, and you are now 
 perfectly safe. Good-night !" 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 170 
 
 The coach again moved on ; but now 
 swiftly and with spirit. 
 
 " Geeho !" cried Miss Hargrave. " Old 
 Ralph drives as if he had been to the mill, 
 and in one minute was ground young again. 
 — Ecod ! he makes the puffy horses smoke 
 for it 1" 
 
 " He drives, indeed, like a second Phae- 
 ton !" replied her father. *^ Surely he is 
 inspired !" 
 
 " To be sure he is — with a wish to get 
 aw^ay from those scare-crows," said his 
 daughter. " I am sure it was those defor- 
 mities of nature that started the horses." 
 
 The coach now stopped at the Rectory. 
 Julia was the first to alight, and to her 
 extreme amazement, beheld Fitzroy stand- 
 ing by the carriage, ready to hand her out. 
 ** Mr. Fitzroy !" she exclaimed ; ** Why 
 you come, on flying dragon ; or riding on 
 the meteor !" 
 
 " No," he replied ; " my humble con- 
 veyance was — the coach-box." 
 
 ** Which was also mine," said Lord 
 Francis Loraine, now approaching her. 
 
 " What can this mean?" asked Doctor 
 Hargrave.
 
 171 
 
 *' I must earnestly implore your mercy, 
 Doctor Hargrave, and forgiveness, for your 
 poor coachman,'' replied Fitzroy ; " who 
 made such potent libations to my success, 
 that he rendered himself totally unable to 
 perform in his vocation to-night; and the 
 least I could do, in gratitude, was to prove 
 his substitute; and I trust you found me a 
 careful one." 
 
 Doctor Hargrave said ^^ he was inex- 
 pressibly shocked at the circumstance,'* 
 although secretly elated at the flattering in- 
 cident, of a duke's grandson, and heir pre- 
 sumptive to the title, and a marquess's son, 
 having conferred such an honour on his 
 family. But now a very great difficulty pre- 
 sented itself to the rector : — ^he could not 
 offer his carriage to convey these knights- 
 errant home, having no coachman to con- 
 ^•ey it back. " They preferred walking," 
 Lord Francis said ; *' but as the night 
 was dark, and a number of streams and 
 posts in their way, they would accept an 
 escort, with a lantern;" and while the 
 lantern was getting ready, his lordship 
 joined the ladies in the 'drawing-room; for 
 Lord Francis alone was left to hear the
 
 172 
 
 fine speeches and apologies of Doctor Har- 
 grave, Fitzroy having closely followed Miss 
 De Clifford to the 'drawing-room; and 
 where seated by her, when the lantern was 
 announced, Lord Francis was compelled 
 repeatedly to call him to depart, before he 
 could prevail upon himself to take leave, 
 which, with evident reluctance, he at 
 length did. 
 
 Julia felt not at all sorry for his depart- 
 ure, as she was very tired ; and feared she 
 might sleep too long in the morning, if 
 kept up much later, and be deprived of the 
 pleasure of fulfilling her appointment with 
 Doctor Sydenham, to take an early walk.
 
 173 
 
 CHAPTER rX. 
 
 Julia, Doctor Sydenham, and Charles 
 Goodwin, were true to their appointment 
 the following morning ; but the latter, al- 
 most in tears, informed his companions, 
 " that Celestina, hearing them talk of their 
 intended excursion, had arisen early, on 
 purpose to accompany them, and spoil 
 their pleasure." 
 
 Celestina now made her appearance; 
 and told them " she meant to be very 
 quiet and orderly," and was as good as 
 her word. They found her very useful, in 
 understanding the secret of opening gates, 
 knowing the best paths, where there were 
 vitious cattle, and where sharp dogs ; and 
 did certainly contrive to amuse her cousin 
 a little, by challenging him to leap ditches, 
 and jump with poles over dikes. 
 
 Julia and Doctor Sydenham walked to- 
 gether. This venerable man seemed un-
 
 174 
 
 usually though tful ; and Julia feared he was 
 not well. At last he suddenly asked her, 
 *^ What she thought of the candidates?" 
 
 " Mr. Smith, sir," she repHed, " is un- 
 fortunate, for figure; but he seems, the 
 quick, shrewd, and so clever man, as if he 
 possessed, information a great deal; and 
 his conversation appeared to me, spirited, 
 sometimes sarcastic, but always much en- 
 tertaining." 
 
 *' You have hit him off exactly. I know 
 him intimately. — Now for the others — 
 what think you of them?" 
 
 " Of Mr. Rackrent, I shrink from the 
 horror, of at all thinking: and for Sir 
 Samuel Clodly, I grieve, for why, Nature 
 has, in every respect, dealt so very severely, 
 hard, for him." 
 
 *' You are an accurate discriminator of 
 character, I see. — Come, now for Mr. 
 Fitzroy." 
 
 ^' My opinion, of Mr. Fitzroy, can no 
 more, now, be for the unprejudiced one; 
 therefore I do think it fair not quite to 
 give sentiments for him ; after speaking, so 
 much freely, of his opponents." 
 
 *' Cannot now give an unprejudiced opi-
 
 175 
 
 nioii of Mr. Fitzroy '. — Perhaps I may pre- 
 sume too much, if I request an explana- 
 tion?" 
 
 Julia now sketched, with artless ingenui- 
 ty, a slight outline of her own history and 
 situation; — told all the particulars of her 
 humiliating visit at Delamore-house, and 
 Fitzroy 's conduct there ; his rescue of Biddy 
 O'Connor; and, lastly, his protecting her 
 from the insults of the inebriated young 
 men upon the hustings. " And thus, Doc- 
 tor Sydenham," she added, " circumstances 
 have arisen, one after another to foliov/, 
 that make display for me, of the much 
 goodness lof Mr. Fitzroy 's heart ; the rare 
 perfections, of his so great deal, amiable 
 mind : and although 1 do know very cer- 
 tainly, my reason has to tell, I must for 
 him liave the thought so estimable, yet gra- 
 titude I feel, cannot ever prove for me, the 
 impartial judge: and beside this all, dear 
 sir, he is in resemblance strong for one dear 
 friend to me (the friend dearest of my 
 heart), and this resemblance for sure, 
 makes it's much effect; for I look not on 
 him, as I do, on other so nearly strangers, 
 but seem to see in him, some one, who
 
 176 
 
 comes for the claim, of renewal, to former 
 friendship." 
 
 " Friendship!" said Doctor Sydenham. 
 
 " Yes, dear sir," Julia replied ; *^ for 
 the friend, for whom Mr. Fitzroy, reminds 
 so me, is a lady ; and what I feel for him, 
 is only, slight miniature, in faintest colour- 
 ing, of even, the least, great, of estimating 
 thought, I cherish for her." 
 
 Julia's little history of herself affected 
 Doctor Sydenham sensihly ; he had pressed 
 her hand in silent sympathy: and now, the 
 ingenuous unfoldings of her sentiments 
 relative to Fitzroy kept him silent, for he 
 apprehended something more serious in 
 them than she was in the least aware of. 
 
 Just at this time, Miss Hargrave, hav- 
 ing achieved the exploit of clearing a 
 rather difficult leap, exultingly cried out — 
 " Huzza ! Fitzroy, for ever !" 
 
 " The exclamation, for Miss Hargrave, 
 sir," said Julia, " reminds of me, the elec- 
 tion ; and may I ask for you, the state, of 
 the poll, at it's shut, yesterday? I am 
 anxious so much, for Mr. Fitzroy's good 
 success, that I give for you the trouble 
 of my inquiry."
 
 177 
 
 " The poll yesterday, closed greatly in 
 favour of Fitzroy and Smith," replied Doc- 
 tor Sydenham ; " whom, I have no doubt, 
 will prove the successful candidates. Smith's 
 great grandfather, grandfather, and father, 
 successively, represented the county, with 
 much honour to themselves; and I think it 
 impossible that Smith can be thrown out, 
 whose father, feeling himself in a state ap- 
 proaching to superannuation, handsomely 
 vacated that seat in parliament which he 
 had no longer power to hold with justice 
 to his constituents. Exactly at the same 
 period, our other late worthy representative 
 died; which made the two vacancies : when 
 Fitzroy (whose chief property lies in this 
 county) was applied to by many respect- 
 able persons to set up ; but very nobly he 
 declined, not thinking it honourable to 
 contend with the sons of the late represen- 
 tatives, whom he doubted not would stand. 
 But Sir Walter Lovechase declined; and 
 thcH Fitzroy came forward, with much po- 
 pularity, for his handsome conduct; while 
 our other two candidates were as much re- 
 probated, for starting, in the first instance, 
 to contend with the sons of men univer- 
 I 5
 
 178 
 
 sally respected. When the polling began, 
 we all expected from the popularity Mr. 
 Fitzroy had justly acquired, that his num- 
 ber of votes would have kept pace with 
 Smith's; but malice had industriously spread 
 a report, formed with much plausibility, of 
 his being a concealed Jacobin — a secret 
 espouser of French principles ; and the 
 tide turned with inconceivable fury against 
 him until I voted ; when, from my being 
 an old and steady man, firmly attached ta 
 the church and state, the calumny was dis- 
 believed at once, and numbers flocked to 
 his standard : but to-day we expect his suc- 
 cess to be almost unprecedented ; for when 
 he addressed the multitude, from the hust- 
 ings, after the close of the poll, he charmed 
 and captivated every hearer, by the fasci- 
 nation of his eloquence, the candour of his 
 speech, the solidity of judgement, the know- 
 ledge of our laws, and love of our consti, 
 tution, which he displayed. Indeed, he 
 seemed inspired, on purpose to astonish and 
 delight us." 
 
 They all now reached home; and, with 
 well-earned appetites, sat down to break- 
 fast.
 
 179 
 
 Mrs. Goodwin, as usual, attended the 
 toilet of our heroine ; and was very well 
 satisfied with her appearance, when ready 
 to accompany Lady Gaythorn to the hust- 
 ings : for Julia's beauty looked equally cap- 
 tivating, in whatever style of dress she 
 wore; as she seemed ever to give charms 
 to dress, and not her dress to her. 
 
 Punctually at twelve, Lady Gaythorn 
 was announced ; and she entered the Rec- 
 tory alone, or attended only by the most 
 winning politeness, and striking condescen- 
 sion. She was now highly rouged, and attir- 
 ed, with studied care, in a most fashionable 
 and elegant morning-dress. This visit was 
 to Julia, who accompanied her ladyship to 
 a barouche, in which were Ladies Caroline 
 and Susan Strictland, cousins to Lady Gay- 
 thorn; two fine-looking young women, to 
 whom our heroine was now introduced : 
 and in a landau, which preceded the ba- 
 rouche, were three more Ladies Strictland, 
 with their mother the Countess of Land- 
 grave. 
 
 As these carriages were gayly and fanci- 
 fully decked with wreaths of laurel and 
 Fitzroy's colours, they passed amidst the
 
 180 
 
 loudest acclamations, as the populace were 
 now in a disposition to be madly enthusi- 
 astic in favour of Fitzroy. 
 
 At the outward gate of the hustings, 
 Lady Gaythorn and party were met by 
 Lord Francis Loraine, and two Mr. Strict- 
 lands (sons to Lady Landgrave), who con- 
 ducted the eight ladies to the hustings, at 
 the entrance door of which a great crowd 
 had assembled, both within and without. 
 Fitzroy just caught a glimpse of Julia, as 
 she was attempting an entrance; when in- 
 stantly he darted from the sheriff's box, 
 made his way to her, and taking her hand, 
 led her unmolested through a lane, now 
 opened for the party, in compliment to 
 Fitzroy. And this particular solicitude for 
 the safety of our heroine, and marked at- 
 tention to her, soon caused the circulation 
 of a report, that she was to be united to 
 Fitzroy immediately after the termination 
 of the election. 
 
 Fitzroy obtained commodious seats for 
 Lady Gaythorn and her party; and paid 
 them as much attention as the business 
 of the day would admit of. Julia had the 
 pleasure of seeing her Rectory friends enter
 
 181 
 
 unmolested, under convoy of the high 
 sheriff, and get convenient places; but the 
 crowd, the bustle, the continued noise and 
 shouting, the perpetual movement of ob- 
 jects, the pressing forward of every one 
 around her party (herself, unconsciously, 
 the magnet of attraction and curiosity) 
 gave no great pleasure or amusement to 
 Julia; who, completely wearied, was very 
 happy when the poll was closed for the day, 
 and heard the majority was surprisingly in 
 favour of Fitzroy ; that next to him stood 
 Mr. Smith ; and the other two candidates 
 had polled so very few, it was universally 
 supposed they would give up the contest. 
 
 The speeches now began; and every 
 one pressed forward to hear : and Doctor 
 Sydenham took his station close by Julia. 
 Sir Samuel Clodly was the first who spoke. 
 His voice was so squeakingly discordant; 
 his articulation so indistinct; and the peals 
 of laughter, his figure, voice, and strange 
 gesticulation, excited, were so loud ; that 
 he might have spoken high treason, for 
 aught the high sheriff could know of the 
 matter. At length he finished his oration
 
 18^ 
 
 to the merry multitude ; who, however, 
 marked his exit with loud hisses. 
 
 Mr. Rackrent now came forward, to show 
 his rhetoric; when instantly the most vio- 
 lent groans, hooting, hissing, and reviling, 
 burst forth from the populace ; and, in 
 spite of every effort he made to be heard, 
 or the entreaties of the sheriff to hear him, 
 the clamour increased, rather than dimi- 
 nished : at length Mr. Rackrent, wound 
 into a paroxysm of rage, stamping his feet, 
 gave them a vehement malediction, and 
 retired, without even the ceremony of a 
 bow. 
 
 And now Mr. Smith popped his head up, 
 from under a tall woman's elbow. The lu- 
 diprous manner in which he did" this, with 
 the comic expression of his countenance, 
 instantly arrested attention, and caused a 
 general silence. 
 
 His speech was brief, pointed, and clever; 
 but intermingled with so much humour, 
 and such odd and whimsical sarcasms upon 
 his own person, that though, as he himself 
 said, " he could not hope to make a great 
 figure in parliament -— though he had a ca-
 
 183 
 
 pacious head for business, and a long nose 
 for scenting out all party intrigues" — he 
 certainly retired from the hustings with 
 great eclat, amidst the shouts and merry 
 plaudits of the laughing multitude. 
 
 Fitzroy last appeared to speak ; and, 
 through the medium of contrast, broke 
 upon the view of the delighted beholders 
 like nothing less than Apollo himself. One 
 burst of spontaneous plaudit hailed him; 
 but quickly it sunk into the stillnessof death, 
 and all were fixed in eager sound-devouring 
 attention. Fitzroy began to speak ; and a 
 strain oF greater eloquence never broke 
 upon the human ear. His voice was mel- 
 low, and fascinatingly harmonious; his ca- 
 dences, and modulation, correct and pleas- 
 ing; his language, flowing through the 
 simply beautiful, led on by chaste judge- 
 ment: — his sentiments, springing from the 
 fount of wisdom and knowledge, struck 
 alike conviction to the highest and lowest 
 capacity, and in the orator spoke the pa- 
 triot. 
 
 Fitzroy ceased ; and when his graceful 
 how announced that he had, indeed, ended, 
 the most rapturous plaudits, and almost
 
 ]84 
 
 phrensied acclamations, rended the air, and 
 continued, without intermission, for an in- 
 conceivable length of time. 
 
 Julia was entranced with admiration; 
 and when Fitzroy was to be heard no more, 
 she exclaimed, unconsciously catching Doc- 
 tor Sydenham by the arm — 
 
 " Oh ! I am sure quite, I could have for 
 ever, listened, to him ; and be no more 
 weary." 
 
 " So I feared !" said Doctor Sydenham. 
 
 '* Feared! — feared, for what, dear sir?" 
 asked Julia, in alarm. 
 
 ^' This throng — this press. — Take care, 
 my dear young friend ! keep close to me ; 
 though I am ill able to protect you." But 
 Doctor Sydenham had no occasion to ap- 
 prehend for the safety of his young friend, 
 who was now protected by Fitzroy him- 
 self. 
 
 Julia was surprised, flattered, and pleas- 
 ed. — The idol of the day, the favourite of 
 popularity, the being on whom the eye of 
 general admiration rested, had, in the mo- 
 xn,ent when numbers were thronging round 
 him to pay him homage, broken from the 
 adulating crowd, and almost flown to pro-
 
 185 
 
 tect her; when so many women of distinc- 
 tion were present, several of whom interest 
 should have led him to ; and yet he came 
 to her — poor and friendless as she was! 
 And her fluttering heart, now throbbing 
 with some new, and, to her, undefinable 
 sensation, prompted the question, of" What 
 does this marked solicitude for my safety, 
 this flattering attention, mean?" and soon 
 her less sanguine reason answered, " It is 
 pity: it is benevolence. He knows my 
 insulated state, my want of the natural pro- 
 tectors ; and it is because I am the poor 
 and friendless orphan, that to me he came :" 
 and now the fluttering of her heart sunk 
 gently into the most animated glow of 
 ardent gratitude. 
 
 When the first rush out from the hustings 
 gave those who remained the power of 
 moving in safety, Lady Gaythorn went to 
 interchange civilities with those she con, 
 sidered worthy of her attentions ; and Julia 
 and Fitzroy joined the Rectory party, as 
 our heroine was to go home with Mrs. 
 Hargrave, to change her dress for dinner. 
 
 It happened fortunately for the Rectory 
 ladies, that each had a gentleman to con-
 
 186 
 
 duct her to the carriage; for the moment 
 Fitzroy emerged from the hustings, such a 
 crowd pressed on him, to procure a nearer 
 view of him they believed ahiiost a demi- 
 god, that it was with the utmost difficulty 
 they could get along. Julia, in particular, 
 from being led by him, was almost crushed 
 to death ; and became at length so terrified, 
 that Fitzroy discovered her alarm by her 
 trembling (as she forebore to express it), 
 when, with an infinite struggle within him- 
 self, he resisted the impulse of attempting 
 to knock all the people down : however, he 
 had recourse to entreaties ; and implored 
 them ** to keep off a little, and let the 
 lady pass." Instantly, every exertion was 
 made to oblige him. The crowd pressed 
 back ; and all endeavoured to say some- 
 thing civil upon the occasion. Some, that 
 '* they would not hurt his beautiful lady 
 for the worlds" others " wished to have 
 just such a sweetheart to protect:" some 
 more exclaimed, '' that, for the 'squire's 
 sake, they would not harm or mislest his 
 beloved lady;" while many cheered them, 
 crying out — *' Long live, Squire Fitchroy, 
 and his beautiful lady ! and may their sons'
 
 187 
 
 sons represent us In parliament ! — Fitchroy, 
 and bis lady, for ever !" 
 
 Poor Julia, overwhelmed with confusion, 
 sprung forward with a face of vermilion, 
 and thought the rector's coach at a most 
 unnecessary distance; and Fitzroy, feeling 
 for and pitying her distress, hurried her on : 
 at length she gained the carriage; and, as 
 she bounded into it, entreated Fitzroy to 
 *' tell the coachman to drive on." 
 
 ** Without the rest of your party ?" said 
 Fitzroy, smiling. 
 
 " Oh!" exclaimed Julia, '* in that so 
 shocking multitude, I my poor senses lost; 
 and did forget, my party quite." 
 
 The other four ladies now, at last, were 
 seated in the coach, which with difficulty 
 got extricated from the other carriages, 
 and conveyed them safely to the Rectory.
 
 188 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Julia, dressed with simple elegance, and 
 looking full as lovely as Mrs. Goodwin 
 could possibly wish her to look, was set 
 down at the Priory by Doctor Hargrave, 
 who, with Doctor Sydenham and Charles 
 Goodwin, was going to dine at the Castle 
 inn, with the candidates. 
 
 Julia found Lady Gaythorn alone, in the 
 'drawing-room, lounging upon a sofa, quite 
 languid and fatigued by the heat and bustle 
 of the morning. Lady Landgrave and her 
 daughters, by degrees, assembled ; dinner 
 was shortly announced ; and this small fe- 
 male party adjourned to it : when Lady 
 Gaythorn, taking the upper end of the 
 table, performed the honours with much 
 attention and pleasing hospitality. 
 
 Lady Landgrave was an elegant-looking 
 woman, of quiet, yet winning, manners: 
 her daughters were all lively, and excelled
 
 189 
 
 in the pleasantries of conversation, when 
 there were no men eligible for husbands 
 present; but when in company with this 
 attractive class, they each played a part 
 with a view of captivating; in doing which 
 they lost the resistless charm of a natural 
 character, defeated their own aim, and, in 
 despite of their toils, were every one — un- 
 married. 
 
 Nature had endowed all the Ladles 
 Strictland with great personal attrac- 
 tions, and capacity sufficient to obtain 
 those acquirements which the generality 
 of well-informed women learn, and are 
 content with ; but not satisfied with the 
 advantages of beauty and common at- 
 tainments, they all aimed at the superla- 
 tive in knowledge, which they could never 
 reach. 
 
 Had the Ladies Strictland been content, 
 after acquiring the usual feminine accom- 
 plishments, to be renowned for understand- 
 ing Latin and making shoes, it might 
 have answered; but so avaricious were they 
 of knowledge, that they grasped at every 
 thing, and realized nothing. They studied 
 the classics; and aimed at the acquire-
 
 190 
 
 ment of every language, both antient and 
 modern. To all the arts and sciences 
 they were votaries. From the most sublime 
 science, they roamed to the meanest of the 
 mechanic arts ; and it was universally 
 known, they could translate Ovid from the 
 original, were excellent wheelwrights, 
 could anatomize animals, and make their 
 own wigs. 
 
 Dinner passed pleasantly; but the mo- 
 ment the dessert was laid upon the table, 
 and the domestics departed, the Ladies 
 Strictland, who made it a rule never to be 
 idle (an excellent rule, certainly, if the 
 employment is judicious and well-timed), 
 all produced their different works. — Lady 
 Caroline drew from her i^cdiciile a most sur- 
 prising miniature wheel, of curious me- 
 chanism ; with which, by indefatigable in- 
 dustry, she might, possibly, in twelve 
 hours, spin about a drachm of cotton ; 
 and began to spin. Lady Georgiana took 
 from her portable magazine some clay, 
 to mould into a vase, upon the model of 
 one found in the ruins of Herculaneum. 
 Lady Diana produced an elegant small 
 frame, and began to weave a bracelet of
 
 m 
 
 her own hair. Lady Susan, with a pocket- 
 chisel and mallet, displayed her skill in 
 sculpture by proceeding in her design of a 
 miniature whale, in marble (which Julia, 
 unfortunately, mistook for a goose; but 
 adroitly extricated herself from this little 
 scrape, by playfully acknowledging herself 
 to be of the same brood) : and Lady Char- 
 lotte employed herself in sketching plans 
 for an observatory, which herself and sisters 
 were about to erect at Strictland. 
 
 " My dear Susan," said Lady Gaythorn, 
 *' your odious particles of marble, which 
 you send flying about with your fame, 
 will certainly blind some of us ; or, at 
 least, get into our wine, and among the 
 ices." 
 
 " Pardon me," said Lady Susan, " I 
 did not think of that. — Dear me! what 
 shall I do to employ myself?" 
 
 " Cannot you weave Lady Grizzle a wig? 
 in doing which, you would combine charity 
 with industry! — or you may go and pave 
 the stable-yard, for that is in a horrid 
 plight ; and the sheep want shearing, I 
 dare say : and the maids and footmen have 
 shoes to mend. — Oh ! I can find plenty of
 
 192 
 
 employment for you and Caroline too, 
 whose spinning I can no longer suffer, the 
 flue so tickles my nose. Nor are we quite 
 secure from horrible annoyance from your 
 work, Diana : — I don't admire hair- 
 breadth escapes." 
 
 " I never saw such an idle thing in my 
 life, as you are, Augusta !" said Lady 
 Caroline. " You hate to see any one em- 
 ployed. Are you fond of work, Miss De 
 Clifford?" 
 
 " Not exceedingly much : but I do work, 
 Lady Caroline, and sometimes greatly; un- 
 til I am so tired, I wish no more, to do it." 
 
 " But we never work with needles," said 
 Lady Di. 
 
 " No," returned Lady Gaythorn, " un- 
 less to sow up a wound, when engaged in 
 surgery." 
 
 " Not with needles ! May I you ask, what 
 then, you do work by?" said Julia, sup- 
 posing she should hear of some ingenious 
 patent invention, peculiar to the English. 
 
 " No," replied Lady Gaythorn, " theirs 
 is all brain-work ; — or else accomplished by 
 the saw, the axe, the anvil, or the sledge. 
 But come, I am weary of the school of in-
 
 \93 
 
 dustry ; so let us on to our walk, or it will 
 be too late to go." 
 
 The pedestrians were soon equipped ; 
 and set forward on a pleasant country walk. 
 Julia now found her companions all were bo- 
 tanists; and; as she knew nothing, or at most 
 very little, of the matter, soon saw she was 
 held mighty cheap by the Ladies Strictland, 
 as an ignoramus, v<'ho they supposed had 
 scrambled together a sort of superficial edu- 
 cation, in a convent abroad : and as they 
 culled from every hedge, and raked up 
 every ditch, for plants, Julia picked up a 
 pretty weed — " which here," said she, *' I 
 see, not thrives, in half the much abun- 
 dance, I have seen it flourishing, amid the 
 Apennino." 
 
 "You have, then, been in Italy, and 
 can speak Italian," exclaimed Lady Susan ; 
 '* which I think the sweetest language in 
 the world; — though Di prefers Persian; 
 and Caroline esteems Hebrew the most." 
 
 ** Do you understand a variety of languages, 
 Miss De Clifford ?" said Lady Georgiana. 
 
 " I speak, a few," replied Julia modestly. 
 
 " Do you draw, and in whose style?" 
 asked Lady Charlotte. 
 
 VOL. I, K
 
 1P4 • 
 
 ^' I do scarcely, know, in whose style," 
 said Julia; " for I was taught, the endea- 
 vour, to copy, of the best masters ; and 
 then, to combine, if possible, what was, of 
 most celebration, in each." 
 
 *' And have you succeeded ?" 
 
 " No so much well, as, for certainly, I 
 ought; considering, the very, great deal of 
 advantage, I did possess, during long resi- 
 dence at Rome, before that, was despoiled 
 from it's much treasures/' 
 
 " At Rome!" exclaimed all the Ladies 
 Strictland, gathering round Julia, and look- 
 ing on her with veneration, now thinking 
 her more beautiful than ever. 
 
 Lady Gaythorn, who never chose to play 
 second fiddle, now called the general atten- 
 tion from our heroine, by assuming one of 
 her lively humours, which, if we were not 
 more polite than ingenuous, we should term 
 boisterously mirthful ; in which it was her 
 aim to make every one laugh : and as she 
 was young, beautiful, and a countess, she 
 generally succeeded. When Lady Gay« . 
 thorn was contented with being cheerful, 
 she was often pleasant ; could say many a 
 sarcastic, many an arch and whimsical
 
 195 
 
 thing; but when she attempted to be wild 
 and witty, she lost herself, and ceased to 
 entertain the rational and refined. 
 
 Three of the Ladies Strictland were expert 
 romps; and now set off with Lady Gay- 
 thorn, in a rioting race. Lady Landgrave, 
 fatigued with her walk, returned home by 
 a shorter way, accompanied by Lady 
 Diana; and Lady Charlotte, being, like our 
 heroine, fond of mirth without riot, quietly 
 followed the romps, often laughing at their 
 antics, and as often at their folly. 
 
 Just as Julia and her quiet companion 
 entered the Priory grounds, on their return 
 home, their ears were suddenly assailed 
 by dreadful shrieks of terror, repeated with- 
 out intermission, in a female voice. The 
 rioting party were too far advanced, and 
 were, beside, making too much noise them- 
 selves to hear the screams. 
 
 " Run, Miss De Clifford, run !" exclaim- 
 ed Lady Charlotte: — *^ there is murder 
 committing ! and let us not have the hor- 
 ror of hearing it." 
 
 Julia did run ; — but it was to obey the 
 call of distress : and she hastily opened the 
 door in the paling they had just entered 
 K ^
 
 196 
 
 by, and hurried into the lane they had only 
 crossed from their walk. 
 
 " Are you insane, Miss De Clifford ?" 
 cried the terrified Lady Charlotte ; *Mo 
 open the door for the ruffians ! — and should 
 there be murder committing, your feeble 
 hand cannot prevent it." 
 
 " Oh ! but my appearing, may; and 'tis 
 for me, right, as duty calls to me; and no 
 afraid feeling, shall prevent me, to go;" 
 said Julia, still hurrying on, directed by the 
 sound of the cries ; while Lady Charlotte, 
 half led by humanity, and half by shame, 
 took the same direction within the pales, 
 resolving to learn the fate of the rash Julia, 
 who, as she approached the sound, heard, 
 after a terrific cessation of the shrieks, a 
 female voice exclaim — " He is dead! — he 
 is gone! — my child ! — my child!" and the 
 most agonized burst of tears broke on her 
 appalled and pitying ears ; and as she ra- 
 pidly turned round a curve in the lane, 
 beheld a very poor and pretty young wo- 
 man, sobbing in anguish over a child of 
 about six months old, who was lying, with 
 it's face quite black, across her lap. 
 
 *' What, what, the matter? — Speak, and
 
 197 
 
 tell for me, good woman !" exclaimed Julia, 
 as she ran towards her. 
 
 ** Oh, miss! miss! It has stuck in hii 
 throat, and choaked my child I" 
 
 Julia, horror-struck, looked at the babe, 
 and saw he was not dead, but that he still 
 struggled, with something in his throat; 
 and she, with uncommon self-possession, 
 put her trembling fingers instantly into his 
 mouth, and with all her force s(jueczed 
 together what she found there, to reduce it's 
 size, and make it less liable to liurt him, 
 as she pulled it out ; and immediately she 
 now drew forth a tin lid of a little monev- 
 box, his mother had unwarily given him 
 to play with, to beguile his hunger, which 
 the child had put into his mouth, and, by 
 suction, drawn it so far into his throat, 
 as to have terminated his existence, had 
 not Julia providentially rescued him from 
 impending death. 
 
 Our heroine now raised him up gentlv, 
 and untied his hat; opened the tattered 
 remains of a cloth coat, which was buttoned 
 quite tight across his chest; and then, with 
 her fan, gave him a little air ; managing 
 every thing with the most tender caution.
 
 198^ 
 
 At length the boy coughed, whooped a 
 little, and seemed to experience only a 
 momentary struggle; the livid hue of his 
 face changed to red ; in a moment more, 
 his distended eyes contracted to their na- 
 tural size, and, sinking back to their ori- 
 ginal station, he moved them, saw his 
 mother, and smiled. Instantly the poor 
 woman clasped him to her breast, with 
 wildest ecstasy, and sunk upon her knees 
 before our heroine. — 
 
 " Oh! lovely lady!" she exclaimed — 
 " May the blessing of Him who made your 
 heart for such goodness, be ever with you ! 
 — M3.y the prayers of the mother, who had 
 been childless but for you, enter the king- 
 dom of Heaven, and you will prosper in all 
 your works, and be happy — happy as you 
 have now made me ! • • • • Tommy, Tommy, 
 raise your little hands to Heaven ; and 
 learn betimes to pray for her who saved 
 you for your poor mother, who, though 
 she has not bread to give you, could not — • 
 could not bear to part with you !" 
 
 ** Rise, rise, entreat I, of you, my poor, 
 good woman," said Julia, with tender, pity- 
 ing, kindness* **andbe thankful, ever, to the
 
 199 
 
 Almighty Ppwer, who gave me the good 
 purpose, to assist your poor babe. — But you 
 say, 'you have of bread, none at all, to give 
 your child/ Alas ! if this be true, how very 
 sad it is I — and you look weak, and iU so, 
 yourself. How, how is it? — tell for me." 
 
 '' Oh, dear my lady ! the tone of your 
 voice goes to my very heart with it's kind- 
 ness so, it makes me cry for joy, as it were, 
 that some one pities me. My babe is hun- 
 gry ; for I have no bread to give him, nor 
 means to buy any, Heaven help me! — 
 and my poor, good, kind, and tender hus- 
 band, is very sick, without a bed 4:o rest 
 upon. He worked in the gardens of 'Squire 
 Rackrent for many a day ; but liC got an 
 ague and fever, by the 'squire wishing him 
 to work too late of nights ; so he fell ill ; 
 and I was but just up after the birth of our 
 child : and so, as my dear husband could 
 not work, his wages were struck off: and so, 
 my lady, I went stone picking, in the fields; 
 so I got cold, for the weather was very bitter, 
 and I fell ill too, and at last I lost my milk, 
 which was a sad grief, my lady, to a mother, 
 who had nothing else to give her child ; — 
 before that sad misfortune he was as fine 
 and stout a babe as ever mother reared \
 
 and proud enough I was of him : but even 
 lialf-starved skeleton as he now is, he seems 
 dearer to my heart than ever. So, my lady, 
 when sickness reduced us to pawn and sell 
 ajl the pretty comforts we had, and then 
 our necessaries too, the 'squire said we 
 must not stay any longer, as Rackley was 
 not our parish ; so my poor husband, cut 
 to the heart, would not be passed in a cart, 
 like a common vagrant ; and so he said to 
 me, * Betsy, my girl, you must rue the day 
 you ever met me, for it was my sick- 
 ness which brought you to this ; but will 
 you try to walk to my parish with me? — 
 and should we die by the way, Betsy, 
 Heaven will raise up friends to our Tommy.' 
 So, my lady, hearing him talk so sadly, 
 though my heart seemed fit to break, my 
 strength got up surprisingly ; and I strove 
 for good courage on purpose to cheer hin:!: 
 80 I carried my Tommy, for that was all I 
 had to carry ; and my Ned leaned on my 
 arm ; and I prated to him as merrily as I 
 could, and sung to him^ — for I had a pretty 
 voice before my sickness and sorrow, and 
 Ned had used to like to listen to me; but 
 to day it was not so, for the tones of my 
 voice seemed to tell him, I was deceiving
 
 201 
 
 him, and that my heart was cold with mi- 
 sery, and breaking to see him so sick and 
 sad. Ah ! miss, had Ned been well, poverty 
 would not be to me the dreadful thing it is : 
 — but who can bear to see those you love 
 dying, by inches, before your face, and 
 you having no means to cure or comfort 
 them? Well, my lady- •••Oh! don't cry 
 so sadly for me, or I shall never be 
 able to tell you all • • • the heat of the day, 
 and the long walk, brought on a return of 
 Ned's ague, which I had flattered myself had 
 at last left him; and he shook so, I thought 
 my heart would never, never, hold my sor- 
 rows. And so, my lady, I looked about, and 
 saw a farm-house, and a barn near it, with 
 some clean straw in it; and I went to the 
 house, and begged hard for a lodging in 
 the barn, for my poor Ned. The good 
 dame of the house granted the lodging, 
 and gave me a shilling, (she did indeed, my 
 lady, and may the Almighty bless her for 
 it I) and bade me go to Z. for some doctor's 
 stuff, to give Ned, and she would make a 
 basin of tea for him. So off I trudged, 
 quite strong again, thinking I was going 
 for something to do Ned good ; but, as ill 
 K 6
 
 £02 
 
 luck would have it, my lady, V met a poor 
 old woman belonging to Rackley, who 
 advised me to lay out the shilling upon 
 ballads, about the election, and go into the 
 market-place, and cry them, as she had just 
 done, and cleared two shillings, in about a 
 quarter of an hour by the job. So, my 
 lady, I thought this would be a fine thing ; 
 as I then could buy the doctor's stuff, and a 
 loaf, and have still money to carry us on : 
 but alack ! alack ! my lady, the ballads I 
 bought were of the wrong sort ; no one 
 would buy them ; and I was hooted and 
 pelted, and I feared they would kill my child; 
 so I ran away as well as my weak and weary 
 legs would let me, and came to this spot, 
 where, quite spent, I sat down to cry over 
 my misfortunes, and think how I could 
 retiirn to poor Ned, without the doctor's 
 stuff: he, I knew, would beheve 'me ; but 
 how could I make the good dame know 
 I was not a good-for-nothing creature, who 
 spent her money upon gin ; and I had lost 
 the ballads, so I had not even them to 
 show :" — and now the poor young woman 
 wept, as if her swollen heart was bursting. 
 Poor Julia was dreadfully distressed ;
 
 203 
 
 her sympathy and compassion were forcibly 
 awakened, by the young woman's tale of 
 sorrow, and her pallid and wo-worn ap- 
 pearance : but she had not any money to 
 give her; for, before she went to the hust- 
 ings in the morning, she had, by Lady Gay- 
 thorn's advice, (fearing the light-fingered 
 tribe, in the crowd,) given her purse to Mrs. 
 Goodwin ; and, unused to the possession 
 of money, she forgot on her return to ask 
 her for it again : however, though griev- 
 ously disappointed of the pleasure of herself 
 giving relief to necessity, she applied to 
 Lady Charlotte, whom she saw leaning 
 over the pales. 
 
 " My dear creature ! " said Lady Charlotte, 
 *^ I am as badly off as yourself: I wear no 
 pockets ; and my woman carries my purse." 
 
 " Alas! what is to do?" cried Julia, 
 greatly perplexed. " She must, then, with 
 me to the house go, until I do get some 
 money, there." 
 
 " No," replied Lady Charlotte, " that 
 must not be. Lady Gaythorn would ilever 
 forgive such a liberty. — It is.a rule of hers, 
 never to give to mendicants: no beggars 
 are ever relieved at the Priory."
 
 S04 
 
 ** But this is not, at all, beggar," said 
 Julia; " she has asked for, not any thing : 
 but I would fain give to her relief" Poor 
 Julia was painfully embarrassed and dis- 
 tressed. She knew no good would result 
 from sending her to the Rectory, since 
 the ladies as well as the gentlemen of the 
 family all dined out; and even Biddy 
 O'Connor was gone with Mrs. Hargrave's 
 woman, and the housekeeper, somewhere 
 merry-making; and to go there herself 
 could answer no purpose, since Mrs. 
 Goodwin had all her money. She could 
 not let the woman's breaking heart be 
 totally rent; she could not let her go 
 without relief She had nothing of value 
 about her, but an elegant toothpick- 
 case, richly and beautifully mounted in 
 gold, and ornamented with pearls. It 
 had been a present from her beloved 
 friend. Lady Storamond : it grieved her 
 to part with it; but it would have 
 grieved her much more, to slight the 
 voice of compassion. She took it from her 
 pocket: — Dear, beloved Cedilla!" she 
 mentally said, '* if there is virtue, in this 
 sacrifice, may the blessing it merits, to you
 
 205 
 
 revert ! and I shall no more, at all, regret, 
 my parting from it." 
 
 " My good, young woman," now Julia 
 kindly said, in a lowered voice, wishing 
 Lady Charlotte not to hear her, " I have, 
 unfortunately, left all my money, at my 
 home; but take tliis, toothpick-case, to 
 somebody, in Z., who does sell, silver, and 
 gold, and toys ; or to a pawnman, I had 
 rather, because I can then, buy it from 
 him, back again. Ask half of a guinea, for 
 it: — 'tis worth greatly more; but that will 
 do, of the present: — then go to the best, 
 apothecary, and bid him, give to you, 
 something, to do your husband, very much 
 good; buy bread, for your child, and some- 
 thing of nourishing, for yourself; and then 
 pay, some of the people, returning, of the 
 election, for taking you, in their little cart 
 chaise, to where is, your husband. To- 
 morrow come, to the Rectory-house, of Z. 
 Ask there, for Biddy O^Connor; — Biddy 
 O'Connor, remember, of the name. She 
 will bring you to me; and perhaps I may 
 do something, greatly better for you."— ^ — • 
 Julia now precipitately retreated through 
 the gate, to escape the poor woman's
 
 206 
 
 thanks; who, mentally blessing her bene- 
 factress, and crying for joy and gratitude, 
 hastened back to Z. 
 
 Lady Charlotte advised our heroine not 
 to mention the distressing incident vvhich 
 had detained them, as it would only be to 
 draw the raillery of Lady Gaythorn upon 
 her: but Julia was too innately charitable 
 and humane, to have formed an intention 
 of repeating it; nor was there, indeed, 
 any excuse for doing it, as they arrived 
 without having been even missed by th^ir 
 playful companions. 
 
 Immediately aftet* they had taken their 
 tea, the eight ladies adjourned tothe music- 
 room, where all kinds of musical instru- 
 ments, known in Europe, were collected. 
 Lady Gaythorn, who was a tolerable mu- 
 sician, took the organ;-— Lady Landgrave, 
 a lambourin; Lady Caroline, a violin; 
 Lady Georgiana, another; Lady Diana sat 
 to a violoncello, which she played with good 
 execution, but no science; — Lady Susan 
 distorted her handsome face by blowing a 
 French-horn; and Lady Charlotte, more 
 to astonish Julia, by the variety of their 
 acquirements, than from any particular in-
 
 207 
 
 clination, took a Scotch bagpipe, which, by 
 it's drone, did astonish our heroine, who 
 had never heard any thing of the kind 
 before. 
 
 This concert might have delighted many 
 hearers; but Juha had received her musical 
 education in the seat of harmony, and, from 
 Mrs. St. Clair almost devoting her life 
 to music, had been accustomed to hear 
 nothing but the most celebrated musicians, 
 and amateurs ; so that she now sat, politely 
 smiling, in misery, whilst they played two 
 grand concertos, in which, certainly, the 
 bagpipe had a most striking effect. 
 
 Lady Gay thorn now recollected that 
 Julia had been educated in Italy ; and con- 
 cluding she must know something of music, 
 requested her to play. Our heroine took 
 an instrument, unclaimed by any of the 
 party, and sat to a harp, which she per- 
 formed upon in the purest style of simple 
 excellence. Her auditors all had sufficient 
 skill and taste to be fascinated. They en- 
 treated her to sing; and she was just going 
 to comply, when a loud peal of the gate- 
 bell announced his^ lordship's return, on
 
 208 
 
 which Lady Gaythorn, instantly starting 
 up, declared she was weary of music. 
 
 Her ladyship and party had scarcely 
 reached the 'drawing-room, when Lords 
 Gaythorn and Francis Loraine, accompa- 
 nied by the Mr. Strictlands and Doctor 
 Hargrave, entered; and the pompous rec- 
 tor, after making his profound obeisance 
 to all the ladies of quality pi*esent, in- 
 formed our heroine, " he should liave the 
 honour of conveying her home, as soon as 
 Mr. Fitzroy and Doctor Sydenham arrived, 
 who had borrowed his coach to go upon a 
 little business." 
 
 Lady Gaythorn 'Vrejoiccd at the circum- 
 stance," she said; '* as it would give her 
 the pleasure of Miss De CliiFord's and Doc- 
 tor Margrave's company a little longer :'* 
 then ordering card tables, proposed a party 
 at loo, for Lady Landgrave. The Ladies 
 Strictland declined " so sacrificing their 
 time; — unless Lord Gaythorn would con- 
 descend to kill an hour so barbarously too ?" 
 They all now gathered round his lordship, 
 whose politeness would not suffer him to 
 refuse; whilst he secretly wished the five
 
 209 
 
 sisters, and his better half into the bargain, 
 all safe in Elysium, as he wanted to talk 
 to, and stare at, poor Julia, and be in readi- 
 ness to hand her to the carriage. 
 
 Lord Gaythorn, much against his incli- 
 nation, with Lady Landgrave, three of her 
 daucjhters, and one of her sons, sat down 
 to loo. Lady Gaythorn, Lady Caroline, 
 Lord Francis, and Doctor Hargrave, made 
 a table at casino. Lady Susan proceeded 
 with her whale; while Julia, and the 
 younger Mr. Strictland, sat at the table by 
 her, attending to her progress. 
 
 '' Tell me some news, brother," said her 
 ladyship. 
 
 " Why, Susan, the election is over. Sir 
 Samuel Clodly announced to the high she- 
 riff his intention of withdrawing from the 
 contest : but still he came to dinner, and 
 conducted himself very good-hiimouredly. 
 But instead of Mr. Rackrent, arrived a let- 
 ter, couched in most insolent terms, to the 
 sheriff, saying, *^ he was just setting off for 
 Germany, and withdrew himself from a ras- 
 cally and unfair contest." Thus, only two 
 candidates remain; and as there are two
 
 210 
 
 vacancies, they are to be chaired on Mon- 
 day, and are to give a dashing ball, in the 
 evening, to the ladies. 
 
 '' What a collection of Hottentots will 
 be there! I. am sure, I won't go!" ex- 
 claimed Lady Gaythorn. 
 
 *' You are perfectly right, not to go," 
 replied Lord Gaythorn, with evident satis- 
 faction. 
 
 " Upon second thoughts, the Hotten- 
 tots will amuse me; — and in compliment to 
 
 Fitzroy, too, 1 must go Remember, 
 
 Lady Landgrave, you, and your fair pro- 
 geny — and you, Miss De Clifford — I en- 
 gage you to go with me; and. Doctor 
 Hargrave, your better half must be of my 
 party — and her very sweet-looking sister— 
 and Celestina, if she promises to be very 
 wild and ridiculous- — and that braced-up 
 missy miss, who looks up through her hair 
 at every body, gurgles her words in her 
 throat, and is so civil and pretty behaved to 
 all ranks and degrees," said Lady Gaythorn. 
 At this moment, Fitzroy entered, alone, 
 as he had set down Doctor Sydenham at 
 the Rectory ; and, almost immediately, he
 
 211 
 
 placed himself by Julia. He addressed his 
 iiv^ely and entertaining conversation, indis 
 criminately, to the little party assembled 
 round the whale : but his eyes were rivetted 
 on Julia, his glances speaking the most 
 animated, delighted tenderness. 
 
 At length, Lord Gaythorn asked Fitz- 
 roy, " what had been done with the pick- 
 pocket?" 
 
 '' We have left her in a prison, which 
 I hope may enclose her for life/' replied 
 Fitzroy. 
 
 ** A curious circumstance occurred this 
 evening," continued his lordship. *' A very 
 poor, but pretty-looking, young woman, 
 whose appearance bespoke not the art she 
 afterwards evinced, was taken up, by Stone 
 the pawnbroker, upon suspicion of having 
 stolen a very costly toothpick-case, she 
 brought for a pawn to him." 
 
 Julia was terror-struck; her heart beat 
 with visible violence; her whole frame was 
 convulsed, with trembling agitation ; and 
 with difficulty she prevented herself from 
 interrupting the sequel of his lordship's 
 intelligence. 
 
 I^ord Gaythorn proceeded. ** Mr. Mayor,
 
 21^ 
 
 and all the neighbouring justices, were at 
 dinner with us. Stone, therefore, sent a 
 message to the mayor ; who would have 
 retired into another room, for the exami- 
 nation : but something having transpired, 
 which excited our curiosity, we requested 
 to have the culprit brought before us. The 
 woman (the most inimitable actress I ever 
 beheld) appeared, in the best-dissembled 
 tremour, and in a well-imagined agony of 
 tears."- • • • 
 
 '' Oh ! the poor unfortunate!" exclaimed 
 Julia, struggling with all her powers to 
 suppress a flood of sympathy. Lord Gay- 
 thorn continued, unmindful of our heroine's 
 exclamation : — ■ 
 
 " She told us a long and lamentable tale 
 of her distress ; and then introduced a most 
 romantic story, of a lady, young, and beau- 
 tiful, and beautiful as young, appearing to 
 her, like a succouring angel, saving the life 
 of her child, and comforting her; and weep- 
 ing for sorrows, and in regret at hav- 
 ing inadvertently left her purse at home, 
 which prevented her relieving the unfortu- 
 nate's wants with specie. Then, my dear 
 Augusta! this aitfui baggage libelled you
 
 '213 
 
 most scandalously ;— by saying, * the an- 
 gel lady wanted to take her to you, for 
 relief; when another lady, who had been 
 looking over some pales (and who wore no 
 pockets, — proving she never felt a wish to 
 relieve the distressed, or answer the spon- 
 taneous call of benevolence, or she would 
 not thus cut oiF the means), said, my love, 
 * you would utvtx forgive such a liberty, 
 as making a demand upon your humanity ; 
 as it was your r^ukj never to relieve beggars, 
 or allow charitable alms to be given at your 
 gate: " 
 
 " What an infamous slanderer ! what an 
 artful deceiver! — There is not, cannot be, 
 a word of truth in her story !" exclaimed 
 Lady Gaythorn, colouring visibly through 
 her rouge. Lady Charlotte's cheeks were 
 crimsoned too ; and she cast a look of sup- 
 plication, ** not to betray her," upon our 
 heroine. 
 
 Lord Gaythorn proceeded. — " Oh! my 
 life I I know there was no truth in her; 
 but such talents for acting, I never before 
 saw. She then told, how the * lovely child 
 of humanity, with a hand open as day to 
 melting charity, gave her this toothpick-
 
 case, to pawn, or sell, to buy medicine for 
 her sick husband, and bread for her infant.' 
 Had you heard her, you would, indeed, 
 have been astonished at the magic of her 
 art; which seemed, in every word, to rea- 
 lize the scene. — So well did she paint the 
 beauty of her youthful benefactress; the 
 sweetness of her voice — whose tones, 
 spoken in consoling tenderness, struck on 
 the heart of misery as a balm; — her ani- 
 mated presence of mind; her courage, 
 springing from the virtues of her heart, 
 which prompted her to save the child from 
 death ; her tender caution in the progress 
 of his recovery ; and the fascinating grace 
 and benevolence of all she said and did; — 
 that had such a celestial being, as she de- 
 scribed, existed, I would seek her through 
 the globe, to kneel at her feet, and pay 
 homage to so much excellence." 
 
 " But the poor, poor woman ! — what, 
 what, of her became, my lord ?" said Julia, 
 in a tone of the most touching solicitude. 
 
 " How can you pity such a dissembling, 
 artful creature. Miss De Clifford !" said 
 Lady Gaythorn, reproachfully. 
 
 " The woman?" replied his lordship to
 
 ^2t5 
 
 Julia. " Why, the fact was incontestably 
 proved; her mittimus made out; and---" 
 Julia shuddered ; the paleness of death 
 overspread her anxious countenance ; 
 Fitzroy caught her trembling, terror-chilled 
 hand; and Lord Gay thorn concluded the 
 sentence- • • -" she was conveyed by Doc- 
 tor Sydenham, and Fitzroy, in the rector's 
 
 coach, to the prison she deserved her 
 
 husband's arms." 
 
 The fugitive roses now rushed back, with 
 a deepened tint, and redoubled beauty, to 
 the cheeks of Julia ; who raising her eyes 
 to Heaven, in gratitude for this happy ter- 
 mination to her agonized fears, seemed to 
 have caught from thence the smile so lovely 
 that illumined her speaking countenance, 
 when she turned to Fitzroy, and would 
 have thanked him for his benevolence, had 
 not the expression of his eyes at once 
 overpowered her, and hers sought the 
 ground. Fitzroy pressed the hand he had 
 taken; she felt his tremble, like her own: at 
 this moment, only, did she know he held 
 her hand, and she now gently withdrew it. 
 
 Shortly after the cassino-table broke up, 
 when Doctor Hargrave and our heroine
 
 216 
 
 took leave. Fitzroy conducted Julia to the 
 carriage ; and as they went to it, he put 
 her toothpick-case into her hand. 
 
 " The angel of benevolence, watchful 
 of pity's gift, preserved this for her fa- 
 vourite votary," said he; " and I trust it 
 was not a profanation, the kiss of reverence 
 which I imprinted on it." 
 
 ** Oh !" said Julia, " I cannot, ever, ex- 
 press, of sufficient strength, my gratitude 
 to you, for rescuing, that unfortunate be- 
 ing, from the distress, and agony, my so 
 great, unthinking folly, made for her: — 
 and for the restoration of this, to me, trea- 
 sure, accept my much thanks ; and calcu- 
 late, of my obligation, when I do tell you, 
 I have few things, in my possession, which, 
 so I prize." 
 
 " And yet you gave it to a wandering 
 outcast ! — Excellent Julia !" 
 
 Our heroine now, in extreme confusion 
 at having thus, inadvertently, raised the 
 virtue of her own action, hurried into the 
 coach. 
 
 ) " Excellent, inestimable Julia!" again 
 repeated Fitzroy, in a lowered voice, as he 
 retreated from the coach side, to make way
 
 S17 
 
 for the rector. *' Good night !" was now 
 reiterated by all ; and the carriage moved on. 
 
 " I congratulate you, Miss De Clifford,'* 
 said Doctor Hargrave, *' upon the tran, 
 scendent virtues you have displayed ; — the 
 character of true courage, and benevo- 
 lence, you have established for yourself 
 in this county. Not a man at our meeting 
 to-day, that was not penetrated with en- 
 thusiastic admiration at your amiable con- 
 duct ; and your health was rapturously 
 drank by all." 
 
 " Indeed, sir," replied Julia, oppressed 
 more than flattered by such redundant 
 praise, ** I did nothing, to deserve, at all 
 applause. No more I did, than perform, 
 my duty." 
 
 " Perhaps you did no more than duty 
 demanded ; but, my dear madam, that 
 duty required an uncommon portion of 
 firmness — of self-possession, aided by infi- 
 nite and conscientious benevolence, to do 
 all that you performed: I really was never 
 more astonished in my life, than when 
 Hobbs (the master of the Castle) showed 
 me a toothpick-case, and related that * a 
 woman had been taken up, on suspicion of 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 2)8 
 
 having stolen it, who said a lady had given 
 it to her, and desired her to call at the 
 Kectory, to-morrow, and to ask there to see 
 one Biddy O'Connor.' Upon this statement, 
 I applied to Charles Goodwin, who instant- 
 ly said it was yours, and that ' he was sure 
 you would not give it to any one, as you 
 valued it above all price, as the gift of a be- 
 loved friend.' When the woman was called 
 for, and examined, her account was so clear 
 (but which, by the way, implicated Rack- 
 rent so dreadfully, it was well he had with- 
 drawn), and so exactly did she represent 
 you, that all who knew you were convinced 
 her painting was from nature." 
 
 " / proposed a subscription for her; 
 and, in less than five minutes, collected 
 forty guineas. Sydenham took the money 
 in charge. The man turns out to be a 
 stray sheep of his flock. Mr. Fitzroy con- 
 tributed very nobly to the subscription. I 
 gave my two guineas; and lent my coach, 
 to convey the unfortunate — or rather, no 
 longer unfortunate — woman to her hus- 
 band, to whom Mr. Fitzroy was all anxiety to 
 restore her, supposing the poor man must be 
 almost distracted at her long absence."- • • •
 
 219 
 
 ** Oh! so good, is Mr. Fitzroy T said 
 Julia; and the coach now stopped at the 
 Rectory, and Doctor Sydenham was at the 
 door to receive our heroine, whose hand he 
 took with trembhng eagerness, and pressed 
 it to his hps, to his heart. 
 
 " Miss De CHfford," he said, *' how has 
 your goodness of this evening — so faith- 
 fully, so forcibly, so touchingly, delineated 
 by a child of nature — taught my heart to 
 regret that mine has not been a wedded life ! 
 for now I might, perhaps, enjoy the bless- 
 ing of such a daughter, to cheer my closing- 
 life, and smooth my bed of death." 
 
 Julia burst into tears. — " The so great 
 praise, I have received," she said, " for 
 doing nothing, for which, commendation, 
 need, at all, to speak, has quite oppres- 
 sive, been for me : but your approbation, 
 touches so my heart, I do much wish, that 
 I did quite, deserve it; — but, sir, I do not. 
 Though fortunately, the so sad circum- 
 stance, has terminated, I have been most, 
 much to blame- • • -Ought I, not, to have 
 subjected, a poor, distressed, heart-mise- 
 rable, creature, to such, so great indignity 
 — to the insult, for suspicion — the fate 
 l2
 
 mo 
 
 so dreadful, of the undeserved, prison ? 
 Ought I, 7iot, to have shrunk, from Lady 
 Gay thorn's raillery? — for that was small 
 evil. I should have accompanied, poor 
 woman here, myself; borrowed of the stay- 
 at-home servants, their money; or written, 
 a note, to you, to send for me some." 
 
 " My child !" replied Doctor Sydenham, 
 ^' your error was of judgement, not a fail- 
 ure in benevolence; and you should rejoice, 
 not weep, at it: — for had you obeyed the 
 dictates of a ripened judgement, this poor 
 family would have received a temporary 
 relief, and no more ; as it is, by your error, 
 they are suddenly removed from poverty 
 to comfort : health will, I trust, revisit 
 them, and they shall experience want no 
 more.*' 
 
 " Oh!" said Julia, " your consolation, 
 is so good cheer, to my heart \ Yet must 
 I grieve, to think, for the poor wife's ago- 
 nizing sufferings; — detained from her sick, 
 so sick, husband ; who must have tortures 
 suifered, of her absence, still, still length- 
 ened." 
 
 " That he assuredly did ; but there, too, 
 good emanates from evil. The terror he
 
 221 
 
 CAperienced, for the fate of his wife and 
 child, conquered disease. In an agony of 
 despair, he sought them every-where his 
 feeble frame could lead him to. The far- 
 mer in whose barn he had reposed him- 
 self, compassionating his sufferings, brought 
 him, in his cart, to Z. ; to which place he 
 traced his wife, learned her adventures, and 
 followed the coach back to Dray Farm, 
 where their most affecting meeting took 
 place, and where they are to be comfort- 
 ably lodged to-night; and the apothecary, 
 whom we took with us, seems to think the 
 agitation of the poor fellow's mind has ac- 
 tually frightened away his ague; if not, 
 change of air and diet, with proper medi- 
 cine, and peace of mind, will, I trust, 
 effect his cure.'' 
 
 They now reached the 'drawing-room, 
 where Mrs. Goodwin, in anxious tender- 
 ness, received our heroine, and silently 
 pressed her to her bosom. Mrs. Hargrave, 
 finding it was the fashion to be charmed 
 with Julia's benevolence in the evening's 
 adventure, was elaborate in her enco- 
 miums. 
 
 " But do, dear Doctor Sydenham, pro-
 
 222 
 
 ceed in your description of the scene," said 
 Mrs. Goodwin. 
 
 ** Her appearance v/as prepossessing," 
 said Doctor Sydenham ; " she trembled ex- 
 cess^ively ; but it looked like the tremour of 
 feeling, not of guilt. Her cheeks were 
 flushed with indignant shame; and her 
 eyes, retiring from the gaze of those who 
 suspected her integrity, rested on the face of 
 her sleeping, innocent, unconscious infant, 
 whom she clasped to her bursting heart, 
 WMth a convulsive grasp of energy, as if 
 afraid that he should be taken from her." 
 
 '* * I think, I dare answer for her inno- 
 cence,' said Mr. Fitzroy, the moment he 
 beheld her. 
 
 " The woman raised her eyes, thanked 
 him by an eloquent look, and burst into 
 an agony of tears. He filled a glass of 
 wine, and offered it to her ; but her trem- 
 bling hand refused to carry it to her lips ; 
 and, with striking humanity and kindness, 
 he held it whilst she drank, a little eagerly ; 
 — but only a little, for the taste of nourish- 
 ment, the heat of the room, the number of 
 people gazing at her, and, above all, her 
 dreadful state of mind, contributed to over-
 
 power her : her head became giddy, she 
 tottered, and must have fallen, had not 
 Lord Francis Loraine caught her, and 
 placed her in an elbow-chair. She was 
 sonHs moments before she revived ; when, 
 in the saddest tone of voice I ever heard, she 
 faintly said, * 1 tasted no kind of food this 
 day, till now.' Mr. Fitzroy instantly took 
 a biscuit, steeped it in wine, and tenderly 
 fed her. We all, now, felt so strongly im- 
 pressed with a conviction of her innocence^ 
 that we waited patiently until she was suffi- 
 ciently recovered to enter upon her defence. 
 Truth and gratitude were her guides, and 
 taught her eloquence. She seemed to form 
 a panorama round us ; and realized the 
 scene she painted. She spoke to the heart. 
 We felt inspired by the virtues she de- 
 scribed ; and, humbly emulating JMiss De 
 Clifford, united to relieve her; but when 
 she heard the sum collected for her, her 
 frantic shriek of joy, at having means to 
 get her husband cured, thrilled through 
 every heart, and quite unmanned her be- 
 nefactors." 
 
 Doctor Sydenham's statement sensibly
 
 224 
 
 affected Julia; who felt no longer inclined 
 to regret her want of judgement, in herv 
 manner of relieving the poor woman, since 
 it had proved the means of displaying to 
 his constituents the goodness of Fitztby's 
 heart, and led to such permanent advan- 
 tage to the distressed family : for she fur- 
 ther learned^ that Doctor Sydenham meant 
 to send them, the following day, to his 
 house, consigned to the care of his very 
 huiT;ar,e housekeeper, who was perfectly 
 skilled in the pharmaeopceia of kitchen 
 physic, which the good doctor thought 
 would prove the most efficacious sort in the 
 present case ; and when both man and 
 wife were recovered sufficiently, he meant 
 to place them in his farm ; and to put their 
 forty guineas untouched, into the funds, 
 allowing the compound interest, and in- 
 terest, to accumulate as long as he should 
 live, for their use when fate should deprive 
 them of his protection. 
 
 At length, the family retired for the 
 night. Mrs. Goodwin accompanied Julia 
 to her chamber ; when she hastened to in- 
 quire, '^ if our heroine had any objection
 
 225 
 
 to returning to town on tlie following Tues- 
 day ?" 
 
 Julia felt something like a strong sensa- 
 tion of regret, at the idea of returning to 
 London so soon ; yet unhesitatingly re- 
 plied in acquiescence. 
 
 " We were only invited for the term of 
 the election, you know, my dear Miss De 
 Clifford ; and that will terminate on ]\Ion- 
 day ;" said Mrs. Goodwin. '^ I this even- 
 ing hinted at our leaving Z. on Tuesday; 
 and my sister made no reply. You are 
 amused here ; the change of air has been 
 of striking service to you; and — and — I 
 am very sorry, Mrs. Hargrave has not 
 pressed our longer stay." 
 
 " My dear, dear, friend ! ftd of regret, 
 none, at all for my account. The ex- 
 cursion, has been, of too much benefit 
 for me, not to have stamped, it's effects, 
 quite, upon my constitution. We shall 
 see, Mr. Goodwin, and Rosa, and all the 
 so dear, little brood, sooner than we did 
 expect for; and that will be much, great 
 pleasure, you know;" and Julia looked as if 
 she sincerely thought so. 
 
 " You are \ery good, Miss De Clifford, 
 l5
 
 226 
 
 to be so kindly reconciled to returning to 
 dull life, and " 
 
 " Mrs. Goodwin !" said Julia, gravely 
 and expressively interrupting her. 
 
 " Well," returned Mrs. Goodwin, ** I 
 understand all you would say ; for your 
 eyes have told me ; so we will dismiss the 
 subject, as if all had been prettily said, 
 with great propriety, on both sides. And 
 now for new matter. Have you, my dear 
 young friend ! any objection to my taking 
 a temporary boarder?" 
 
 *' Me ! Mrs. Goodwin ? Why of me ask 
 if I could form objection, to any thing, 
 that is pleasing for you?" 
 
 " I believe your kindness would lead you 
 not to object ; but I hope inclination will 
 also lead you to approve* • • 'This boarder 
 is a — gentleman."- • • • . 
 
 Julia coloured highly, and endeavoured 
 not to look surprised or inquisitive. 
 
 ** Nay, do not be alarmed, my love : it 
 is not — Lord Gaythorn: nor is it — Mr. 
 Fitzp«y ; although it is an ardent admirer 
 of yours." 
 
 ** Wliy for, is that insinuation, my dear, 
 good friend? The admiration in this case, I
 
 227 
 
 do apprehend, is vice versa: — I am, for 
 Mr. Fitzroy's admirer; not Mr. Fitzroy, 
 for mine.'' 
 
 " Indeed !" said Mrs. Goodwin. 
 
 " Yes, indeed," replied Julia. " I 
 should be insensible, for the charms of vir- 
 tue, for all, the attraction, of philanthropy, 
 and benevolence, which emanates, from 
 his so matchless mind, did I not, Mr. Fitz 
 roy admire, exceedingly more, than I have 
 expression to tell: — but it is not admira- 
 tion, it is kindness, it is pity, it is the hu- 
 manity for his nature, teaching him to com- 
 passionate, my orphan state, to no one at 
 all belonging, that his so great attention to 
 me, inspire." 
 
 '' My dear Miss De Clifford ! I feel al- 
 most sorry to hear you say so," answered 
 Mrs. Goodwin, thoughtfully. Forthcsource 
 to which you ascribe his conduct, is much 
 more likely to soften, to affect your mind, ^ 
 to touch your heart with tenderness, than 
 gratified vanity would do." 
 
 " My excellent (for me always thought- 
 ful) friend ! do not, fear, for me. Grati- 
 tude is not love, you know."
 
 " No," replied Mrs. Goodwin, archly, 
 ** gratitude is not love ; nor is it possible 
 for it ever to change it's form in the bosom 
 of a young votary, who feels it's pure and 
 steady influence, for an idol of congenial 
 years, allurements fascinating, heart un- 
 shalckled, with a long, invincible phalanx of 
 objections." 
 
 '' Well,'' said Julia, " I do know, I am 
 the mortal ; and, therefore, very much fal- 
 lible. I make protestations none, ren^em- 
 ber. I only say, for yet, all is at safety; 
 and my heart is, an Englishman's. Nay, 
 no smile, for what I say ; because my 
 meaning is right. My heart is at freedom 
 — at liberty, yet; like to Englishman's 
 principles. So now, I cry you mercy ; the 
 
 name tell for me, of your boarder." 
 
 " Doctor Svdenham." , 
 
 Julia threw her arms round Mrs. Good- 
 win's neck, and kissed her in a transport of 
 
 joy- 
 
 *' Heyday !" exclaimed Mrs. Goodwin, 
 ** what is this for?" 
 
 ** For so good news. It is so great 
 joy, it will give me, less of regret, to go 
 from Z."
 
 2^§ 
 
 " Less regret ! why, I thought you did 
 not experience any, at quitting Z.," said 
 Mrs. Goodwin, laughing. 
 
 .*' Regret!" no, for certainly, I — I did 
 not mean regret, at leaving Z.'' 
 
 ** No, but for the people, you might 
 leave at Z." 
 
 " Yes — certainly — and — a — and Doc- 
 tor Sydenham, was one of the most of my 
 regret; and his following us, in so great 
 hurry, takes from my concern, you kno\v^, 
 Mrs. Goodwin." 
 
 " Admirably turned off ! — and to reward 
 your dexterity, I shall tell you, he does' 
 not follow, but actually accompanies us, 
 or rather we him. — You and I go with the 
 doctor, in his own carriage ; and Charles 
 on the box, with the coachman : Biddy, 
 and Doctor Sydenham's own man, are to 
 travel, with the largest share of the bag- 
 gage, in our hack. So our journey back 
 will be rather better arranged, than our 
 march hither." 
 
 " So I do greatly hope," said Julia; " for 
 that 'viaggio was a fatiguing one, indeed !" 
 
 *' Oh! I promise, upon this occasion, to 
 be very good, and stay in the carriage the
 
 ^30 
 
 whole way ; except at five or six of the 
 worst hills — and that very dangerous bit of 
 bad road — and the horrible bridge — and 
 near the terrible kilns — and by the river 
 side — and along that tremendous ridge — 
 and that dismaying mill-race — and- • • •" 
 
 " Go on !" cried Julia ; *' and you will to 
 London walk, before aware you are, of 
 what you do." 
 
 " Well," said Mrs. Goodwin, '^ but I 
 really mean to be very courageous ; for we 
 are to go with the doctor's horses, which 
 are old, and very quiet ; and his own 
 coachman, who is an aged man, sober, 
 steady, and a most careful, excellent driver, 
 who never puts his horses out of a walk." 
 
 ** And pray," asked Julia, *' where we 
 to sleep, the first night ; and where the se- 
 cond ; and the next ?" 
 
 " You mean to sleep at Z. to-night, 
 however," said Mrs. Goodwin, laughing ; 
 " and, not to disappoint you, I'll say- 
 adieu !"
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 This being Sunday morning, Julia accom- 
 panied the rector's family to church. The 
 Rectory pew was next to that belong- 
 ing to the Priory; which, being more 
 elevated, commanded a full view of every 
 one in Doctor Hargrave's seat. The idea 
 which had arisen from Fitzroy's atten- 
 tion to Julia upon the hustings the 
 preceding day, of her being his destined 
 bride, united to thef much-talked-of inci- 
 dents of the toothpick-case adventure, made 
 our heroine the object of universal gaze 
 and curiosity in the church : but, fortu- 
 nately for Julia, she was totally uncon- 
 scious of her being so ; for she was innately 
 pious, and from the moment she entered 
 a church, for the purpose of Divine wor- 
 ship, until she left it, she rarely, for a mo- 
 ment, forgot in Whose house, and in Whose
 
 23£ 
 
 presence, she was. Her thoughts, therefore, 
 not wandering from her employment, con- 
 fined her attention to the limits of those 
 thoughts ; and those who saw her beheld 
 the pure, yet timid — the fervent, yet re- 
 tired — calm, steady, undeviatiog devotion, 
 of a virtuous mind. 
 
 The clerk, and charity children, sung the 
 Psalms, in a very simple pleasing manner, 
 at this church ; the congregation, for the 
 most part^ joining in them ; andJulia added 
 the unrivalled melody of her fascinating 
 voice, in a low soft strain of heart-directed 
 piety* Doctor Sydenham officiated in the 
 reading-desk ; and our heroine never before 
 heard the sublime and beautiful liturgy of 
 our church performed with powers so equal 
 to the subject. Dr. Sydenham's reading 
 was perfection. His own heart felt the 
 influence of his theme; and he never failed 
 to inspire his hearers with some degree of 
 what he himself experienced; for he read 
 with such impressive, unaffected devotion, 
 such solemn grandeur, such sublimated 
 dignity, that all were awed ; and, if not 
 amended, at least enforced to attention and 
 respect.
 
 233 
 
 Doctor Hargrave ascended the pulpit — 
 as a candidate for fame, not as tlie pastor 
 of a flock he was emulous to lead to the 
 bosom of the Good Shepherd. He loved 
 to preach to the passions ; and on this day 
 seemed resolved to attack the weaker sex 
 with all his pathos, all his melting powers of 
 eloquence. His subject extended to the 
 meeting of friends in a future state; and 
 no wife who had lost the beloved of her 
 bosom, no mother of child bereft, no 
 destitute orphan, was spared a pang the 
 preacher's rhetoric could inflict. All the 
 misery of the parting scene was touchingly 
 portrayed, with every tint, feature, assem- 
 blage, that could give it force to torture ; 
 and the meeting as pathetically described, 
 and coloured with all which could overpower 
 the feelings : and suddenly^ from painting 
 the affecting joy of an hereafter reunion, 
 he in the strongest force of language 
 delineated the horrors which the infidel 
 inflicted upon those whp loved him in 
 this life, by cutting off from them the 
 Christian's solace, of friend meeting friend 
 in Paradise.
 
 234 
 
 Doctor Hargrave was elated to the high- 
 est altitude of his wishes, for nine women 
 out of every ten amongst his congregation 
 were in tears, nian}^ were in hysterics, 
 several fainted ; some were about to follow 
 such a sentimental example, but thought 
 better of it, remembering upon the ap- 
 proaching charity-sermon day they might 
 do it with better effect. The eloquent 
 preacher had the happiness of chasing Lady 
 Gaythorn, early in the sermon, from hcF 
 pew to the vestry ; for he had entered the 
 field of battle, and disturbed the sacred 
 ashes of a hero's urn, to give force to his 
 colouring: and the most flattering confusion 
 prevailed; — people rushing from one pew 
 to another, to oifer assistance ; smelling- 
 bottles travelling from aisle to aisle; in 
 short, all was highly gratifying to the 
 preacher's vanity. 
 
 Top many of the chords were touched 
 that vibrated through the tones of Julia's 
 early griefs, not to awaken her most painful 
 sensibility. She wept piteously ; yet shun- 
 ning observation, she hung her head, and 
 sobbed as quietly as her struggling feelings
 
 Q36 
 
 would admit of: but at length, when he 
 touched upon the fate of the infidel, her 
 tears were forcibly arrested. Horror chilled 
 her blood; her heart was agonized; and 
 raising her head, she cast a look of anguish 
 upon Mrs. Goodwin; who, well compre- 
 hending all that passed in the bosom of her 
 young friend, at that moment snatched her 
 to her breast, and hurried her from the 
 pew. 
 
 Mrs. Goodwin's movement had been as 
 quick as lightning; but not more rapid 
 than Fitzroy, who was at the pew door ready 
 to receive them, and with trembling anxiety 
 drew Julia's hand through his own arm. 
 Mrs. Goodwin had motioned for Mrs. 
 Hargrave, and the rest of the party, to 
 remain in church ; but Biddy O'Connor 
 rushed instantly, like one frantic, from amid 
 the rector's servants, and hastened after our 
 heroine. 
 
 They led Julia into the churchyard, 
 where she sat upon a tomb-stone, her head 
 resting upon I\Irs. Goodwin's shoulder; and 
 her repressed tears began almost instantly 
 to flow, and in a moment put a period to 
 every apprehension of her fainting.
 
 '236 
 
 " Why then, now, more grief to Doctor 
 Hargrave!" exclaimed Biddy O'Connor, 
 quite enraged at the state he had, so unne- 
 cessarily, thrown her darling Miss De Chf- 
 ford into. " And if it is not he, that ought 
 to be ashamed of himself, to set you a cry- 
 ing so, my darlingt ; and all for nothing, at 
 all, at all. You did not want him to be 
 telling you the way to heaven, jewel ; for 
 you were born with a finger-post to it, in 
 your heart. Och ! then, bad luck to such 
 plaver! myself says : and sure that's a quear 
 way to make people listen to him, by send- 
 ing them out of church ! — And much good 
 it's for us, Doctor Sydenham making us 
 pray from the very bottom of our hearts, 
 when t' other comes after, with his rigma- 
 rowl, like a play actor, to divert people, bj 
 making them cry fit to break their hearts. 
 And who's the better, myself would be 
 mighty glad to know, for this hulabaloo of 
 his making? Not those he has kilty I am 
 after thinking." 
 
 Biddy's oration had one good effect; — > 
 it gave Julia time for exertion, which she 
 eagerly availed herself of ; while struggling 
 to subdue some of the most painful feelings
 
 237 
 
 thatcoald assail herheart,shesmiled through 
 her tears; and with touching sadness, yet 
 winning sweetness, returned her thanks 
 to those who had so kindly come to her 
 assistance, entreating all hut Mrs. Goodwin 
 to leave her, and re-enter church. "* 
 
 ** Why do you send me from you?" said 
 Fitzroy, with a look of tender solicitude, 
 but in a tone of mournful reproach. 
 
 " Because," answered Julia, " it has 
 been fate for mine, to give you ever, trouble 
 great deal much. To lay your good kind- 
 ness, and compassion, under the painful 
 contribution. And can 1 you wish to stay 
 for me, when so well your humanity 
 I know, I have sure thought, it would 
 only be, to make great sadness fox 
 you?" 
 
 " Oh !" said Fitzroy, ^* if you regard my 
 feelings, let me accompany you; for if 
 you send me from you, I shall be miser- 
 able — un — uncomfortable — unhinged, I 
 rather mean :" and he now seemed so much 
 confused, he appeared not to know what 
 he did. He took her trembling hand, as 
 if he meant to draw it through his arm; 
 then hastily let it drop; and in silent, me-
 
 238 
 
 lancholy thouglitfulness, walked by her side 
 to the Rectory. 
 
 Mrs. Goodwin and Miss De Clifford en- 
 tared the house; Fitzroy followed them, 
 still in silence ; and Julia seemed as if she 
 purposed retreating to her own room. 
 
 *' No, my dear young friend !" said Mrs. 
 Goodwin, leading her to the 'drawing-room. 
 *' No, I arrest you, in the name of common 
 sense. Why seek to give way to painful 
 retrospections — to feelings, which, the more 
 indulged, the more torturing they become? 
 No, your tears can avail nothing; your 
 rending a spotless heart can effect no re- 
 medy for what is now past cure. No, I 
 shall be your attendant spirit, for this day : 
 I shall prosecute you with well-meant assi- 
 duity ; — amuse you, if I can: if I cannot, 
 I will content myself with stupefying you 
 with my dulness; and, at least, by deaden- 
 ing your feelings, lessen your af!liction." 
 
 *' Always, you are so kind, for nie!" said 
 Julia, in a tone so plaintive, it awakened 
 Y\tzYoy from his long apparent reverie. 
 
 " 9^ • w^^ could be otherwise than kind 
 to you ?" he exclaimed. His manner affect- 
 ed Julia; tears started to her eyes, and
 
 239 
 
 seemed ready again to stream down her 
 cheeks ; she felt embarrassed ; and, to divert 
 the attention of all, and break the (to her 
 at least) distressing pause, she hastily ex- 
 claimed — 
 
 They do come, all,, from church !" 
 Fitzroy looked mournfully at her; sighed 
 deeply ; took a hw turns up and down the 
 room ; and, at length, reseating himself, 
 spoke gravely to her : — • 
 
 " They are returning from church, Miss 
 De Clifford; and I must, to fulfil some ne- 
 cessary etiquette, accompany Lord Gay- 
 thorn in ranging about the county this 
 morning; and possibly I may see you no 
 more to-day. To-morrow I must sacrifice 
 to ceremonies — a mere automaton, to do 
 what 1 ought, not what I wish. On Tues- 
 day, you return to town, accompanied, I 
 find, by Doctor Sydenham ; w^ho possibly 
 may coincide with Mr. Goodwin, in think- 
 ing my visits to you improper; and join 
 with him in prohibiting that permission 
 you kindly gave me, for calling on you in 
 town." 
 
 ** My husband, sir,'' said Mrs. Goodwin, 
 with pride and animation mingled, " will
 
 240 
 
 not presume to interfere, or interdict the 
 honourable visits of any man to Miss De 
 Clifford." 
 
 *' Honourable ! " reiterated Fitzroy. "Did 
 Mr. Goodwin, then, doubt my honour?" 
 
 Mrs. Goodwin was silent for a moment: 
 at length, she said — *' You proposed your- 
 self, as a most advantageous lodger, to Mr. 
 Goodwin, sir, when. Heaven knows, we 
 almost wanted bread: but, sir, you had 
 female relations ; — you talked of no intro- 
 duction to them. Your views might have 
 been pure as honour could form : yet, every 
 circumstance considered, it was ]\Ir. Good- 
 win's duty to suspect you. You have since 
 laid us under incalculable obligations to 
 
 you Nay, sir, why start, or blush 
 
 at your goodness? Mr. Goodwin 
 
 has, since I left town, traced you as the 
 source of much of our late prosperity. 
 You have been the means of giving us 
 bread, to feed our darling children. You 
 have opened to us views most flattering; 
 and yet- • • •" 
 
 " No more, I beseech you, most inesti- 
 mable guardian of unprotected innocence !" 
 exclaimed Fitzroy, struggling with visible^
 
 i24i 
 
 almost overpowering emotion. '* If 'you 
 doubted my honour, you acted rightly, 
 nobly. It is now my duty to convince you 
 that you were unjust, though praiseworthy. 
 Lady Delamore shall obtain for me admis- 
 sion to your house. — But what will that 
 avail me? — Julia De Clifford's affections, I 
 fear, are not for me !" 
 
 " Indeed," said Julia, in a tumult of asto- 
 nished and overpowering sensations, but 
 with the most striking artlessness — ** In- 
 deed, sir, you do know, not that ; for I do 
 
 know, it not, myself But did — did, 
 
 Mr. Goodwin (oh ! so good, he is !) — did he, 
 sacrifice his own interest, in consideration, 
 of me?- • • • May Heaven forgiveness make 
 for me ! I did call myself, unfortunate, so 
 much often; and I had fallen, into the hands, 
 for the good Samaritan !" and she now threw 
 herself upon the bosom of Mrs. Goodwin, 
 and kissed her in fervent gratitude. 
 
 Fitzroy took Julia's hand, and pressed it 
 with ardour to his lips. — *' Ten thousand 
 thousand thanks for even this small ray of 
 hope 1" he said- ..." But should it prove 
 delusive!— Oh, Julia!" 
 
 *' But why despair?" said Mrs. Goodwin : 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 242 
 
 ** and is not the heart of Miss De Clifford 
 worth some little trouhle to obtain?" 
 
 " Worth!" exclaimed Fitzroy— ** What 
 is it not worth ? I will gladly, and grate- 
 fully, accept this faint ray of hope, in the 
 fond and flattering expectation of it's at 
 length leading me, though long the pilgrim- 
 age, to the pure shrine of Julia's heart; — 
 a heart, I see, tremblingly alive to every 
 tenderness, but love/' 
 
 " Heyday!" cried Mrs. Goodwin, gayly. 
 ** My good sir, what is it you can expect? 
 I fear, by this most premature despondence, 
 the women have spoiled you ; and that it 
 has hitherto been, 'Ask, and you shall have;' 
 not, * Seek, and perchance you may find,' 
 Can you expect, the moment you feel an 
 inclination for the affections of such a wo- 
 man as Miss De Clifford, that she is at your 
 nod, to throw them to you ? If such was 
 your hope, you lightly estimated her. She 
 will give her heart with caution, believe 
 me ; for where she gives, the gift will be 
 for ever." 
 
 " Oh ! that I know — that I feel ! and that 
 makes me so anxious, perhaps precipitately 
 so, in stfiying to obtain it."
 
 243 
 
 " And so impatient into the bargain," 
 said Mrs. Goodwin. *' But remember, 
 gems are only to be obtained by toil and 
 perseverance. Think if the jewel enclosed 
 in this little casket is worth acquiring : — if 
 so, kt Lady Delamore be your guide ; family 
 concurrence, and perseverance, your auxi- 
 liaries ; and you may not fmd the way to 
 my young friend's heart quite so tedious a 
 pilgrimage as you seem to apprehend : and 
 if you are not quite old and decrepit, — com- 
 pletely worn out with time and anxious 
 toil, — when you arrive there, and that you 
 should gain the treasure.- • • •" 
 
 ** Oh !" exclaimed Fitzroy, with the most 
 striking animation, *^ that ecstatic suppo- 
 sition shall lead me on, even by the way, 
 and with the very auxiliaries, you have 
 pointed out. The approbation of my father, 
 I may say, I am already in possession of; 
 for so anxious is he for my presenting him 
 with a daughter, that he has long since told 
 me, * my choice, whoever she might be, 
 should be welcome to his heart:' and, oh I 
 Mrs. Goodwin, what rapture it ^'ill be to 
 me, (if such enviable happiness is in store 
 for me,) to prove to my kind, indulgent 
 M 2
 
 '244 
 
 father, I have not abused the confidence 
 he reposed in me, by presenting to him 
 Juha De Clifford, as the wife my heart has 
 chosen!" 
 
 " Well, remember the old adage," said 
 Mrs. Goodwin, gayly, " of — * Faint heart 
 never won fair lady.'" 
 
 ** May we ask what occasioned that ex- 
 cellent proverb, cited by IMrs. Goodwin?" 
 said Lord Gaythorn; who, with Mrs. Har- 
 grave, Miss Penrose, Lord Francis Loraine, 
 Doctor Sydenham, and Charles Goodwin, 
 now entered the 'drawing-room. 
 
 ** We were, my lord, talking of antient 
 times," replied Mrs. Goodwin, with infinite 
 self-possession, yet fearing the timid con- 
 fusion of the still blushing Julia, and the 
 apparent emotion of Fitzroy, would betray 
 the fact. ** And, above all things, Mr. 
 Fitzroy approves the length of Jacob and 
 Rachel's courtship; and strongly recom- 
 mends patient, plodding perseverance, in 
 all love-matters : so, my lord, to strengthen 
 his arguments, I supplied his memory with 
 an old musty adage." 
 
 " I must ever admire the man, whose 
 opinions and conduct so exactly coincide,"
 
 U5 
 
 said Lord Francis, smiling. " And Fitz- 
 roy is a man renowned for patience; and 
 who would, I am certain, rival even Jacob 
 himself, in acquiescent fortitude and for- 
 bearance, were — deformity or age the object 
 of his pursuit." 
 
 " Fitzroy may be renowned for patience," 
 said Lord Gaythorn ; *' but none of us, I 
 apprehend, can, with justice, be celebrated 
 for our politesse or humanity ; as we have 
 never once made any inquiry how Miss De 
 Clifford finds herself after her indisposition, 
 which I was truly grieved to hear, led her 
 from church." 
 
 ** I am, perfectly, quite, recovered, I do 
 thank your lordship," replied Julia, gravely. 
 
 *' Thank Heaven 1" exclaimed his lord- 
 ship, in a tone of deep-drawn interest, and 
 taking her hand with tenderness. 
 
 Actuated by the recoiling quickness of 
 disgust, our heroine instantaneously wilh- 
 diew her hand; and, with the fiigid air of 
 repulsive dignity, averted her lovely, blush- 
 ing face, from the ardent and insolent gaze 
 of licentious adiniration. 
 
 Fitzroy was visibly disconcerted; his eyes 
 flashed fire; and his cheeks glowed with
 
 246 
 
 indignant resentment : and, rising from his 
 seat, he said, in a voice of determination 
 that enforced acquiescence — 
 
 *'' Let us instantly proceed upon our 
 morning's excursion, my lord. We have 
 much ground to go over, he fore we return 
 to dinner with Lady Gaythorn, whom, of 
 course, we cannot keep waiting for us." 
 
 " In one moment I will attend you," re- 
 plied his lordship, not a little startled at 
 Fitzroy's evident displeasure. — " Mrs. Har- 
 grave, I find you purpose setting out for 
 Bath on Tuesday. To-morrow, you know, 
 is dedicated to the successful candidates ; 
 and when am I to have the happiness of 
 heing indulged with the high gratification 
 you promised me, in permitting my friends 
 and me to hear the seraphic strains of Miss 
 Penrose?" 
 
 ** This evening, if your lordship pleases," 
 replied Mrs. Hargrave. " I am going to 
 accompany Miss De Clifford in paying her 
 respeqts at the Priory; and shall then solicit 
 the^ honour of Lady Gaythorn's company, 
 to hear the exquisite performance of my 
 young friend." 
 
 Lords* Gaythorn and Francis Loraine^
 
 1247 
 
 with Fitzroy, gladly and politely accepted 
 Mrs. Hurgrave's invitation. Miss Pen- 
 rose was prettily fluttered upon the oc- 
 casion, and depreciated her own mu- 
 sical abilities with all proper decorum ; 
 whilst Fitzroy, in a low voice, to Julia 
 said — 
 
 " I shall come here to-night, with tht 
 ardent hope of again hearing the strains of 
 a seraph ; which, though faintly they reached 
 my attentive ears this morning, still vibrate 
 on my fascinated heart." 
 
 ** For pity's sake!" Julia eagerly replied; 
 too ingenuous to affect a misconception of 
 his meaning, whilst the loveliest tint of 
 sensitive bashfuUiess mantled her cheeks, 
 *' do not, do not, betray for me, your hav- 
 ing heard, my attempt, to sing, what duty 
 did prompt. I am convinced, spirits, I 
 shall have, for exertion, no more, at all, for 
 to-day :— and — and, 1 have another mo- 
 tive, a so strong, and greatly powerful, for 
 choosing to take, of part none, in the enter- 
 tainment, for this evening." 
 
 *' Were all women like Julia DeClifford," 
 said Fitzroy, with the sweetest smile of 
 approbation, ^* libertinism would not dare
 
 ^. 248 
 
 to walk abroad, with the undaunted face of 
 bold effrontery." 
 
 Julia was inexpressibly sorry that Fitzroy 
 had developed her motive : she blushed a 
 deeper tint; and hastily, and in much con- 
 fusion, said — *' Oblige me to-night; and 
 vvhen in town, we do meet, I will sing to 
 fou, oh ! till you are so weary, for listening 
 to me." 
 
 " Weary of listening to you!" repeated 
 Fitzroy, mournfully. ** Oh, Miss De Clif- 
 ibid ! how much has your heart to learn, 
 before it loves !" 
 
 Lord Gaythorn, with a malicious air, and 
 sarcastic bow, informed Fitzroy — " He was 
 now xvaitiJig for him ; and hoped he would 
 not keep Lady Gaythorn waiting dinner.'' 
 Fitzroy, colouring highly, instantly made 
 his farewell compliments to the remaining 
 circle, and departed with Lords Gaythorn 
 and Francis Loraine. 
 
 Lady Gaythorn was too much indisposed 
 to see any visitor ; and Mrs. Hargrave re- 
 turned from the Priory infinitely disap- 
 pointed, in having no hope of her ladyship 
 and party accepting her invitation for the 
 evening, which, however, she left for them.
 
 249 
 
 According to Mrs. Goodwin's avowed 
 plan, Julia was left not one moment to her 
 painful retrospections. She walked about 
 the grounds, with this inestimable friend and 
 Doctor Sydenham ; and on her expressing 
 to the latter her pleasure at finding he was 
 about to become an inmate of I\Ir. Good- 
 win's family, the venerable man rei^lied — 
 
 " Mrs. Goodwin has conferred an incal- 
 culable obligation on me, by permitting me 
 to be so. I have often business in London ; 
 sometimes pass many weeks at a time there. 
 I am now too old for the noise of an hotel. 
 Private lodgings are dreary and uncomfort- 
 able to me; and I never liked a tavern life. 
 I am of a domestic turn; am extremely 
 fond of children; and being allowed an 
 apartment in Mr. Goodwin's house, with 
 permission to draw my chair into his family 
 circle, will be to me. an ac];ual blessing; 
 and whilst you are there, it will be a pecu- 
 liar gratification to me. Mrs. Goodwin in- 
 forms me, her better half regards you as 
 his own child. I shall not attempt to inter- 
 fere with his adoptions ; but shall only con- 
 tend for the claims of a grandfather." 
 
 " Oh'/' said Julia, affectionately taking 
 M 5
 
 * 250 
 
 his hand, " I fear me. then you will make 
 adoption of, the imputed fault, for one, and 
 spoil your grand-daughter, by great deal, of 
 much, indulgence." 
 
 "I know," he replied, " to sustain my 
 character, I must be partial to excess. — I 
 mean to be so ; yet shall have no fears of 
 spoiling you." 
 
 A tear, that sparkled in the eyes of Julia, 
 told the feelings of her grateful heart, as 
 she pressed to her lips the hand of her vene- 
 rable friend.
 
 CHAPTER XII, 
 
 Shortly after our heroine's distressing ad- 
 venture at Delamore-house, Fitzroy had, 
 through an agent, offered to take Mr. Good- 
 win's unoccupied first floor, at a very ad- 
 vanced price. The rectitude of Mr. Good- 
 win's mind taught him instantly to reject 
 the lucrative proposal, as he well developed 
 it's motive. Fitzroy, then, offered a carte- 
 blanche for the apartments, for three months; 
 and this proposition was more peremptorily 
 rejected by Mr. Goodwin, than even the 
 former. 
 
 Although there being no mention of in- 
 troduction to Lady Di-lamore, or any other 
 of Fitzroy 's family, had led Mr. and Mrs. 
 Goodwin to doubt the purity of his inten- 
 tions relative to the humbly protected, por- 
 tionless, Miss De Clifford; yet having reason
 
 £52 
 
 to believe she bad captivated Fitzroy, and 
 depending much upon tbe magic of ber 
 charms and virtues, they determined to per- 
 suade JuHa into accepting tbe very oppor- 
 tune invitation of Mrs. Hargrave; as tbey 
 knew Fitzroy was one of tbe candidates who 
 
 purposed setting up for the county of -, 
 
 and thought that throwing her in bis way, 
 under respectable and unexceptionable pro- 
 tection, might put his affection and honour 
 to the test : but of all their views, and even 
 their knowledge of Fitzroy having any thing 
 to do with the election at Z., their lovely 
 charge was (as she had been relative to his 
 application for ti)e lodgings) to be kept in 
 total ignorance.— -With fear, and trembling 
 observation, Mrs. Goodwin marked Fitz- 
 roy's conduct to our heroine; but soon, the 
 unrestrained manner in which he evinced 
 his partiality, and dedicated his attentions, 
 openly, before all those whose good opinion 
 political reasons must teach him to deserve, 
 silenced every apprehension, and led her 
 on to the conviction that his was, now at 
 least, honourable love : and the decided 
 manner in which he spoke of his attach- 
 ment, and serious intentions, even before
 
 253 - 
 
 her, upon this eventful Sunday morning, 
 silenced every lingering doubt that suspi- 
 cion would have glanced at, and filled her 
 with the most ardent joy, at the brilliant 
 prospects opening to her almost idolized 
 young friend. 
 
 Every moment this day, which Julia 
 could obtain for reflexion, was now dedi- 
 cated to Fitzroy ; and not, as Mrs. Good- 
 win apprehended, to painful, unavailing 
 retrospections. — "She had been, most un- 
 expectedly, told by Fitzroy, — the amiable 
 Fitzroy ! — that he aimed at her affections, 
 and wished to present her to his father as 
 the wife his heart had chosen ;" and the 
 mournful tone of his voice, when he said — 
 " If you send me from you, I shall be 
 miserable," still vibrated on her ear. 
 From the idea of making him miserable, 
 her grateful heart recoiled. — " She would 
 not make Mr. Fitzroy any thing but happy, 
 for worlds. — He who was so kind, so be- 
 nevolent, who so tenderly fed the poor, per- 
 secuted, unhappy, starving woman (and so 
 sweet and good as that was of him!) he 
 ought not to be afflicted. And then, too, 
 he was so generous, and disinterested, to
 
 254 ^ ^ 
 
 think of making her his wife, when, with 
 his expectations and attractions, he might, 
 she thought, command the affections of 
 almost any woman in existence: — and she 
 w^as portionless, deserted, unclaimed by her 
 father's family; and her mother's was now 
 extinct : and well Fitzroy knew her insu- 
 lated situation ; for he had told her he had 
 obtained the letter of Mr. Goodwin, ad- 
 dressed to Lady Delamore, and still kept it 
 in his possession." 
 
 Every thing which gratified pride and 
 ardent gratitude could urge, spoke in Fitz- 
 roy 's favour, and combined, with his own 
 apparent merits, to soften Julia's heart. 
 From the first moment of her knowledge of 
 him, he appeared in so amiable a point of 
 view, that she had felt very much disposed 
 to regard him with the sincere affection of 
 a sister; but still, inclination kept the first 
 place in her heart, to be filled with tender 
 friendship for Lady Storamond ; even now, 
 her heart felt painful unwillingness at the 
 thought of allowing him to precede this be- 
 loved friend in the tenderness of it's attach- 
 ment ; and to his resemblance to Lady 
 Storamond (which Julia still saw undimi-
 
 Q55 
 
 nishcd, more than even to any other con- 
 sideration, Fitzroy was indebted for every 
 feeling which softened, towards more than 
 friendship, in her heart for him. 
 
 Had not our heroine's spirits been in a 
 state of extreme agitation this day, she 
 would, with her cheerful friends Mrs. Good- 
 win and Charles, have derived much amuse- 
 ment from the indefatigable preparations 
 Miss Penrose was making for her evening's 
 performance ; who, from the moment she 
 found she was to display her musical abi- 
 lities to Lord Gay thorn and his friends that 
 evening, thought of nothing but how to 
 exhibit to the greatest advantage. She 
 declined going out in the coach, or to walk, 
 or even to accompany the rest of the family 
 to evening servite at church ; fearing the 
 effect any fatigue, or exertion, might have 
 upon, her voice. At dinner, apprehending 
 any dire consequence from food, she made 
 a strikingly scanty meal, upon the most 
 rapidly digestive viands; and not one bit 
 even of her favourite pudding would she 
 touch; but raw eggs innumerable she swal- 
 lowed before evening: and so persevering 
 was she in practising the songs she meant
 
 256 
 
 to sing, that every inmate of tlie Rectory 
 was completely weary of liearing them ; and 
 Doctor Hargrave did, in an elaborate com- 
 plimental speech, venture to tell her, ^' she 
 would make herself hoarse, by such frequent 
 repetitions." 
 
 The patience of Celestina was entirely 
 sulidued by this unceasing practice of her 
 school friend ; and she at last was completely 
 wearied into the pouts Ly it; when, upon 
 Miss Penrose wondering '* if there would 
 be ariy one amongst the company, in the 
 evening, who could sing a duet with her?" 
 Miss Hargrave replied, '' There would cer- 
 tainly be a foreigner of the party, who was 
 celebrated for his voice, and would be ad- 
 mirable in a second." Miss Penrose, quite 
 delighted at this intelligence, set about prac- 
 tising some of her very best Italian duets. 
 
 It was so very late before any one arrived 
 from the Priory, that poor Miss Penrose 
 began to be quite aharmed ; at length, her 
 fears were term.inated, by the arrival of 
 Lords Gaythorn and Francis Loraine, the 
 Messrs. Strictlands, and Fitzroy. No answer 
 had been sent from Lady Gaythorn; but 
 his lordship supposed, as she did not appear
 
 at dinner, she was too unwell to wait upon 
 Mrs. Hargrave. 
 
 So much agitation had Fitzroy's morning 
 declaration awakened in the guileless bosom 
 of Julia, that she could not see him ap- 
 proach, without a timid blush of conscious- 
 ness heightening the roses of her cheeks, 
 and evincing a degree of trepidation, that 
 Fitzroy hailed with rapture, as auspicious 
 to his fondest hopes ; and, whilst Lord Gay- 
 thorn was necessarily engaged answering 
 the questions of Mrs. Hargrave, he secured 
 the only seat by our blushing heroine, and 
 seemed, by every look and word, as if he 
 but existed in the fascinating expectation 
 of one day calling her his own. 
 
 At length, the moment arrived for Miss 
 Penrose to commence her performance. 
 She was handed by Doctor Hargrave to a 
 very fine toned grand piano-forte, in ex- 
 cellent tune. She had taken even more 
 than usual pains in the adornment of her 
 person, and looked extremely pretty. Lord 
 Gay thorn was quite a musical amateur; 
 and stood by her chair, in readiness to be 
 fascinated, to applaud, and turn over the 
 leaves of the music-books.
 
 258 
 
 Miss Penrose first ran over some of the 
 most difficult compositions for the piano- 
 forte, with rapid, and almost surprising, 
 execution. She next (as it was Sunday, 
 thinking it decorous to intersperse some 
 sacred music through her performance) sung 
 *' Angels, ever bright and fair:" then a 
 most difficult Italian bravura. Miss Pen- 
 rose was, undoubtedly, what is, in general, 
 termed a capital singer. Her voice was 
 powerful, to a great degree; it's compass 
 almost appeared unbounded; and her shake 
 was exquisitely fine : but she astonished 
 more than she pleased ; for every note she 
 sung was taught her. No taste or feeling 
 was hers; and all of the former her per- 
 formance evinced, she acquired, mechani- 
 cally, from instruction : even the pretty 
 show-off movements of her form, as she 
 played, and the becoming smile her fixed 
 countenance displayed, all sprung from 
 tuition : and every hearer, while listening 
 to her song, thought only of the great abi- 
 lities of her master. She touched no chord 
 of the heart, while she exercised her voice ; 
 and when she ceased, no sound still vibrated 
 on the fascinated eager ear. She was very
 
 OA 
 
 59 
 
 obliging ; and bountiful, to a degree, ot" 
 her musical talents; no one even hinted 
 at any song which pleased them, but in- 
 stantly she sung it, if — she had been taught 
 it : and she made no attempt to quit the 
 piano, as there was ao one confessedly to 
 perform but herself. 
 
 Juha had given her reasons to Doctor 
 Sydenham and Mrs. Goodwin, for not 
 choosing to aid Miss Penrose in entertain- 
 ing Mrs. Hargrave's party : the former ap- 
 plauded them; thelatter,not very willingly, 
 acquiesced : and Fitzroy, venerating that 
 purity which actuated our heroine's wishes, 
 requested Lord Francis (who had been as 
 much fascinated with the soft, touching 
 strain of melody, which had in the morning 
 faintly broke upon their enraptured ears, 
 as he himself had been) not to makd any 
 request hostile to her determination. 
 
 Miss Penrose sung on, most indefatiga- 
 bly, making every one wonder how her 
 voice could hold out so long ; and she her- 
 self wondering when this foreigner of asto- 
 nishing musical abilities would arrive, to 
 sing second to her, in a duet she was very 
 anxiaus to delight her auditors with. The
 
 9,60 
 
 evening was very sultry; and Julia was 
 seated close to an open window that looked 
 upon the lawn : she heard the sound of ap- 
 proaching footsteps, on the gravel walk 
 which run just by her; and concluding it 
 to be some of the domestics, come to listen 
 to Miss Penrose, forbore to look towards 
 them, lest she should disconcert them : but 
 how was she dismayed and surprised, when, 
 in the middle of one of Miss Penrose's 
 most celebrated songs, her appalled ears 
 were suddenly assailed (absolutely bellow- 
 ing into the ear next the window, with 
 deafening din) by the loud braying of a 
 donkey ! and as she, in the moment of hor- 
 rid amazement, started round, to see what 
 was thunderins: menaces of destruction to 
 her sense of hearing, beheld the distended 
 jaws of the animal almost touching her 
 shoulder; and in the shade, where he 
 stood, appearing in such a strange and for- 
 midable form, she sprung from her seat, 
 and Fitzroy, in trembling anxiety, caught 
 lier in his arms, to protect her from — he 
 scarcely knew what ; and all was now, for 
 a moment, consternation. 
 
 " Heavens and earth !" exclaimed Mrs.
 
 26 i 
 
 Hargrave, at length coining to her recol- 
 lection, " why was that odious animal let 
 into the grounds ?" 
 
 " To ohlige Miss Penrose, ma," replied 
 the undaunted Celestina, now entering from 
 the lawn ; " who expressed so much fear, 
 this morning, that none of the company 
 would have voice enough to join with her, 
 that I invited Mr. Zebra, that foreigner of 
 wonderful vocal powers, to come and sing 
 second to her." 
 
 This animal, a present to Miss Hargrave, 
 was one of her principal favourites ; but 
 he was obliged to be kept at pasture, far 
 from the house, from a strange and unac- 
 countable whim he had, of never coming 
 near an open door, or window, without in- 
 stantly thrusting his head into it, and set- 
 ting up a most discordant bray. Celestina, 
 well remembering this propensity, and out 
 of humour at Miss Penrose's wonying her 
 with such incessant practice, resolved to be 
 malicious : — first, deriving much amuse- 
 ment from having gulled her friend into 
 practising duets to sing with this foreigner; 
 and then, from the Jinale so according with 
 her expectations. She had ordered the
 
 262 
 
 donkey to be brought to a convenient dis- 
 tance for her project ; and when Miss Pen- 
 rose began, what this young torment knew 
 she considered her chef-d'oeuvre, she saUied 
 forth, and conducted her auxihary to the 
 nearest open window, in due time to per- 
 form his part. 
 
 In the midst of this general confusion, 
 the Ladies Gaythorn, Landgrave, and 
 Strictland, unexpectedly arrived ; and Miss 
 Penrose had to begin, and sing all her 
 best songs, over again. This, Lord Francis 
 could by no means stand ; and entreating 
 Charles to accompany him, took refuge in 
 the grounds. Lord Gaythorn, chagrined 
 at his wife's coming to throw a damp upon 
 his projected vivacious agremens at supper, 
 instantly resolved to mortify her, by paying 
 the most marked and flattering attention 
 to Miss Penrose, and in being in enthu- 
 siastic raptures at her performance: — for 
 Lady Gaythorn had the weakness (although 
 she hated and despised her husband) to 
 experience real pain and humiliation at 
 being deprived of those attentions which, 
 though her heart valued not from him, her 
 vanity still washed him to pay her. His
 
 Q63 
 
 lordship now succeeded in perfectly dis- 
 concerting his better half; who, in revenge, 
 audibly yawned in the most flourishing 
 parts of one of Miss Penrose's bravura 
 songs ; and, soon as it was ended, careless- 
 ly declared — ** it had been sung prettily 
 enough :" and then asked Mr. Strictland, 
 *' if Miss De Clifford had sung herself 
 out?" 
 
 ** Miss De Clifford has not sung at all." 
 " How has that happened ?" exclaimed 
 her ladyship. 
 
 ** Upon account of Miss De Clifford's 
 late ill state of health, my sister requested 
 me not to ask her to sing," replied Mrs. 
 Hargrave. 
 
 *^ Miss De Clifford herself made no ob- 
 jection to sing, when I asked her, last night; 
 and we were only deprived of the pleasure 
 of hearing her, by the unopportune return 
 of the tormenting men from the Castle;" 
 said Lady Gay thorn, convinced that Julia's 
 now declining, arose solely from a con- 
 sciousness of inferiority to Miss Penrose ; 
 and feeling disposed to be angry with, and 
 malicious to, our heroine, for bringing to 
 public view (though innocently) her want 
 of charity (as Lady Gay thorn was now fully
 
 264 
 
 acquainted with the whole of the tooth- 
 pick-case adventure), she resolved that she 
 should sing ; and now rather overstepped 
 the bounds of politeness, in the peremp^ 
 tory manner in which she seemed more to 
 issue a command, than make a request, to 
 Julia to sing, who, with all the mild dig- 
 nity of good breeding, gently, yet deter- 
 minatelv, excused herself. 
 
 " Why certainly, as you are so agree- 
 ably engaged^'' said her ladyship, glancing 
 at Fitzroy, *' I ought not to wonder, or 
 feel: hurt, at your refusing to oblige me." 
 
 Julia was much distressed ; her delicacy 
 was pained by her ladyship's inuendo ; and 
 she blushed the deepest tint of vermilion : 
 conscious, too, that she was beginning to 
 feel a newly awakened interest in the con- 
 versation of Fitzroy. She shrunk from the 
 idea of seeming to sacrifice every j&o/ito^e 
 to others, for the gratification of monopo- 
 lizins: the attentions of her lover; and her 
 pure heart recoiled from subjecting herself 
 to the unrestrained and bold freedoms of 
 Lord Gaythorn, whose manual attentions 
 to Miss Penrose, during this evening, which 
 she had beheld with indignation, she knew 
 she could not submit to, and her resent-
 
 265 
 
 ment would betray them to Fitzroy, whose 
 strongly marked displeasure in the morning 
 she trembled again to awaken, and she was 
 now agitated and perplexed. 
 
 Fitzroy, attentive only to Julia, saw the 
 conflict in her mind, and well divined it's 
 source. All these thoughts, which disturbr 
 ed her bosom, and passed through Fitzroy's 
 mind, were but the rapid work of a mo- 
 ment ; and, after a pause, scarcely long 
 enough to be remarked, he replied to Lady 
 Gay thorn — 
 
 *' I am confident Miss De Clifford has 
 no pleasure superior to obliging; and could 
 your ladyship develop the motive that now 
 actuates her refusal to your request, you 
 would perhaps cease to urge it.'' 
 
 " 1 ca7i develop the motive, sir; and 
 wonder not that you are, too much flatter- 
 ed, not to applaud it," returned her lady- 
 ship, sarcastically. 
 
 " But as it is your friends only, Miss De 
 Clifford," said Doctor Sydenham, hurt at 
 Julia's embarrassment, and wishing to ex- 
 tricate her from it, now advancing to her, 
 with a benignant smile, " and not your 
 physicians who have laid any restrictions 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 ^66 
 
 upon you, a compliance with Lady Gay- 
 thorn's ardent and persevering desire, I 
 should hope, might not materially injure 
 you." 
 
 Julia, at once comprehending that 
 -Doctor Sydenham conceived there would 
 be less of indelicacy in subjecting herself 
 to the disgusting freedoms of Lord Gay- 
 thorn, than to remain under the now uni- 
 versally-awakened beflief that her refusal 
 was solely actuated by her wish to sit by, 
 and listen to, her lover, instantly arose, and 
 g^ve her hand to Doctor Sydenham, to 
 lead her to the instrument. 
 
 ** Oh, Miss De Clifford!" said Fitzroy, 
 reproachfully, to her, *' and does your 
 heart, then, shrink from the supposition 
 of your deriving gratification from my 
 conversation and assiduities?'' 
 
 Julia felt too much hurt, and provoked, 
 by the question, to reply ; she hastened to 
 the piano-forte, and turned the pages of 
 Handel's compositions to one of his most 
 celebrated sacred airs« Doctor Sydenham 
 and Mrs. Goodwin stood on each side of 
 her; and Fitzroy, the moment she touched 
 the keys of the instrument, precipitately
 
 2(57 
 
 darted into the grounds. The symphony 
 v\^as short; and Julia's voice, in one bar of 
 recitative, recalled him to listen, and gaze 
 upon her : and one swell alone had reacjied 
 the lawn, when Lord Francis was drawn 
 back, an entranced auditor. 
 
 Julia's voice astonished no one; but, 
 thrilling to the heart, fascinated all. Her 
 knowledge in music was profound. In- 
 struction had taught her every thing the 
 science comprised ; but Nature herself had 
 given her voice, taste, and feeling. From 
 the moment she could articulate, Mrs. St. 
 Clair had made her sing, in every company 
 she permitted her to appear in; her natural 
 timidity prevented her singing with confi- 
 dence; but, long habituated to it, she had 
 acquired a pleasing and becoming ease, 
 equally devoid of disadvantageous bashful- 
 ness, and disgusting assurance. She seemed 
 not to sing for applause, but to amuse her- 
 self: her heart, not her vanity, always ap. 
 peared engaged in her performance : and 
 so little did any idea of self engross our 
 heroine, while exerting her musical abili- 
 ties, that every look and gesture were left 
 to sweet and unaffected nature; and she
 
 268 
 
 never appeared more gracefully unembar- 
 rassed, or more interestingly lovely, than 
 when she played or sung. 
 
 When Julia ceased, no murmur of ap- 
 plause broke on her ear; for she had touched 
 the hearts of her auditors, and speech was 
 enchained by feeling: but when her sym- 
 phony was ended, and that she instantly 
 arose to quit the piano, an universal burst 
 of entreaty to remain broke from all. 
 
 Lord Gay thorn had withdrawn, with Miss 
 Penrose, from the piano-forte ; and, though 
 now really charmed to enthusiasm, felt too 
 much awed by the sublimity of the strain, 
 given with such soul- touching effect, to 
 presume to insult such excellence with the 
 fulsome praise of common flattery ; but 
 his silence was the most eloquent plaudit.— 
 Tears were the incense offered by several 
 of the ladies, and Doctor Sydenham. 
 Fitzroy, entranced, felt the magic of her 
 power, and gazed and " looked unutter- 
 able things." Lord Francis felt too, but, 
 covering his brow with his hand, hid his 
 expressive countenance from observation: 
 while Lady Gaythorn, who had determined 
 to yawn through Julia's song, found her-
 
 269 
 
 self suddenly bound by an overpowering 
 spell, that led her gently, sweetly, unre- 
 sistingly from the influence of envy and 
 unkindness, to pure, unprejudiced, delight- 
 ed admiration; and she suddenly exclaimed 
 with energy unusual to her— - 
 
 *' If you do not sing another song, thou 
 fascinator! I shall expire with grief" 
 
 Julia novv^, covered with the glowing 
 blushes which such flattering applause 
 called forth, and with a sweet acceding 
 smile, in compliance with the o'eneral en- 
 treaty, immediately reseated herself Her 
 second song only created ardcBt solicitude 
 to hear more; and as Lord Gay thorn still 
 was awed to a respectful distance, she had 
 no longer any motive for not obliging those 
 who wished to hear her; and, at the re- 
 quest of Doctor Sydenham, she sung, '' I 
 know that my Redeemer liveth," with such 
 sweet and melting delicacy, such cliastely 
 beautiful embellishments, and such sub- 
 duing emphasis, that all felt it was 
 magic — the magic of melody and feeling. 
 At the conclusion of this last song, infinite 
 was the concern of every one of Julia's
 
 2/0 
 
 charmed auditors, to hear supper an- 
 nounced. 
 
 With tremulous eagerness, Fitzroy grasp- 
 ed the hand of our heroine, to lead her to 
 the dining-room. She had been hurt^ and 
 offended, by Fitzroy 's address to her when 
 she quitted him for the piano-forte ; as she 
 felt it not evincing sufficient respect for the 
 delicacy of her feelings, and too much 
 eagerness for the gratification of his own ; 
 therefore, though she permitted him to take 
 her hand, she still was grave and dignified. 
 ^' Oh!" said he softly to her, as he walked 
 beside her— '^ Oh ! Miss De Clifford, after 
 all this — after thus enchanting me by every 
 fascinating spell — should I never, never 
 touch your heart, what will then be my 
 misery !" 
 
 The soft, seducing tenderness of Fitzroy 's 
 look, and the resistless pathos of his voice 
 as he spoke, subdued Julia's little displea- 
 sure ; and she gently replied — *' Why for, 
 you ever, thus, woo the anticipation so, of 
 every evil; when, perhaps, there is not evil, 
 at all, for you?" 
 Fitzroy now caught again the truant Hope;
 
 271 
 
 his spirits were exhilarated to their very 
 altitude; he was animated and entertaining 
 to a fascinating degree. The rest of the 
 company, catching more or less of his 
 enlivening agremens^ hore their part with 
 proportionate spirit in the pleasing conver- 
 sation of the evening, which glided off so 
 cheerfully, that with regret the party sepa- 
 rated.
 
 272 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 In compliance with Mrs. Goodwin's request, 
 Julia arose not the following morning to 
 ramble with Doctor Sydenham, upon ac- 
 count of the ball she was going to in the 
 evening, which w^ould keep her up to an 
 unusually late hour : however, she arose 
 sufficiently early to permit her taking a 
 short, but refreshing walk, alone, in the 
 Rectory grounds, before the family assem- 
 bled to breakfast. The events of the last 
 few days employed her thoughts; and pro- 
 spects the most flattering presented them- 
 selves to her imagination. She looked upon 
 the past as lessons for her to form her future 
 conduct by; and hoped in prosperity, she 
 should never forget the precepts she had 
 received from the affliction of her earlv life. 
 To pitying Heaven she was grateful for 
 thus inspiring such a being as Fitzroy with 
 affection for her, powerful enough to induce 
 him to rescue her from adversitj^j and to 
 become her friend, and protector through
 
 273 
 
 life — Fitzroy, for whom her grateful heart 
 began to glow with sensations softening 
 rapidly towards the most tender attach- 
 ment. 
 
 With a countenance glowing with the 
 beams of softened sensibility, and the rose- 
 ate blush of Hebe, Julia entered the house 
 upon the summons of the breakfast bell, 
 and in the hall, most unexpectedly, met 
 Fitzroy. 
 
 " Oh !" he exclaimed, as he eagerly took 
 her hand, and looked on her with tender- 
 ness and delight, ^' you have been walking, 
 and alone ! Had I known this, I would have 
 been here earlier: — but are you now too 
 much fatigued to lengthen your walk with 
 me?" 
 
 " With pleasure, very much, I would you 
 accompany," she replied; " only the bell, 
 has been rung for us all, to come eat break- 
 fast; and it would not be right, for me, to 
 keep Mrs. Hargrave, to wait for me." 
 
 *' How unlucky I have been ! Had I 
 known you were walking, I could have 
 been here hours ago; for I was up betimes. 
 I could not sleep ; and you have my loss of 
 rest to answer for. — Oh Julia! the sound 
 X 5
 
 ^74 
 
 of your voice still vibrated on my fascinated 
 ear; — your image, engraven on my heart, 
 was sweetly reflected on my vision, and I 
 could not, would not, sleep, lest my dreams 
 should not be of you." 
 
 Julia now, averting her blashing face 
 from the ardent expression that irradiated 
 Fitzroy's eyes, asked him, with a voice of 
 timid sweetness, " If he had breakfasted ?" 
 
 ^' No," he replied, '^ I am come to Mrs. 
 Hargrave's dejeiine^ by the kind invitation 
 of her fair daughter, who has promised to 
 sjiow me her Menagerie ;^ — ^an invitation 
 you cannot doubt that I most joyfully ac- 
 cepted." 
 
 Mrs. Hargrave now appeared, descending 
 the stairs, and politely she welcomed Fitz- 
 roy. Breakfast passed pleasantly. Celes- 
 tina, with much delight, conducted her 
 visitors through the repository of her fa- 
 vourites ; but though Fitzroy politely ad- 
 mired them all, still Julia was the sole 
 object of his contemplation; and, by his 
 nnceasing, and flatteringly respectful, at- 
 tentions to her, betrayed to every one the 
 tenderness of his attachment. 
 
 At length, the clock, announcing the
 
 275 
 
 hour, called Fitzroy, most unwillingly, 
 away to t\}C approaching ceremony, and 
 the ladies all hastened to the market-place, 
 where, in the curate's house, they were 
 accommodated with windows, to see the 
 elected members pass on the shoulders of 
 popularity. Mr. Smith preceded Fitzroy, 
 in a whimsical chair resembling a fairy's 
 bower, decorated with ^ all the emblems ap- 
 propriate to that tiny race. 
 
 Fitzroy 's chair was simply elegant, adorn- 
 ed with green-house plants, and hot-house 
 flowers ; and he looked, and moved, in all 
 the captivating charms of graceful symme- 
 tvyy and striking beauty. 
 
 Mr. Smith returned the gratulations he 
 received, with comic grimace, well calcu- 
 lated to carry him through with rapturous 
 plaudits, little inferior to those bestowed 
 upon the popular favourite, — the handsome 
 and elegant Fitzroy, 
 
 In every first-floor window, the ladies 
 saluted them with the waving, snow-white, 
 cambric banner. In every second story, 
 the housemaids, with cordiality, shook 
 their dusters on ihcm. The men, in the 
 streets, huzzaed and shouted; and the wo-
 
 276 
 
 men yelled and screamed their compli- 
 ments and congratulations. As Fitzroy 
 passed the window where Julia stood to 
 vfew him, all, who could see him at the 
 moment, observed the eagerness with which 
 his eyes sought her out, and rested, as long 
 as his bearers would permit them, on her 
 blushing face, and the flatteringly respect- 
 ful manner in which he particularly made 
 his passing bow to her. 
 
 It was near two o'clock before the bustle 
 and confusion of the streets allowed the 
 Rectory family to return home, whence 
 they shortly after proceeded on an excur- 
 sion planned by Mrs. Hargrave, to show our 
 heroine and Mrs. Goodwin a beautiful cas- 
 tle, and some other curiosities, in the neigh- 
 bourhood of Z. From this expedition, they 
 did not arrive at home until late, and im- 
 mediately after sat down to table; as Mrs. 
 Hargrave had arranged that none of her 
 guests were to dress for the ball, before 
 dinner. 
 
 At length; the Rectory ladies were deco- 
 rated for the ball ; and certainly, for beau- 
 ty, and for fashion too, made no contempti- 
 ble group. With delight, almost maternal,
 
 T!7 
 
 Mrs. Goodwin beheld Julia De Clifford look 
 more strikingly beautiful, and attractively 
 lovely, than she had ever before seen her. 
 Hopes and fears, half-pleasurable, half-pain- 
 ful — sensations hitherto totally unknown 
 to our heroine — had now begun to agitate 
 her bosom ; irradiating her eyes, and 
 brightening the bloom on her cheeks, with 
 the brilliant glow of timid, conscious sensi- 
 bility. 
 
 At a late hour (and not until some of the 
 
 party were out of patience at the delay), 
 
 Lady Gaythorn and cousins, with a nume- 
 
 *rous retinue of beaus, called for Mrs. Har- 
 
 grave and her friends. 
 
 The external of the Castle inn, where the 
 ball was given, was fancifully illuminated 
 with coloured lamps: the staircase very well 
 decorated with transparencies, green-house 
 plants, and lights innumerable. At the 
 ball-room door this large party was receiv- 
 ed by the new members, and their imme- 
 diate friends : but Fitzroy seemed only 
 to see Miss De Clifford, whose hand he 
 eagerly took, and, as he delightedly gazed 
 upon her, said — 
 ^ " I am told, I must not dance to-night,
 
 278 
 
 after I open the ball with Lady Gay thorn ; 
 as, since it would be impossiI)le for me to 
 dance with every one, I might give offence 
 by particular attentions. This is Lord Gay- 
 thorn's malice, I do really believe, on pur- 
 pose to retaliate on and torment me: how- 
 ever, be it as it may, my happiness for 
 the evening is destroyed by their cautious 
 forms: but since I am not allowed the plea- 
 sure of dancing with you myself, I am anxi- 
 ous to oblige my friend, and obtain that 
 honour for Lord Francis Loraine." 
 
 '* With pleasure, very much, I would 
 dance, with his lordship," Julia replied, 
 
 '^ did I at all purpose, for dancing ; but 
 
 Do not, Mr. Fitzroy, ho^d me mortify ingly 
 cheap, when I do tell for you, I was never 
 to the ball, in my whole life, before. I 
 know not of the forms, and rules, prescrib- 
 ed here; and though I have learned, to 
 dance, and have practised, certainly, a 
 great quantity, it was only amongst girls, 
 in a convent abroad ; and 1 should be, so 
 very frightened (yes, indeed, from my poor 
 wits, I am sure quite), was I to stand up, 
 an'.ong strangers, so many. O^ soyself, to 
 take hands of people, whose , jues, I
 
 279 
 
 notknow — and from want for custom to -t — 
 I should feel as if I had too much of courage, 
 could I niake attempt, to do it. So, to-night, 
 I will be obberver only ; and if, by seeing 
 how others manage, I think, I may venture 
 too, why then, when again, I do meet, 
 Lord Francis, at the ball, I shall delighted 
 be, extremely, to dance with him; because 
 I like him, exceedingly more, than I do, 
 almost any of the men, I have met with ; 
 and he too, I know, will tell to me, when I 
 go wrong way." 
 
 Fitzroy, with a countenance illumined 
 by rapturous delight, attended to Julia, 
 as, with bewitching nawete^ she told him 
 of her inexperience in the customs of the 
 world. Fervently he pressed her hand ; and, 
 with augmented tenderness, said — 
 
 *' The next ball, Julia! — If the canon 
 law, by exalting me to greater happiness, 
 does not prohibit my dancing with you my- 
 self, I will not resign your hand to Lord 
 Francis, or any other man in existence." 
 
 Julia's beautiful fcice was sufiused with 
 timid blushes. The party now, arriving 
 at the upper end of the ball-room, b.came 
 stationary. Fitzroy was called upon, to
 
 280 
 
 hand Lady Gaythorn out, to begin the ball; 
 and as he went, unwillingly, to perform his 
 duty, he softly whispered Julia — 
 
 " Oh ! why am I thus called from listen- 
 ing, with delighted ears, to the fascinating 
 artless, ingenuous remarks of a mind so 
 pure, so innocent, so unsophisticated in 
 the ways of that world, in which, I trust, it 
 will be my happiness to be your protector, 
 and to see you hold a place not more ele- 
 vated in rank than exalted by virtue !" 
 
 He now glided off to Lady Gaythorn ; 
 and dancing commenced. The whole of 
 the large party our heroine came with 
 (except herself, Mrs. Goodwin, Doctors Sy- 
 denham and Hargrave) joined the merry, 
 active columns. Innumerable were the gro- 
 tesque, absurd, laughable, and extraordi- 
 nary figures and characters here exhibited, 
 in this motley assemblage ; but the crowd, 
 heat, and press of people, were so great 
 that discrimination was totally precluded ; 
 and Julia, from her attractive beauty, and 
 other adventitious circumstances, was so 
 much an object of gazing curiosity, that 
 she narrowly escaped being crushed to 
 death by the admiring throng.
 
 281 
 
 At length, Lord Francis Loraine, in go- 
 ing to procure some tea for his partner, 
 Lady Diana Strictland, passed where our 
 heroine stood, in terror, stemming the tor- 
 rent that pressed upon her. Instantly he 
 extricated her from her dangerous situation, 
 obtaining for her, and partners in distress, 
 Mrs. Goodwin and Doctor Sydenham, 
 seats upon one of the back benches, quite 
 out of the way of every annoyance; and 
 where there was a free circulation of air 
 from the open windows. The rescued suf- 
 ferers were all gratitude to their kind deli- 
 verer, v/ho, the moment he quitted them, 
 said, with a smile^ " I believe I have now 
 accommodated every body:" and it was lite- 
 rally so; for Julia De Clifford now, in her ele- 
 vated situation, could seeevery one, and every 
 one could see her, to the greatest advantage. 
 
 Julia, having now a full view of those 
 engaged in the amusement of the evening, 
 beheld with amaze the languid Lady Gay- 
 thorn dancing with the most striking ani- 
 mation and gayety. iler ladyship ever 
 wishing to evince eccentricity, and make 
 people wonder, now chose to throw off her 
 habitual supineness ; and as the evening was
 
 - - 28£ 
 
 sultry, the dancers innumerable, and scarce- 
 ly room to move, to begin with Money 
 Musk, and dance it down with the true 
 spirit it required, to. the very bottom of 
 the room, and not t6 let a couple, however 
 inattentive, escape her fangs. 
 
 Fitzroy's was the dancing of a gentleman, 
 and that to perfection; and Julia beheld 
 him with the highest admiration ; but 
 Celestina Hargrave, with petticoats which 
 fell, indeed, short of impeding the view 
 of the spectator, and daneing with Charles 
 Goodwin (a very graceful, agile youth), 
 was the wonder and admiration of every 
 beholder ; and certainly even Duport him- 
 self might not have disdained her for a 
 partner. 
 
 Fitzroy was kept upon such indefati- 
 gable duty, by his now gay, and always 
 beautiful partner, that he could not steal' 
 one moment to speak to Julia; but his 
 eager eyes strayed to gaze upon her, when- 
 ever it was possible. 
 
 And now a new bustle and crush amid 
 the crowd commenced, to make way for the 
 Dutchess -dowager of Springcourt and her 
 party, w^hora Mr. Smith, like the dwarf of
 
 283 
 
 the Castle, was ciKlcavoiuing to usher to 
 the^place of lionour in the room, but could 
 only succeed in convoying them as far as 
 about where Julia sat, like a fixed star of 
 attractive brightness. 
 
 Her grace of Springcourt was a laughter- 
 loving, pleasure-seeking, dame, who had 
 resolved to be young all the days of her 
 life ; and had, from her infanc\% discarded 
 Thought and Spleen from her suite. She 
 had been thrice married ; yet had never 
 known care: had buried three husbands; 
 and had never felt sorrow : and now, a 
 great grandmother of sixty-two, was come 
 to the ball, to dance merrily the whole 
 evening, with the handsomest and most 
 dashing young men in the room, whom, 
 like a second Ninon, she seemed ever to 
 fascinate. By each of her marriages she 
 had offspring: many of them daughters; 
 who, without mucli beauty, much fortune, 
 mucli sense, much information, or much 
 discretion, all made great alliances, almost 
 immediately upon their first appearance in 
 the public eye. The same unaccountable 
 favour of capricious fortune attended her 
 sons ; who all succeeded early, and with
 
 284 
 
 merely negative merit, little exertion, and 
 less claim, to the highest rank in their re- 
 spective professions. 
 
 The dutchess, by three good jointures, 
 was tolerably wealthy. Her house in town, 
 her villa on the banks of the Thames, and 
 her mansion fourteen miles from Z., were 
 all dedicated, respectively, to festivity and 
 fashionable dissipation. The young, the 
 gay, the thoughtless, ever found a hospita- 
 ble reception from her grace; whose houses, 
 in succession, were ever filled with merry 
 guests : and if any thing occurred beneath 
 her grace's roof, which Decorum or Pro- 
 priety might look grave at, Good-nature 
 immediately interposed, and, in extenua- 
 tion, pleaded, ^' The Dutchess of Spring- 
 court was so giddy, and so good-humoured, 
 no one could condemn her." 
 
 Every one knowing her grace's propen- 
 sity for appearing in public, no one felt 
 surprised at her coming so many miles to an 
 election ball : but in the train of this giddy 
 great grandmother was a being who creat- 
 ed universal astonishment, and took from 
 our heroine the eye of general observation. 
 
 With her grace arrived a most strikingly
 
 285 
 
 beautiful woman, of about six-and-twenty. 
 In beight, even far above wbat is usually 
 termed commanding : ber figure, to the eye 
 of common observation, exquisitely form- 
 ed ; for art had so judiciously disposed her 
 light drapery, as to conceal only defects, 
 and display ber beauties to the most con- 
 spicuous advantage. Her face, naturally 
 fine and expressive, was now most skilfully 
 painted, as well as her neck, bosom, shoul- 
 ders, and arms, an almost alabaster white, 
 that spoke, most decidedly, interesting lan- 
 guor; her large, dark, and eloquent eyes 
 languished in perfect unison : whilst her 
 whole dress was calculated to inspire — 
 certainly any thing rather than respect. Her 
 hair seemed arranged by the wanton Zephyrs 
 with alluring negligence: she wore alight, 
 but sumptuous diadem of sparkling bril- 
 liants; from which gracefully flowed, until 
 it swept the ground, a veil of black lace, so 
 exquisitely fine, it seemed the work of 
 sylphs. Her body, but not her arms, was 
 closely enveloped by a blush colour, elastic, 
 silk web : and her only other covering was 
 a soft, scanty, and short, white sarcenet 
 petticoat; over which, and her web boddice^
 
 ^86 
 
 was tastefully flung a kind of robe, and 
 drapery, of transparent white lace, of the 
 same ethereal manufacture as her veil. A 
 zone of brilliants fastened it round her 
 waist; a costly gem secured on the tip of 
 each, fully displayed, shoulder. Her gloves 
 were pushed down to her wrists; and her 
 arms, from the shoulder, were uncovered ex- 
 cept by costly armlets, and bracelets of bril- 
 liants. A very slight Italian chain, of beau- 
 tiful workmanship, formed the only veil of 
 her bosom ; except an attractive brilliant 
 star, which fastened her robe together. 
 
 Julia De Clifl^ord, attracted, like others, 
 by this liberal exhibition of striking beauty, 
 looked until burning blushes tinged her 
 cheeks; and, humbled at such a degradation 
 to her sex's delicacy, turned away ashamed. 
 Mrs. Goodwin felt a secret joy that RoSa 
 w^as not there, to see immodesty counte- 
 nanced by rank; and Doctor Sydenham 
 felt highly indignant, ** that one of the Cy- 
 prian corps had been thus incautiously ad- 
 mitted, in a mistake, as one of the Dutchess 
 of Springcourt's party." 
 
 The second dance had been commenced 
 some time ; it was a Scotch or Irish rant,
 
 287 
 
 of inconceivable fatigue; yet Julia had 
 seen Lady Gay thorn dance it down with 
 unsubdued spirit ; and now, to her utter 
 astonishment, Lord Francis Loraine hastily 
 advanced to her, vvith^an entreaty that she 
 would go immediately to Lady Gay thorn, 
 who was taken suddenly and extremely ill. 
 
 " Shall I, too, attend her ladyship r" ask- 
 ed Mrs. Goodwin, good-naturedly. 
 
 " No," Lord Francis replied, " she has 
 expressly requested that only Miss De Clif- 
 ford should be called to her; and has for- 
 bidden my mentioning her indisposition, 
 even to the Strictlands." , 
 
 Julia was now led away by his lordship, 
 whose hand, she found, trembled excessive- 
 ly, whilst his countenance portrayed agita- 
 tion and inquietude. They were obliged 
 to pass close to the beautiful transparency, 
 who immediately accosted Lord Francis, 
 with a soft alluring smile : — 
 
 " Lord Francis Loraine does not know 
 me, I believe !" 
 
 Nature, in her caprices, as she had de- 
 stroyed the perfect beauty of the peacock 
 by the deformity of his legs, so had given 
 a discordant drawback to the harmony of
 
 loveliness here, by a voice from which the 
 nice ear must recoil, as it murmured it's 
 deep-drawn, grating tones. — 
 
 " Lord Francis Loraine does not know 
 me, 1 believe !" growled out this languish- 
 ing fair. 
 
 '^ Certainly, madam, I did not imme- 
 diately recognise you," replied Lord Fran- 
 cis, with frigid gravity ; *^ since I should 
 have looked for Lady Enderfield in a dole- 
 ful dress, and in the house of mourning: for 
 I had heard your husband was very lately 
 deceased ; and I sincerely congratulate 
 your ladyship, upon the report being so 
 happily without foundation." His lordship, 
 profoundly bowing, now hurried on with 
 Julia. 
 
 At the door of the ball-room they found 
 Lady Gaythorn, pale, trembling, and highly 
 agitated, leaning upon the arm of Fitzroy, 
 who first espied our heroine. — 
 
 " Here is Miss De Clifford !" he ex- 
 claimed with animation : " I knew she 
 would come, when she heard you were ill." 
 " And I feared she would not encounter 
 the crowd, for one she knows so little of/* 
 said her ladyship, who now, with tremu-
 
 2S9 
 
 lous eagerness, grasped Julia by the arm. 
 " And," continued her ladysliip, " I have 
 done dancing for the night, Fitzroy ; so you 
 are freed from your attendance upon me. 
 Do you, and Lord Francis, now leave us.'' 
 
 " Can we, then, be of no assistance to 
 you? — None at all?" said Fitzroy, with 
 concern ; and anxious to remain with Julia. 
 
 '* No," replied her ladyship; "no; 1 
 have now Miss De Clifford with me; and the 
 magic of her melodious voice shall charm my 
 perturbation to sweet tranquillity, and she 
 will lead me back to the scene of gayety my- 
 self again :" and her ladyship attempted a 
 smile; but it \vas so ghastly, so wild, so 
 foreign to her heart, that Julia, alarmed, 
 hurried her away from the gentlemen, to a 
 private room, where her ladyship hastily 
 dismissed the attending domestic, and, lock- 
 ing the door, to guard against every inter- 
 ruption, fell upon Julia's bosom, almost 
 breathless with agitation. 
 
 Our heroine, in amazed consternation, 
 knew not in what way to attempt consola- 
 tion or relief: she could only say, " I am 
 grieved ;" and this short sentence came 
 in a tone so resistless from her heart, that 
 
 YOJ-. I. o
 
 290 
 
 it touched at once every feeling of tender- 
 ness in Lady Gay thorn's bosom, and in- 
 stantly called forth her tears, which, by 
 shedding abundantly, gave ease to her al- 
 most bursting heart. 
 
 " Oh, Miss De Clifford !" at length sobbed 
 out Lady Gay thorn, *' I am a wretch, who, 
 by ingratitude, and treachery the most per- 
 fidious, murdered the beloved of my soul: — 
 but had I, had I been left to myself, I could 
 not have proved so base, so barbarously in- 
 constant- • . 'And she, the bane to my re- 
 pose, who hurled my happiness down that 
 fathomless pit, where it was for ever lost — 
 why has she appeared, to overset me ? — 
 Why is she come, like the ill-omened raven, 
 to blast your peace, as well as mine?" 
 
 Julia started, and horrid apprehension 
 of — ^she knew not what — pervaded her 
 whole frame, chilled her blood, and made 
 her heart flutter with alarm. 
 
 " She, that indecorous woman, who 
 makes every pure mind, of her own sex, 
 blush at her indelicacy," resumed her lady- 
 ship, " was the first and early love of Fitz- 
 roy, and his long betrothed wife." 
 
 Our heroine's heart felt this blow; but
 
 29 \ 
 
 it called back her retreating firmness, to 
 sustain her. 
 
 " She was always beautiful, sensible, 
 highly informed, and accomplished," said 
 Lady Gaythorn; " but in her bosom lurks 
 the most profound dissimulation, the most 
 designing, treaclicrous heart, that ever 
 throbbed to deceive. Her father lived in 
 the village contiguous to Fitzroy : — for 
 Lord Horatio Fitzroy 's principal residence 
 is in this county. She had no fortune; in 
 family was a gentlewoman, and no more. 
 Fitzroy, from a very youth, was much 
 at her father's house; and the whole fa- 
 mily of dissimulation combined, to capti- 
 vate his susceptible heart in the wiles of this 
 fascinating Circe (who is thtee years older 
 than Fitzroy and myself, for she is now 
 nearly twenty-seven). Tiiey succeeded ; 
 Fitzroy became distractedly in love : and 
 his father and mother, adoring him, and 
 gratifying his every wish, agreed to a mar- 
 riage, which they approved not of, and 
 which was now fixed to take place as soon 
 as he became of age. 
 
 " Lord and Lady Horatio Fitzroy, par- 
 tial to the Continent, principally reside 
 o 2
 
 abroad; and Fitzroy, about three months 
 before his minority expired, went to visit 
 his father, at Naples, to arrange with him 
 every thing for his approaching nuptials. 
 In the interval of his absence, Lord Ender- 
 field saw Fitzroy 's intended bride, became 
 enamoured, and offered her his hand. Fitz- 
 roy was then supposed to have no chance 
 of his uncle's title ; and the accomplished 
 jilt, unhesitatingly, and without even a line 
 to extenuate or soften her treachery, be- 
 came a countess. 
 
 " Fitzroy sustained her perfidy with 
 manly firmness ; but it was supposed he 
 deeply felt it; for though many unexcep- 
 tionable matches have since been proposed 
 to him, he has*rejected them all : and much 
 I feared, as the death of Lord Enderfield 
 took place, at Venice, eight months ago 
 (Heaven knows if fairly), that he was at 
 length destined for this his first unworthy 
 love; until you appeared, and silenced every 
 apprehension, and gave me hope and joy. 
 In the gay city of Paris, this — in every way 
 I believe — Circe has spent the first months 
 of her widowhood; and now is here, I doubt 
 not, because she has heard of the Marquess
 
 293 
 
 of Penmorva's death, and wishes to try and 
 reinstate herself in the affections of Fitzroy, 
 that she may become adutchess- - • -But, O 
 merciful Heaven ! grant that I may never, 
 never live to see that torturing hour !" 
 
 Although sensations new and painful agi- 
 tated the throbbing heart of our heroine, 
 she yet felt gratitude to Heaven for this his- 
 tory having been disclosed to her; and for 
 the ill-oQiened arrival of Lady Enderfield 
 taking place, before her peace of mind had 
 been for ever lost, in an unconquerable at- 
 tachment to Fitzroy. 
 
 ** This perfidious woman," continued her 
 ladyship, '* was once my dearest friend. 
 We went to school together; and she won 
 my guileless heart by her insidious blandish- 
 ments. My father's riches then equalled 
 his rank; and it was in my power to be 
 very kind to her ; nor did she ever fail to 
 work upon my prodigal generosity. Often 
 has she spent months together at my fa- 
 ther's house; where she experienced the 
 greatest attention and liospitality. — But 
 times changed. She became a countess: 
 and my infatuated father, from an unfor- 
 tunate propensity to gaming, dreadfully re-
 
 294 
 
 duced the circuaistances of his family. It 
 was now that Lady Enderfiekl proved her 
 ingratitude equal to her perfidy. She never 
 came to see me, or honoured me with her 
 notice; except for the express purpose of 
 mortifying me, and my beloved sisters. Ohl 
 I could tell you such unkind, nay cruel, 
 things of her doing: — —but, continually 
 talking of her rank, her splendour, her court 
 arrangements, she never failed to glance at 
 my attachment to the most amiable of man- 
 kind, by saying — * These are things younger 
 brothers' wives, who live on love, in a cot- 
 tage, can know nothing of • • • • 
 
 " Will you not pity my deplorable weak- 
 ness. Miss De Clifford, when you hear that 
 it was the mortifying conduct of this wo- 
 man that led me on to be a fiend- — even 
 more cruelly perfidious than herself; to blast 
 my own happiness for ever; and murder 
 him, my Frederick ?••• -I gave my hand 
 to the detestable Lord Gaythorn, because 
 (oh ! infatuated fool!) he ranked higher in the 
 peerage than Lord Enderfiekl, that I might 
 take precedence of this now hated woman ; 
 and from that dreadful hour, I have been 
 most truly the v/retch I merited to be,- • • ►
 
 '295 
 
 Weak, silly, silly, rash fool that I was ! 
 she has still the advantage of me, in every 
 thing. — Her husband died; and has left her 
 at liberty to wed the man of her affections: 
 while mine. . . .Though his death could 
 have availed me little, but a release from 
 an abhorred husband; for, maniac that I 
 was ! Lord Gaythorn's widow could not 
 have been the wife of his son.'* 
 
 Lady Gay thorn now burst into anew flood 
 of anguished tears; and Julia could give her 
 no comfort. She sincerely pitied this sclF- 
 devoted sufferer ; yet despised the woman 
 who could be led by perfidy so cruel, by 
 such ignoble, puerile motives. She rejoiced 
 the amiable Fitzroy had hitherto escaped 
 the misery of an union with such a worth- 
 less being as Lady Enderfield ; and fer- 
 vently hoped he might escape her still, even 
 thou":h she herself mii^ht never have the 
 happiness to become his wife. 
 
 Suddenly the tears of Lady Gay thorn 
 ceased to flow; and energetically she ex- 
 claimed, — '* Why do 1 loiter here, to defeat 
 my ov/n purpose! .... To see the vile, de- 
 tested Lady Enderfield elevated above me 
 in rank, would make me even more wretched
 
 Q96 
 
 than I am. It is in your power only to 
 save me from that misery. If the amiable 
 Fitzroy is an object of interest to you; — if 
 you prize his happiness; — if you wish not 
 to see him the most wretched of mankind; 
 — exert your fascinating powers, and res- 
 cue him from the destruction that now as- 
 sails him, in the form of Lady Enderfield." 
 
 Julia's sensibility was painfully awakened. 
 — " Dear madam," she exclaimed, '* after 
 Lady Enderfield's much perfidy, and so 
 great deal strong ingratitude, to him ; and 
 after appearing in the soon time, of her wi- 
 dowhood, at the ball — and so attired! think, 
 at all, Fitzroy can be for danger?" 
 
 ^' I know her. — I know Fitzroy too; 
 and know his danger is imminent." 
 
 *' Then, then is Fitzroy," said Julia, with 
 glowing cheeks, " not worthy for, a virtu- 
 ous woman's, love." 
 
 '' Miss De Clifford," exclaimed her lady- 
 ship, *' be not childishly romantic. Expect 
 perfection in no man. Fitzroy has ten 
 thousand merits. Were you his wife, he 
 would adore you for ever : if Lady Ender- 
 field is his, the moment the illusion of her 
 blandishments is past, he will abhor her.
 
 297 
 
 Throw not fastidiously the now offered 
 smiles of fortune from you. Consider it 
 worth your exertions, to save the happiness 
 of Fitzroy, to secure your own, and become 
 a dutchess." 
 
 '' But to proceed, how am I, to do ?" 
 asked Julia. ** Not by entering lists, with 
 this, so subtile. Lady Enderfiekl r" 
 
 " One look of love from you, would se- 
 cure your triumph, and bind Fitzroy to you 
 for ever." <! 
 
 ^^ Oh, Lady Gaythorn !" Julia replied, 
 in gentle accent, but determined tone, '* and 
 that look, shall not ever, no not ever come, 
 premeditately, from my eyes. Fate, dear 
 madam, must here, go her own part to do : 
 she cannot, through my means, find art, to 
 be for her the auxiliary." 
 
 ** Promise, however, you will do nothing 
 to repulse Fitzroy; — that you will meet 
 him again, as if you had not heard of his 
 former situation with Lady Endcrficld. 
 
 " I promise readily, not to make repulse 
 for him ; but can my agitated feelings, pro- 
 mise, for not to meet him, with an increase, 
 of interest, from hearing the so bad news, 
 o
 
 298 
 
 for his having been unhappy — so much de- 
 ceived, of perfidy so cruel ?" 
 
 " Since such is your disposition, this is 
 an auspicious moment to lead you to him," 
 said Lady Gaythorn eagerly, and smiling 
 through her tears. ** Let us hasten, there- 
 fore. He had not seen this Circe, when we 
 left him ; and I trust the crowd has yet 
 concealed her from his sight. Remember, 
 all that lias passed between us is an inviol- 
 able secret : and shoukl any one question 
 you about my indisposition, have the good- 
 ness to say, * The heat, and dancing, over- 
 came me.' "
 
 259 
 
 CHAPTER Xir. 
 
 Lady Gaythorn and Julia now proceeded 
 to the ball-room; at the door of which Lord 
 Francis was anxiously waiting for them, but 
 no Fitzroy. 
 
 " Where is your friend?" hastily exclaim- 
 ed her ladyship. 
 
 " He was sent for, by the Dutchess of 
 Springcourt," answered Lord Francis, with 
 an embarrassed air, and a countenance of 
 increased inquietude. " Had we not bet- 
 ter, Lady Gaythorn, quit this torrid atmo- 
 sphere, for the less crowded card- room? — 
 And, Miss De Clifford, I am sorry to tell 
 you, that it would now be an impossibility 
 to regain your situation by Mrs. Goodwin." 
 
 The airitated manner of Lord Francis de- 
 veloped at once his kind motive for this ad- 
 dress, to the too well-informed Julia, whose 
 cheeks now glowed from the sudden thrill 
 of her agitated heart. Suddenly, through a 
 vista made by the moving throng, Julia be-
 
 held Fitzroy dancing with Lady Ender- 
 field. Fitzroy, who had excused himself 
 from dancing with her — with her whom he 
 had addressed, and even not an hour be- 
 fore, in the most unequivocal language of 
 serious, honourable love! — *' Alas!"' and 
 every golden dream now vanished at once 
 from Julia's vision of happiness with Fitz- 
 roy. The newly awakened tenderness of 
 her bosom seemed, to herself, to die at 
 once, before the rising contempt she felt 
 for a man who could thus trample upon the 
 rules of politeness prescribed by society; — 
 who could thus, unhesitatingly, run the 
 chance of offending those who had so hand- 
 somely elected him as one of their represen- 
 tatives in the senate, to pay homage to a 
 woman whom decorum must shrink from, 
 and the man of true delicacy contemn. She 
 felt, that had the object of Fitzroy 's early 
 love now returned a widow, whose habit 
 and deportment claimed respect, she should 
 rejoice at the prospect of their union, as it 
 might be for the happiness of Fitzroy; and 
 though she should still be doomed to a life of 
 unprotected dependence, no pang of envy or 
 repining should murmur through her bosom.
 
 3ui 
 
 Lady Gay thorn had declined, from power- 
 ful motives, to quit the ball-room ; Mr. Strict- 
 land had joined her ladyship; but thougli 
 each lady had now a gentleman, to attempt, 
 at least, to guard them from the pressure of 
 the crowd, they found the throng and heat 
 so oppressive, that Lady Gay thorn, ever 
 choosing to do eccentric things, deter- 
 mined upon going into the gallery to the 
 musicians. 
 
 " We shall be stunned there!" exclaimed 
 Mr. Strictland. " And suffocated into the 
 bargain," said Lord Francis. 
 
 *' Not more completely than in this room,'* 
 replied her ladysliip; who having resolved 
 upon tliis project, lost no time in accom- 
 plishing it, although it was evidently against 
 the inclination of her party, and contrary 
 to rule, of not admitting any one but the 
 musicians into this orchestra. There were 
 only two places vacant, in the front seat of 
 this gallery ; and her ladyship, and young 
 cousin, instantly took possession of them : 
 and Lady Gaythorn, with her opera-glass, 
 amused herself with gazing about, as if she 
 was in her own box at the King's Theatre. 
 Julia and Lord Francis, delighted to find
 
 30g 
 
 an open window, near which they seated 
 themselves, close behind her ladyship, were 
 so completely in shade, that no one could 
 see them from below, while they command- 
 ed a full view of every one in the ball-room, 
 and Fitzroy and his conspicuous partner 
 totally arrested the attention of them both. 
 
 Lady Enderfield had been an indefati- 
 gable votary at the shrine of Terpsichore, 
 during the first months of her widowhood, 
 which she had passed at Paris; and with 
 her own close application, aiding the skill 
 of the first masters there, was now equal to 
 almost any dancer at the Opera-house/ Her 
 dancing was certainly very fine; but, only 
 calculated for a professor, was much too 
 embellished and theatrical for private life : 
 and the uncommon height of her figure made 
 her appear unpleasingly preposterous, as she 
 bounded, capered, and formed attitudes, 
 to the amazement of all — the delight of 
 only a few. 
 
 One honest young farmer, who was foot- 
 ing it away, with his sweetheart, at length 
 appeared inspired by Lady Enderfield, in 
 attempting to cut capers like her ladyship, 
 lashed up behind with ludicrous exertion,
 
 303 
 
 and gave Lady Enderfield a kick upon the 
 shin, which she chose to make the most of. 
 Uttering a faint cry of anguish, she tot- 
 tered, and fell into Fitzroy's arms; who, 
 with a countenance of anxious tenderness, 
 bore her from the dancers ; and soon they 
 w^ere both lost to the following eyes of 
 Lord Francis and Julia. 
 
 "Sorceress! — Fiend!" his lordship softly 
 articulated, unconsciously; when suddenly 
 his eyes met Julia's: his flashed with in- 
 dignation ; in hers sat pity and native mild- 
 ness ; whilst on her lips he saw a smile 
 hovering: and, easily developing the ex- 
 pression of her intelligent countenance, saw 
 at once it was a smile of contempt. 
 
 '* Undone Fitzroy !" he softly whis- 
 pered : — " Julia De Clifford despises you." 
 
 Julia started, and exclaimed — '' ^My 
 lord!" 
 
 *' Forgive my strange exclamation," said 
 he; "for the danger that threatens Fitz- 
 roy almost distracts me. Would to Heaven, 
 Miss De Clifford, that you felt sutHcient 
 interest for him, to condescend to save him 
 from the wiles of a siren — a sorceress, 
 whose spells, I fear (without your inter-
 
 304 
 
 ference), will work his misery and de- 
 struction." 
 
 *' I should be, a great deal ungrateful 
 creature/' answered Julia, with steady calm* 
 ness, " was I not, exceedingly much, in- 
 terested, for the happiness, of Mr. Fitzroy ; 
 but I possess not, at all, the power, which 
 you seem, to me ascribe, for exorcising the 
 influence, of this, so evil, spirit." 
 
 " Oh ! you do possess it ! " replied his 
 lordship, with energy: — ^' and you only 
 possess it; for Fitzroy loves you, re- 
 verences you, and estimates you, beyond 
 all other women in existence. Last night, 
 when we thought this sorceress far dis- 
 tant, he confessed to me, his affection 
 for you was more tender, more respectful 
 (and, he was convinced, more everlast- 
 ing), than that his youthful fancy led him 
 to conceive for Lady Enderfield : — but 
 that love, he feared, was only doomed to 
 meet the return from you which the grate- 
 ful feelings of your heart, for some very 
 trifling service he had rendered you, 
 would lead you to conceive. This idea has 
 strongly taken possession of his mind. His 
 is an ardent disposition; — his love and
 
 305 
 
 friendship must be to excess: nor will he 
 ever brook a languid return to either; and 
 he must have you as evidently, and ar«- 
 dently, in love as himself, before he will 
 be satisfied that you care at all for him. 
 Every one has faults; Fitzroy fewer than al- 
 most any man I know ; and yet I, alas ! know- 
 no one more vulnerable to the weakness of 
 vanity (when assailed in the idea of being- 
 beloved) than Fitzroy: but was he shield- 
 ed, by the certainty of your affection, vain 
 would be theattacksof every other woman. 
 Your love would be all of happiness to him : 
 — every thought centred in your mutual 
 tenderness, you would be his defence, his 
 buckler here;vi"<^l you would lead him to 
 everlasting bliss hereafter." 
 
 The solemnity with which Lord Francis 
 uttered his last sentence, struck Julia for- 
 cibly. It seemed to call back her fleeting 
 tenderness — her interest for Fitzroy, with 
 awful impression. She felt no wish foi^rc- 
 serve upon the subject, with thi-> most ami- 
 able young man, whom Fitzroy liimself had 
 announced to her, as '' the soul of honour;" 
 yet in bashfulness, and not exactly knowing 
 what reply ^^he ouglit to make him, she still
 
 306 
 
 sat silent, but attentive; while Lady Gay- 
 thorn having caught sufficient of their con- 
 versation, to know that Lord Francis was 
 pleading that cause she had so earnestly at 
 heart, resolved he should not be interrupted; 
 and now entirely engrossed the attention of 
 Mr, Strictland, in quizzing the busy as- 
 semblage before them. 
 
 And now Lord Francis entered into a 
 more circumstantial detail of the attach- 
 ment of Fitzroy, and the perfidy of Lady 
 Enderfield, than Lady Gaythorn had done ; 
 and, giving it with more feeling, Julia's 
 pity for Fitzroy was sensibly awakened.. 
 After a pause, Lord Francis proceeded. — 
 *' Amiable, compassionating Miss De Clif- 
 ford, will you, will you not, in pity to my 
 friend, save him from the sorcery of this 
 vile enchantress?" 
 
 " What would you have of me, to do?" 
 — asked Julia.- — ^" Surely not to deceive 
 him ; and tell for him, I love him, when I 
 do not?" 
 
 The whole frame of Lord Francis seemed 
 now to vibrate with some newly-awakened 
 emotion ; and eagerly, and expressively, he 
 demanded — *' Does your heart, then, really
 
 307 
 
 experience no nothing of tendcmess 
 
 tor Fitzroyr'' 
 
 " Not one hour, since it did," she re- 
 plied, with a fascinating blush of innocence 
 and simplicity ; " not one hour quite, since 
 my heart, very certainly, did experience, 
 sensations for softening, into tenderness, to 
 your friend. They were, assuredly, for gra- 
 titude, the offspring; and if affection, wliich 
 did spring from that source, could not make 
 for, Mr. Fitzroy, happiness, it is well, very 
 much, that Lady Enderfield, has now ap- 
 peared, to save my peace, from being so 
 sacrificed, at the shrme for gratitude, and 
 admiration, which, too, did tell, for my err- 
 ing judgement, Fitzroy had made possession, 
 of all great virtue, under heaven." 
 
 '^ By my testimony, Fitzroy certainly 
 stands convicted of vanity," said liis lord- 
 ship ; " but in what other failure, in good- 
 ness, has your judgement been deceived 
 relative to my poor friend?" 
 
 " Of the very much, refined, feelings, for 
 the human mind, I will not now, to speak," 
 she replied ; " for, perhaps, the difference 
 in formation for the heart, of man, and 
 woman, might make for us agreement, not
 
 308 
 
 very well; for what I might have feel, in 
 conviction was just, yoa might consider, 
 for fastidiousness : I will therefore, only 
 say for now, Mr. Fitzroy did not act quite 
 amiably, when he made attempt to gain 
 my affections; when knowing very well his 
 own were not firmly, from Lady Enderfield 
 withdrawn. — He should very much, have 
 tried, his own heart, before he did listen, 
 to the mere impulse, for fancy, to assail 
 mine. The peace of a fellow creature, 
 ought to be of estimation, too, greatly, 
 much, to be lightly sported with. That the 
 heart to your friend, was never at freedom, 
 from the chains of his first attachment, I 
 am convinced : — that I stand chance none, 
 for rival being, to Lady Enderfield, you 
 will own yourself, when you do remember, 
 that very much patiently he acquiesced to 
 the advice from friends, not to dance, 
 when I was the partner, he was to ujake 
 forego of; but when Lady Enderfield did 
 appear, the advice from friends and every 
 consequence, did vanish before the much 
 happiness for dancing with her/' 
 
 ** Oh !" do not say his acquiescence was 
 very patient!"
 
 309 
 
 " Well, at smallest, it was rational ; and 
 he did listen, for advice, and acquiesced, 
 because it was so right; but when real, 
 iove, did come, prudence, and sage advice, 
 did get sent, about their business." 
 
 " But his dancing with Lady Enderficld, 
 I must think, was brought about by some 
 stratagem ; and that it was not his voluntary 
 doing, I am convinced," said Lord Francis. 
 
 " Really you do think, that not volun- 
 tarily, he is in the dance, with Lady Ender- 
 field?" said Julia, eagerly, with a brighten- 
 ing countenance. 
 
 ** I do, absolutely, think it," replied Lord 
 Francis, struggling with a deep-drawn sigh. 
 *' But Fitzroy's heart I will probe, and well 
 examine, before I sleep. — I will impart to 
 him what, I have not a doubt, will prove 
 his talisman against the wiles of this sor- 
 ceress. To the utmost of my power will 
 I exert myself, to save him from destruction ; 
 for he is the most beloved friend I have : 
 and, Miss De Clifford, if you knew every 
 secret of my heart, you would be convinced 
 how much I love, how highly prize, him, by 
 my making exertions for the only event 
 which can secure his happiness."
 
 310 
 
 " If Mr. Fitzroy, has been great deal 
 unfortunate, in love, he is most eminently 
 blessed, from friendship," said Julia. 
 
 The conversation of our heroine and his 
 lordship now ceased, and each was soon 
 lost in meditation; which Lady Gay thorn 
 no sooner perceived, than, from anxiety to 
 learn something of the vanished Fitzroy, 
 and his partner, she hastily announced her 
 wish, once more, to join the dancers. Lord 
 Francis found himself under the necessity 
 of asking for the honour of her hand, which 
 she readily granted : they joined the set, 
 and Mr. Strictland safely conducted Julia 
 to her seat, by Mrs. Goodwin, who was in 
 no small panic at the great attention which, 
 with green and yellow eyes, she saw Fitzroy 
 bestow upon his partner, in the moment 
 she received her hurt, and that he tenderly 
 bore her away. And neither Fitzroy nor 
 Lady Enderfield could the searching gaze 
 of Julia now any where discover. 
 
 Lady Gay thorn and Lord Francis had only 
 just danced to the bottom of the seat, when, to 
 their great surprise, supper was announced. 
 Vain was now every attempt they made 
 to get Julia to join them, whom they both
 
 311 
 
 had reasons for wishing to sit with them, 
 at supper: the impetuous torrent, rushiii^^ 
 to the festive hoard, carried them away, in 
 despite of every resistance, and almost 
 without the trouble of walking, to the 
 supper-room; and Julia, with Mrs. Good- 
 win, by the arbitrary will of the multitude, 
 were, in the same way, cut off from every 
 individual of the large party they had come 
 with, except Dr. Sydenham, who was too 
 old and feeble to attempt struggling for 
 them, through such a greedy throng. 
 
 Mrs. Goodwin, and her lovely young 
 friend, sat, with acquiescent resignation, 
 upon a bench, near the door; while Doctor 
 Sydenham (after the tumult on the stairs 
 had subsided) went down to reconnoitre ; 
 but who soon returned with intelligence, 
 that determined them to continue where 
 they were. 
 
 *' I believe," said the good doctor, " ia 
 the great room they have not left even 
 space sufficient for the waiters to enter ; 
 and the other rooms, below, are crammed 
 with freeholders, ready to cram themselves 
 with the luxuries provided for them : — and 
 here, since you are contented to remain, I
 
 312 
 
 think I may venture to promise Mrs, 
 Hobbs will supply you with some kind of 
 refreshments." 
 
 " I not wish, at all, for any, my dear sir," 
 said Julia, in a tone of ineffable mildness, 
 but touching sadness; which instantly de- 
 termined her good and venerable friend to 
 bring her some wine, at least, if he was even 
 to procure it at the hazard of being well 
 buffeted by the multitude below. 
 
 Julia De Clifford was no faultless monster : 
 she had rather a large stock of pride, and 
 some vanity ; both of which were now se- 
 verely mortified and wounded by this public 
 dereliction of Fitzroy, who had seemed to 
 take such unwearied pains to evince to the 
 world his attachment to her : and not only 
 was she deprived of the attentions of Fitz- 
 roy, which had been so interesting to her 
 heart, and had given her consequence in 
 the eyes of every one at Z., but she sat, in 
 this house of festivity, like what she was in 
 the world — an unprotected, unconnected, 
 solitary being : and such ideas, in a mind 
 of strong susceptibility, could not fail- 
 aided, too, by the other pained feelings of her 
 heart — of making sad impressions; giving
 
 313 
 
 to licr voice the tone of sorrow; her face, 
 tlie look of pensive melancholy. But soon, 
 Doctor Sydenham, with a smile of almost 
 celestial benevolence, tottering beneath a 
 sandwich tray of refreshments (which he 
 could not find any one whom he thought 
 it judicious to entrust with eatables, in the 
 present demand for them, to carry for him), 
 roused her every thought to gratitude. For 
 her, and her beloved friend Mrs. Goodwin, 
 this venerable man had made this kind ex- 
 ertion, as he himself never ate suppers : 
 and how could she evince her sensibility of 
 his great kindness, but by cheerfully par- 
 taking of the viands lie had brought lier. 
 Instantly she remanded every gloomy 
 thought back to the cave of spleen, 
 
 " Have I not, two friends, with me, of 
 inestimable worth; and am I not, therefore, 
 fortunate, very greatly ?'' said she, mentally. 
 Gratitude, now, illumined her lovely coun- 
 tenance, with every sparkling gem from 
 the stores of innocence and beauty. She 
 helped JNIrs. Goodwin; then an old and 
 gouty farmer, who was unequal to encoun- 
 tering the crowd, and who still sat in the 
 ball-room, reconciled to the idea of getting 
 
 VOL, I. P
 
 314 
 
 no supper, ** as his boys and girls," be said, 
 ** were merry below:" then she took some 
 chicken herself; drank Doctor Sydenham's 
 health, with a tear of gratitude glistening 
 in her intelligent eyes; chatted, with play- 
 ful gayety, and chastened mirth, to entertain 
 her two kind friends (whom she clearly saw 
 were chagrined upon her account), with 
 such resistless sweetness, and amiable exer- 
 tion, that the delighted Doctor Sydenham 
 again sighed with regret, at not having such 
 a child to bless his decHning years. 
 
 When this repast, made cheerfully plea- 
 sant by the fascinating gayety of the grateful 
 Julia, had been some time ended, she, with 
 her two admiring friends, walked up and 
 down the ball-room ; or occasionally strayed 
 into the illumined balcony, to catch the 
 refreshing breeze of night, and to look at 
 pale Cynthia, now in her wane, until the 
 return of the ladies, attended by many of 
 the men, from the supper- room, where the 
 eccentric Lady Gay thorn had rather pre- 
 maturely broke up the party. 
 
 When Fitzroy answered the summons of 
 her grace of Springcourt, he little expected 
 to find with her the woman he had long
 
 315 
 
 adored, and wliom be now supposed a dis- 
 consolate widow, bemoaning, at Venice, 
 tbe man wbom sbc bad preferred to bim. 
 Whatever emotions migbt liave assailed 
 him at tbis unexpected meeting, certainly 
 astonisbment overpowered bim, in the mo- 
 ment the dutcbess put Lady Enderfiekra 
 band into bis, and desired bim to follow 
 her, with bis fair partner, to tbe dancing 
 set. 
 
 Fitzroy instinctively obeyed, and seemed 
 lost in a tumult of rapid and overpowering 
 'sensations; dancing like an automaton, un- 
 conscious of what be was about; until tbe 
 accident which befell her ladyship, and lier 
 consequent scream, roused bim to a belief, 
 that times which were past still were in 
 existence. Under tbis impression, he bore 
 her from the throng to the card-room : but 
 there she would not remain; " the beat," 
 she said, '* oppressed her;" and such was her 
 objection to every place be led her to, until, 
 through the supper-room, he conducted her 
 to tbe garden, which was now but dimly 
 lit from the rooms, which they were only 
 just beginning to illuminate. 
 
 From the garden bench, upon which 
 p 2
 
 316 
 
 Fitzroy placed Lady Enderfield with tender 
 care, she now sunk down on her knees be- 
 fore him, and, in all the melting pathos of 
 contrition, implored forgiveness Judiciously 
 implicated her father as the sole mover of 
 the perfidy practised towards him ; painted 
 herself as the obedient child, sacrificing her 
 happiness to filial duty ; and concluded with 
 the most pathetic description of her own 
 misery, in her wedded life, with a husband 
 whom her soul abhorred ; whilst her ten- 
 derest affections had ever been irrevocably 
 devoted to Pitzroy. 
 
 Vain was his every effort to raise her 
 from the ground, until she had completed 
 this eloquent passion snare : then she suf- 
 fered herself to be raised from her humble, 
 suppliant posture; and, on the bosom of 
 the agitated Fitzroy, wept *' for joy," she 
 said, at what she frequently and pathetic- 
 ally termed, *^ their blessed, everlasting re- 
 union :"^ — told him, '.' she had only the pre- 
 ceding day arrived, from Paris, in London ; 
 where, hearing that he was at Z., she had, 
 in defiance of former fatigue, travelled all 
 night, for the purpose of reaching Spring- 
 court in time to join her grace's party to
 
 317 
 
 the ball ; where she should, once more, 
 have the transporting happiness of behold- 
 ing him — her first, her only love!'' 
 
 And thus did tlie insidious siren continue 
 to twine round tlie susceptible feelings 
 of Fitzroy, until the suppcr-roonis were 
 thrown open for the reception of the eager 
 guests : then it was Fitzroy seemed to 
 awaken from his trance of infatuation, and 
 recollected his duties to these guests. — Into 
 the supper-room he hastily led Lady Ender- 
 field; but vain was every attempt he made 
 to gain the ball-room : he could not stem 
 the opposing torrent ; and, at length, was 
 compelled to seat himself by her ladyship, 
 at one of the tables. 
 
 Chance favouring Lady Gay thorn and 
 Lord Francis Loraine, they were carried, 
 by the resistless crowd, to the very table 
 where Fitzroy had been driven to; and they 
 got seats exactly opposite to him and his 
 fair besieger. 
 
 From the supper which Lady Enderfieid 
 ate, DO one could have been led to suspect 
 that which she herself had declared, " her 
 being deeply in love;" nor did she omit a 
 more than feminine portion of wine : so
 
 318 
 
 that, at length, between the exhilaration 
 from the champaign and joy of her being 
 likely to succeed in her project of becoming 
 a dutchess, her natural great spirits were 
 elevated to that critical pitch, where viva- 
 city, wandering from it's chastened bounds, 
 but narrowly escapes ebulliating into levity. 
 Her eyes, and wit, now sparkled like the 
 champaign that inspired her: — innumerable 
 were her lively sallies, and the bon-mots she 
 uttered ; and every one at the table, except « 
 her msavis neighbours, deriving much en- 
 tertainment from her wit. 
 
 At length, the patience of Lady Gay- 
 thorn was quite exhausted; and she resolved 
 upon instant retaliation, by calling off the 
 attention of every one, from her ci-d&Qant 
 friend, to herself. The ruby lips of Lady 
 Enderfield just opened to utter something, 
 which her attentive auditors, from the arch 
 smile that was it's intended prelude, ex- 
 pected to be even unusually witty ; when 
 Lady Gaythorn most critically preceded 
 her in sound, by uttering an audible yawn. 
 The jaws of Lady Enderfield were instantly 
 seized with an involuntary inclination to 
 sympathize; but quickly she closed her but
 
 just parted lips, and felt, at that moment, 
 unequal to speaking her bun- mot with the 
 spirit it required. She l)ad now recourse to 
 her enlivening auxiliary : and, after gulfing 
 down a sparkling glass, slie found a cpiickly 
 circulating renovation of her lively faculties, 
 and dashed out her wit with redoubled spi- 
 rit: but it was in the moment when Lady 
 Gaythorn liad composedly leaned her head 
 back against the wainscot, and had set her 
 ^eyes in a closing position, with such an 
 overpowering expression of drowsiness, that 
 an instantaneous infection operated, as if 
 guided by magic; and the sally of wit was 
 received with a half-suppressed, but univer- 
 sal, involuntary yawn. 
 
 The highly mortified Lidy Enderfieid, 
 finding her spell for charniifig n!J, was dis- 
 solved, now consoled herself with renewing 
 her assault, and lures, for the retaking Fitz- 
 roy's heart. Her obedient eyes now ceased 
 to sparkle, and melted into all-bewitching 
 tenderness; and, to give pathos to her love- 
 fraught accents, she attempted to reclaim 
 her voice, and soften it to subduing melody ; 
 but vain was the attempt; the voice, obsti-
 
 3^0 
 
 nately, continued growling in discordance; 
 until Lady Gaythorn, suddenly startingfroni 
 her momentary, all-eye-attracting doze, as 
 if yet only half awake, and wholly uncon- 
 scious of where she was, carelessly, but 
 archly and emphatically, warbled out : — 
 
 " Listen, listen to the voice of love ! 
 " Oh! listen, listen to the voice of love'/' 
 
 and then, hastily rising from her seat, de- 
 clared " she was half dead from the heat of 
 the room, and from ermuii caught from the 
 dull and spiritless party she had unfortunate- 
 ly sat among. — Do, dear Lord Francis," 
 she continued, '* have tlie charity to lead 
 me from the cave of Trophonius; until my 
 poor tortured senses are lured back to har- 
 mony and comfort, by the dulcet voice, the 
 seraphic look, and fascinating conversation 
 of that loveliest of all human beings, Miss 
 De Clifford." 
 
 Without scruple, her ladyship now routed 
 and disturbed every one who impeded her 
 way; and, once disturbed, the majority of 
 the company followed her to the ball-room, 
 where she found, and instantly joined, our 
 heroine; whom she playfully accused of
 
 staying from the supper-room, to aid nature 
 (by keeping out of the heat and fatigue) iu 
 making her surpass every female present in 
 beauty. 
 
 " Do look at her ! Lord Francis," she ex- 
 claimed ; " observe the refreshing loveliness 
 of her unwearied countenance, theuntlushed 
 clear transparency of her blushing cheek ; 
 and then look round at the heated, hideous, 
 bacchanalian figures, emerging from that 
 crammed-up cauldron below !'* apd she look- 
 ed full at Lady Enderfield, who, unattended 
 by Fitzroy to the ball-room, and attracted 
 both by this speech and her ladyship's en- 
 comium on Julia at her exit from the sup- 
 per-room, now drew near to gaze at our 
 heroine; and, taking her station close beside 
 her, gave to every one an opportunity of 
 making comparisons between the rival can- 
 didates for Fitzroy 's love. Fitzroy 's early 
 attachment to, and disappointment from, 
 Lady Enderfield, were at Z. no secret ; 
 where her ladyship and family were well 
 known, and universally disliked : and his 
 marked conduct, during the election, to 
 Miss De Clifford, had led every one to bc- 
 p J
 
 322 
 
 lieve she was the object of his second love ; 
 and his dereliction of her this evening was 
 too conspicuous to escape observation; and 
 all these circumstances combined to occa- 
 sion much animadversion.
 
 32:i 
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 When Fitzroy obtained the power of 
 moving, he roved about from room to 
 room, to pay his civilities to the freehold- 
 ers, still doing justice to the dainty viands 
 spread before them ; and did not re-enter 
 the hall-room, until the company there 
 had formed themselves into a kind of 
 square, for Celestina Hargrave to dance a 
 hornpipe in, at the request of the Dutchess 
 of Spring-court, p'itzroy entered this (jua- 
 drangle; and saw, at the opposite end, ^till 
 standing by each other, the two females 
 whooccupied hisalmostdistractcd thoughts. 
 A string of the harp was broken, and, as 
 Miss Hargrave would not dance without 
 the accompaniment of that instrument, the 
 repairing of the string occasioned a little 
 delay ; during which, the men of all ranks 
 standing near Fitzroy indulged themselves
 
 324 
 
 iu making remarks iipon Lady Enderfield^ 
 and our heroine. 
 
 " And look !" said the venerahle Lord 
 Beechwood (long the most celebrated critic 
 of female beauty and propriety), " look, 
 with what undaunted effrontery she stands, 
 in her shameless gossamer drapery, as if 
 braving the striking contrast 1. Yes! close 
 by that darling of Hebe, the most lovely 
 offspring of innocence and beauty, clad 
 by celestial modesty's own hand ; and, like 
 the unconscious rose, unobtrusively stands, 
 the pride of the garden ; yet blushing in 
 sweetness, and unrivalled beauty !" 
 
 " For all the world," cried a young 
 farmer, " like a beautiful little lamb with- 
 out blemish, whom every man, that had 
 any heart, would wish to take to his bosom, 
 to shelter from harm, and cherish with 
 tenderness, "and the best of every thing his 
 farm aff'ordcd." 
 
 *^ And a good thing, too, Dick," ex- 
 claimed another half-inebriated freeholder, 
 ** to shelter her from that there ravenins: 
 wolf, in sheep's clothing : — no, dang it! I 
 means in no clothing at all, who might do 
 her a mischief out of jealousyship; having
 
 3^5 
 
 a hankering for the same shepl}cr(l : — hut, 
 dang it ! were I the shepherd, Til set my 
 dog to bark her out of the fold. — I'd be 
 bamboozled no second time, by no such 
 sly puss; when such a sweet beautiful lass, 
 as that there other, were to be had." 
 
 Fitzroy, not finding his situation very 
 comfortable here, changed liis place, but 
 not the general conversation, which still 
 assailed his ears in every direction, in con- 
 demnation of the indelicacy of Lady Ender- 
 field's dress, and boldness of deportment; 
 and in panegyrics upon Julia's captivating 
 modesty, grace, and beauty. 
 
 " By why, I\Ir. Alderman," cried a smart 
 young buck parson, to one of the corpo- 
 ration of Z., " why so illiberally abusive of 
 this lady, who, all the time, exhibits as a 
 virtue ?" 
 
 "A virtue!" exclaimed the alderman, 
 
 indignantly; " now, d n me, if you can, 
 
 with all your learning, extract a j)article of 
 virtue out of her; or any of her hollow- 
 hearted race, who all lived by their wit>, 
 and throve upon the oil of their sublile 
 tongues." 
 
 " She appears as Truth, Mr, Alderman,"
 
 3Q6 
 
 replied the young curate, chuckling at his 
 own wit. " Is not truth a virtue ? and is 
 not Truth ever delineated unattired?" 
 
 ** You may be right," returned the al- 
 derman, in his turn smirking at his own 
 conceits ; *' for she verities the old proverb 
 of * Truth may be blamed, but cannot be 
 shamed ;' for here, every one condemns her ; 
 
 but the d 1, himself, could not make her 
 
 blush." 
 
 " There, there she be, Dan !" cried the 
 elderof the two young farmers, bustling and 
 elbowing their way through the ranks to get 
 a look at Julia. There she be, standing nigh 
 that there painted wench with no clothes 
 to her back !" 
 
 " Ay, Sim ! I see the sweet creature," 
 returned the other. " Lord love her ! how 
 moxtdX pratty she be, Sim !" 
 
 " Be n't she, Dan 1 But had you seen her 
 as I did (when I slipt up to say, how be 
 yau, feather ?) quite melancholic loike, 
 when all the great gentlemen had forsaken 
 her ; and more shame for them, Dan ! Had 
 I been a gentleman, I would not have done 
 so for nobody," 
 
 " No more would not I, Sim/'
 
 527 
 
 ** Wull, so melancholic loikc she sat, 
 until Doctor Sucliuun coined with a sandy 
 dray ; when her face perked up in a minute, 
 to smiles so sweet, and such pratty dimples; 
 and the roses bloxved brighter on her cheek, 
 loike, for all the world, as if she was greatly 
 obligated to him for taking so much trouble, 
 as he was so old, and not used to be a 
 waiter ; and then, Dan, the moment she 
 heard feather was decrepit, she put some 
 chicken — -no drum-sticks, but dainty bits, 
 bless her ! (which I verily believe she would 
 have eaten herself, if feather had not been 
 decrepit) — and ham too, with her beautitul 
 little hand (with the back of it like snow- 
 drops, and violets, and the palm like the 
 finest rose, and so sleek-looking, and such 
 taper fingers surlie), and put all on a china 
 plate, and handed them herself, so she did, to 
 feather, with such a good-natured smile, and 
 looking so sweet, so very, very sweet, that 
 as I looked on her, helping poor old featiier, 
 for the first time in my life, I was grieved to 
 think I was not a great lord ; and then, 
 Dan, she brought a goblin of wine to 
 feather (who looked ten years younger—
 
 328 
 
 Heaven bless his honest face ! so proud 
 was he at being so attended) : but she was 
 not used to cany wine, sweet creature ! for 
 her hand trembled as she took it to him, 
 and bid him ' drink health, and every hap- 
 piness, to 'Squire Fitzroy.'" 
 
 Fitzroy, at this moment, made a sudden 
 effort to gain the opposite side of the 
 square ; but was prevented from effecting 
 his purpose, by Miss Hargrave darting 
 towards him to begin her hornpipe; and 
 compelled to return, he caught honest Sim 
 by the arm, with marked cordiality; and 
 the amazed Sim, afterwards, declared, " he 
 . had never been so bashed in his life, as by 
 the 'squire's condescension." 
 
 The musicians demanded what hornpipe 
 they were to pla3\ Celestina hastily ap- 
 proached Julia, to ask, '* which she should 
 dance, Del Card's or Parisofs hornpipe ? 
 for I had rather please you than any body 
 else," Miss Hargrave added. 
 
 Julia blushed most beautifully at this 
 public compliment, and smiled her grati* 
 tude ; while, in the low hurried tone of ti- 
 midity, she said, but still ineffably sweet
 
 3^9 
 
 were her accents, " What is pleasure for 
 yourself, Miss Hargrave, will most of gra- 
 tification afFord, for me." 
 
 *^ Do, pray, let it be Parisot's," exclaimed 
 Lady Enderfield, '^ for I never saw tiiat 
 danced." 
 
 Celestina, instantly spreading her fan 
 before her face, with a burlesque gesture of 
 shocked modesty, eager to shut out an im- 
 proper object, turned from her ladysiiip, 
 and immediately called for Del Caro's ; 
 which she danced with a degree of spirit, 
 ease, agility, neatness, and grace, that 
 drew forth the justly-awakened admiration 
 of every spectator : and she had but just 
 finished her admirable hornpipe, when a 
 sudden snap was heard; and in the instant, 
 succeeded the fall of a very large chande- 
 lier, which hung immediately over the spot 
 where Lady Enderfield and Julia De 
 Ciifibrd stood. It dropped between them. 
 Julia, by the instantaneous exertion of 
 Lord Francis, in snatching her away, es- 
 caped unhurt ; but Lady Enderfield, less 
 ao-ile, and unassisted, had her diadem and 
 veil torn ofFbv a branch of the chandelier;
 
 330 
 
 and received a slight scratch upon one of 
 her shoulders. 
 
 Every one, but those immediately of the 
 Dutchess of Springcourt's party, as if actu- 
 ated by one impulse, all flew to Julia's aid. 
 Fitzroy was one of the foremost : he snatch- 
 ed her from Lord Francis, in wild dismay, 
 and in agonized tenderness clasped her to 
 his breast, exclaiming: 
 
 ** JuUa! my life! my — my love ! are you, 
 — are you hurt?" 
 
 Julia, overwhelmed with amazement and 
 confusion, gently disengaged herself from^ 
 his arms; and, with a countenance of blush- 
 ing, soft timidity, replied, " I am totally 
 quite, unhurt; except for causing conster- 
 nation, so great deal, and such much kind 
 concern, amongst my friends ;" and she 
 courtesied gracefully to those who anxi- 
 ously stood around her. 
 
 Fitzroy, pale, and trembling, took the 
 arm of Lord Francis Loraine, who was 
 little less agitated than himself. And now 
 a piercing shriek was heard ; for Lady 
 Enderfield, finding that Fitzroy did not fly 
 to her, and perceiving him tenderly devoted
 
 331 
 
 to the mere child Lady Gaythorn had 
 chosen to style a beauty, now thought it 
 expedient to faint, which she accortlinj^ly 
 did witli great effect, fust uttering a cry 
 of terror upon hearing her shouhler was 
 scratched ; but, although tnost intorcbtingly 
 timed was this swoon ; and that the attitude 
 she reclined in was most beautiful ; and the 
 look of sweet resignation, her countenance 
 wore, was most seducing ; yet, all had no 
 influence upon Fitzroy, who stood, immove- 
 ably, with the tender solicitude of ardent 
 love portrayed in every line of his coun- 
 tenance, gazing at Julia ; who, agitated by 
 a variety of sensations, leaned in visible 
 tremour upon the supporting arm of Mrs. 
 Goodwin; whilst Lady Gaythorn, with 
 apparent anxiety, held one of her hands. 
 Mr. Smith, upon perceiving that Fitzroy 
 was become a statue of contemplation, at 
 length, as the other host or the evening, 
 flew to afford his assistance in the recovery 
 of Lady Enderfield; when from the striking 
 contrast of their size and figure, and frofu 
 the burlesque manner in which he jumped 
 about her, the scene became ludicrous in 
 the extreme.
 
 53^ 
 
 Young farmer Sim had, the moment he 
 observed Julia's agitation, flown for a glass 
 of water, which he was hastily taking to 
 her, when Mr. Smith, as he was passing 
 with it, demanded it from him. Sim re- 
 fused it bhintly. 
 
 ** Don't you see, sir," exclaimed Mr. 
 Smitli, with melancholy grimace, *^ the 
 lady's in a feint?" 
 
 *' That a blind man may see, sir; and 
 this water is for miss, who is not in a feint," 
 replied Sim, hastening on. 
 
 " Good Heavens ! ladies," exclaimed Mr. 
 Smith, *' will none of you advise me hoNV 
 to act in this desperate case ? Consider, dear 
 ladies I I am (most calamitously for myself) 
 a dreary bachelor, and know not, alas ! how 
 to manage you, dear lovely creatures, in 
 your vagaries — your, bless my soul! — your 
 indispositions, I mean. — You see how 
 grossly ignorant I am, by miscalling so 
 your maladies! — Dear! dear! dear I what 
 must I do? — which way can I turn? Is 
 there no Lady Bountiful present, to pre- 
 scribe for this angei? Lovely, oh! how 
 lovely, even in the semblance of grim vi- 
 saged death !'"
 
 333 
 
 " Take oif her gloves, 'scjuirc, and |);it 
 her hands," said an old woman (a bakcTs 
 wife), now decked in her holiday gown. 
 
 Mr. Smith obeyed with burlcs(ine solem- 
 nity. ^' So, dame, so, as you do the ladici' 
 fingers, for their breakfast in a morning. — 
 Pat, pat, pat; — and knead, and knead; — 
 and roll, and roll, and roll. — Iley, the d — 1! 
 this will never do ; it only creates a con- 
 vulsion about the mouth, that is really very 
 alarming. Zounds ! we must have a doctor. 
 What, is there not one doctor iu this great 
 assemblage? Oh! ye healthy tribes 1 and 
 do ye ie<:d no doctor r A doctor ! a doctor! 
 a guinea for a doctor ! What, none, none, 
 yet I Dame, dear dame! is there nothing 
 more to be taken off? — Is there not some- 
 thing to be done about a lace ? — Ay, to cut 
 a lace; or some of the body chjthes:* 
 
 " Sir," said the witty buck curate, before 
 mentioned, " her ladyship, you see, antici- 
 pating this event, has already cut her 
 clothes." 
 
 '' Ay, Mr. Smith," exclaimed the face- 
 tious alderman, you, this evening, practise 
 more virtues than one, as you talked of, in 
 your speech on Saturday. — ^ ou have
 
 SS4 
 
 already fed the hungry ; you now attend 
 the sick; and may clothe the naked, if you 
 are truly charitable." 
 
 ** Heavens ! sir,'' replied Mn Smith, 
 " don't talk of virtues here, where there is 
 no humanity. Will no one have the com- 
 miseration, the bowels of compassion, to 
 get me a burnt cork, to roll beneath this 
 beautiful nose (which still is beautiful, 
 though unlike my own), or give mc a glass 
 of water to sprinkle, drop after drop, like 
 balmy dew, upon the lilies of this facer" 
 
 At this moment, Lady Enderfield opened 
 her beautiful eyes, and fixed them, with 
 strong expressions of contempt and indigna- 
 tion, upon Mr. Smith ; who, however, with 
 undaunted, persevering burlesque, gravely 
 congratulated her upon her sudden reco- 
 very ; and her ladyship, to get rid of his buf- 
 foonery (which was almost convulsing every 
 one else with laughter), now arose with dig- 
 nified hauteur^ and taking the Dutchess of 
 Springcourt's arm, said, " she would go into 
 the balcony for a little air : in accom- 
 plishing which, she passed by Julia and 
 her party. On Fitzroy she cast an irresist- 
 ibly inviting glance ; but, whether he
 
 S35 
 
 wished to obey it by following her or not, 
 it was not, now, in his power easily to 
 move; for, durini,^ Lady Enderfield's swoon, 
 our heroine and party had retired to seats, 
 which, from the fast decrease of company, 
 were easily obtained. On chairs, near an 
 open window, Fitzroy and Julia sat; and 
 Lady Gay thorn and Lord Francis con- 
 trived, as if accidentally, to fix their own 
 chairs so as to securely jam them up there. 
 Fitzroy had, with all the tenderness of 
 ardent love, expressed his joy at Julia's 
 escape from death; which his distracted 
 fears had, for a moment, presented to his 
 frantic imagination as inevitable; and she 
 thanked him with ineffable sweetness, tinc- 
 tured with that perturbation, all the events 
 of tlie evenins: had combined to awaken in 
 her susceptible mind ; and in such a tumult 
 were all her thoughts, that she felt un- 
 equal to conversation ; and eagerly anxious 
 to meditate upon the paradoxical conduct 
 of Fitzroy, who, not less agitated than 
 herself, with the addition of feelings infi- 
 nitely more embarrassed and untran(|uil, 
 still wished to lure her into a conference 
 with him ; yet, conscious of some impro-
 
 356 
 
 priety of conduct towards her, he almost 
 dreaded what he, at the same time, ear- 
 nestly wished for. 
 
 Very pale, and very sad, he, for some 
 time, sat gazing at her, in uneasy silence; 
 but, at length, he summoned up sufficient 
 courage to say, *' I have scarcely for a mo- 
 ment seen you to night." 
 
 Julia, more than ever Astonished, raised 
 her e3^es, and would have answered this ad- 
 dress with careless, cool indifference; had 
 not the languor and melancholy of his fine 
 countenance, and the tremulous tone of his 
 voice, disarmed the little resentment pride 
 had awakened; and, with a good-natured 
 smile of bewitching sweetness, she replied, 
 
 ** Where you had, so great multitude for 
 guests to attend, would it not, have been 
 exceedingly, of impossibility, of any indi- 
 vidual, to engage, much from your time." 
 
 " Sweet, as lovely ! amiable, as fascinat- 
 ing ! I see you in every point of view," said 
 Fitzroy with energy; "but I, alas! de- 
 serve not this bewitching kindness ; this 
 sweet, benign allowance for my infatuated 
 desertion of you. But, why — why," he con- 
 tinued, in a saddened tone — " why did you
 
 337 
 
 leav^e me, Julia? — Why did you not allowr 
 me to accompany you and Lady Gaythoin? 
 Had I remained with you, you would have 
 shielded me from every folly: — in parting 
 from you, I have been betrayed into unpar- 
 donable weakness. — I have been infatuated 
 by pity ; and am unhinged, embarrassed, 
 perplexed — made miserable !" 
 
 Julia paused fur a moment, after Fitzroy 
 ceased, to recover her firmness, which his 
 words, his voice, his look, his manner, con- 
 tributed to subdue; then, mildly, she said, 
 with dignity and feeling: 
 
 " Mr. Fitzroy, my knowledge, for you, 
 has, it is much true, been very, very small ; 
 but circumstance, after circumstance, have 
 arisen, and combined, to display for me, 
 so great deal forcibly, the virtues of your 
 mind ; that very certainly I must be, in- 
 sensibility's very bad child, could your 
 happiness, now be, object, of indifference 
 forme. — I do know not at all, what has 
 unhinged, embarrassed, and perplexed, 
 you. — 1 wish for, not to dive, into your 
 secrets, believe me; if confiding in me, 
 would pain give for you. — It is very suffi- 
 cient, of me to hear, the so sad news, that 
 
 VOL. !• Q,
 
 S38 
 
 you are miserable, to awaken, the whole 
 interest, from my mind for you. — Heaven 
 knows, how strongly fervent, I do wish, for 
 you happiness ; and if I can no longer at all, 
 make promotion of it, allow me to say : 
 — If, any of professions, which you have, 
 to me said, at any time, cause to you, em- 
 barrassment, perplexity ; contribute in any, 
 even small degree, to your misery, erase 
 them, for ever, of your mind, which I 
 should do too, did not gratitude's claim, for 
 the kind thoughts for me, which inspired 
 them, forbid my memory, ever ceasing 
 them, to cherish." 
 
 Fitzroy's eyes swam in tears of tender- 
 ness ; his heart bounded visibly ; and he 
 almost gasped for breath ere he could arti- 
 culate. 
 
 " Generous, noble, Julia! my whole 
 heart is thine ! And whilst you permit me 
 to hope for your affections, though distant, 
 far distant, the realizing of that rapturous 
 hope may be, no power on earth shall 
 force or lure me to relinquish it. — But you 
 shall know every secret of my heart; for it 
 is right that you should search it deeply, to 
 learn all it's follies, it's weaknesses ; though,
 
 539 
 
 by them, you may find it unworthy the 
 pure gem within your bosom.'* 
 
 " You do depreciate your own worth,' 
 said Julia, smihng, " only the exceedingly 
 more judiciously, to give for me, astonish- 
 ment, at your great deal value." 
 
 ** Oh I no, no : I fear you will be disap- 
 pointed in my worth : but judge me, oh, 
 judge me, mercifully ! — At what hour do 
 you go to-morrow?" 
 
 " At eleven." 
 
 " After the fatigue and late hours of to- 
 night, I dare not ask you to rise so early 
 as to meet me in the Rectory grounds by 
 eight o'clock." 
 
 *' Oh !" said Julia, " I never do allow, 
 for the late hour I retire, to act, for excuse, 
 to encroach, upon my time, for rising." 
 
 *' Then will you, will you oblige mc, by 
 allowing me, to-morrow, the happiness of 
 accompanying you in your morning walk ; 
 that I may pour into your generous bosom 
 erery secret of my heart; tell you all my 
 perplexity, and obtain your gentle pity and 
 advice ?" 
 
 " I will be in the Rectory grounds, at 
 eight o'clock, if you do wish it," said Julia. 
 
 q2
 
 340 
 
 *' But why, say communications, for me, 
 that may only pain make for you ? Lord 
 Francis Loraine, is older friend, than I 
 am. He, too, can judge the heart to man, 
 by sympathetic intuition ; and, therefore, 
 more truly better far, than I could do. — 
 My heart is very equal to the good pur- 
 pose, of being merciful for you ; but, I 
 know not, you so well, as Lord Francis 
 knows you. He understands of your heart, 
 all it's secrets, all it's windings, it's mean- 
 ings, and it's wishes : he might tell very 
 well, what could make for you happiness ; 
 and though I should, greatly wish, to make 
 it for you too, I might not find out for you, 
 th? way, by not knowing myself, the true 
 direction." 
 
 Again, the gratitude and admiration of 
 Fitzroy were powerfully awakened. " Oh, 
 Julia!" he exclaimed, " why hold such fas- 
 cinating language to me here, where I must 
 only dare, in a cold and languid whisper, 
 thank you ? To-morrow, I know, you will 
 not speak so kindly to me ; but, to-morrow, 
 I entreat, I implore you to meet me." 
 
 " Again I do say, I will meet you, since 
 you, so desire it; but remember, I had
 
 341 
 
 greatly rather, you would not tell for nie, 
 any thing, that can pain give to yourself: 
 only trancjuillize your own mind, and, be- 
 lieve me, mine will be satisfied, quite well." 
 
 Lady Gay thorn and party's carriages 
 were, at this moment, announced. They 
 arose to go ; and Julia saw, with disquiet- 
 ude, that one termination of the balcony 
 reached the window, where she and Fitzroy 
 had such an interesting conversation. Sl^e 
 hoped, however, that no one there had 
 overheard any thing they said : every thing, 
 she knew, could have reached any car, 
 however inattentive ; but as to Fitzroy, 
 even more than to herself, the idea of Lady 
 Enderfield having heard any thing he said, 
 must be particularly distressing, she for- 
 bore to mention the circumstance to him, 
 who was already so disturbed by mental 
 uneasiness. 
 
 Fitzroy, with tender anxiety, now wrapt 
 Julia s shawl around her. A deep-drawn 
 sigh reached his ears, issuing from behind 
 where he stood. Lady Enderfield was keen- 
 ly observing him, and hers was the sigh. 
 He seemed aware that it was, for he started,
 
 34S 
 
 dianged colour, and, without looking round, 
 hurried Julia along; and, at the ball-room 
 door, he softly said : 
 
 '' At this door, Julia, full of hope and 
 joy, I first met you this evening: — at this 
 door, you sent me from you, full of fond 
 and flattering expectations, to be unstrung; 
 to meet with misery; to be tortured with 
 agonizing pity, for a being I no longer 
 love, no longer estimate." 
 
 ** Can pity of a being, we love not at 
 all, we cannot even estimate, amount for 
 agony?" said Julia, mildly. 
 
 ** It can, Julia ; for in my bosom is, at 
 this moment, torturing proof." 
 
 ** Forgive me, if I do doubt," she re- 
 plied. " You mistake make, of your feel- 
 ings. You either still, still, do love; or, 
 not accustomed very well, to disquietude, 
 you fancy do, the saddening thrills, of soft 
 com})assion, are pangs for anguish." 
 
 *' Oh, Julia!" replied Fitzroy, mourn- 
 fully and reproachfully ; " had your heart 
 ever beat with one throb of affection for me, 
 you could not thus coldly analyse my feel- 
 ings when you see me wretched."
 
 343 
 
 ** Whatever name, the feelings, I expe- 
 rience for you, may justly claim, I nat 
 know of," said Julia, in a tone of wounded 
 sensibility ; " but they present for me, deep 
 interest of your happiness : they tell to me, 
 * there is not, a blessing, in existence, they 
 do not, much wish, for you.'" 
 
 ** Then, then, Julia !" replied Fitzroy, 
 softened almost to tears of tenderness and 
 joy, '* they wish you mine for ever.'* 
 
 They now reached the door of the house, 
 and Lady Gaythorn called to him : 
 
 " My coach is last, Fitzroy," said she ; 
 " and remember, I expect you to escort 
 me home; therefore, if politesse has any 
 demand up stairs upon you, be speedy in 
 your civilities; for I shall be in waiting for 
 you." 
 
 ** I know not that there exists any ne- 
 cessity for my going up again," replied 
 Fitzroy, colouring. *' All the ladies have 
 now left the ball-room, except the Dutchess 
 of Springcourt and her party, and they are 
 Mr. Smith's guests and friends, not mine." 
 
 ** And notwithstanding that," exclaimed 
 Lord Gaythorn, who was taking tender
 
 344 
 
 care oF Miss Penrose, to whom he had most 
 particularly attached himself during the 
 evening — *'and notwithstanding that; sure- 
 ly, the elegant, well-bred disciple of the 
 Chesterfieldean system, will not offend 
 against every rule of propriety, by failing 
 to pay the friends of Mr. Smith the small 
 attention which common civility demands." 
 
 Fitzroy felt Lord Gay thorn's malice, 
 and was sensibly provoked ; and to Julia 
 he instantly applied for her opinion on the 
 su})ject. 
 
 Julia coloured at this public tribute of 
 deference paid to her opinion ; but, unhesi- 
 tatingly, replied : ^* Indeed, Mr. Fitzroy, 
 I do agree, very much, with his lordship, 
 for thinking, the friends, to Mr. Smith, 
 claim for you, this attention. — Surely you 
 will, to them go," she added. in a lower- 
 ed tone ; and with a smile so ineffably 
 sweet, and a look so unaffectedly confid- 
 ing, that banished the idea of every woman, 
 but Julia De Chfiford, from the mind of 
 Fitzroy, at that moment ; and having safe- 
 ly placed her in Doctor Hargrave's coach, 
 he took the arm of Lord Francis Loraine.
 
 345 
 
 and hurried to pay his parting civilities to 
 the dutchess and her friends. The lures of 
 Lady Endei field, for detaining Fitzroy, were 
 exerted in vain ; and Lady Gay thorn had 
 not to complain of being long delayed. 
 
 Ere Julia sought her pillow, she imparted 
 every event of the evening to her kind and 
 sincere friend Mrs. Goodwin, who had 
 heard and observed sufficient of Lady 
 Endei field, to make her tremble for the 
 success of her ardent wishes, relative to 
 Fitzroy and Julia, until the falling of 
 the chandelier ; when the conduct of Fitz- 
 roy banished every fear : and, now, the 
 communications of our heroine strength- 
 ened her most sanguine expectations. 
 
 Full of hope and joy, this excellent 
 woman quitted the chamber of Julia, whose 
 gentle bosom felt the fluttering of an inno- 
 vating guest, who seemed to monopolize 
 every thought, and soften them into tender 
 solicitude for Fitzroy, whose brilliant per- 
 fections, aided by the highly flattering at- 
 tentions, and unequivocal language of re- 
 spectful love, with which he assailed her, 
 had imperceptibly made their progress 
 q6
 
 346 
 
 towards attaching her ; and although her 
 resentment, and her momentary contempt, 
 had heen excited by his conduct during 
 some part of this evening ; yet had her 
 pity for his past sufferings, her anxiety 
 and sympathy for his present distressing- 
 embarrassment, been so powerfully awak- 
 ened, resentment and contempt had been 
 killed : and the almost frantic anguish he 
 evinced when danger threatened her, had 
 so completely subdued the last struggles of 
 her affection for freedom, that rest for this 
 night was banished from her pillow ; and 
 Fitzroy was now enshrined in the pure 
 temple of her heart. 
 
 WitJ] this newly awakened fascination, 
 she found ten thousand fears obtrude to 
 agitate her bosom ; and her thoughts were 
 a;ll tumult, without a certain hope to rest 
 upon, except the affections of Fitxroy, and 
 some entanglement with Lady Enderfield ; 
 some unguarded promise, or wrong inter- 
 pretation, might make imperious honour 
 demand the sacrifice of those affections. 
 " And would the sacrifice be great which 
 restored them to the object of his first
 
 S47 
 
 attachment?" was a question her throbbing 
 heart suggested ; and the same heart nobly 
 breathed a fervent wish, that if the trial 
 should be required of him, the pain it in- 
 flicted might not be lasting, or deeply felt.
 
 S48 
 
 CHAPTER XVI< 
 
 True to her appointment, Julia inhaled 
 the refreshing breeze of morning in the 
 Rectory grounds by eight o'clock ; and as, 
 with fluttering expectation, she gained the 
 mound, whence she coukJ command a 
 view of the footpath from tlie Priory, she 
 beheld Fitzroy dashing the dew drops from 
 the tender grass in eager speed, tliat woukl 
 not take the lengthened w-ay that others 
 trod ; but hurried on, in an undeviating 
 line, from the house to the boundary of 
 the demesne. Over a stile into the high 
 road (which only now^ separated him from 
 the Rectory grounds) he vaulted ; when, 
 to our heroine's inexpressible amazement 
 and consternation, she suddenly saw Lady 
 Enderfield walking in the public road, un- 
 attended, and already advanced quite close 
 to the spot where Fitzroy stood, in a re- 
 treating attitude, as if he meant to elude
 
 349 
 
 her observation. Her ladyship now seemed 
 first to recognise him ; she started, stum- 
 bled, screamed, and then, in a tumult of 
 tenderness, joy, and pain, declared she 
 had dislocated her ankle. Fitzroy now 
 flew to her assistance; she threw herself 
 into his arms for support: he led, or rather 
 bore, her to some felled wood lying near, 
 where he seated her; and then, kneeling 
 before her, examined and gently rubbed 
 her ankle. 
 
 The first feeling of Julia's mind was an 
 impulse of humanity, which would have led 
 her to afford her assistance to Lady Ender- 
 field ; but, eje she had advanced two steps, 
 reflexion restrained that impulse, and the 
 rectitude of her heart instantly led her from 
 the mound, where the thick surrounding 
 foliage rendered her a concealed observer 
 of them ; and to remain a moment longer 
 there, she thought, would be mean, degrad- 
 ing, and ungenerous. To the lawn she 
 now bent her steps, disgusted and ashamed 
 at the indelicacy of Lady Enderfield, in 
 permitting any man, except a surgeon, to 
 assume the necessary privileges of that pro- 
 fession.
 
 350 
 
 Julia had not been long rambling about 
 the lawn, before she beheld Lady Ender- 
 fielf], limping, and leaning upon the arm 
 of Fitzroy, walking towards the town. 
 Julia considered this unlucky accident a 
 most provoking interruption to her tete a- 
 tite with Fitzroy ; but she felt no pang of 
 jealousy. She looked upon his attending 
 Lady Enderfield home, as the indispensable 
 duty of humanity; and she should have 
 felt grieved, nay have absolutely hated Fitz^ 
 roy, could he have acted otherwise than he 
 did. She concluded Lady Enderfield had 
 slept at the Castle inn, and calculated that, 
 in slowly walking there, and quickly back 
 again, and allowing ten minutes for eti- 
 quette and formal civilities, that half an 
 hour must necessarily elapse before Fitzroy 
 could return. 
 
 Patiently Julia walked for this half hour, 
 her eyes often directed to the church steeple, 
 to mark the, now, slow progress of time : 
 but that ghded by, and minute after mi- 
 nute, in listening, gazing expectation ; but 
 no Fitzroy appeared. The clock struck 
 nine, and the chimes announced another 
 half hour gone for ever; and hope after
 
 351 
 
 hope, mounted buoyant on her bounding 
 heart, had sunk back to the dreary shore 
 of disappointment; as conviction told her, 
 the passing footstep, the approaching figure, 
 were not those she waited for. 
 
 The benignant Doctor Sydenham, with 
 kindness and paternal affection beaming 
 in eyes, that even age had not power to 
 dim, met her, as, with languid, melancholy 
 steps, she, in obedience to the breakfast 
 bell, advanced towards the house; her mind 
 imbibing ten thousand apprehensions from 
 the machinations of Lady Enderfield, who 
 had thus found means, by some potent 
 spell, to detain Fitzroy from fulfilling his 
 own appointment with her : for that his ab- 
 sence was involuntary she had no doubt. 
 
 The languid countenance, and want of 
 cheerfulness, conspicuous in our heroine, 
 were placed to the account of fatigue and 
 late hours; for as only Mrs. Goodwin knew 
 of her assignation, so no one else knew of 
 her disappointed expectations. 
 
 Breakfast had been ended but a short time, 
 when Lord Francis Loraine was announced. 
 He entered with a countenance that be-
 
 352 
 
 spoke mental disquietude, though the veil 
 of affected cheerfuhiess v;as evidently 
 thrown over it. His conversation and man- 
 ners were always pleasing, and prone to 
 gayety ; but now they were lively to excess: 
 and whilst his large, line, and intelligent 
 eyes were sunk in sadness, he rattled and 
 talked of every thing mirthful, with a 
 whimsicality that excited the emulating 
 vivacity of the cliief part of the circle; 
 but which, to the eye of the observer, was 
 clearly assumed to banish thought, and 
 wrest him from himself. 
 
 After some time passed in rattling, gene- 
 ral chit chat. Lord Francis obtained a seat 
 by Julia, and asked her, '* had she any 
 comn ands to Vienna?" 
 
 *' To Vienna ! Why, who would execute 
 them for me?" said she. 
 
 '' I would with the greatest pleasure; I 
 am going thither immediately : in two 
 hours' time I set off for town, to arrange 
 for my speedy departure." 
 
 " But why, you go to Vienna; when you 
 did tell to me, my lord, one day before yes- 
 terday, you greatly much disliked Austria.^"
 
 353 
 
 " To Vienna ! Lapland ! any where I'll 
 go, to fly, if possible, from myself!" 
 
 Julia was shocked ; and the tone of voice 
 in which his lordship uttered this, grieved 
 her very heart; and, with the mild pity- 
 beaming eyes of inquiring, friendly solicit- 
 ude, she looked upon him. 
 
 He caught her hand, which he grasped 
 with fervour; but averted his eyes. " I am 
 not well," he said ; " and change of air and 
 scene, I think, will be the best prescription 
 I can follow." 
 
 " Not well, too surely !" said Julia, 
 much affected. " Your hand, is cold, for 
 death, and so tremulous, it is quite grief 
 for me. I hope, Lord Francis, you do mean, 
 to have very good, medical advice, before 
 you London leave?" 
 
 ** Oh ! no," replied Lord Francis, with 
 a visible exertion of gayety; *' no: my most 
 el^cacious plan must be to dash about to 
 every part of the Continent, where I shall 
 be permitted to go; and when I revisit my 
 native land, I trust I shall be able to take 
 the hand of my friend's wife without such 
 tremour. Before I return, Miss De Clitford, 
 you will, I hope, be united to Fitzroy ;
 
 354 
 
 and may your mutual happiness be the 
 peculiar care of Heaven ! When we went 
 home last night, I had a long and inter- 
 esting conversation with Fitzroy. My fears 
 of Lady Enderfield's machinations were 
 vain ; and fervently do I hope the ardent 
 affection which my friend feels for you, 
 may prove reciprocal. You, I am con- 
 vinced, would be happy with him; and in 
 wishing you to be the wife of Fitzroy, I 
 know — I see — I feel — I wish him every 
 blessing under heaven." He now turned 
 from Julia, who was considerably affected 
 by his manner and his kindness, and ad- 
 dressed Doctor Sydenham with some ques- 
 tions relative to his journey. 
 
 " We shall travel so slowly," said Doc- 
 tor Sydenham, '^ or I would ask you to join 
 our little party to town.'' 
 
 " I go the other road, or should be ex- 
 tremely happy to join you, sir," replied 
 Lord Francis with stifled emotion. 
 
 •* I thought your lordship was in a hurry 
 to get to London ; and that road is seven 
 miles longer than the one we mean to go," 
 said the good doctor. 
 
 ** Man is a capricious, wayward animal.
 
 S55 
 
 Doctor Sydenham. We often go the most 
 lengthened ways to attain our wishes, and 
 sometimes take arduous pains to fly from 
 and shun that which we would give worlds 
 to obtain." And now again Lord Francis, 
 turning to JuHa, asked her, " how long 
 since Fitzroy had left the Rectory, and 
 whither he was gone?" 
 
 ** He has not been, at all, here, this 
 morning,*' she replied. 
 
 Lord Francis was astonished and alarmed. 
 '' Why," said he, ** Fitzroy left the Priory 
 at an early hour this morning, all anxiety, 
 to make some necessary explanations to 
 the most generous, most inestimable of her 
 sex." 
 
 At this moment, Lord Gaythorn enter- 
 ed, and, eagerly advancing to Julia, with a 
 fixed smile upon his countenance, as- 
 sumed to conceal the gratified malice of 
 his heart. 
 
 " Miss De Clifford," said he, " I rejoice 
 exceedingly, to perceive you have not suf- 
 fered from that terror, the accident which 
 so imminently threatened your safety last 
 nio-ht naturally occasioned. Your com- 
 panion in danger, too, the fascinating
 
 S56 
 
 Lady Enderfield, is also perfectly recover- 
 ed, and looking most divinely this morn- 
 ing. — A pr^opos ! I have to congratulate 
 you upon the influence your opinions have 
 acquired over Fitzroy. You know, last 
 night, how extremely averse he was to pay- 
 ing the requisite civilities to the dutchess 
 and her party, until you coincided with 
 me; and lo ! this morning, so perfectly has 
 he been convinced by you of civility and 
 attention being due to them, that he has, 
 for now nearly three hours, been paying 
 his devoirs there. He, as well as myself, 
 breakfasted with the dutchess. I asked him 
 to accompany me hither ; but who (know- 
 ing his former ardent attachment to Lady 
 Enderfield) can wonder at the infatuation 
 which now detains him, from paying his 
 parting compliments, where so justly due, 
 to Miss De Ciiff^'ord and Doctor Syden- 
 ham !" 
 
 Julia's heart felt the pang intended for 
 it; but her early griefs had taught her, by 
 the precepts of duty, the difficult task of 
 wearing the placid smile of tranquillity, 
 when her bosom was torn with anguish : 
 and now pride, or rather, in our idea, the
 
 357 
 
 innate delicacy of a truly pure mind shrink- 
 ing from the thought of evincing love for a 
 man who slighted her, and trifled wiih lier 
 feeHngs, commanded every exertion to sus- 
 tain a dignified composure. The momentary 
 conflict was painful, but pride and delicacy 
 triumphed ; and with a mild, unejnbarrassed 
 air, she coolly addressed his lordship, say- 
 ing : 
 
 " If you fear, of a wasp. Lord Gay thorn, 
 you had better, to beware of oiij, tiut 
 has this instant made his creep iuto'yoiir 
 sleeve." 
 
 Lord Gaythorn found the wasp ; and was 
 amazed and provoked to perceive he had 
 failed in the attempt of wounding the feel- 
 ings of Julia, which her observation of the 
 movements of a wasp, whilst hearing intel- 
 ligence he hoped would mortify her, and 
 prove his ample revenge for her scorn of 
 himself, plainly evinced. But Lord Francis 
 displayed not that indifference which Julia 
 assumed : astonishment, indignation, and 
 regret, were strongly portrayed in his in- 
 telligent countenance ; whilst he eagerly 
 demanded, " Where was the Springcourt 
 party?"
 
 35S 
 
 " At her grace's lodgings," replied Lord 
 Gay thorn. " Apartments she engages, by 
 the year, for the convenience of herself and 
 friends upon all public occasions. After the 
 country balls, during the races, or any other 
 festivity, she never returns to Springcourt; 
 but sleeps at these lodgings ; and gives de- 
 lightful dejeunh. I never was at a more gay 
 and charming one than that of this morning. 
 Lady Enderfield, ever brilliant in beauty 
 and wit, was all that was seducing; and our 
 fascinated friend sat by her side entranced, 
 drinking large and potent draughts of reno- 
 vated love." 
 
 *' I can read very well, in his lordship's 
 odious countenance, so ttrong of malice, 
 that see I do, for certainty, there is great 
 deal from malevolence, in what he says; 
 and therefore, misrepresentation extreme- 
 ly much, I at all not doubt ;" said Julia, 
 mentally. " I will not for this belief, make 
 the condemnation for Fitzroy ; although 
 I have for thought, he cannot for possi- 
 bility, have exemption from all censure, 
 since after his professions, so much in seri- 
 ousness, ought he not (however in situa- 
 tion with others) here to come, and speak
 
 359 
 
 farewell, and say for me, in honesty, why 
 he not fulfilled appointment, of his very 
 own making." 
 
 Lord Gaythorn now seated himself by 
 the simpering Miss Penrose, and com- 
 menced the continuation of his flatterina: 
 adulation; and Lord Francis, calling Julia to 
 the garden door (under the pretence of show- 
 ing her a beautiful plant), eagerly assured 
 her, he conceived *^ the intelligence of Lord 
 Gay thorn's, if not an entire fabrication of his 
 own fertile imagination, at least a mali- 
 cious exaggeration. For, if there is truth 
 in man," his lordship continued, " the af- 
 fections — the tenderest affections of Fitz- 
 roy are yours ; and so incontestably, that I 
 have in my possession (confided to my care, 
 in the sacred name of friendship) a letter 
 from Fitzroy to his father (now at Vienna), 
 announcing his attachment to you ; and re- 
 questing his lordship's approbation to his 
 marriage with you, should he prove ^o for- 
 tunate as to obtain the blessing of your affec- 
 tions. Fitzroy, knowing this letter is only 
 to claim the long promised consent of his 
 parents to his marriage, whenever he should 
 find the choice of his heart, would not dare
 
 560 
 
 to send it if he was not seriously and honour-' 
 ably attached ; — would not da7^e to make 7?ie 
 the bearer of it. Entrusted with such a mis- 
 sion, can I doubt the sincerity of Fitzroy ? 
 and do not you doubt it, Miss De Clifford, 
 if doing so can pain your gentle bosom. 
 Ti«ougb strange and mysterious his absence 
 is, I will believe that he can well account 
 for it. He leaves Z. at eight o'clock this 
 evening for London; and, rest assured, when 
 he calls upon you to-morrow, he will ex- 
 plain every thing to your satisfaction." 
 
 This intelligence of the amiable Lord 
 Francis withdrew at once the veil which 
 concealed the sensibility of Julia : her agi- 
 tation became visible ; she blushed, she 
 trembled, she could not speak. The agita- 
 tion of his lordship baffled concealment 
 too; his colour changed to a death-like 
 paleness; his tremour was excessive; and his 
 articulation was a sigh from his heart. 
 
 Lord Gaythorn, conjecturing the nature 
 of this conference, hastily approached them, 
 leading the pliant Miss Penrose, to admire 
 this beautiful plant which so engaged them. 
 Celestina now advanced from the green- 
 house, with a basket of choice flowers she
 
 361 
 
 had been gathering for Julia, who she 
 knew delighted in fine flowers ; and who 
 had, from the sweetness of her manners, 
 won the good-will, and even the highest 
 admiration, of this eccentric, unmannered 
 pupil of reason. 
 
 Celestina, as she came, with her hoyden 
 gambols, towards them, looked so uncom- 
 monly pretty, that she excited the atten- 
 tion of Lord Gay thorn ; who, affecting play- 
 fulness, attempted to kiss her, and Celes- 
 tina repulsed him with a smart box on the 
 ear. 
 
 *' There," cried she, resentfully, " that's 
 for you. You dare not take such a liberty 
 with Miss De Clifford, and shall not with 
 me, I can tell you, though you are a lord 
 that my father chooses to make an idol of; 
 — but I worship no brazen images." 
 
 *' What!" exclaimed Lord GaythorU; at- 
 tempting to laugh off this violent rebuff, 
 '* has Miss De Clifford been setting you a 
 lesson of disdain ?" 
 
 " No," said Celestina; " but she has set 
 mean example that I wish I could imitate; 
 but was I to try till I am as old as you are, 
 I shall never be able to obtain that wish : 
 
 VOL. I. R
 
 362 
 
 so, as I cannot be like Miss De Clifford, I 
 will not be like any body else; — so I won't.'* 
 
 *' What !" exclaimed his lordship, in af- 
 fected astonishment, ^' what I and will you 
 not strive to imitate the fascinating Miss 
 Penrose?" 
 
 *^ And let you, my old boy, make love 
 to me.-— No, don't you believe that: — no 
 old frumps of a married man shall ever 
 squeeze my hand, or kiss it. — Faugh! the 
 thoughts of it makes me sick." 
 
 Lord Gay thorn, although deeply mortified 
 and offended, chose not to appear angry ; 
 but still laughed, while Miss Penrose blush- 
 ed, and looked extremely disconcerted. 
 
 ** Pray, my lord," asked Celestina, on 
 observing the displeasure and confusion of 
 her friend, '* is Lady Gaythorn in a bad 
 state of health? — any chance of her soon 
 dying?" 
 
 " Oh! no," said his lordship-—** I have 
 no such consoling prospect ; no such flatter- 
 ing hope : but why do you ask, my pretty 
 romp? Do you mean to be her successor?" 
 
 ** Me !" she replied, with a shudder ex- 
 pressive of recoiling disgust — *' Oh I no; 
 but Miss Penrose does."
 
 363 
 
 " Me ! Miss Hargrave ! How x:an you 
 say such — such a spiteful thing?" exclaim- 
 ed Miss Penrose, angrily. 
 
 *' Why, because you awoke me in the 
 middle of my short sleep this morning, to 
 ask me, * if Lady Gay thorn was not in a 
 very bad state of health ?' Consumption, 
 lethargy, or some incurable disease, you 
 wanted to attack her with ; and, had you 
 not wished for her death, why think of kill- 
 ing her? For my part, I had rather, a greats 
 deal, his lordship was to die ; and so would 
 you too, only, for only : though I can't read 
 very extraordinarily, I can spell as fast as 
 those who set the letters, and I know w hat 
 c-o-R-o-N-E-T stands for ; so I do." 
 
 " Really, Miss Hargrave, I am astonished 
 at your ill-nature ; — your — your cruel insi- 
 nuations. I cannot conceive why you should 
 say such very reprehensible things," ex- 
 claimed Miss Penrose, almost in tears, with 
 shame and vexation. 
 
 Doctor Sydenham now entered the 
 grounds. " The carriages are drawn up 
 for our departure, Miss De Clifford," said 
 he; " but if you wish to stay longer, they 
 can very readily wait." 
 R 2
 
 364 
 
 " Oh ! no, dear sir," Julia replied, sup- 
 pressing an obtruding sigh. " I have not 
 particular wish, for longer stay ; that is, I 
 do mean, I — I cannot, very well, quit Z., 
 where I have experienced, so exceedingly 
 much, of kindness, and hospitality, without, 
 great deal, of regret; but yet I think," she 
 added, (although her bosom entertained a 
 secret wish to see Fitzroy ; but conceiving 
 it would be degrading to her to linger, in 
 thehumblehope of his coming,) ^'as we shall 
 travel, not, particularly fast ; we bad better 
 much, make no unnecessary, delays ; and 
 at your time, and Mrs. Goodwin's, sir, I 
 shall be ready quite, for to attend you." 
 
 As all amusement, for the present, was 
 over at Z., Mrs. Hargrave, now all anxiety 
 to get to Bath, made no effort to detain her 
 sister a moment ; nor did the wary rector, 
 now he perceived Lord Gay thorn's admira- 
 tion of Miss De Clifford was chano:ed to 
 envy, hatred, and malice : so that, every 
 thing having been already arranged in the 
 carriages, the ceremony of .farewells, and 
 the departure of our travellers, immediately 
 took place. 
 
 Lord Francis led our heroine to the neat
 
 565 
 
 andcomfortable chariot of Doctor Syden- 
 ham : he pressed her hand with tremulous 
 fervour; but his faltering tongue could not 
 pronounce adieu ; and the moment the car- 
 riage began to move, he darted across the 
 road into the .Priory grounds; hurried 
 rapidly along; nor turned his face, nor 
 cast '* one longing, lingering look behind.", 
 
 Doctor Sydenham accurately observed 
 him, '' I wish," said he, in a voice of pity, 
 " I wish Lord Francis had accompanied us 
 to town." 
 
 " I wish he had," replied Julia. 
 
 " 1 also wish that I was obliged to unite 
 your hand and his, to-morrow morning," 
 said Doctor Sydenham. 
 
 ** A most exceedingly, much excellent, 
 wish, for me, sir ; since whoever, is so for- 
 tunate, as to be, to him wife, must be, a 
 quite happy woman," replied Julia, smiling; 
 but much surprised at Doctor Sydenham's 
 wish. 
 
 " He seems a most perfectly amiable 
 young man, aiid very handsome too," said 
 Mrs. Goodwill. " When I first saw him, I 
 thought nothing of him ; but, every time 1
 
 366 
 
 liave looked at him since, I found he became 
 liandsomer, and still handsomer." 
 
 '' Lord Francis,'* observed Julia, *Mias so 
 great deal of mind, that it gives for his coun- 
 tenance, the most interesting kind, of beau- 
 ty, lie is, in every respect, so greatly 
 amiable; tJiat I do giieve for finding, he is 
 so much ill; and fervently I hope, tiiis ex- 
 pedition to Vienna, may completely make 
 effect for his cure." 
 
 *^ I hope no such thing," said Doctor 
 Sydenham, vrith unusual quickness. 
 
 '* Dear sir!" ejaculated Julia in amaze- 
 ment — *' Not wish, for poor Lord Francis, 
 to get cure !" 
 
 ** I suppose," said Mrs. Goodwin, *' you 
 do not wish foreign air, or foreign phy- 
 sicians, should have the credit of his re- 
 covery." 
 
 ** Lwish him to return with his malady, 
 and to find the successful physician here," 
 replied the good doctor. 
 
 '' Well, that is being, very greatly, na- 
 tional, indeed," said Julia, astonished at 
 such unjustifiable prejudice, which, in this 
 case, she thought was cruelty.
 
 367 
 
 Our lieroiiie did not leave Z. without a 
 sigh of regret ; nor pass through it, from 
 the Rectory, without stealing many a wistful 
 glance, from beneath the long silken fringe 
 of her eye- lids, at each door and window^, 
 where she thought it likely her grace of 
 Springcourt's lodgings might be ; but, alas •' 
 no Fitzroy could she see. As they pro- 
 ceeded on their journey, her retentive me- 
 mory faithfully recognised the spot where 
 Fitzroy had gallantly leaped from the soci- 
 able to Biddy O'Connor's rescue. She re- 
 membered, too, the farm-house, where the 
 sociable stood waiting; and hailed the very 
 spot where it passed them on the road, and 
 surprised her with the unexpected sight of 
 Fjtzroy. 
 
 These recollections, and many more, oc- 
 cupied the thoughts of Julia; and many of 
 these reminiscences saddened her heart; 
 for, notwithstanding the intelligence Lord 
 Francis had so kindly communicated, she 
 treuihled at the fascinations of Lady Ender- 
 iield, and the influence of first-love ; for 
 although that love had been requited with 
 perfidy, Fitzroy seemed not to recollect the 
 injury; and Lady Enderfield, who had found
 
 36S 
 
 means to detain him from her that morning, 
 might possess the power of making that 
 consent, he had sent to solicit his father 
 for, of no avail, even before it could arrive. 
 The more she reflected, the more these de- 
 sponding thoughts acquired strength; but, 
 although her heart was dejected, her coun- 
 tenance was serene, and she exerted herself 
 to entertain her kind companions, and was 
 eminently successful. 
 
 Mrs. Goodwin, better than she promised 
 to be, did not evince half the fears she ex- 
 perienced on her journey down, and did not 
 quit the carriage to walk near so frequently 
 as she threatened ; so that, notwithstanding 
 they did not travel post, they arrived in 
 Great Russel-Street about seven o'clock; 
 and the pain of parting was now fully 
 equalled by the joy of meeting. 
 
 Doctor Sydenham was received by Mr, 
 Goodwin with cordiality and respect. Julia 
 the good man greeted as the child of his 
 affection ; and he gazed on his adored wife, 
 and boy, in silent jo}^ that told it's feelings 
 by a starting tear. The children were all 
 wild with rapture, and clung to their mother, 
 to Charles, Julia, and Biddy O'Connor, as if
 
 369 
 
 they apprehended their leaving them again; 
 and Mrs. Goodwin, with eyes that sparkled 
 in tears of conjugal and maternal tender- 
 ness, thoiiiiht she had never seen Mr. Good- 
 win look so young, or well, in all her life; 
 thought the children all handsomer than 
 when she parted from them ; the house 
 more cheerful and comfortable; and even 
 puss, she was sure, looked sleeker, and 
 whiter, than usual. 
 
 Doctor Sydenham was highly pleased 
 with his accommodations; was charmed 
 with Mr. Goodwin and his lovely children; 
 and the evening went off uiost completely 
 to his satisfaction, in this family of concord.. 
 
 II 5
 
 370 
 
 CHAPTER Xril. 
 
 Our heroine was not yet so much in love 
 as to lose her whole night's rest after a day 
 of fatigue. She slept very comfortably, 
 in defiance of London noise, and Mr. 
 Cupid ; and awoke by seven to think of 
 Pitzroy, whiO, from eleven o'clock, she 
 began anxiously to expect; but hour after 
 hour crept on, and every coach she heard 
 approaching, every hasty ibtep, every door 
 that opened, making her heart bound in 
 expectation of Fitzroy ; but he came not. 
 Night arrived ; but not Fitzroy. The suc- 
 ceeding day passed in disappointed expec- 
 tation ; so did the next, and the next; until 
 a week, and then ten days, elapsed ; and 
 nothing of Fitzroy was seen or heard. 
 
 We will not weary the patience of our 
 readers, by attempting to delineate the 
 feelings of Julia, during this painful period 
 of expectation, solicitude, and disappoint-
 
 37 1 
 
 ment. A heart of sensibility, like hers, 
 could not but deeply feel all the pangs 
 which a situation like this could inflict; 
 but still she had powers of mind sufficient 
 for exertion, and she rallied all her mental 
 forces to sustain her through this severe 
 trial. 
 
 She had confided every secret of her 
 heart, with all her hopes and fears, to Mrs. 
 Goodwin ; who, not faithful to this confi- 
 dence, yet just to friendship, imparted all 
 to her husband, and Doctor Sydenham. 
 The latter instantly determined, that the 
 feelings of his dear child, as he now con- 
 stantly termed Miss De Clifford, should 
 not be tortured longer by suspense; nor 
 her inestimable affections trifled with : he, 
 therefore, wrote to a confidential, wary 
 friend, in the neighbourhood of Spring- 
 court, to learn what tidings he could re- 
 lative to Fitzroy ; w ho, he found, had 
 never returned to his house ia town since 
 the election, and ail his letters were sent 
 to Springcourt. On the tenth mor ling 
 after our heroine quitted Z., an answer to 
 Doctor Sydenham's inquiries arrived, and
 
 372 
 
 overwhelmed these three anxious friends 
 with pity, grief, and alarm, for Julia. 
 
 The intelligence, which this letter 
 brought, was, " that Fitzroy had attended 
 the dutchess and her party from Z., the 
 day after the ball, to Springcourt, where 
 he had continued ever since, the acknow- 
 ledged, favoured lover of Lady Enderfield, 
 whom, there was no doubt, he was very 
 shortly to lead to the altar of Hymen." 
 
 These three anxious friends of our he- 
 roine were, with real grief of heart, de- 
 ploring the contents of this most un- 
 welcome epistle, and bemoaning the sad 
 fate of Julia, in thus early meeting a dis- 
 appointment of the heart; justly reprobat- 
 ing the conduct of Fitzroy, and consulting 
 how they could, most kindly, break the 
 distressing intelligence to her; when the 
 object of their solicitude entered the room ; 
 a newspaper in her hand, and the most 
 eloquent look of melancholy resignation 
 visible in every line of her beautiful coun- 
 tenance. 
 
 The sudden cessation of earnest con- 
 versation, that marked her entrance, struck
 
 37S 
 
 her forcibly ; and the tender look of in- 
 terest, with which each of her friends re- 
 garded her, convinced her they, too, had 
 heard of Fitzroy, and all was true. 
 
 ** Doctor Sydenham," said Julia, in a 
 hurried, unsteady voice, which spoke the 
 mind but ill at ease — " Doctor Syden- 
 ham, I do know very well, you received 
 letter; and I see, I know, by the looks, for 
 pity, of all my benevolent friends, you 
 have, for intelligence, something, you fear, 
 will be sad affliction, for me: but I can 
 anticipate all, even all. — Tins paper, an- 
 nounces for me, the approaching marriage, 
 for j\Jr. Fitzroy, and Lady Enderfield. 
 Here, dear sir, you can it read, yourself 
 Julia, at this moment, having caught the 
 sympathizing glance of Mrs. Goodwin, 
 smiled, and burst into tears. *' I feel, for 
 it, ]\Irs. Goodwin," 'she continued: '*' I 
 do not deny, I feel for it; but I do trust, 
 I can bear it. — I — I shall now go, to my 
 own room ; but don't you follow me — I pray 
 you, do not; nor do not, let dear Rosa 
 come to me : for I will to you come, when 
 I can smile again ; but that will not be in 
 quite soon time. < -tleaven bless you all^
 
 374 
 
 my friends ! — My heart, though now full, 
 of great trouhle, is very equal still, for 
 gratitude; and cannot bear, to see you 
 sad, ft)r me; and I will, so soon as my 
 power does come, return to you: — Oh! 
 so tranquil, you shall not need to think, I 
 have had any grief, at all, for conquering." 
 She now kissed her hand affectionately to 
 them all, smiled and sobbed, and sobbed 
 and smiled, and so retired ; leaving her 
 friends, struck to the heart, in sorrow for 
 her, and more indignant than ever with the 
 infatuated man, who could thus sport with 
 the happiness of such a gentle, amiable 
 being, and blindly become the wretched 
 dupe of art. 
 
 These sincere friends of our heroine 
 knew so much of her heart, that they 
 firmly believed her peace of mind destroy- 
 ed. Her affections, once gained, they 
 considered for ever gone. This was not a 
 light attachment for a common object. 
 They all knew the captivating graces, the 
 brilliant attractions, ofFitzroy; attractions 
 which it was scarcely possible any woman 
 of sensibility could withstand, whom he 
 sought to win. Mrs. Goodwin and Doc-
 
 375 
 
 tor Sydenham both knew how Julia had 
 been wooed by every fascination of allure- 
 ment in the suitor; by strongly awakened 
 gratitude ; by the voice of popularity ; 
 the force of contrast; by attention the 
 most seducing, tender, marked, and flatter- 
 ing. Every susceptible feeling of her mind 
 had been powerfully, ahnost magically 
 assailed; and all, separately ensnared, be- 
 came combined auxiliaries in the conquest 
 of her heart. Bitterly tliey all deplored 
 Julia's unfortunate excursion to Z.; and 
 Mr. and Mrs. Goodwin severely censured 
 themselves for the adoption of a scheme, 
 which, though so well they meant it, had 
 sacrificed their favourite's peace of mind, 
 they feared, for ever. 
 
 Thrice the anxious sympathizing friends 
 of Julia heard, with beating hearts, her 
 chamber door open, and her light foot- 
 steps descending the stairs; but twice, 
 with grief, they heard her suddenly re- 
 treat, and close her door, for she found she 
 could not yet smile; but her third essay 
 proved successful : she joined her friends, 
 and, true to her word, looking so tranquil, 
 that, had they not been so well informed,
 
 37S 
 
 they must have thought indeed she had no 
 real grief to hide : but though serene was 
 Julia's aspect ; though she smiled in sweet- 
 est resignation ; though she entered wil« 
 lingly into conversation, and sedulously 
 strove to entertain others, and be enter- 
 tained, and instructed herself; yet symp» 
 toms were not wanting, which, tacitly, 
 though touchingly, proclaimed an afflicted 
 heart. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Goodwin, with Doctor 
 Sydenham, now evinced, with anxious 
 care, their affectionate and parental soli- 
 citude for the restoration of Julia's peace. 
 Mrs. Goodwin, with amiable persever- 
 ance, daily ransacked her brains, her mo- 
 ther's choice receipt-books, and the mar- 
 kets, for some new and unexpected de- 
 licacy, to tempt the flown appetite of her 
 beloved jNliss De Clifford to eat. Mr. 
 Goodwin, as industriously, supplied food 
 for her mind; for every new publication of 
 amusement he anxiously sought; perused 
 with care himself; and if he conceived it 
 might entertain, without enervating, a 
 mind he wished to lure from grief, he 
 gave it her to read; whilst Doctor Syden-
 
 ^11 
 
 ham took her out every day, with some of 
 the Goodwins, on new excursions, round 
 tlie environs of London ; or to see some 
 sight contained in the metropohs, not a 
 lion of which had Juha or Rosa ever seen 
 before; and, as adversity had deprived our 
 heroine of her harp, Doctor Sydenham 
 presented her with the finest toned one, on 
 .sale, in town : and thus, with every mo- 
 ment employed, and amused by these her 
 zealous friends, Julia, too grateful for their 
 kindness not to aid their benevolent ex- 
 ertions, and too pious, voluntarily, to feed 
 on grief, that must ultimately destroy her, 
 found the poignancy of her disappointed 
 love imperceptibly gliding into the calm 
 of resignation, and, although not happy, 
 could think of Fitzroy, as the husband of 
 Lady Enderfield, without shedding tears; 
 and dwell on the idea of never more behold- 
 ing him without that anguish of heart, 
 which had at first assailed her when these 
 painful ideas recurred. 
 
 Unfortunately for the speedy recovery 
 of our heroine's tranquillity, no resent- 
 ment against Fitzroy had been awak- 
 ened. Instead of indignant reprobation
 
 378 
 
 of his conduct towards herself, her gentle 
 bosom harboured pity for him, as the 
 dupe of art the most refined; blandish- 
 ments the most alluring; the unfortunate 
 victim of credulity, doomed to a life of 
 wretchedness and repentance: and now, 
 each day, with composed resignation, 
 almost heroic, on her own part, but with 
 tender, agonized solicitude for the dread- 
 ed fate of Fitzroy, she examined the news- 
 papers, to learn when that un propitious 
 knot was to be tied, which the papers daily 
 announced something alluding to the ap- 
 proach of. 
 
 One month had just elapsed since our 
 heroine's return from Z., when, one even- 
 ing, about eight o'clock, as all the juve- 
 niles of this family of harmony (who were 
 not too young to engage in it) were play- 
 ing at blindman's buff in the 'drawing- 
 room, where they now took their tea every 
 evening, their ears were suddenly assailed, 
 on tlie uK^ment of a carriage stopping, by a 
 knock at the street door, so loud, and 
 tonishly lengthened, that it seemed to 
 threaten the overthrow of the house to it's 
 foundation* Such a phenomenon was this
 
 379 
 
 sound in the house of Mr. Goodwin, that 
 the younger children, in terror, ching to 
 their mother; whilst those engaged in 
 play, conceiving it certainly a mistake of 
 houses, went on unconcernedly with their 
 }3astinic, in high delight; as Julia now was 
 hoodwinked, and who, from her agility, 
 and quickness in turning upon her pursuers, 
 they considered it infinitehonour and clever- 
 ness to elude. Mr. Goodwin looking, with 
 rapture, at his happy offspring, and, with 
 Doctor Sydenham, mentally rejoicing that 
 Julia's mind seemed really engaged in the 
 amusement, who now appeared as much a 
 playful child as any of her companions; 
 when the room door was most unexpectedly 
 thrown open by Doctor Sydenham's foot- 
 man, " Lady Delamore" announced, and 
 her ladyship entered. 
 
 Julia was electrified. The name of Lady 
 Delamore and Fitzroy she felt as syno- 
 nymous. Her heart bounded and fluttered 
 painfully. Lady Delamore was come on 
 an embassy from Fitzroy, she instantly 
 conjectured, but of what nature she was 
 yet to learn ; and such was the trepida- 
 tion of her frame, that she could not
 
 disentangle herself from the band which 
 still blinded her; and Mrs. Goodwin, oc- 
 cupied in receiving this unexpected visitor, 
 thonght not of extricating our poor heroine 
 from her embarrassment. 
 
 Lady Delamore was now only in her. 
 thirty-ninth year, although her eldest child 
 wanted but a short period of attaining her 
 twenty-third birth-day. Her ladyship had 
 married before she was quite fifteen ; and, 
 in despite of rather delicate health, and a 
 long series of mental disquietude, still re- 
 tained, unimpaired, the dazzling, and al- 
 most unparalleled, beauty of her youth; 
 for, like the fabulous deities, years passed 
 over her head without affecting her appear- 
 ance. Time, enamoured of her charms, 
 seemed resolved to spare them, fearing 
 never more to behold them equalled; nor 
 suffered age to trace a furrow on a brow, 
 where sweetness, benevolence, sense, mild- 
 ness, and dignity, happily blended, sat 
 conspicuous. Her manners were as fas- 
 cinating as her countenance: she seized, 
 at once, the admiration of every beholder, 
 and won the aff<ection and esteem of all 
 whom she wished to please.
 
 581 
 
 Her ladyship, as she politely returned 
 the civilities of i\Irs. Goodwin, inquired for 
 Miss De Clifford; *' to whom her visit was," 
 she said. 
 
 -" Miss De Clifford, madam !'' replied 
 Mrs. Goodwin, now perceiving the distress 
 of Julia, and hastening to her assistance — • 
 " Miss De Clifford, niadam ! has just been, 
 with her usual goodness, making my chil- 
 dren happy, by condescending to join in 
 their very juvenile amusement." 
 
 Lady Delamore looked with surprise and 
 pleasure upon the lovely group, whose in- 
 nocent mirth she had disturbed : and now 
 the no longer hoodwinked Julia, emerging 
 from disguise, and although agitated al- 
 most to agony, gracefully paid her compli- 
 ments to her ladyship; whom, the instant 
 she beheld, she found a resistless impulse 
 leading her to love, from the striking resem- 
 blance she bore, even stronger, inlinitel}^ 
 than Fitzroy himself, to the dearest friend 
 of her heart. Lady Storamond. 
 
 For a moment, Lady Delamore gazed on 
 Julia with astonishment and admiration, in 
 which something of pained emotion was 
 certainly blended ; then took her hand
 
 582 
 
 with marked and cordial kindness ; and, as 
 they approached a sofa together, perceiving 
 Mrs. Goodwin, the gentlemen, and children, 
 were about to retire, politely requested that 
 no one might leave the room. 
 
 " I have unfortunately disturbed your 
 mirth, my dears," said her ladyship, kindly 
 addressing the children ; ** but do not fly 
 from me, as if you were angry with me 
 for so doing." The children smiled at 
 Lady Delamore, and all retired to different 
 parts of the room, as fancy led them; 
 not to sit in painful, stiff decorum, each 
 stuck on a chair to stare at the stranger, 
 but, in natural innocent groups, quietly 
 to carry on their own amusement in dumb- 
 show. 
 
 '' To-morrowy Miss De Clifford," con- 
 tinued her ladyship, " I shall request a 
 private conference with you. At present, 
 an engagement compels my making you a 
 mere flying visit — indeed limits my stay to 
 the delivery of a letter, which I received for 
 you from my brother, but a few hours ago." 
 
 Julia only thought of one brother, Lord 
 Horatio Fitzroy, and her agitation in- 
 creased.
 
 38; 
 
 " It came from abroad with the Ad- 
 miralty despatches, and accompanied by 
 one to me, upon the same subject ; and 
 knowing the importance of this letter, 
 I thought that I only ought to be the 
 bearer of it: and beside, I wished to 
 convey your first introduction to that 
 amiable man, whom, from henceforth, I 
 trust you will, with pleasure, consider as 
 your father ; for, as his child, he claims 
 you, and in him you will find (believe me) 
 a tender parent." 
 
 The respiration of Julia became painful ; 
 her cheeks were blanched by agitation ; 
 and to articulate was impossible. 
 
 Lady Delamore arose. — "To-morrow," 
 said she, ^' at one o'clock, I will be here 
 again, if convenient to you then to receive 
 me." Julia bowed assent ; she could do 
 no more. " When I trust we shall meet 
 not as strangers, but as friends, destined to 
 love each other: that you will look on me 
 as a parent, henceforth, I sincerely hope; 
 and as the guardian delegated to protect 
 and make you happy, until my brother's 
 return to England. Adieu, my dear young 
 friend!" her ladyship continued, kissing
 
 384 
 
 tlie pale cheek of Julia, in amity, and 
 pressing her with maternal kindness to 
 her bosom. " Adieu ! I see I have sur- 
 prised, and, I fear, painfully agitated, you ; 
 but I hope more pleasurable sensations 
 will succeed. — Mr. Goodwin, will you 
 have the goodness to conduct me to my 
 carriage ?" 
 
 Her ladyship now, with much sweetness 
 and good breeding, took leave; and poor 
 Julia, subdued by astonishment and a diver- 
 sity of emotions, all painful in the extreme, 
 since she found the embassy of Lady Dela- 
 niore was not through the medium of Fitz- 
 roy, burst into tears. 
 
 Mrs. Goodwin, ever attentive to the deli- 
 cacy of her young friend's situation, sent 
 the children away. 
 
 ** Ah, what of avail, is this letter, now?" 
 sobbed Julia. *' The assentment, it brings, 
 was asked for, under great delusion, that 
 has since quite, vanished ; and very much 
 in kindness, as this letter may be, it is 
 now, only pain for me. I cannot, at all, 
 read it; but you, and my other dear friends, 
 may, Mrs. Goodwin. I — I will, to my 
 room go, for you to talk, unrestrain-
 
 385 
 
 edly, it's, sad for me, contents over." She 
 gave Mrs. Goodwin the letter; and as she 
 was departing, was met at the door by Mr. 
 Goodwin, with a countenance illumined 
 with pleasure. 
 
 " Why look so sad in the moment of 
 such joy ?" said this good man, kindly 
 taking her trembling hand : " Ah, my 
 child ! did I not tell you how it would be?" 
 
 *^ Joy!" replied Julia, mournfully. — 
 '' Letter of Lord Horatio Fitzroy, can now 
 be, joy none, for me." 
 
 *' You then have not read your letter," 
 said Mr. Goodwin : " It is not from Lord 
 Horatio Fitzroy." 
 
 ^* No ! " exclaimed Julia, catching the 
 ready arm of Mrs. Goodwin for support. 
 " Then who from, is it? Who to me, has 
 Written, sir dear?" 
 
 '^ One of the most celebrated of our 
 naval heroes, one of the most inestimable 
 of men — the Earl of Ashgrove, Lady De- 
 lamore's own brother. Harriot, dear Har- 
 riot, give Miss De Clifford her letter. Oh, 
 my child ! did I not tell you the stranger 
 was faithful ? This is his doing, I have no 
 doubt." 
 
 VOL. i» s
 
 386 
 
 " The stranger!" exclaimed Julia: 
 " Blessings! blessings great, and nuicb, 
 be ever bis ! But since it is, of the stranger, 
 I cannot at all read it; but do you, sir 
 dear, for me do it." 
 
 Mr. Goodwin, who bad the contents of 
 the letter anticipated by Lady Delamore, 
 read with an audible, though not au un- 
 deviatingly steady voice, as follows : 
 
 " For my child I will, I must, call you; 
 as your father was the brother of my heart. 
 And henceforth I shall consider you as a 
 precious charge, delegated by Heaven's 
 own sacred ordinance to my care. 
 
 " It was your misfortune, my child, to 
 lose in your tender infancy a parent be- 
 loved, respected, honoured by all who 
 knew him. His heart was enriched by 
 every virtue; his disposition kind and af- 
 fectionate ; and he would have cherished 
 you with all the tenderness and care your 
 sex and helplessness required : but, poor 
 precious babe ! it was your sad fate to lose 
 him, and to be left to the protection of 
 a monster.
 
 3S7 
 
 *' 1 have heard of the griefs of your hap- 
 less childhood ; of the misery inflicted by 
 your barbarous grandmother : my heart 
 has bled for you, Julia; and, to heal the 
 wound your sufferings gave, it has vowed 
 to protect you, to guard you from every 
 possible evil, and to make your future hap- 
 piness it's study. 
 
 " Your uncle Almerino, Julia, and my- 
 self, entered Eton school on the same 
 day, and from the first hour of our meet- 
 ing a mutual dislike commenced, which 
 each passing hour augm.ented. I was an 
 object of deadly hatred to Lord Almerino ; 
 and he was scorned, contemned by me. 
 When your noble father became one of our 
 community, I, with the erring judgement of 
 a boy, believed both brothers must be 
 alike contemptible; and the amiable Fre- 
 derick learned a character of me from 
 Lord Almerino, which led him to despise 
 and shun me; and the first months we 
 passed together were marked by mutual 
 disgust, petty insults, and the puerile re- 
 prisals of two arch boys of spirit Lord 
 Almerino, the boute-J'eii, and the malicious 
 stimulator of all your father's pranks, 
 s 2
 
 ess 
 
 loveliness here, by a voice from which the 
 nice ear must recoil, as it murmured it's 
 deep-drawn, grating tones. — 
 
 " Lord Francis Loraine does not know 
 me, I believe!" growled out this languish- 
 ing fair. 
 
 *' Certainly, madam, I did not imme- 
 diately recognise you," replied Lord Fran- 
 cis, with frigid gravity ; *' since I should 
 have looked for Lady Enderfield in a dole- 
 ful dress, and in the house of mourning: for 
 I had heard your husband was very lately 
 deceased ; and I sincerely congratulate 
 your ladyship, upon the report being so 
 happily without foundation," His lordship, 
 profoundly bowing, now hurried on with 
 Julia. 
 
 At the door of the ball-room they found 
 Lady Gaythorn, pale, trembling, and highly 
 agitated, leaning upon the arm of Fitzroy, 
 who first espied our heroine. — 
 
 " Here is Miss De Clifford I" he ex- 
 claimed with animation : " I knew she 
 would come, when she heard you were ill." 
 " And I feared she would not encounter 
 the crowd, for one she knows so little of/* 
 said her ladyship, who now, with tremu-
 
 289 
 
 ions eagerness, grasped Julia by the arm. 
 " And," continued her ladyship, " I have 
 done dancing for the night, Fitzroy ; so you 
 are freed from your attendance upon me. 
 Do you, and Lord Francis, now leave us.'' 
 
 " Can we, then, be of no assistance to 
 you? — ^^None at all?" said Fitzroy, with 
 concern ; and anxious to remain with Julia. 
 
 " No," replied her ladyship; "no; 1 
 have now Miss De Clifford with me; and the 
 magic of her melodious voice shall charm my 
 perturbation to sweet tranquillity, and she 
 will lead me back to the scene of gayety my- 
 self again :" and her ladyship attempted a 
 smile; but it w^as so ghastly, so wild, so 
 foreign to her heart, that Julia, alarmed, 
 hurried her away from the gentlemen, to a 
 private room, where her ladyship hastily 
 dismissed the attending domestic, and, lock- 
 ing the door, to guard against every inter- 
 ruption, fell upon Julia's bosom, almost 
 breathless with agitation. 
 
 Our heroine, in amazed consternation, 
 knew not in what way to attempt consola- 
 tion or relief: she could only say, " I am 
 grieved ;" and this short sentence came 
 in a tone so resistless from her heart, that 
 
 VOL. I. o
 
 390 
 
 *' Christmas vacation commenced r we 
 met on a visit of a week at the house of a 
 friend, and were secretly amazed at the 
 good conduct of each other. Again we 
 returned to Eton, where, very shortly 
 after, the misconduct of Lord Almerino 
 caused his expulsion. His dastardly lord^ 
 ship implicated his brother so deeply in 
 his own misdeeds, that the amiable Fre- 
 derick must have shared his disgrace, as 
 he was too generous, too affectionate, too 
 benevolent, to stigmatize his brother's pro- 
 bity by any vindication of himself: but I, 
 my child, I knew every circumstance; I 
 was a potent witness; and my testimony, 
 which I hastened to give with all the 
 energy my heart was inspired MMth, by the 
 treachery of one brother and the noble 
 forbearance of the other, my testimony 
 effectually secured your dear father from 
 expulsion. 
 
 *' It was now the turn of Frederick to 
 seek me out: he came to me with his fine 
 and prepossessing countenance flushed with 
 agitation. — 
 
 " I saved your life," he said, ^^ but you 
 have saved my honour. Greatly, greatly
 
 591 
 
 for myself, am I your debtor; but you 
 have increased my brother's infamy, there- 
 fore I cannot love you :" and, bursting 
 into tears, he fled from me, and shunned 
 me for many succeeding days : nor did he 
 take food or rest, so grieved was his noble 
 nature at the disgrace of his profligate, 
 perfidious brother. 
 
 *' I fell ill ; I could not eat, I could not 
 sleep : my disease was grief. The being 
 whom my heart and judgement now elected 
 for the friend of my life, shunned, and re- 
 fused to love me. I fretted myself into a 
 serious fit of illness : the cause was made 
 known to the amiable Frederick, who in- 
 stantly flew to my bedside, and became my 
 principal nurse, and proved my prime phy- 
 sician. He gave me all my medicines ; 
 tenderly soothed me ; promised me his 
 friendship, as he had learned how he had 
 been deceived into an erroneous opinion 
 of me ; and that from every one he now 
 found his brother's own universal ill con- 
 duct, and not my testimony, had stamped 
 his fame with obloquy. 
 
 " From that hour our friendship com- 
 menced. Frederick grasped my heart with
 
 392 
 
 the strongest bands of friendship; nor in 
 death has he lost his hold: my heart still 
 cherishes it's attachment to him. I con- 
 sider myself as only separated from him 
 for a time; and when I meet him in a 
 hap|)ier world, I shall tell him, with grati- 
 fied feelings, * I have been a tender parent 
 to his orphan child.' 
 
 " From Eton, Julia, we together en* 
 tered upon the profession each of us had 
 chosen ; and although we were destined 
 to carry on our feats of arms in different 
 elements, yet have we fought, side by side, 
 the enemies of our country, and bled to- 
 gether. But, alas ! alas ! after he went 
 to Italy we never met. I was upon the 
 Atlantic when your most amiable father, 
 the dearest friend of my heart, was, in the 
 prime of life, called from this world of 
 sorrow ; and unfortunately left you, poor 
 babe ! to the care of her who deserved not 
 such a precious charge. I never liked 
 Mrs. St. Clair; but I had no suspicion she 
 would have proved such an unnatural 
 monster to you, or I should have obtained 
 the Lord Chancellor's permission to take 
 you from her. Alas ! how I grieve to
 
 393 
 
 think I did not know the child of my 
 lamented friend was suffering, in patient 
 meekness, every mental misery which 
 dire cruelty and neglect could inflict; for 
 then, as now, I would have taken you to 
 my bosom as my daughter. 
 
 "It is not very long, as time would 
 mark it's journal, since the death of Mrs. 
 St. Clair, and all vour griefs were made 
 known to me, my child : and yet I have 
 thought it an age, an antediluvian age ; 
 for I had it not in my power, until this 
 moment, to convey my despatches to 
 England. I have, therefore, been most 
 unhappy, because I could not send any 
 comfort to Frederick De Ciiiford's afHicted 
 child ; though I myself heard, for mi/ com- 
 fort, that you were in safe, honourable, and 
 benevolent hands. I know many circum- 
 stances relative to your life, Julia, yet I 
 wish to hear all from my child herself, 
 when she writes to me: though I have 
 been told much of your sad history by a 
 friend of yours ; for, though infinite has 
 been the unkindness you have experienced 
 in your pilgrimage of wo, you have long 
 had a friend, whose very form you know 
 s5
 
 394 
 
 not; and yet Julia De Clifford has one 
 faithful friend, who has, under Heaven, 
 proved the means of providing for her 
 future fortunes. 
 
 " From paternal inheritance, my single 
 life, and from almost incalculable suc- 
 cesses in my profession, my wealth is 
 immense. I can, therefore, dispose of the 
 hard earnings of my maritiuie services, 
 without even the appearance of injustice 
 to my relatives. I have enough to be- 
 queath to them and to my friends too. 
 The name of Frederick De Clifford was 
 in the first will I ever made ; and the mo- 
 ment I experienced the inconsolable af- 
 fliction of hearing of his death, I, with 
 grief of heart, made a new testament, and 
 bequeathed his orphan the sum of ten 
 thousand pounds sterling, the interest to 
 accumulate from the hour the bequest was 
 made, for her use. Now, my dear child, 
 it will be more convenient to you, and 
 you will allow much pleasanter for me, that 
 you should receive this as a gift from me, 
 than to be paid it as a legacy by my exe- 
 cutors. As the interest has been yours 
 for many years, the accepting the prin-
 
 295 
 
 cipal now cannot lessen my wealth, nor 
 injure any one : so let no scruple arise in 
 your little heart, my child; but take it, 
 and may the Almighty of heaven bless you 
 with it ! 
 
 " But I shall not have done with you 
 here. Merely giving you a subsistence is 
 not all that your father would, in a similar 
 case, do for my orphan : no ; I must be your 
 guardian, protector, father, Julia. I must 
 throw you into that society your birth 
 classes you among — I must make you 
 happy, if 1 can. I have written to my fa^ 
 vourite sister, to introduce you to her; I 
 hope you may soon meet, and that you 
 will love each other. She has a heart in 
 which is most beautifully arrayed every 
 female virtue ; and, if you resemble your 
 father, you are good, truly, surely, good : 
 so sympathy must congenialize your re- 
 gards ; and Julia must love Emily, and 
 Emily love Julia. 
 
 ^' Write to me, my child, undisguisedly, 
 and often ; not as a task, with awe and pain- 
 ful restramt, but as a child to an indulgent 
 father. Tell me all your wishes without a 
 scruple; tell me all and every thing you
 
 596 
 
 think would make you happy ; and never, 
 for a moment, forget, that henceforth you 
 will find a tender parent, a faithful friend, 
 
 in " ASHGROVE." 
 
 " Mediten-ancan, off Malta, ' 
 
 March 20, 1801." 
 
 It is impossihle for the feeble pen of the 
 present historian to portray the feelings 
 which this letter awakened in the suscep- 
 tible, grateful heart of Julia De Clifford. 
 She threw herself, almost convulsed with 
 agitation, upon the bosom of Mrs. Good- 
 win, and wept and sobbed, as if in grief 
 unutterable ; nor were the eyes of Doctor 
 Sydenham, or Mr. and Mrs. Goodwin, uii- 
 moistened by those tears which the ap- 
 proving heart gives, as it's involuntary tri- 
 bute, to noble, generous deeds. 
 
 When the first gust of our heroine's 
 forcibly-awakened gratitude had subsided 
 into calmer feelings, she took, with reve- 
 rence and a trembling hand, the letter of 
 Lord Ashgrove from Mr. Goodwin; not to 
 read it, as she said, " for that, she never 
 could, no, never at all; nor need she, 
 for every sweet word of it had flown into
 
 397 
 
 her heart; and was there stored up, as pre- 
 cious treasures, never to be lost." But she 
 pressed the letter to her lips, to her heart; 
 burst again into an abundant flow of tears; 
 and precipitately retreated to her own 
 chamber, where, humbly on her knees, 
 thanking the great Source of all this good, 
 imploring blessings for her benefactor, and 
 praying for composure, and a mind to 
 bear prosperity as she ought, she acquired 
 firmness, and, with a sweet and gentle 
 calmness, joined again those valuable, be- 
 loved friends, who had, in her adversity, 
 been kind to ber.
 
 sys 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 The letter of Lord Ashgrove to Lady 
 Delamore, mentioned by her ladyship in 
 the foregoing chapter, being necessary for 
 our readers to be acquainted with, we shall 
 transcribe it for their perusal ; at least what 
 followed the commencement of his epistle, 
 which merely answered Lady Delamoi'e's 
 last letters to him. 
 
 " And now, my dear Emily, that I 
 have relieved all your fears relative to your 
 dear boy's health and safety and my own, 
 I shall deposit in your affectionate bosom,. 
 that secret which you have so often, 
 gently, kindly, tenderly entreated me to 
 impart to your sympathizing friendship: — 
 the cause of my single life, of the unfad- 
 ing melancholy which robled my youth 
 of it's natural vivacity, spoiled my ma- 
 turer years of cheerfulness, and even
 
 399 
 
 now, with the traces of age, has stamped 
 the legible character of sadness upon my 
 brow. — 
 
 ** You knew the dearest friend of my 
 early life — Frederick De Clifford; for I 
 had the cruelty, the rashness, to take 
 him as an inmate to your house. Forgive 
 me, Emily; for my heart has bled in re- 
 pentance. I ought not to have introduced 
 one of the most captivating of mankind 
 to the society of a neglected wife of nine- 
 teen ; but I then knew not, for you never 
 told me, that your hand had been gi^^en 
 in compliance only with your father's 
 wishes, without one particle of affection 
 for your lord ; but dreadfully did that 
 fatal knowledge strike on my heart, when 
 my beloved sister, in an agony of grief, 
 threw herself into my arms, and, hiding 
 her blushing face upon my bosom, softly, 
 but emphatically, ' entreated me to save 
 her peace, by taking my fascinating 
 friend for ever from her sight.' Oh I Emily, 
 he was, indeed, a fascinating friend; 
 and though he loved me fervently, sin 
 cerely loved me, he, even he, augmented, 
 unconsciously, the sorrows of my darling
 
 400 
 
 sister, and innocently made for me a life of 
 wretcbedDCss. 
 
 *' I took De Clifford from Delamore- 
 castle, ere a suspicion had entered his 
 mind of the falal cause of my hasty de- 
 parture ; and, at my earnest request, he 
 unfortunately — (alas! I may surely say 
 calamitously) — accompanied me to the 
 Duke of Avcmdale's. 
 
 *' I had, during* n»y then long station 
 at Naples, formed an intimacy with his 
 grace of Avond;de, and his only surviving 
 children, the Countess Montalvan and 
 Lady Adelaide ]\lontrose, whose name I 
 even now cannot trace without a trem- 
 bling hand. Adelaide was all that the 
 eye could, conceive of loveliness; all that 
 the mind could covet of perfection. — 1 
 loVed her ; and even at this moment, my 
 torn, my sorrow- withered heart, is fondly, 
 ardently devoted to her memory. I told 
 the secret of my heart to Lady Adelaide : 
 never shall I forget the sweetness with 
 which she heard me, or the candour Avith 
 which she told me, ' neither to despair nor 
 hope;' said, ^ her heart was totally her 
 own ; and she knew no man whom she had
 
 401 
 
 rather, was judgement to regulate inclina- 
 tion, should win it, than myself; and, 
 from that hour, she treated me with such 
 marked distinction, that my ardent heart 
 was led to hope all that could constitute 
 my happiness. 
 
 *' I was too much in love for my 
 passion to escape the watchful eye of the 
 Duke of Avondale ; indeed, we mutually 
 sought an explanation, and most readily 
 he gave his assent to my marriage with 
 his daughter, should I prove so fortunate 
 as to gain the treasure of her heart. 
 Shortly after, the frigate I commanded 
 was ordered to England ; and about the 
 same period, his grace and family pur- 
 posing a return from the Continent, I en- 
 treated them to come with me: they did 
 so; and never, never can be erased from 
 my remembrance the happy days of that 
 most auspicious voyage ; for Adelaide list- 
 ened to my love, and told me, oh ! with 
 such sweet, resistless artlessness, ' she was 
 sure she soon should love me quite ; for I 
 seemed every hour to gain upon her, like 
 the shores of England.' 
 
 '* I now considered my happiness as a
 
 certainty : for on our arrival in England' 
 Adelaide began to talk of our future 
 union, and was most anxious for an intro- 
 duction to my Emily; and when I then 
 visited you, I should have imparted to you 
 my expected happiness, only I found you — 
 oh ! most unexpectedly, most afflictingly, 
 found you a wretched wife : and I could 
 not, no, I could not talk of the bliss I had 
 in view, when your gentle bosom was torn 
 with many sorrows ; and after my dread- 
 ful heart-rending disappointment, the fatal 
 soul-harrowing termination of all, I would 
 not tell you, to increase your griefs with 
 mine. 
 
 *' De Clifford was a being formed to 
 captivate, both in mind and person ; and 
 at this memorable period he was an ob- 
 ject of peculiar interest to every feeling 
 heart : he was covered with unfading lau- 
 rels by his own brilliant and heroic achieve^ 
 ments ; he was an exile from his unnatural 
 father's house, an alien to his heart and 
 favour. 
 
 " Emily, the painful throbbings of my 
 anguished heart tell me I cannot long 
 dwell on what I have to tell vou : I must
 
 403 
 
 be brief, to shorten my tortures. De Clif- 
 ford and Lady Adelaide were kindred souls. 
 They no sooner met than they loved ; and 
 all my hopes of happiness were for ever 
 blighted. De Clifford could not tear him- 
 self from Avondale-abbey, whilst he believed 
 himself the only prey tothisinvoluntry love; 
 but the moment he found the flame was mu- 
 tual, he fied in horror and dismay, over- 
 whelmed with grief unutterable. 
 
 " Mine, Emily, was a difficult task : 
 I followed my poor friend, and had, 
 whilst my own heart was rent with an- 
 guish, to lull his agonies, inflicted by 
 the to him terrible idea of destroying my 
 peace; to conquer his self-upbraidings; to 
 reconcile him to himself,^ and to soothe 
 him, by strong assurances that it was not 
 so vcry^ very painful yielding up Lady 
 Adelaide. To the gem of my heart I 
 had to practise the same consolations, the 
 same deceit ; for she was almost as much 
 grieved for me as my poor Frederick was. 
 I withdrew myself as Lady Adelaide's 
 suitor; but not all the influence I possess- 
 ed over the Duke of Avonclale could re- 
 concile him to his daughter's choice, nor
 
 404 
 
 win his approbation to her union with 
 De ClifFord. — Oh no, sternly, perempto- 
 rily, he forbade all intercourse between 
 them ; but love proved as arbitrary as his 
 grace. — The ill-fated lovers eloped; were 
 first united at Gretna-Green ; then after- 
 wards, in an obscure village in Cumber- 
 land, where they sought concealment; 
 but at length they were traced to it, by 
 the implacable father's emissaries ; who 
 tore, by force, the lovely victim of fero- 
 city, the beauteous Adelaide, from the 
 arms of her distracted husband, and bore 
 her to confinement ; where not all De 
 Clifford's almost phrensied researches, 
 aided by my nearly as frantic ones, could 
 trace her to ; nor could all the pathetic 
 supplications of her husband, his threats, 
 his arguments, or mine, persuade her 
 inexorable father to disclose thq fatal 
 secret, which fate, dreadful, horrible, 
 most horrible fate revealed, with a heart- 
 rending catastrophe. In a fortress be^: 
 longing to Lord Glenbrook,* in the He- 
 brides, was this beauteous victim con- 
 
 * Son-ill-law to t}ie Duke of Avondale,
 
 405 
 
 iined. That fortress, by dreadful con- 
 flagration ; and Adelaide, -Emily, 
 
 I cannot tell it 
 
 *' Hitherto, Emily, I had considered De 
 Clifford as the most perfect of njankind; 
 and though he had been the innocent cause 
 of all my sufferings, I still admired and ap- 
 proved of all his actions, until he, a second 
 time, became a votary at the altar of Hy- 
 men, and gave the peerless Adelaide Mon- 
 trose a successor. 
 
 " My heart did not break upon hear- 
 ing of the direful fate of Adelaide, but 
 lingered thus on, in years of anguish ; 
 but I obtained a command in the Atlantic, 
 and hastily fled from England. Yet what 
 was change of clime to me! I could not 
 fly from self/ and the mortal wound of 
 happiness was closed up within me. De 
 Clifford, with a breaking heart, and health 
 destroyed, fled too from England, but not 
 from misery: no, no, that he could not. In 
 Italy he found an old acquaintance, the 
 widow of a General St. Clair, and her 
 daughter; the latter, certainly, a very 
 pretty woman, a professed friend of the
 
 406 
 
 angel Adelaide's, who long had sighed in 
 hopelessness for De Clifford. Mrs. St. 
 Clair was artful and wary : she soon saw 
 the once strong mind of my friend was 
 weakened by grief of griefs ; and between 
 her French politics and her daughter's 
 charms, infatuated the lost De Clifford, 
 and he became the husband of the siren 
 daughter. Greatly I hope no tenderness 
 of the heart led him to this precipitate 
 union; nay, I am sure it did not, could 
 not ; for the man who loved, and was be- 
 loved by, Adelaide Montrose, could not 
 love another : no, no, it could not, could 
 not be : but I was angry, and offended at 
 the great indignity thus offered to the 
 memory of his Adelaide. ^ How could he 
 make a second choice ?' was the perpetual 
 murmur of my indignant heart ; and I 
 would not answer the few letters I 
 received from him after this hateful mar- 
 riage. Alas ! alas ! he died, my Emily, 
 under the sad conviction that he had lost 
 my friendship. Oh ! my sister, bitter has 
 been my remorse, if I afflicted him. 
 
 " But now to the cause, my Emily, of 
 this late confidence. De Clifford left a
 
 407 
 
 child, a daughter, hy this second, and to 
 me obnoxious marriage. His widow (hcl 
 not long survive him ; and the unfortu- 
 nate child fell to the care of the diabolical 
 beldam, Mrs. St. Clair. Poor little Julia 
 De Clifford, Emily, was the object of this 
 most unnatural barbarian's hatred and 
 direful cruelty. My heart still bleeds at 
 the recollection of what this pretty inno- 
 cent has been made to suffer, and I will 
 not recount to you even one of the savage 
 deeds, for they would grieve you. Suf- 
 fice it to say, every mental acciuirement 
 for poor Julia, was sacrificed for showy ac- 
 complishments, to bring her up a decoy, to 
 attract the young and protligate to this 
 musical d — fs concerts and conva^saziones ; 
 while she embezzled the poor child's little 
 property to assist in her own love of dissi- 
 pation, and in entertaining the dilettante^ 
 whom it was her passion to collect about 
 her ; and often, while this terrible woman 
 has been under the influence of her mania 
 for travelling (which was as great as her 
 zest for the fnie arts) the poor child has 
 been thrown upon the protection of stran- 
 gers, in some gloomy sepulchre of the liv-
 
 408 
 
 ing — a dreary monastery, where neglect she 
 always experienced, and too often unkind 
 treatment, and, even more dreadfully still, 
 my sister, has, I fear, that terrible wo- 
 man injured the child of poor De Clifford ; 
 an injury most direful. This woman — no, 
 no, I insult the sex, by classing her amongst 
 them — this monster was — ay, shudder, 
 Emily, for well you may — an avowed athe- 
 ist ; and this poor, pretty babe in her 
 clutches ; and, bred amongst ignorant and 
 superstitious priests and nuns, is either a 
 rank Catholic, or, oh ! horror of horrors ! 
 has no religion at all ! 
 
 " Do not think I am growling illiberal, 
 Emily ; oh ! no, far be it from me not to 
 believe thousands of good Catholics have, 
 and will find, snug births in the world to 
 come : but I love my religion, and wish 
 all whom I love should go to heaven by 
 that very plain and easy road, I trust, I 
 am travelling. I have heard that my 
 fears, relative to the future happiness of 
 Julia De Clifford, are groundless ; for that 
 she is pious; and good as I could wish 
 her: but this information I have derived 
 from an ardent lover, and, therefore,
 
 409 
 
 I am not wholly to rest satisfied with his 
 partial accounts. To you, then, dear 
 Emily, I delegate the task of investigating 
 this important matter for me. If she 
 proves a Catholic, I shall endeavour to be 
 satisfied; but if an atheist, it will make me 
 most unhappy, for I have adopted her for 
 my child ; and should hope one day to see 
 her in the realms of endless bliss, with her 
 truly good father. 
 
 " It is my earnest wish, Emil}^, that you 
 should take this child under your own roof, 
 if my wish can be accomplished, without 
 embroiling you in any domestic strife. To 
 obviate one difficulty (I mean in pecuniary 
 arrangements) with your lord's pride ; I 
 feed Lord Delamore's son, he feeds Lord 
 Ashgrove's daughter; and so they strike 
 their balance. You, my Emily, will settle 
 all this, and whatsoever establishment you 
 think necessary for my child. I have 
 written to my banker upon the subject, 
 and he will answer every demand for her. 
 As to her own allowance, if you find her a 
 vain frivolous girl (for, with all due de- 
 ference to her lover's portrait of her, I 
 fear from her neglected mental education 
 
 VOL. I. T
 
 410 
 
 she scarcely can fail of being), and without 
 religion, two hundred per annum will be 
 sufficient ; but if she is pious, good, and 
 charitable, let her have double, treble that 
 sum, according to the magnitude of her 
 virtues. 
 
 " But, my dear sister, if you cannot, con- 
 sistently with perfect harmony, take my 
 daughter to your own protection, try your 
 influence with Lady Frances Harcourt, or 
 Mrs. ConstantiaFermor. — With the former 
 she would have many great advantages; 
 with the latter she would be nearer you, 
 and I should be happier. But let no con- 
 sideration for me, I conjure you, lead you 
 into any domestic contest. She is now 
 with excellent, inestimable people; but a 
 tradesman's family, however worthy, is not 
 the society for De Clifford's daughter. I 
 shall subjoin the address of these amiable 
 Goodwins ; and you will, if returned to 
 Delamore Castle, forward the enclosed 
 letter to Julia, which I leave open for your 
 perusal. The Goodwins I shall befriend 
 to the utmost extent of my power. I have 
 desired Julia to tell me what would contri- 
 bute to her happiness ; and, with trembling
 
 41i 
 
 liope, I trust, amongst licr first requests 
 may be a grateful petition for these G God- 
 wins, who are as unfortunate as they are 
 worthy : and to them she is under incalcu- 
 lable oblioationsv 
 
 " Now 1 have done talking to you about 
 my daughter, I will begin about your son. 
 I have already told you he is safe and well; 
 but as vou must soon see glorious mention 
 made of him in the public prints, and as I, 
 knowing your heart, know so well how 
 your maternal feelings will overpower you, 
 think it right to anticipate a little (as my 
 letter must necessarily reach you, before 
 my despatches to the Admiralty can meet 
 your eyes through the gazette) the tide of 
 exultation, though mingled with the shud- 
 dering pangs for dangers past, which await 
 you ; by telling you, our gallant volunteer 
 has been enfjasfed in a most heroic, vet dan- 
 gerous enterprise. 
 
 *' \yhen I think only of the honor, the 
 interest of my profession, Emily, how 
 I grieve, and how mortified I am that 
 Lord Delamorc, who in no other respect 
 has evinced much ati'ection for liis most 
 amiable son, should have so peremptorily 
 T 2
 
 412 
 
 forbidden St. Orville's entering a profession 
 so congenial to his inclination, so suited to 
 his talents; and who, during his maritime 
 visits to me, has acquired more real know- 
 ledge, and has been engaged in more 
 hazardous service, than half the yoiing 
 officers in our navy. Oh ! he seems born 
 to be the pride and glory of the British 
 fleet I But, when I remember how dear he 
 is to your affection and to mine, I rejoice 
 that he is not doomed to the hardships, 
 toils, and dangers of a sailor's life. 
 
 ** Yo'u will see, by tlie papers, the gal- 
 lant manner in which St. Orville volunteer- 
 ed to accompany Captain All worth on a 
 secret expedition. Sixteen of my ship's 
 company were to go with him, and every 
 one of the crew turned out to follow him ; 
 for so beloved is our boy, and so highly 
 prized for courage, that not a man in my 
 squadron, who would not, I am certain, 
 follow him, even into the crater of Mount 
 iEtna. So anxious, so wild, I may say, 
 were all my crew to share St. Orville's 
 fate, that no one would yield; and by lots 
 only w^as this matter determined. 
 
 " You will see, by Allworth's letters and
 
 413 
 
 mine, the narrative of that glorious expedi- 
 tion. You will learn that, in the heat of 
 action, a most bold and arduous enterprise 
 struck the mind of St. Orville, which he 
 liastened to impart to Alhvorth ; who saw at 
 once the magnitude of that importance its 
 achievement would yield. Hefeltconvinced 
 that the man who had clearness of judge- 
 ment, and firmness of mind, in the moment 
 of evincing valor, never surpassed; to form 
 such a project, was only equal to carrying 
 it into effect; and, with i leader they con- 
 fided in, British seamen would perform 
 what to any other class of men would be 
 impossibilities. St. Orville was despatched 
 upon this most heroic, important enter- 
 prise, and success crowned our boy with 
 immortal laurels : and, Emily, if Allworth's 
 letter, with the account of our boy's glo- 
 rious achievement, his magnanimity to the 
 vanquished, his humanity to the wounded, 
 do not awaken the paternal spark in the 
 bosom of Lord Delamore, I give him up as 
 a man without a heart. 
 
 " I will not work upon your feelings. 
 Emily, by describing mine during the 
 painful interval of St. Orville's absence.
 
 4:4 
 
 My fervent prayers for his safety attend- 
 ed him, and he returned, oh, joyful ! joy- 
 ful sight ! unhurt, in blooming health, 
 and covered with Fame's most honourable 
 praise. Very shortly after I fell ill, very 
 ill ; in truth, my Emily, you had, but for 
 your boy and Beville, nearly lost me. Oh! 
 what a tender, watchful, affectionate nurse 
 is St. Orville ! Neither night nor day he left 
 my cot; he smoothed my pillow, and it 
 seemed easy to me; he gave me my medi- 
 cines, and I thought they did me good. 
 But that was delusion : I became worse and 
 worse, and every surgeon in my fleet gave 
 ^le up ; and the intrepid hero, who had 
 fought the enemies of his country with such 
 dauntless valour, who had taught hundreds 
 to fiy from the fury of his sword, and to 
 bend to his prowess, was now to be seen 
 vainly struggling with the tears that would 
 burst forth, because a man was expected to 
 die, whose demise would yield to him riches, 
 and emancipate him from the tyranny of 
 an unkind father. 
 
 ** When ail the iEsculapian tribe had 
 given me up as a lost sheep, St. Orville, 
 who had, during my illness, been routing up
 
 415 
 
 the names of all the slip slops Mrs. Beville 
 makes to nourish the sick, in hopes of hit- 
 ting upon something which I could relish, 
 now informed my own surgeon, the wor- 
 thy ^lacdonald, of a cure performed by 
 ]\Irs. Beville, on a poor man who had been 
 given over by five M. D.'s and as many 
 licentiates, in the same malady which was 
 proving fatal to me. INIacdonald scouted 
 the old woman's recipe; but, as the drown- 
 ing wretch would catch at a straw, prepar- 
 ed it with the most anxious rapidity for me ; 
 and with a smile of contempt at what he 
 was offering me; with a hand of tremulous 
 solicitude, with a vague hope, and tears 
 of despair streaming down his furrowed 
 cheeks, he gave it to me. It cured me, by 
 the dispensation of the Great Physician: 
 but yet 1 remember with gratitude my 
 earthly one ; and Doctor Beville's fee she 
 will find at my banker's, whenever she 
 chooses to call for it. 
 
 ^' But I have not power to describe, 
 although it made a sensible impression upon 
 my heart, the joy of St. Orville, and in- 
 deed of all my brave comrades, officers 
 and men : — all, all proved they loved rae;
 
 416 
 
 and, oh ! my sister, the sufferings I had 
 endured, were sweetly soothed and over- 
 paid, by the gratification of finding I was 
 dear to the honest hearts of my brother 
 tars* When I first appeared upon the 
 quarter-deck, the sudden impulse of affec- 
 tion subdued the memory of subordination; 
 and my seamen, forgetful of all rule, 
 thronged thither round me. But instant 
 reflection (and ere my grateful feelings 
 permitted me to greet them) led them back 
 to their stations, where shouts of joy al- 
 most rent the skies; and L then summoned 
 them by divisions to me, to thank them for 
 the kindness and affection they evinced for 
 me. 
 
 ** As to St. Orville, he is more idolized 
 than ever by my ship's company for saving 
 True Blue (my nick-name) ; and as for 
 Mrs. Beville, no birth-day belle, no beauty 
 of St. James's, was ever toasted more hearti- 
 ly by a greater number of fine young men ; 
 and every Saturday night, as grog and flip 
 kindly circulate to the health of absent 
 friends, the name of Mrs. Beville is scru- 
 pulously tacked to that of every wife, 
 friend, and sweetheart; and the conclud-
 
 417 
 
 ing toast is now, with three times three, 
 
 * True Blue, Lion, and Mother Bilk Davy;' 
 which, in your reading, would stand, their 
 
 * Admiral, Lord^t. Orville, and Mrs. Be- 
 ville.' 
 
 *' I suppose, my dear Emily, I soon 
 shall have the happiness of clasping you 
 to my affectionate bosom, as they talk of 
 peace ; and why, I cannot conceive. Now 
 the army and navy are primed and loaded 
 to the very muzzle, with courage, hope, 
 and perseverance, why make peace until 
 we have done the business effectually, to 
 allow us with full security to sheath, at our 
 own pleasure, the sword of conquest ? But 
 hold, I forgot my rule of never enter- 
 ing upon politics with you ; for, to a be- 
 loved sister, I have matters more appropri- 
 ate to write about than public policy. But 
 you, I know, will give your hearty concur- 
 rence to even a patched-up peace ; for you 
 will think of the lives that may be spared 
 for the present ; and that, borne on the olive, 
 your son and brother will be restored to 
 you. 
 
 " I could write on for ever, to you, Emily; 
 but the longer I delay my despatches, the
 
 418 
 
 longer I deprive Julia De Clifford of your 
 protection, and St. Orville of the gratitude 
 and applause of his countrymen. Adieu, 
 then, my sister 1 
 
 &G. &c. &c. 
 
 END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 PRINTED BY J. BI€>\\ESj 
 Grevilif Street, Hatloa Garcl-ju, London.
 
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