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 ^^':fe.^?.o^rN'©5"
 
 KATHLEEN FARQUHAR 
 
 'L I E> RA RY 
 
 OF THE 
 U N I VE.RSITY 
 or ILLI NOIS
 
 ^ c 
 
 ljL'<rf^
 
 GERALDINE HAMILTON; 
 
 OK, 
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 LONDON : 
 
 PRINTED BY SAMUEL BENTLEY, 
 
 Dorset-Street, Fleet-street.
 
 GERALDINE HAMILTON; 
 
 OB, 
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE 
 
 A TALE. 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES. 
 VOL. L 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 RICHARD BENTLEY, NEW BURLINGTON STREET. 
 (late colburn and eentley.) 
 
 1832.
 
 fZ3 
 
 y 
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 X 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 " Let us pray, that when we sink to 
 rest it may be with the remembrance of 
 as innocent a life, and with as strong a 
 hope of a blessed eternity, as she had 
 whom we lament. She will not return 
 *J to us, but God, in his mercy, grant that 
 ^ we go to her !" 
 nj^ Such were the words of the Rev. Mr. 
 V Evans to Geraldine Hamilton, the day 
 ^*^ following that on which he had consign- 
 ed her most beloved aunt and friend to 
 ;^the tomb. The youthful mourner could 
 ,. only answer with tears and looks cast 
 
 VOL. I. B 
 
 •^^
 
 2 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 upwards, as if she would gladly escape 
 from her sorrows, and be at peace with 
 her whose loss she so much deplored. 
 
 A harsh voice suddenly proceeding 
 from the ante-room exclaimed, 
 
 " Well, well, so the funeral is over, is 
 it ? I am glad they did not wait for me. 
 Tell that grumbling boy to get about 
 his business, for if I give him a sixpence 
 more 111 be hanged." 
 
 " Mr. Hamilton," announced the ser- 
 vant, throwing open the door. 
 
 " My father !" ejaculated the trembling 
 Geraldine. Clasping her hands, and mov- 
 ed by filial duty more than affection, she 
 sunk on her knees, for the first time, 
 to a parent. Mr. Hamilton raised her 
 in his arms, appeared moved, and Geral- 
 dine required no more to draw the tears 
 in torrents from her eyes. 
 
 " Come, come," said her father, good- 
 humouredly, " do not cry, my dear, or
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. S 
 
 else I shall think you are sorry to see 
 me. Why, what a great girl you are 
 become, fit to have a house of your own, 
 instead of returning: to mine — for I 
 w^arrant the old lady lived too well to 
 have much to leave you, child. Well, 
 well, do not spoil your pretty eyes by 
 crying ; we shall see what your own 
 native Ireland will produce for you." 
 
 This speech, however little calculated 
 for the purpose of consolation, Geraldine 
 constrained herself to answer with a 
 faint smile. Her father was satisfied — 
 for, little accustomed to any but the 
 most moderate expressions of feeling, 
 the violence of his daughter's tears, 
 added to her recumbent posture, asto- 
 nished him almost to alarm ; her smile 
 was, therefore, most thankfully received, 
 and though not one exactly to have sa- 
 tisfied a disciple of Lavater as to its 
 genuine character, was quite sufficient 
 
 B 2
 
 4i SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 to set a mind at ease, not often troubled 
 by acute perceptions on any subject. 
 
 In the house of mourning, after the 
 first moment of despair, the most pain- 
 ful period is that when the common 
 forms of life are to be returned to ; when 
 the whole system of society is to be re- 
 sumed, as if the dead had never been. 
 In Mrs. Langton's family, the distress 
 had been universal; and either from sym- 
 pathy in their young lady's sorrow, or 
 from their own particular grief — from 
 whatever cause originating — every ser- 
 vant had performed their necessary avo- 
 cations with trembling and in silence, as 
 if they feared to disturb the slumbers of 
 the dead, or the sorrows of the living. 
 This mournful calm was painfully dis- 
 turbed by the arrival of Mr, Hamilton ; 
 his harsh voice echoed through the 
 house, his roughness startled tlie indul- 
 gently treated domestics, and his deter-
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 5 
 
 mination of carrying off Geraldine in 
 four-and-twenty hours from his arrival, 
 produced a general feeling of distress to 
 all around ; — in Geraldine it created no 
 additional pang ; she was too miserable 
 to care where, or when she went ; she 
 knew that the house she was then in 
 was no longer her home, and the world 
 beyond appeared a dreary blank when 
 deprived of her much -loved relative. 
 
 INIrs. Langton's property was only for 
 her life; all she therefore had to dis- 
 pose of, w^as some plate, china, and 
 books. These she bequeathed between 
 Geraldine and her only brother, Arthur. 
 
 "A fine lady-daughter, with a trum- 
 pery legacy of china and spoons, is 
 hardly worth the trouble of making such 
 a journey for," muttered Mr. Hamilton, 
 as, with spectacles on his nose, he laid 
 hands on every article that he could 
 claim, as coming within the letter of his
 
 6 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 daughter's legacy; and which, being 
 safely deposited in some vast packing- 
 cases, he directed to his house in Ire- 
 land, there to be appropriated to his 
 own purposes. 
 
 Whilst Geraldine and her father are 
 performing their tedious journey to 
 Newtown Hamilton, the ancient seat of 
 the family, I shall beg to retrace a few 
 years, and introduce some necessary par- 
 ticulars of the personages already named. 
 
 In the year 17 — was residing in the 
 city of Bath, an aged and infirm female, 
 whose narrow income enabled her just 
 to support herself and two orphan grand- 
 children, in that style of life which is 
 termed genteel. She was sick, poor, 
 and had been unfortunate ; neither her 
 health nor inclination led her to wish 
 for any society beyond the two already 
 named ; and her more wealthy neigh- 
 bours hardly knew of the existence of
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 7 
 
 the retired Mrs. Harley, till the in- 
 creasing years and beauty of her daugh- 
 ters, by attracting the attention of the 
 male idlers, with whom Bath abounded, 
 led others to inquire the history of the 
 aged relative of such lovely females. 
 
 Mrs. Harley's story was soon told. 
 Her husband held for many years a 
 lucrative employment in the East In- 
 dies ; thoughtless and extravagant, he 
 bequeathed nothing at his death but 
 debts to his wife and son. Some little 
 time afterwards, this son fell a victim to 
 the climate, leaving two motherless girls 
 to the care of his own aged parent. Mrs. 
 Harley, overcome with sorrow, penury, 
 and disappointment, returned to Europe, 
 to weep in obscurity those that were 
 gone, and arrange her scanty means for 
 the maintenance of those that remained. 
 Such was Mrs. Harley's little story, 
 which the beauty of her grandchildren
 
 8 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 first brought to notice ; and that beauty 
 procured them acquaintances, admirers, 
 and amusements. One thing, how- 
 ever, it did not obtain — husbands ! The 
 Miss Harleys were admired, followed, 
 flirted with^ and what is more, they 
 were esteemed ; but still not one pro- 
 position of marriage had been whispered 
 in their ears by their numerous beaux. 
 Mrs. Harley grew uneasy as to that fu- 
 ture which, though she anticipated it 
 with pleasure to herself, she regarded 
 with anxiety for her daughters. " Hope 
 deferred maketh the heart sick." This 
 painful feeling Mrs. Harley had so 
 often experienced, that it amounted to 
 despair when the awful period of thirty 
 closed over the head of her eldest grand- 
 child. Miss Harley was perhaps more 
 lovely than in her early youth, — still, for 
 a single woman, and a pennyless one, it 
 is a moment which can hardly be at-
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 tained without some busy flutterings of 
 alarm and dismay. At that moment, 
 however, the good genius of the Harleys 
 was at work to produce a balm to all 
 their sorrows, in the very shape most 
 desired. 
 
 Many, many years had elapsed, since 
 a youth had been consigned by his 
 friends in England to the late Mr. Har- 
 ley's care in India, with whom he re- 
 sided above a year, and by whose in- 
 terest he was then placed in a situation, 
 where he realized, in the course of years, 
 a large fortune, and became a very great 
 man, when his patron had long sunk to 
 the grave a very indigent one. Mr. 
 Langton — and to his credit be it spoken, 
 for he had encountered many causes to 
 blunt the one, and to destroy the other — 
 possessed, on his return to England, a 
 good heart and good principles. He re- 
 membered his early friends, and his first 
 
 B 5
 
 10 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 inquiry was for Mrs. Harley ; but for a 
 long time his inquiry was vain, and he 
 began to despair as much of finding her, 
 as the Miss Harleys did at finding what 
 in the end Mr. Langton proved to one of 
 them — a husband. He came to Bath by 
 the advice of his physician, and there 
 found the object of his search, on whom 
 he immediately waited. Personal re- 
 cognition between either was impossible ; 
 besides time, every change had occurred 
 to remove all similitude between what 
 they now were and what they had been. 
 Whilst (in the faded, sickly, and aged 
 being before him) the gentleman vainly 
 endeavoured to identify her whom he 
 well remembered in all the splendour of 
 the East, the lady was equally astonish- 
 ed at the change time had produced in 
 her former protege ; he, whom she had 
 only present to her mind as a boy, was 
 now transformed into that description
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 11 
 
 of person, named an elderly gentleman. 
 The active spring of youth was sobered 
 to a very sedate pace ; the roses of that 
 period had given place to a deep sallow 
 hue ; the curling hair was replaced by a 
 comfortable wig ; and to assist their 
 vision, or to screen them from the cold, 
 enormous green spectacles covered the 
 once lively eyes : added to which " the 
 fair round belly with good capon lined," 
 gave proofs of wealth, and ease, and im- 
 portance, which thirty years before no 
 mortal would ever have suspected could 
 have been an appendage to the slight 
 figure of George Langton. 
 
 Some few minutes were given to sur- 
 prise, some few to explanation, and a 
 few more passed before they could con- 
 verse with ease. Mr, Langton spoke of 
 India, — of his obligations to Mr. Har- 
 ley, and of the happy hours he had 
 spent beneath his roof. Mrs. Harley
 
 12 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 sighed and smiled ; the sigh was for the 
 memory of days that were gone, the 
 smile to find they were still remembered 
 by others besides herself, and that Time 
 has not always, as Shakspeare asserts, a 
 wallet at his back, in which he puts alms 
 for oblivion of every good deed past. 
 
 The Miss Harleys appeared, and were 
 introduced to Mr. Langton as the friend 
 of their father. The conversation be- 
 came animated ; the gentleman talkative 
 and complimentary, the ladies lively 
 and well-bred, and also not offended by 
 the evident admiration of a man who 
 gazed on them through his spectacles, 
 and who acknowledged having often 
 held them on his knee in their child- 
 hood — a period which they well knew 
 was not yesterday. 
 
 This visit afforded a fine subject of 
 discourse to the old and young ladies, 
 when their slight dinner was over, and
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. IS 
 
 was equally a cause of meditation to 
 Mr. Langton, when his more sumptuous 
 but solitary fare was removed, and he 
 was left with no companion but a bottle 
 of port wine, in one of the best apart- 
 ments of the best hotel at Bath. Mr. 
 Langton wished to act kindly by the 
 Harleys, but he knew not in what man- 
 ner. A hint of some India shawls^ 
 which he hoped to be allowed to pre- 
 sent to the ladies, had been but coldly 
 received. Money was out of the ques- 
 tion ; jewels, muslins, silks, all were re- 
 jected, from the recollection of the proud 
 air in all her poverty which Mrs. Harley 
 still retained. One offer he might make, 
 and that was himself ! Mr. Langton 
 wanted a wife — and again he considered 
 the subject as he drew the remains of 
 his bottle towards him — the young 
 ladies could not but want husbands ; 
 but still there was no hurry, and at
 
 14 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 length so he determined. On nearer 
 acquaintance, the charms of the eldest 
 Miss Harley somewhat accelerated the 
 East Indian's motions ; he became — not 
 for the first time we may imagine, 
 though decidedly for the last — in love. 
 This discovery precipitated the proposal 
 which Miss Harley was not backward 
 in accepting. The marriage shortly took 
 place, and replaced the Harleys once 
 more in that station from which they 
 had fallen. 
 
 There was nothing in Mr. and Mrs. 
 Langton's prospects to justify any ob- 
 servation one way or the other as to 
 their probable felicity. Their marriage 
 might turn out well, or ill, or indif- 
 ferent ; for what may a man not prove, 
 who has spent the greater part of his 
 life getting money in the East ? what 
 may a woman not become w^hen tried 
 by the touchstone wealth, after many
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 15 
 
 years of poverty and humiliation, added 
 to which, when such two persons are 
 united after a fortnight's acquaintance ? 
 That the marriage did prove a happy one 
 is all that need be told ; and, perhaps, 
 (I only say perhaps,) it was quite as 
 happy as if it had taken place at a more 
 juvenile period of their lives, without 
 that experience which they were both 
 now possessed of. The first cloud which 
 rose over their felicity was the death of 
 Mrs. Harley : she sank into the grave in 
 that most blissful state of mind for the 
 aged to depart, with a strong hope of 
 happiness for herself in a future state, 
 and devoid of anxiety as to those whom 
 she left behind, having yet much of 
 their journey through life unperformed. 
 This death seemed to unite the sisters 
 with stronger feelings of affection to- 
 wards each other than ever. So uni- 
 formly kind was Mr. and IMrs. Langton's
 
 16 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 treatment of Miss Harley, so entirely 
 was their home hers, so contented did 
 she seem with her lot and with the society 
 she moved in, and so devoted to her 
 sister and brother, that, if in the bosom 
 of any single woman the desire of change 
 seemed impossible, it was in Miss Har- 
 ley's. It proved, however, that in the 
 inmost recesses of her heart a lurking 
 wish existed, which made her not in- 
 sensible to the admiration of an Irish 
 gentleman of some fortune of the name 
 of Hamilton. Mr. Hamilton was not 
 slow in making his proposals, proposals 
 which, notwithstanding the decided dis- 
 approbation of Mr. and Mrs. Langton, 
 she not only lent a willing ear unto, but 
 in due form accepted. 
 
 Mr. Langton and his wife were in 
 despair at her determination : they were 
 not blinded by the tender passion which 
 it may be supposed obscured Miss Har-
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 17 
 
 ley's judgment, and they were perfectly 
 aware that such feelings were very ill 
 bestowed on their object. Mr. Hamil- 
 ton had nothing in the world to recom- 
 mend him beyond good looks and an 
 easy fortune; but had he possessed 
 every qualification, mental as well as 
 bodily, they would have been counter- 
 balanced in the opinion of the Langtons 
 by his residence in Ireland. The dis- 
 tances they had both traversed had faded 
 from their minds, and given place to 
 very confined ideas of motion. To the 
 ideas of persons who never saw more of 
 the country than the neighbourhood of 
 Putney afforded, nor took a longer jour- 
 ney than their own four horses could 
 easily convey them — to such persons 
 Ireland seemed a distance almost as un- 
 searchable by human comprehension as 
 the fathomless ocean ; and the spirit of 
 adventure which could induce Miss
 
 18 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 Harley, even for a lover, to exile her- 
 self to such a distance, was perfect in- 
 sanity in the eyes of her sobered re- 
 lations. It would have been better for 
 Mrs. Hamilton had their alarm on the 
 more material points of temper, under- 
 standing, and education, been as much 
 awakened as it was upon the less mo- 
 mentous point of abode. 
 
 It is not, however, my intention to 
 paint the interior of Mr. and Mrs. Ha- 
 milton's married life. It lasted but two 
 years, during which time she had the 
 wisdom to forbear complaint, if she had 
 cause ; and, as no one but herself could 
 have told the secrets of her prison- 
 house, the grave effectually closed them 
 from all human cognizance, and left her 
 weeping sister only to conjecture what 
 they might have been from the last 
 letter she received, written on her death- 
 bed. In that she implored her to take
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 19 
 
 charge of her children, with an ear- 
 nestness that seemed to place little re- 
 liance on the kindness of their other 
 parent, and made her promise never to 
 relinquish the girl whilst she lived, and 
 to keep the boy as long as his father 
 allowed. 
 
 The gratitude Mrs. Langton felt at 
 Mr. Hamilton's immediately complying 
 with his wife's dying wishes, made her 
 some compensation for the cold letter 
 which accompanied the motherless babes. 
 Many a gentleman has expressed more 
 feeling in a letter to his gamekeeper 
 as to the rearing a litter of puppies. 
 Those, however, who were so easily 
 parted with, were not as coldly received. 
 Mrs. Langton and her husband vied 
 with each other in attention to the chil- 
 dren ; the first as some consolation in 
 her bitter loss, the last from delight 
 at such additions to his family, for the
 
 20 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 only drawback to his matrimonial fe- 
 licity, in Mr. Langton's mind, was the 
 want of such little beings to perpetuate 
 his name and enjoy his fortune. His 
 brother, to be sure, was of a different 
 opinion; and his six nephews still more 
 resolved to hear of no other heir than 
 themselves to their Indian uncle's wealth. 
 The father was quite content in Mrs. 
 Langton's sterility, but the sons had 
 some alarms with regard to the two new 
 inmates ; their favour increased hourly, 
 and, though their own did not decrease 
 in proportion, yet the children's infan- 
 tine graces rendered them fearful rivals 
 — still they bore the name of Hamilton, 
 whilst they themselves triumphed in 
 the appellation of Langton. 
 
 To those who have experienced a 
 similar loss I attempt not to describe, 
 if even words could express it, that 
 feeling of bereavement which is the
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 21 
 
 result of the death of one of two fondly 
 attached sisters ; the blank is never filled 
 up ; others may smile, and friendships 
 may be formed, but sisterly love dies 
 with the object, most peculiarly so, 
 when no other sister exists or has ex- 
 isted. Mrs. Langton did not give way ' 
 to despair, but Mrs. Hamilton's death 
 made that lasting impression which 
 leads the mind to frequent pensive con- 
 templation, and slackens without en- 
 tirely loosening the hold which this 
 world's enjoyments will gain upon a 
 mind which, from callousness or un- 
 checked prosperity, revels in the good 
 without feeling or knowing the ill. 
 
 Geraldine and Arthur Hamilton be- 
 came soon the objects of injudicious but 
 pardonable indulgence to their aunt and 
 uncle, which compensated entirely for 
 the neglect of their father, who, for nine 
 long years, made no inquiry concern-
 
 22 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 ing them. At the end of that period, 
 however, business calling him over to 
 England, he thought it necessary to 
 take some notice of his first-born son. 
 Had Mr. Hamilton possessed the com- 
 mon feelings of a parent, exquisite 
 would have been his pleasure at the 
 first interview with his lovely children ; 
 judging of his feelings by her own, 
 Mrs. Langton turned aside from the 
 emotion she was assured their presence 
 would create ; and, as she mused on 
 her beloved departed sister, and of her 
 equally beloved living children, she 
 thought of all that the father and hus- 
 band must feel — his joy, tenderness, re- 
 gret, and pride. But, with Mrs. Lang- 
 ton's feelings, her brother-in-law had 
 not one chord in unison — he saw no- 
 thing in Arthur but his embroidered 
 clothes, or in Geraldine but a certain 
 delicacy of complexion which he attri-
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 23 
 
 buted to want of fresh air. A very- 
 coarse expression of disapprobation at 
 both the one and the other, aroused 
 Mrs. Langton from the abstraction into 
 which she had fallen. 
 
 " To what do you object?" she in- 
 quired, whilst a slight colour flew to 
 her cheeks, and a faint tremor mani- 
 fested itself in her voice. 
 
 " Why, Madam, to what should I 
 object, but to finding a monkey instead 
 of a boy ? What the devil is the mean- 
 ing of this fine coat? and the waist- 
 coat, too, has its share of finery ; a pretty 
 dress for a sailor ! a watch, chain, and 
 seals, also, I see the young gentleman 
 has got — ha ! ha ! ha ! ha !" 
 
 " Indeed, Mr. Hamilton, Arthur's 
 dress is a very common one for boys 
 of his age." 
 
 ** Common or uncommon, I say it is 
 the dress of a fool, a monkey, a moun-
 
 24 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 tebank. The girl you may do as you 
 please with ; her complexion may be all 
 vile French cosmetics, as far as I either 
 know or care ; but the boy's appear- 
 ance I shall take the liberty of alter- 
 ing — do you hear, youngster ?" and 
 Mr. Hamilton caught Arthur roughly 
 by the arm. Arthur, unused to such 
 treatment, disengaged himself with a 
 force which showed that his fine dress 
 enveloped a very sturdy person ; and, 
 taking advantage of an open door into 
 the garden, he, at one bound, darted 
 therein ; his sister was not tardy in pur- 
 suing the same plan, to escape from 
 an authority they were not at all in- 
 clined to acknowledge. 
 
 Most gladly would Mrs. Langton 
 have followed their example, but po- 
 liteness constrained her to remain to 
 hear what more Mr. Hamilton had 
 to say upon dress ; to receive his cold
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 25 
 
 thanks for her care, and to be told that 
 Arthur was instantly to be placed at 
 school. With Geraldine he wished to 
 have nothing to do. Then declining all 
 refreshment, he shook hands with his 
 sister-in-law, left his compliments for her 
 husband, and departed, relieving Mrs. 
 Langton from the severest of all trials, 
 the being constrained to appear satisfied 
 with a person, whose every word and 
 action excited her internal contempt 
 and anger. 
 
 Shortly after this visit, Arthur was 
 placed at a naval academy, where he 
 remained two years, and then went to 
 sea. This arrangement was satisfactory 
 to all parties — for, strong in bodily 
 health, manly and full of spirit, the 
 youth himself was enchanted at the 
 profession his father had chosen for 
 him, but which he would equally have 
 been obliged to engage in, had he been 
 
 VOL. I. • c
 
 26 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 sickly and averse to it. The Langtons 
 could make no objection — they might 
 regret the privation of his society — and 
 his sister wept torrents of tears as she 
 thought of all a sailor suffers; but still, 
 with the profession itself no fault could 
 be found, when entered willingly by the 
 youth himself; more particularly as the 
 increasing influence of a second wife, 
 whom ]Mr. Hamilton had taken unto 
 himself, appeared to render the succeed- 
 ing to his father's estate a more uncer- 
 tain matter than had before seemed pro- 
 bable. At all events, for the present, 
 Mrs. Hamilton decidedly governed ; and 
 as her lord was a strong healthy man, 
 that present seemed not likely to give 
 way soon to a future when her reign 
 might cease. It was well, therefore, for 
 young Arthur, that his profession af- 
 forded him means independent of his 
 father and step-mother.
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 27 
 
 Of Geraldine Hamilton, the Lang- 
 tons were left in undisputed possession. 
 She had beauty and talents ; such pre- 
 cious gifts were not unworthily bestow- 
 ed — they were planted in a good soil, 
 joined to an understanding proportion- 
 ate to their dazzling but less solid qua- 
 lities ; and every means were taken to 
 prevent any neglect of the smallest gift, 
 either personal or mental. 
 
 All that affection, kindness, atten- 
 tion, and wealth could bestow, was la- 
 vished on Geraldine by her indul- 
 gent relatives. No disappointment ever 
 checked their progress in her culture — 
 and when, added to all that was bril- 
 liant, she had every virtuous disposition, 
 every mental qualification, and princi- 
 ples founded, as it seemed, on the 
 strong base of religion — when, at seven- 
 teen, such was Geraldine Hamilton — is 
 it astonishing that her enchanted aunt 
 
 c 2
 
 1^8 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 idolized the being she had entwined 
 round her heart, and to whom she was 
 only cruel by the excess of her praise 
 and indulgence — rendering her thereby 
 ignorant of those thousand ills to which 
 flesh is heir, and unprepared for even 
 the most trifling trouble ; much more 
 for that sweeping calamity, which de- 
 prived her of home, friends, society, and 
 fortune ; in fact, of all that embellished 
 and blessed her life ? 
 
 To see Geraldine well married was 
 the wish of the I angtons from the 
 moment she attained the age of six- 
 teen. Mr. Langton's increasing infir- 
 mities seemed to threaten, however, that 
 ere Geraldine's choice was made, he 
 should no longer exist to witness it ; 
 but his wife, many years his junior, 
 strong and active, had no such alarm- 
 ing presentiment to damp her own par- 
 ticular feelings ; and it seemed no great
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 29 
 
 presumption to imagine, that long be- 
 fore her course was run, Geraldine 
 would be disposed of to another pro- 
 tector. Mr. Langton, however, died 
 but six months before his wife, and the 
 unfortunate Geraldine was left to the 
 protection, not of a lover or a friend, 
 but to one with perhaps a more high- 
 sounding title. But, alas ! in name 
 alone did Mr. Hamilton deserve the 
 appellation of father.
 
 30 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 It may appear extraordinary that a 
 man of Mr. Langton's fortune should 
 have left so beloved a relation as Geral- 
 dine destitute; the cause did not arise 
 from want of consideration, or from 
 any diminution in his affection, but 
 solely from the blind reasoning of short- 
 sighted man. 
 
 In bequeathing all he possessed, for 
 her life, to his wife, Mr. Langton consi- 
 dered he equally provided for Geral- 
 dine ; and if his heart misgave him at 
 all as to the justice of the manner in 
 which he had disposed of his property, 
 it was with regard to his nephews, who.
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 31 
 
 eventually his heirs, were, for the life 
 of Mrs. Langton, unprovided for — a life 
 which, in the natural course of events, 
 was likely to be prolonged many years, 
 during the course of which he calculated 
 on her prudence for reserving a portion 
 for her niece, against that period which 
 happeneth to all. Foolish, indeed, did 
 his reasoning prove. Those nephews 
 in whom, from ties of blood, he de- 
 sired his property at length to rest, 
 became in six months its entire pos- 
 sessors ; and his beloved Geraldine. 
 the child he adored, the pleasure and 
 pride of his life, on whom for years the 
 greater part of his income had been 
 lavished, this darling Geraldine was left 
 a beggar, dependent upon a father she 
 had but once seen — of whose society, 
 manners, and ideas she was ignorant, 
 and whose second wife and race of 
 children engrossed all that affection
 
 32 SELF-GUIDANCE, 
 
 self allowed him to bestow on others, 
 but which, at all events, was not very 
 likely to be offered to Geraldine's ac- 
 ceptance; whom, perfect as she was, 
 and adored as she had ever been, Mr. 
 Hamilton and his better half consider- 
 ed, on the close of that day which re- 
 stored Geraldine to her paternal home, 
 a poor, spiritless, spoiled girl, fit for no 
 one useful thing but to act the part 
 of a fine lady, and weep over a love- 
 poem ; and who, unless she condescended 
 to bestow some of her accomplishments 
 upon her sister, would be ever a dead 
 weight upon their hands. The only dif- 
 ference of opinion between the amiable 
 pair was, that Mr. Hamilton foresaw 
 the possibility of Geraldine's beauty 
 gaining her a husband : a conjecture his 
 wife somewhat indignantly rejected as 
 impossible. 
 
 Whilst Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton sank
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 33 
 
 to repose, the unfortunate subject of 
 their previous discourse was far from 
 experiencing any such balm to her woes. 
 With folded arms, upcast eyes, and 
 almost bursting heart, she tried to ar- 
 range her ideas as to some precise judg- 
 ment of the extent of all the misery she 
 had endured, all that she had yet to look 
 forward to. Alas ! such contemplations 
 were vain and boundless ; in every way 
 her present fate seemed bereft of en- 
 joyment, as much as in all former years 
 it had been free from sorrow. It ap- 
 peared impossible that one blow could 
 have been so sweeping in its effects, and 
 that with her aunt should have expired 
 every prospect of felicity the world 
 contained. The full extent of her cala- 
 mity was unknown till her arrival at 
 that spot where her future days were 
 to be spent. 
 
 During her journey, surprise at her 
 c 5
 
 34 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 father's manners, ideas, and language, 
 had even, in her grief, found a passage 
 to her mind ; but, beneath so much 
 coarseness, she hoped to find many re- 
 deeming traits : this hope became hour- 
 ly weaker as their intercourse increased ; 
 and it died within her when she saw his 
 chosen partner, his establishment, and 
 the manner in which he lived, and had 
 witnessed their domestic arrangement, 
 and heard the familiar discourse of those 
 with whom she was to pass her life. 
 
 Educated on the lap of indulgence ; 
 accustomed to the society of not only 
 the gay and agreeable, but the sensible, 
 wise, and good ; where every talent 
 was cherished, every virtue appreciated, 
 and with whom decorum and good 
 manners were as natural as the air they 
 breathed, it had never entered into the 
 mind of Geraldine that a different so- 
 ciety could exist amongst those whose
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 35 
 
 rank and fortune were so much on an 
 equality. That the virtuous and the 
 wicked, the man of letters and the ig- 
 norant, and, perhaps, th.e man of family 
 and the upstart, might form very se- 
 parate and dissimilar societies, was to 
 be understood : but that her nearest 
 connexions should afford so strong a 
 contrast as to have no opinion in com- 
 mon, even on the most trivial subjects ; 
 that all she had been taught to admire, 
 love, and cherish, she now found des- 
 pised or unheard of ; and what she had 
 ever considered as indifferent and des- 
 picable, alone to be matter of import- 
 ance, created so complete a bouieverse- 
 ment in Geraldine's mind, that it seem- 
 ed like a painful dream. The oaths 
 her father had uttered, his address to 
 his servants, the quantity of whiske}^ 
 he had drunk, and her mother-in-law's 
 indifference to such proceedings, with
 
 "36 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 her inelegant language and manner, still 
 haunted Geraldine in her chamber, and 
 pursued her even in her slumbers when 
 sorrow and fatigue closed her eyes. 
 
 Morning came, and with it brighter 
 thoughts ; the fire blazed in the ample 
 grate, and the sun shone even upon the 
 desolate habitation of Newtown Ha- 
 milton. Without, the labourers pur- 
 sued their farming occupations, inspect- 
 ed by Mr. Hamilton in person. He 
 looked satisfied, as well as those around 
 him ; and, in truth, like many other 
 much greater men, appeared ever to 
 more advantage in the field than in the 
 cabinet. A loud-toned bell calling him 
 within, Geraldine, who had been re- 
 garding her father from the window, 
 comprehended the summons, and de- 
 scended also to the breakfast-room. She 
 found Mrs. Hamilton intrenched be- 
 hind a steaming urn, from which sta-
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 37 
 
 tion of dignity she bowed to her with 
 most exalted indifference, pointing to a 
 chair. Her husband was more cordial ; 
 he took Geraldine's hand, asked how 
 she had slept, then, smiling, he added, 
 " I need not ask, however ; those roses 
 on your cheeks are good proofs of sound 
 slumbers." Turning to a sister of Mrs. 
 Hamilton's, whom, for years, it had been 
 his custom to turn into ridicule as much 
 as his slight jocose powers enabled him, 
 he added, " Why, Kitty, you must look 
 about you — Geraldine will cut you out 
 in the good graces of all the beaux, and 
 not leave even Parson O'Malley to sigh 
 for your charms.'' 
 
 Miss Foster coloured and said, " that 
 Miss Hamilton was welcome to all the 
 beaux in the country, and that she did 
 not wish to have any exception made 
 even in favour of Parson O'Malley." 
 
 " Then you are very much changed
 
 38 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 since last Christmas, when you were 
 ready to eat Mrs. O'Grady for saying 
 he liked Molly Parsons. I remember 
 it well, and your walk in the orchard, 
 and—" 
 
 " Now, Mr. Hamilton, how can you 
 go for to rub up such old stories ; and, 
 sister, you know — " 
 
 " Ring the bell," said Mrs. Hamilton, 
 in a voice of thunder, " and do not call 
 upon me, I beg, to confirm your foolish 
 discourse, Kitty. Mr. Hamilton, you 
 need not be so wasteful of that honey, 
 I can tell you, for when it is gone you 
 will not soon get any like it." Then 
 turning to Geraldine, with an air of im- 
 portance, she added, " It came from Mi- 
 norca, a place a great way beyond sea, as 
 I am told. A cousin of mine, who has 
 a very good ship of his own, called the 
 ^N^ancy — some say after me — well, says 
 my cousin to me, just before he sailed,
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 89 
 
 ' When I come back I will bring you a 
 present ;' he was as good as his word ; 
 for hardly had I read in the Chronicle 
 that the Nancy had reached Cork, than 
 the carrier drops a parcel at our gate, 
 which proved a most excellent jar of 
 honey, brought home by my cousin for 
 me. It is as good honey as ever was 
 tasted, notwithstanding the little store 
 Mr. Hamilton seems to put by it, and 
 that Mrs. O'Grady says the hives in Ire- 
 land produce just as good ; but she is 
 a poor ignorant creature, as you may 
 well imagine, by making such a speech." 
 '• Now your sister has done prosing, 
 ring the bell," said Mr. Hamilton ; " but 
 stay, Kitty, step to the kitchen-door 
 and call John, for I dare say the bell 
 will not ring." 
 
 Kitty obeyed with alacrity ; Mrs. 
 Hamilton looked full of anger, and in a 
 voice more than usually inharmonious
 
 40 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 and loud, asked Mr. Hamilton what he 
 meant by her prosing. " I suppose, 
 soon, I must not be allowed to speak in 
 my own house. A bear — a bear, I say, 
 has more manners than you, Mr. Hamil- 
 ton, sometimes." 
 
 " Thank you, my dear," returned her 
 husband ; " but do not put yourself in a 
 fluster ; taste a little of my tea, in which 
 I have put some rum ; it will do you 
 good. Why, Geraldine, child, you stare 
 like a stuck pig. Did you never see 
 this mixture before ? No, no, caffy ho 
 lait, as the French say, was only genteel 
 enou2:h for the fine folks with whom 
 you have lived, I dare say ; but we will 
 teach you a different story : to make 
 you worthy of an Irish husband, child," 
 chucking her under the chin, "you 
 must learn to drink whiskey, and eat 
 red herrings." 
 
 Geraldine answered not. The party
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 41 
 
 soon separated ; Mrs. Hamilton to su- 
 perintend her household concerns ; Mr. 
 Hamilton to his farm ; JVIiss Foster, 
 in obedience to something between a 
 hint and a command, to take the chil- 
 dren a walk, and Geraldine to her own 
 apartment, there to weep the live-long 
 day, till the same deep-toned bell which 
 had aroused her in the morning, again 
 summoned her to dinner, to pass a more 
 painful period than even the first meal 
 had been to her. The presence of Par- 
 son O'Malley afforded her father an ex- 
 cuse for several extra glasses of whiskey, 
 of the charms of which his companion's 
 purple nose and jovial countenance pro- 
 claimed him to be fully sensible. So 
 much, indeed, of the divine liquor, as 
 he termed it, did the reverend gentle- 
 man quaff, that his host, after the ladies 
 had retired, fairly sank under the table, 
 to the extreme contempt of Mr. O'Mal-
 
 42 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 ley, whose superior strength of head 
 enabled him to walk tolerably straight 
 to the drawing-room, and, after wishing 
 the ladies a very good night, explain 
 with something of intelligibility, the 
 recumbent posture of the master of the 
 mansion. 
 
 " If Mr. O'Malley is not always in 
 mischief !" said JMrs. Hamilton, rising in 
 indignation. " It is two good months 
 since my husband was drunk, or any 
 thing more than a little fresh ; and now 
 I would lay any wager he will be so ill 
 to-morrow, that he must have the doc- 
 tor, and then comes his bill, and all 
 manner of troubles. I can tell Parson 
 O'Malley he shall not cross my thresh- 
 old again in a hurry, if he is to play 
 these tricks." 
 
 " Lord ! sister," said Miss Foster, 
 '*what is the use of abusing poor Mr.
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 43 
 
 O'Malley? why he was not much in 
 liquor him self , and I am sure he was 
 very civil to come and wish us good 
 night before he returned home ; and I 
 am very sure my brother is always tip- 
 sey whenever he has any one to drink 
 with, be it Parson O'Malley or not." 
 
 ^ I tell you, Kitty, he has not been 
 drunk this two months." 
 
 "Because, sister, he has not had a 
 creature to dine with him. But, how- 
 ever, it is needless talking on the sub- 
 ject, and whosoever's fault it may be, 
 as drunk he is, I will go and help the 
 servant to carry him to bed." 
 
 Accordingly Miss Foster left the 
 room ; Geraldine escaped also to her's, not, 
 however, without hearing the noise pro- 
 ceeding from the dining-room — a mix- 
 ture of oaths and suppressed laughter, 
 the first from the inebriated master, the
 
 44 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 last from the servants, happy in the 
 degradation of him who often made 
 them tremble. Such was Geraldine Ha- 
 milton's specimen of home — that magic 
 word !
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 45 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 The house of Newtown Hamilton, 
 when seen from the summit of a slop- 
 ing hill — which hardly deserved that 
 name, so gentle was its ascent from the 
 door of the mansion to the extent of a 
 mile, but which, for want of a better 
 term, hill must be called — when seen 
 from thence, had the appearance of a 
 vast range of building ; on nearer ap- 
 proach, however, its grandeur sank into 
 utter insignificance, by the discovery 
 that it was composed chiefly of farm 
 buildings, so attached to the house that 
 the habitable part was with difficulty 
 discoverable, amidst stables, cart- sheds.
 
 46 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 pig-sties, dairy, &c. &;c. The mansion, 
 when seen, was a small, ill-built, ugly 
 dwelling, without garden, or any thmg 
 to denote a gentleman's residence. 
 Within -doors no air of comfort reign- 
 ed ; the few apartments hardly afford- 
 ed furniture for the common purposes 
 of life, and but for the presence of a 
 tremendous peat fire, which burned 
 constantly in the low damp hall, would 
 have scarcely been imagined the abode 
 of man. 
 
 In this residence of discomfort, the 
 apartment of Geraldine alone had some- 
 thing of a contrary character. It had 
 been a favourite room of her mother's. 
 After her death it remained unoccupied, 
 excepting in her son's occasional visits, 
 and now it fell to the more permanent 
 lot of her daughter. 
 
 " This room was a favourite of your 
 mother's," said x^Ir. Hamilton, as he
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 47 
 
 ushered his daughter first into it; "it 
 was she who arranged it as you see ;" 
 pointing to the faded pink curtains and 
 green paper. " Why she preferred it, 
 I do not know ; but as she liked it, I 
 thought you might like it, so told Mrs. 
 Hamilton to have it ready for you." 
 
 It was difficult at first for Geraldine to 
 discover the cause of the preference her 
 mother had given to this room, but at 
 length it appeared evidently to have con- 
 sisted in the view from the window. In 
 every other apartment the farm-yard alone 
 met the sight ; but here the eye could 
 wander to the summit of the low range 
 of hills, rising from the door, and in an 
 opening, formed by a sudden fall in the 
 ground at the flank of one of these ac- 
 clivities, a view of the ocean was dis- 
 coverable : it was but a peep, but still 
 it was the sea ; and on a clear day, some- 
 times, the anxious gazer was rewarded
 
 48 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 by seeing through the chasms in the 
 hill, a stately vessel pass by, with sails 
 glittering in the sun. What food for 
 meditation did not such an event give 
 to the hapless Geraldine, of distant 
 lands, and friends, and society, and 
 England ! Vain were such thoughts ; 
 Geraldine was helpless, and a woman ! 
 
 The fate of women would be more 
 cruel, if they were less imperfect ; but 
 as prosperity has often proved, it is in 
 adversity, subjection, and retirement, 
 that they appear to such advantage ; 
 advantages which vanish in the full 
 glare of day, in power and prosperity. 
 Again, the fate of women would be 
 more cruel, did not their generally de- 
 fective education, by rendering them in- 
 capable of all but trifling pursuits, chain 
 their faculties within a narrow compass, 
 from whence those tempests of sorrow
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 49 
 
 and joy, pleasure and pain, which fill 
 and agitate the exalted and enlightened 
 mind, are excluded. Of such descrip- 
 tion of females, was not, however, Ge- 
 raldine. Her education, talents, feel- 
 ings, and appearance, all had formed 
 her to grace any station but that in 
 which she found herself ; to fit her for 
 every trial of life but the negative ones 
 she suffered under. In the apartment 
 before described, its inhabitant rejoiced 
 in her seclusion from the rest of the 
 family, and in the possession of the 
 cheerful morning sun ; both subjects 
 of constant thankfulness to her, who 
 there passed the live-long day, and wept 
 and prayed for resignation to the lot it 
 had pleased Heaven to place her in. 
 Tears and prayers are indeed the only 
 true resources of the wretched ; tears 
 which soften the heart, and prayers that 
 the mind may be carried from this world 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 50 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 to the consideration of the next, without 
 which perspective we should indeed be 
 most miserable, for 
 
 " Hope springs eternal in the human breast, — 
 Man never is, but always to be blest ;" 
 
 and to many, that hope rests only in 
 the grave. Few, however, we will 
 trust, are so destitute of earthly com- 
 fort in the summer of their life, as to 
 sigh, as did Geraldine, for their only 
 source of good, that period when the 
 weary are at rest : and even to her, 
 one little hope of earthly comfort re- 
 mained — her brother. He might re- 
 turn independent, be able to offer her a 
 home with him, to snatch her from an 
 abode equally repugnant to his feelings 
 as to hers ; and, however small his 
 means, if they afforded him the power 
 to exist at all, with her she was assured 
 such existence would be shared ; but
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 51 
 
 when would he return? when would 
 he be independent ? 
 
 Arthur Hamilton had been appointed 
 Lieutenant to a frigate in the East In- 
 dies, and as his inclination as well as 
 interest led him to desire there to con- 
 tinue, it was not likely she should see 
 him for many years — years to her of 
 dull, useless, melancholy safety ; to him, 
 of lively, meritorious, and animating 
 danger ; what a contrast ! But to Geral- 
 dine's heart his peril was another pang 
 in addition to her many sorrows ; and 
 if, when she had sympathising friends 
 to console and share her griefs, she 
 wept at all a sailor suffers, what must 
 she now do as she listened to the howl- 
 ing blast, which swept round the deso- 
 late mansion she was an inhabitant of, 
 and where no creature in the slightest 
 decree shared her terrors or her in- 
 terest ? To Mrs. Hamilton, her son-in- 
 
 D 2 

 
 52 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 law had ever been an object of dislike 
 and jealousy : to his father, he was be- 
 come almost indifferent. The sea, as a 
 bond of union between Geraldine and 
 her distant brother, became soon to her 
 as a friend ; she would sit for hours on 
 the rough and pebbly shore gazing at 
 the vast expanse before her. Seldom 
 were her meditations disturbed, for the 
 point she could reach with the greatest 
 ease from the house, was one of too 
 much danger, from hidden rocks, to ad- 
 mit of being approached, excepting at 
 high-tide, by even the boats of fisher- 
 men. All of life she witnessed was some 
 distant sail, or the wild gull, whose 
 presence seemed a protection, and the 
 watching of whose movements was the 
 only diversion she ever experienced 
 from her own sad thoughts. 
 
 With her brother, her mother was 
 ever connected in idea ; that mother
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 53 
 
 whom she had never seen, and of whom 
 her aunt had taught her to love the 
 memory, by bearing constant record 
 to her virtues, mingled with a gentle 
 hint of her sorrows, and whose dying 
 wish had vainly attempted, by render- 
 ing her daughter a stranger to her 
 home, to spare her the misery she had 
 herself endured. It had been decreed 
 otherwise ; and after a lapse of nineteen 
 years, in the self-same place where her 
 mother had sighed before, did Geraldine 
 endure equal mental wretchedness, with 
 this additional aggravation to her ills, 
 that the world, from which they were 
 both as much excluded as though mo- 
 nastic vows and walls enclosed them, 
 was still impressed on the daughter's 
 mind with every brilliant colour which 
 youth and unsatiated enjoyment could 
 give ; a tone of feeling, which the 
 addition of fifteen years had probably,
 
 54 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 without destroying entirely, much sub- 
 dued, when Mrs. Hamilton became first 
 acquainted with her husband's resi- 
 dence. 
 
 After many bitter tears and silent 
 pangs, after days of ennui and nights 
 of wretchedness, time so far assuaged 
 Geraldine's grief, as to enable her to re- 
 flect upon the necessity of resignation, 
 and consequently of attaching herself, 
 if it were possible, to those with whom 
 she was to live. Disappointment at- 
 tended all her endeavours ; her father 
 wanted not her attentions, nor the con- 
 versation of any one, " for talking is not 
 always to converse." To see her at 
 breakfast, dinner, and tea, was all the 
 gratification Geraldine could give him ; 
 and that it was a gratification, consider- 
 ing all things, she had reason to be 
 pleased, although Mrs. Hamilton was 
 consequently affronted.
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 55 
 
 It was in vain that, with regard to 
 this lady, her daughter-in-law lowered 
 her ideas, conversation, and almost 
 manners, to promote some degree of 
 unison between them ; it was in vain 
 she instructed a dull boy and girl until 
 her senses ached, and worked plain work 
 until her eyes were dim ; to Mrs. Hamil- 
 ton's heart there was no accessible road ; 
 her feelings were cold as marble, and 
 her intellect very nearly as dull. All her 
 affections centred in animal attachment 
 to her offspring, and something like love 
 for her husband. Even her sister she 
 treated not only without kindness, but 
 harshly — a severity which at first brought 
 tears into Geraldine's eyes, until she was 
 convinced that Miss Foster cared little 
 or nothing about such behaviour, pro- 
 bably from custom — as a horse or sheep 
 gets habituated to a bell around its 
 neck, of which Mrs. Hamilton's un-
 
 56 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 harmonious^ querulous, and unceasing 
 voice, was in other respects no bad re- 
 presentative. Geraldine had not been 
 long at home, before she discovered that 
 beneath a vulgar manner, a plain but 
 good-natured countenance, and as un- 
 cultivated a mind as could be well found 
 in her rank of life, Miss Foster con- 
 centrated all the good feeling and 
 good sense which the family possessed, 
 though treated as if both fool and 
 slave. But this discovery was long with- 
 out producing any visible effects in their 
 deportment towards each other; Miss 
 Hamilton's elegance being almost as in- 
 superable a barrier to j\Iiss Foster's de- 
 sire to approach, as her own manners 
 were repulsive to Geraldine; and they 
 long pitied and liked each other ere they 
 ventured to give the shghtest hint of 
 such feeling. Imperceptibly the dif- 
 ference ceased to be so decided. The
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 57 
 
 high tone of ideas Geraldine had im- 
 bibed with her former friends, sank 
 many degrees in her present society, 
 and Kitty Foster's vulgarity and igno- 
 rance were overlooked in tenderness to 
 her native sense, rectitude, and good- 
 ness of heart — virtues as entirely thrown 
 away upon those with whom she asso- 
 ciated, as Geraldine's more brilliant 
 endowments. 
 
 The only lesson Miss Foster had been 
 ever taught was humility ; a lesson she 
 had well profited by, for she was lowly- 
 minded to an ultra degree, most particu- 
 larly so when the person to whom she 
 considered herself inferior, was so far in- 
 ferior to the rest of the world as Mrs. 
 Hamilton. From her earliest years, 
 however, she had considered her sister 
 as a person of immense importance — at 
 the head of her father's table, governing 
 him, herself, and the servants, with a 
 
 D 5
 
 58 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 decided air and tone. Poor Kitty felt 
 grateful that she was allowed to sit at 
 the same board with one who, to her 
 unknowing mind, appeared placed in a 
 station of the greatest dignity the world 
 contained ; and that when her father 
 died, he should leave the greater part of 
 his fortune to his eldest child, and a 
 very small pittance to his youngest, 
 excited no surprise to the unpretending 
 girl, who received his slender bounty 
 with a gratitude which almost amounted 
 to some scruples whether it should not 
 in justice be restored to the fortune 
 from whence it came, and thus swell 
 the portion of a sister whose dignity was 
 lately increased by becoming the wife of 
 Mr. Hamilton. 
 
 To do the world justice, only two 
 persons coincided with her in this opi- 
 nion — her sister and her sister's husband. 
 Mr. Hamilton, as much pleased with
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 59 
 
 his wife's fortune as her person, would 
 have been still better pleased had she 
 possessed every shilling of her father's 
 property ; and in order to render her so 
 in fact, though not in name, he took 
 into his own family both Miss Foster 
 and her fortune; an arrangement of 
 which his benevolent sister-in-law was far 
 from suspecting the motive, and which 
 it required several more years' experience 
 to open her eyes to the folly of having 
 accepted. Those years were not yet 
 completed when Geraldine became an 
 inhabitant of Newtown Hamilton. This 
 event surprisingly enlarged Miss Foster's 
 mind. She ceased to consider herself 
 as an absolute fool, and she began to 
 have doubts of her sister's great supe- 
 riority in every respect. Such a being 
 as Geraldine excited her admiration, 
 mingled with something of alarm ; 
 but her amiable, encouraging, soothing
 
 60 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 manners won insensibly a place in her 
 heart — Kitty's awe decreased, her love 
 improved, and at length she experienced 
 for the first time the exquisite pleasure 
 of love founded on esteem. 
 
 " Lord ! Miss Hamilton," said Kitty, 
 one day, after a pretty strict scrutiny 
 into Geraldine's wardrobe, an amuse- 
 ment in which she took great delight ; 
 " Lord ! Miss Hamilton, what a number 
 of sweet gowns you have got ! and 
 what a pity to bring them to such a 
 place as this ! Why, you may live here 
 for twenty years, and twenty to that, 
 and never have an opportunity of wear- 
 ing the half of them, as I can well 
 testify ; for the gown my uncle gave 
 me, when my sister married, many years 
 ago, has never been upon my back but 
 once since ; and I am sure it was a 
 great waste of its beauty the wearing
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 61 
 
 it then, for a hop-sack would have 
 done as well. It was at a great dinner, 
 given by Doctor O'Malley to the Militia 
 officers, who were passing this road, — 
 and," lowering her voice, " they were 
 all so drunk in drinking loyal toasts, 
 that, before the cloth was off the table, 
 they did not know if there was a wo- 
 man of the party, much more what 
 her dress might be." 
 
 Geraldine lifted up her eyes in as- 
 tonishment. 
 
 " Ah ! you may well be surprised," 
 continued Miss Foster, " but, however, 
 so it was ; and you may well judge, 
 dress is of little consequence where we 
 live." 
 
 " Very little, indeed," sighed Geral- 
 dine. 
 
 " Oh, if my brother had but come 
 into Parliament !"
 
 62 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 " Had he ever such a project?" in- 
 quired Geraldine, with increased in- 
 terest. 
 
 " Why, do not you know that he 
 stood for Knockwinny ?" screamed Miss 
 Foster : " bless your heart ! it was only 
 two years ago ; and he was beat, for 
 he was not too ready, I suspect, with 
 cash or whiskey. Lord O'Leamy car- 
 ried all before him, and he made such 
 speeches, and kissed all the women, old 
 and young, and let everybody get 
 drunk but himself, and abused the ex- 
 cise ; and, in short, what with one thing 
 or another, the populace became so 
 obstreperous, that for one good word 
 they gave his Lordship, they gave your 
 father ten bad ones ; and he left the 
 town with a mob at his heels, howling 
 and whooping so that you might have 
 heard them at the castle ; and he return- 
 ed home in such a plight as never was,
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 63 
 
 abusing the whole town of Knock- 
 winny, of whom he threatened to take 
 the law ; but they only laughed, and 
 stuck placards on his gate-posts : so, 
 out of spite, he has never been near 
 the town since, neither he nor my 
 sister : which, to be sure, is quarrelling 
 with their own bread and butter ; for 
 in such a retired place as this, the 
 town is more likely to do without you, 
 than you without them. And I am 
 more sorry than ever now you are 
 come. Miss Hamilton ; for, after Lon- 
 don and England, we must appear sadly 
 dull. I wish I knew of any thing to 
 amuse you." 
 
 " You are very kind, but indeed I 
 do not want amusement. If I am sad, 
 it is not surprising that the loss of such 
 a friend as my dear aunt should make 
 me so." 
 
 " But sorrow will not last for ever,"
 
 64i SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 said Miss Foster, bluntly ; " and it 
 would be well, perhaps, if it would, 
 and give you something to think of, 
 poor thing ! As I lay awake last night, 
 I could not help thinking of the sweet 
 air you had sung me, and I reflected 
 on the little use such accomplishments 
 will be in such a place as this ; your 
 harp, and piano, and fine dresses, and 
 paintings, and your pretty face — heigho! 
 there is no one to admire or even look 
 at them." 
 
 Geraldine smiled. 
 
 " Whatever my talents may be, they 
 are evidently not undervalued by you ; 
 nor can they be considered, whilst such 
 is your judgment, as thrown away upon 
 those I live with." 
 
 " As to your talents I am no great 
 judge, not being very learned : you 
 know a great deal more than myself.
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 65 
 
 or any one I ever saw : but maybe all 
 English ladies are equally well inform- 
 ed ; if so, I may rejoice in being born 
 where I was, for I never had any 
 great turn for study. Insignificant as 
 I am considered here, there I should 
 have been put to far more menial 
 offices than even poor Cinderella — 
 which story, though I fear you will 
 despise me for the confession, is the 
 book I like the best in the world, 
 from something of a fellow-feeling, I 
 suppose. Well but, as I said, of your 
 talents I am not quite capable of judg- 
 ing, but your beauty I may be allowed 
 
 to know " 
 
 *' My dear Miss Foster," said Geral- 
 dine, laying her hand playfully before 
 her lips, " as long as you are so con- 
 versant in the art of flattery, you can- 
 not style yourself ignorant."
 
 66 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 Miss Foster coloured, and asked 
 simply, " Do you consider me a flat- 
 terer ?" 
 
 Geraldine smiled : " Not an inten- 
 tional one." 
 
 " An ignorant one ?" 
 
 " A kind one." 
 
 Slight as this little compliment was, 
 it was more than poor Kitty was in the 
 habit of receiving : she coloured ; the 
 tears started into her eyes. " Do you 
 really think me kind ?" 
 
 " Very, very kind." 
 
 The tears now overflowed JNIiss Fos- 
 ter's cheeks ; Geraldine, surprised and 
 moved, drew her towards her. 
 
 " Oh, Miss Hamilton, it is you that 
 are kind, and me that 's a fool. But 
 people are so different : you call me 
 kind for a few words which are much 
 less than I feel; whilst my sister, do 
 what I may, run, work, fret and toil.
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 67 
 
 never gives me a thankful word, till I 
 had almost forgot tongues could give 
 pleasure as well as pain." 
 
 Geraldine's feelings were now equally 
 moved with those of her companion ; and 
 the mutual kindness of disposition which 
 drew them forth, formed a bond of 
 union, which soon ripened into friend- 
 ship, between two beings who had 
 otherwise hardly any point of similarity 
 in character. 
 
 With JMiss Foster's love for Geraldine 
 her taste improved, and at length she 
 was necessitated to acknowledge that 
 Dr. O'Malley was not the husband she 
 should prefer, even if he was to propose 
 for her : a suspicion of which intended 
 cruelty, it is presumed, induced the 
 worthy Doctor to cast his eyes else- 
 where ; and in the city of Cork he found 
 a willing fair, not disposed to object to 
 a drinking, swearing husband, whom he
 
 68 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 made Mrs. O'Malley, and brought home 
 to vie with Mrs. Hamilton in the gau- 
 diness of her attire at church, and the 
 narrowness of her housekeeping at 
 home.
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 69 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Though not very agreeable to find 
 fault, yet, as a faithful historian, I am 
 here obliged to mention vv^hat I cannot 
 defend, and what peculiarly influenced 
 Geraldine's future destiny. At nineteen 
 years of age, it is impossible to sup- 
 pose that, living as much in the world 
 as Geraldine had done, just previous to 
 her uncle's death, and in society from 
 her childhood, she should not have 
 formed many acquaintance ; and besides 
 such common ties, possess friends, either 
 through her own or the merits of her 
 relatives : such was indeed the case. 
 Geraldine's beauty, talents, and amiable
 
 70 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 disposition had rendered her a decided 
 favourite : such popularity had in many 
 instances laid the foundation of a more 
 lasting interest, by raising her friends in 
 her own sex, and something more than 
 friends in the male creation : but of 
 these latter we do not treat ; her friends 
 are alone our subject ; and where are 
 they? For two years had Geraldine 
 been in Ireland ; the post brought her 
 no letters, no traveller left his road to 
 inquire after her. Now, it will be sup- 
 posed, I am going to rail against the 
 friendships of this world, the selfishness, 
 hollo w-heartedness of mankind, who 
 have no feeling for the absent and un- 
 happy. That many, alas ! have too 
 good reason so to judge the world, I do 
 not dispute ; but in the instance before 
 me such was not the case ; the fault lay, 
 not in the world, but in Geraldine. It 
 was her own neglect, indolence, and
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 71 
 
 broken spirit, bent to the very earth, 
 which made her drink the cup of misery 
 to the dregs by depriving herself of the 
 correspondence of those whose friend- 
 ship could be the only balm to her 
 wounds which time could give. Their 
 expressions of attachment, admiration, 
 sympathy, were at first mortifying to 
 Geraldine's tender feelings, — they re- 
 minded her of a world which was closed 
 upon her, of all those elegancies, feel- 
 ings, and light-hearted pleasures, that 
 she should never probably taste again, 
 or under such different circumstances, 
 as to add wounded pride to her other 
 wretchedness. 
 
 " Why have I such friends ? I only 
 desire to be forgotten," and Geraldine 
 cast her eyes upon the accumulated 
 mass of unanswered letters which lay 
 before her ; " their kindness is death to 
 me, — their prosperity, for which God
 
 72 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 forgive me, my envy. Let them laugh 
 on, and weep for woes not so incurable 
 as mine. My place in their hearts will 
 soon be occupied, and mine may, per- 
 haps, become hard as those with whom 
 I am to live, when not wrung by a ten- 
 derness which continues the remem- 
 brance of joys tasted and left as soon as 
 known." With a trembling hand and 
 averted eye Geraldine seized the papers 
 and cast them into the fire. She watched 
 the last dying ember, and when the final 
 spark was extinguished, cast herself 
 upon her knees. " Now, O, my God, 
 I have no friend but thee !" 
 
 For many months the stupifying 
 calmness which succeeded Geraldine's 
 rash measure prevented all regrets for 
 its consequences, and it was not till, as 
 she had presumptuously desired, she 
 was forgotten, that self-reproach was 
 added to many other bitter moments,
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 73 
 
 and that she found, when calm reason 
 resumed its empire, that the world for^ 
 getting, though by the Avorld forgot, 
 was impossible. 
 
 Till nineteen, Geraldine's heart had 
 been the seat of unbounded affection ; 
 she adored her aunt, uncle, and all they 
 loved ; at twenty her heart was a dreary 
 void. Then arose those painful, agitat- 
 ing feelings which whispered of happi- 
 ness beyond friendship, and independent 
 of society ; mutual, lasting, overpower- 
 ing, and exalted — all that has been much 
 too faithfully pourtrayed with a master's 
 hand and poet's fire, in Eloisa's pathetic 
 address to Abelard, by Pope ; in short, 
 it was of love Geraldine dreamed, — it 
 was only a dream ; she had no one to 
 love, hardly any one to like. It was a 
 vision of the brain, but it accompanied 
 many a waking moment, gave employ- 
 ment to many a solitary ramble, and 
 
 VOL. L E
 
 74 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 kept alive the sensibilities of a heart far 
 too much prone to tenderness for the 
 society she lived in, and perhaps for 
 any society. 
 
 Enthusiasm makes monastic seclusion 
 bearable, perhaps happy ; without en- 
 thusiasm, it is the abode of misery, pos- 
 sibly of guilt. Geraldine's religion did 
 not admit of enthusiasm, and practised 
 in the careless manner she saw it per- 
 formed, its decencies were hardly re- 
 spected ; this at first was painful — but 
 what Mrs. Carter observes of the seclu- 
 sion of a convent, may hold good with 
 regard to any other retirement ; — " The 
 vicissitudes of the world, much more 
 naturally carry the thoughts to a sense 
 of the divine protection, than that dead 
 vacation from all present hopes and 
 fears which stupifies the retirement of a 
 convent." The " dead vacation" of Ge- 
 raldine's mind made her almost insensible
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 75 
 
 to joy or sorrow, pleasure or pain ; the 
 world seemed a blank around her ; she 
 could muse on the days that were gone, 
 but the future seldom occupied her 
 thoughts ; she ceased to weep, but never 
 smiled. One solitary feeling of hap- 
 piness remained to her, but not without 
 alloy — charity ; and the alloy to this per- 
 fect gift, was want of power : she could 
 feel for others, but the channel was 
 dried whence she had derived such 
 ample means to do more than feel — to 
 relieve. Geraldine was poor herself! 
 The vast race of miserable beings who 
 inhabited a long straggling village, 
 about a mile from Newtown Hamilton, 
 drew tears to Geraldine's eyes ; but she 
 had little more to give, unless it was 
 her hearty contempt for those, who, 
 more fortunate in worldly store, closed 
 their purses and hearts to every want 
 that was not connected with self. 
 
 E 2
 
 76 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 Whilst to the many, Geraldine was 
 forced to be as if ignorant of their mis- 
 fortunes, to some few, she was able 
 to exert the benevolence of her nature, 
 " ministering to their necessities, by 
 working with her hands ;" in one in- 
 stance, she was well repaid. 
 
 A widow of the name of Malony, 
 having seen better days, sought an 
 asylum in the parish where she was 
 born, oppressed by years and misfor- 
 tunes. She was the daughter of a 
 farmer, who had left her at his death 
 much worldly store, which she had 
 disposed of by forming an impru- 
 dent marriage, whence resulted a nu- 
 merous offspring. The money, hus- 
 band, children, all but one boy, were 
 now gone ; time had swept them away, 
 after many painful years and much 
 suffering, and left her desolate, sick, 
 and poor. Her son was her only com- 
 
 I
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 77 
 
 fort and support ; and for the gratifi- 
 cation of occasionally feasting her weary- 
 eyes on his loved face, she was content 
 to cumber the earth a little longer. It 
 was to this broken-down being that Ge- 
 raldine appeared as an angel of light, not 
 from the bounty of her gifts, but from 
 the words of consolation which flowed 
 from her tongue. Poor Malony had no 
 friend ; the lowly despised her for her 
 fallen fortunes, and she them for their 
 ignorant rudeness ; the rich knew not, 
 nor cared for her ; but Geraldine was 
 neither rich nor lowly, but she was com- 
 passionate. In the widow's cottage she 
 would spend much time, reading the 
 Scriptures aloud to its inmate, whose 
 feeble eyes could hardly trace the print 
 herself; or she would talk to her of 
 the happiness of another world to those 
 who have done well in this ; listen to 
 her tale of former trials, and guide her
 
 78 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 thoughts from them to that place, 
 " where the wicked shall cease from 
 troubling, the weary be at rest." Such 
 was Geraldine's charity, and most thank- 
 fully was it received by the forlorn Ma- 
 lony, whose existence seemed to rest on 
 her visits, and on the little tokens of 
 attentive remembrance which her son, 
 who was a farmer's servant at a dis- 
 tance, was enabled more frequently to 
 send her, than his employments left 
 him leisure to show in any other form. 
 
 A trifling circumstance awoke feel- 
 ings which were beginning to rest in 
 something approaching to tranquillity 
 in Geraldine's bosom. Mr. Evans, whose 
 name appears in the first page of this 
 work, died — and the intelligence of his 
 death reached Geraldine through the 
 jTiedium of a London paper, which ac- 
 cidentally fell into her hands. When 
 she left England, he was declining, and
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 79 
 
 though it caused Geraldine many tears, 
 his death was not altogether unexpect- 
 ed; but it aroused her to a sufficient 
 activity of mind, to write a letter of con- 
 dolence to his daughter, and begging 
 to be informed of the particulars of the 
 last moments of her early friend. 
 
 A letter, supposed to be the answer, 
 reached Geraldine ; it was franked, and 
 the direction written with all propriety ; 
 but it was not for her, nor from Miss 
 Evans, who evidently had taken some 
 circuitous mode of obtaining a frank, 
 which had occasioned the mistake, and 
 brought that of a perfect stranger into 
 Geraldine's hands. The letter seemed 
 the production of a young and happy 
 woman, addressed to her sister or friend, 
 and . signed with that rough kind of 
 initial which proclaimed the familiarity 
 of the correspondents. It was such a 
 one as Geraldine formerly had often re-
 
 80 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 ceived: there was nothing vulgar, but 
 it was sufficiently careless. An indul- 
 gent father was frequently alluded to 
 by the epithets of " dear papa," — '' good 
 old man ;" and a ball was described, and 
 the beautiful appearance of one person, 
 and the horrible looks of another, men- 
 tioned ; and a very charming Edward, 
 who, whether lover, husband, or bro- 
 ther, sang, danced, and read Childe 
 Harold to perfection ; and moreover, 
 had promised the writer a ride on the 
 sweetest horse in the world. To coun- 
 terbalance Edward's charms was a detes- 
 table bore, whose iniquities were severe- 
 ly canvassed. The letter concluded with 
 many protestations of love and affection ; 
 then came a postscript of a later date. 
 They were arrived in the country, which 
 looked very beautiful, green, and triste 
 after London, which, to be sure, had 
 been very delightful ; but, however, it
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 81 
 
 was wrong to complain, as papa and 
 the children were so happy at breathing 
 the fine air of heaven, imcontaminated 
 by smoke ; and the father particularly 
 rejoiced at their family evening party, 
 who around him pursued their various 
 occupations, work, music, or books, un- 
 disturbed by visitors, notes, carriages, or 
 engagements abroad. " I cannot say I 
 entirely enter into such feelings," ho- 
 nestly confessed the fair narrator ; " but 
 whatever may be my present ideas, I 
 only hope that, when I am at his age, 
 they may be in every respect such 
 as my dear papa's." 
 
 It may be questioned if the interest 
 Geraldine experienced, as she perused 
 this letter, was not superior to what 
 her's would have been who was its just 
 possessor; but with the interest arose 
 many a bitter pang. " And I once 
 lived in Arcadia !" she exclaimed. Again 
 
 E 5
 
 82 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 she glanced her eye over the letter, 
 blushing as she did so at an indulgence 
 purchased, however innocently, by some- 
 thing bearing the nature of breach of 
 confidence ; but ere she relinquished the 
 letter for ever, she still dwelt on parti- 
 cular passages — the father's love, their 
 various pursuits, and nothing to com- 
 plain of but a bore, or the unlucky cut 
 of a gown or a coat of one of their 
 acquaintance. " Happy, happy, light- 
 hearted beings ! once my lot was cheer- 
 ful, blessed as yours, and promised years 
 of continuance. I knew all your joys ; 
 danced in halls as resplendent, and to 
 airs as gay — and many a man as hand- 
 some as your Edward, and perhaps of 
 greater consideration, has made me the 
 object of his attention ; and I, also, in 
 the folly of youth and spirits, thought 
 a disagreeable partner in the dance the 
 only misfortune in life to be dreaded ;
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 83 
 
 and that to be ill-dressed was the only 
 crime to be avoided. Vain, but happy 
 hours ! to all must the delusions of life 
 at length be unveiled ; and it is ill for 
 those who carry on the giddiness of 
 youth to the verge of its possible en- 
 durance ; but midst all the sunshine of 
 life to have every blessing snatched 
 from one, and that its virtues, its ele- 
 gancies, its decencies, should have va- 
 nished with its pleasures and vanities, is 
 a lot that was formed for none but my- 
 self." Geraldine at length relinquished 
 the letter ; it was re-sealed and directed 
 to the post-town, from whence it was 
 franked, and, in all probability, soon 
 reached its proper destination, was read, 
 and forgotten — forgotten, whilst still 
 fresh in the forlorn Geraldine's mind — 
 still the subject of many private medita- 
 tions, and, when she considered her far 
 different fate, many bitter moments.
 
 84f SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 In pain, sorrow, prosperity, or adver- 
 sity, time insensibly rolls over the head 
 of all ; the same moment, which the 
 fortunate man would stay with avidity, 
 fearing the cup of felicity should escape 
 too soon from his grasp, is hailed by the 
 wretched with satisfaction as it passes, 
 as being one step nearer the termi- 
 nation of his sufferings. Who has not 
 read Sterne's captive ? therein is the 
 true picture of hopeless misery ; but 
 hopeless as it was, time to the oppressed 
 and the oppressor still moved on ; and 
 time with Gerald in e wore away. She 
 was five-and- twenty. What a period is 
 not that from seventeen, in the existence 
 of woman ! what hopes does it not see 
 created and destroyed ! what captivat- 
 ing allurements does it not stretch 
 forth ! — too much often for weak mor- 
 tality to withstand. What exquisite 
 pleasures ! what bitter moments !— bitter.
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE, 85 
 
 because the beginning of sorrow. How 
 many in that period have seen the rise 
 and fall of all that rendered life valu- 
 able, only to be filled by the remem- 
 brance of departed, transitory joys ! 
 When Gerald ine Hamilton reached her 
 five-and-twentieth birthday, the present, 
 future, and past, were all equally cheer- 
 less ; and her only consolation rested on 
 the certainty, that time would at length 
 close her unsatisfactory existence, in 
 which the six years which she had last 
 counted, could not be surpassed in the 
 mental miseiy she had endured.
 
 86 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 " I HAVE a piece of news for you, 
 Geraldine," said her father, one morn- 
 ing, entering the breakfast-room. 
 
 " Indeed, Sir !" starting at the un- 
 usual circumstance of being particu- 
 larly addressed ; for Mr. Hamilton, not 
 from unkindness, but inattention, hardly 
 ever spoke to his daughter. 
 
 " Your friend Malony's son," continu- 
 ed Mr. Hamilton, " has got into a rare 
 scrape, and is likely to suffer for it, as 
 he deserves." 
 
 " Good Heaven ! I hope not," ex- 
 claimed Geraldine ; " there must be
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 87 
 
 some mistake : it is impossible ; he is 
 an excellent young man, I have always 
 iind erstood." 
 
 «' From his mother, no doubt, you 
 have gained such information." 
 
 " Not only from her. I have heard 
 Mrs. O'Grady frequently commend him, 
 and she knows the family with whom he 
 lives ; but, however, I trust the scrape 
 is nothing very bad." 
 
 " Nothing but being one of the ring- 
 leaders in the riot at , for which 
 
 he is as certain to swing as I am that 
 I have my breakfast before me." 
 
 " My God !" ejaculated Geraldine, 
 turning pale as death ; but her father 
 having commenced his repast, (a busi- 
 ness in which he was not pleased to be 
 disturbed,) she dared ask no particulars. 
 Hastily swallowing her own breakfast, 
 she left the table, and putting on her 
 cloak and bonnet, left the house, to
 
 •88 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 make personal inquiry of poor Malony 
 herself; a faint hope existing in her 
 mind that her father's information might 
 prove, if not quite incorrect, somewhat 
 exaggerated. She knew that, like the 
 majority of Irish gentlemen, he was 
 little prone to extenuate the delinquen- 
 cies of the lower orders, most particu- 
 larly as regarded such as had something 
 of education, which was Patrick Ma- 
 lony's case : but, on the other hand, his 
 mother had very lately lamented some 
 wild acquaintance he had formed in 
 the very town in which the riot had 
 taken place. Racked with alternate 
 hopes and fears, she flew^ rather than 
 walked over the large heath on the bor- 
 ders of which Malony 's cottage was 
 situated. To reach it more expedi- 
 tiously, she determined to cross a kind 
 of gully, which ordinarily she avoided, 
 its depth and breadth (though, except-
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 89 
 
 ing in winter, always devoid of water,) 
 rendering it a difficult task to reach the 
 other side. Geraldine, however, sur- 
 mounted the difficulty, and was again 
 renewing her walk, or almost ffight, 
 when she was suddenly startled and her 
 steps arrested by the sound of a horse's 
 tread at full speed behind her. Turning 
 quickly round, she beheld a person, 
 with every appearance of a gentleman, 
 mounted on a beautiful horse, that leap- 
 ed the gully, and was instantly reined 
 in by its rider close to Geraldine. Her 
 astonishment was great, but still greater 
 when she saw the stranger about to ad- 
 dress lier ; she would have retreated, 
 but it was too late, for, with that sort 
 of doubtful tone, as if uncertain of the 
 rank of her whom he addressed, he 
 begged to be informed if she could 
 direct him to the cottage of the widow 
 Malony. A voice so persuasive, and
 
 90 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 which so much denoted gentle blood 
 and gentle breeding, had not for a long 
 long while, if ever, met Geraldine's 
 ear; it brought the blood into her 
 cheeks as she turned towards the 
 stranger to give the information he re- 
 quired. She gave it as concisely as 
 possible ; but her language was sufficient 
 to confirm that the large straw bonnet 
 and very homely cloak contained no 
 ordinary country -girl, however her dress 
 might, at a distance, have led him to 
 conjecture otherwise. With a civil ac- 
 knowledgement for her kindness, the 
 stranger reluctantly departed, regretting, 
 in his own mind, the air of superiority 
 which checked any prolongation of their 
 interview, which he would certainly 
 have attempted, for the delight of gaz- 
 ing on one of the handsomest faces he 
 ever beheld, had her manners been as 
 rustic as her dress, or had one glance
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 91 
 
 of coquetry shot from beneath her 
 dark eyelashes, as if to proclaim her 
 power, and demand his admiration. 
 This rencontre, for the present, arrest- 
 ed Geraldine's steps — and, having seen 
 the stranger dismount, fasten his horse 
 to a tree, and enter Malony's cottage, 
 she seated herself under the shelter of 
 a pile of dried heath, determined to 
 await his departure before she made her 
 visit ; her mind filled, in addition to her 
 former anxiety, with speculations as to 
 what Malony's visitor could be, either 
 as to situation or business. As the visit 
 decidedly could not be one of pleasure, 
 Geraldine was somewhat surprised at its 
 length ; a full hour elapsed before the 
 stranger departed, an unprecedented time 
 in the horse's mind, apparently, for a visit 
 to a wretched old woman : he champed 
 his bit, stamped on the ground, snorted, 
 and tossed his head in the air in pro-
 
 92 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 found indignation at the restraint he 
 was kept under ; which indignation, on 
 his master's reappearance, did not im- 
 mediately vanish : for reining him in 
 with a strong hand, the stranger, when 
 he had sprung into the saddle, seemed 
 little inclined to move. His eyes were 
 thrown around the heath, and rested 
 more particularly on the spot where he 
 had seen Geraldlne — she was not vi- 
 sible: — one other glance, and then, 
 slackening the r^in, the horse bounded 
 forth and was soon out of sight, leaving, 
 by a track of upraised dust, signs for 
 a few transitory minutes of where he 
 had been. 
 
 When Geraldine opened Malony's 
 cottage-door, she cast an anxious glance 
 within, and was agreeably surprised to 
 see its inmate engaged in prayer ; an act 
 of devotion too engrossing to allow of
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 93 
 
 her observing Geraldine's entrance, who, 
 fearful of disturbing the best state of 
 mind to afford bahii to her misfortunes, 
 hardly advanced beyond the threshold. 
 INIalony's prayer was not for support in 
 trouble, however, and seemed chiefly 
 to spring from the overflowings of a 
 thankful heart, deeply sensible of some 
 late mercies vouchsafed ; and, ere she 
 concluded, she implored a blessing upon 
 him who, in God's hands, had been the 
 instrument of succour to her son. She 
 arose from her knees calm and collected, 
 and now first perceived Geraldine. 
 
 " And is it Miss Hamilton I see ?" 
 said the old woman, shading her eyes 
 with her hand ; " alas ! my sight is sadly 
 dim; for tears, with trouble and joy, one 
 upon the other, have nearly bent this 
 old frame to the ground, beneath which, 
 indeed, it ought to be; for w^hat use am
 
 94 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 I in the world, and what am I to live 
 for, now that I shall never see my dear 
 boy again?" 
 
 " It is even so, then, as I was told," 
 said Geraldine, with a sigh. 
 
 '* Oh no, my dear lady," replied Ma- 
 lony, smiling, " it is not so bad as it 
 might have been, and perhaps, as you 
 think ; his life, poor child, is safe, but 
 I shall never see him again : he is now 
 a soldier, but I do not repine. What 
 for did he go among those wild people, 
 fearing neither God nor man, who de- 
 serted him to save themselves, who had 
 led him into error ; and, if it had not 
 been for a more kind friend than they 
 were to him, would have seen his life 
 taken from him without a pang. Oh, 
 I have just had such a gentleman here, 
 in this poor cottage of mine ! I could 
 hardly forbear worshipping him, he 
 spoke so kind and considerate : and
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 95 
 
 when for my tears I could not read 
 my boy's letter, he took it himself, and 
 repeated all that was in it, only laugh- 
 ing at the praises my poor child be- 
 stowed upon him, though I am sure it 
 was no more than he deserved, dear, 
 good, young man ! And he left me 
 a purse, saying it came from my son ; 
 but I am certain it must be his own 
 gift, for, after all the trouble he has 
 been in, my son can have nothing left 
 to give away, whatever might be his 
 wish." 
 
 She then proceeded to tell Geraldine 
 that she had never heard of her son's 
 having been taken up till his trial was 
 concluded, and sentence of death passed 
 upon him ; the agony of that moment 
 nearly deprived her of her senses, and, 
 for many hours, she was incapable of 
 any exertion, either of body or mind. 
 At length, however, the idea presented
 
 96 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 itself of going on foot to , where, 
 
 by her tears and prayers, she might gain 
 some one to befriend her cause, and in- 
 tercede for her son's life ; this hope 
 aroused her to exertion, and she was 
 preparing to set forth on her dismal 
 journey, when a stranger stopped at her 
 door — his errand was soon told. # 
 
 It appeared that young Malony's ex- 
 cellent former character, his youth, his 
 vmstudied and honest defence, and many 
 softening circumstances in the case, in- 
 terested the majority of those who heard 
 the trial in his favour : nevertheless, he 
 was found guilty, and sentence of death 
 passed on him, by a jury irritated by 
 the turbulence of the lower orders, 
 whose crimes were so seldom brought 
 home to them as to afford few oppor- 
 tunities of punishment as a warning to 
 others. Whilst many lamented, and 
 more talked of the harshness of the de-
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 97 
 
 cision, but one boldly stepped forward 
 to advocate his cause in a manner likely 
 to be beneficial to the individual ; this 
 one was an officer in a regiment quar- 
 tered in the town. He took every 
 pains to search out the merits of the 
 case, and, with the assistance of an able 
 lawyer, presented such a memorial to 
 those in whom the noble attribute of 
 mercy rested, that the plea was irre- 
 sistible ; the officer's own character and 
 influence at Dublin, saved not only 
 Malony's life, but released him from 
 other punishment, upon the condi- 
 tion of his joining instantly a regi- 
 ment under orders for foreign service. 
 It was in visiting his protege, to ac- 
 quaint him with his good fortune, that 
 young Malony ventured to address his 
 benefactor in behalf of his mother, of 
 whom, as he spoke, the tears fell down 
 his cheeks. The officer promised to be- 
 
 VOL. I. p
 
 98 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 friend her, and to deliver a handkerchief 
 her son wore as a remembrance. In- 
 terested in Malony's fate, as a friend of 
 the wretched, and active in body as well 
 as mind, he inquired his parent's abode, 
 and the next morning, before many of 
 his comrades had breakfasted, was half 
 way on his return from the visit al- 
 ready described.
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 99 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Combined with every other domestic 
 feeling arid enjoyment which England 
 contained, an orderly peasantry and a 
 benevolent magistracy were early pre- 
 sent to Geraldine's mind ; and it requir- 
 ed years to deaden the shock that her 
 heart first received, among many other 
 griefs, at the total contrast which Ire- 
 land presented in that respect. When 
 she had ceased to weep for herself, she 
 still had tears for a mistaken, harsh 
 Government, and an unruly people, 
 whether so by fault or misfortune. 
 With such divided feelings, her inter- 
 est in public concerns slackened; and 
 
 F 2
 
 100 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 a glaring act of rebellion in the imme- 
 diate neighbourhood, failed to awaken 
 the hundredth part of the terrors in 
 Geraldine's mind, which shook the 
 firm nerves of every squire, from north 
 to south; and most particularly those 
 of Mr. Hamilton, on whose estate the 
 outrage had been perpetrated. He 
 WTote and he rode, and he talked and 
 he swore, and he armed his household, 
 and he spoke of flight; and, in short, 
 he made such a commotion, that a 
 regiment of horse came down from 
 the county town, and took up their 
 quarters in the actual village of New- 
 town Hamilton, and the adjacent neigh- 
 bourhood. 
 
 This opened a new scene, indeed, 
 amongst its rude inhabitants : the rioters 
 were appalled, and dispersed on the 
 information ; but the soldiers arrived. 
 Mr. Hamilton's fears were pacified;
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 101 
 
 but other troubles arose. The village 
 could hardly find accommodation for 
 a portion of the common soldiers ; the 
 officers, therefore, were dependant for 
 their quarters on the neighbouring gen- 
 try. Doctor O'Malley had, without 
 a hint, received as guests two offi- 
 cers. Mr. Hamilton could do no less ; 
 and with many a groan for his larder 
 and wine-cellar, happily somewhat miti- 
 gated by the comfortable feeling of the 
 security their presence would affi3rd, he 
 announced to his astonished lady, that 
 Colonel Vavasour and Major Stuart 
 would become their inmates ; and he 
 had delivered over a large empty barn 
 for the accommodation of as many of 
 the troops as it would contain. Mrs. 
 Hamilton had but one prominent fea- 
 ture in her character — parsimony. She 
 loved only to save; but though she 
 had met many rubs in the prosecu-
 
 102 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 tion of this her darling passion, yet 
 never could imagination have painted 
 such terrific objects as officers and 
 soldiers living upon her — eating up 
 her substance like caterpillars — with 
 whom dire necessity obliged her to 
 be upon good terms, and to bear, 
 therefore, all the waste of food, 
 firing, and furniture, their presence 
 would create. Mrs. Hamilton, the 
 stoical Mrs. Hamilton wept ! Her 
 tears were vain — the drums beat, the 
 trumpets sounded, guns were fired, and 
 all the pomp and majesty of war took 
 possession of one of the dullest places 
 that ever existed, even in Ireland. 
 Some people groaned, some rejoiced : 
 the young women were not disposed 
 to lament, but their sweethearts were 
 of a different opinion, and railed and 
 raved at every red coat in the country ;
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 103 
 
 the parties were too unequal for any 
 farther demonstration of ill-will. 
 
 It is an ill wind that blows no one 
 good, is an old saying ; and Kitty 
 Foster was the person who rejoiced in 
 the prospect of variety which was 
 afforded by the expected guests ; for 
 it must be acknowledged that the barn 
 full of soldiers occupied quite as much 
 of her good-natured mind, as the pair 
 with whom she was to be on a more 
 equal footing; which pair she was be- 
 ginning to feel somewhat in awe of, 
 when their presence was preceded by 
 the arrival of two fine gentlemen-valets, 
 in a postchaise and four ; and whom, 
 till they graciously proclaimed their in- 
 ferior station, the ignorant foot-boy, 
 spite of their civil attire, was actually 
 ushering into the presence of Mrs. 
 Hamilton herself.
 
 104 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 " If such are the servants, what will the 
 masters prove ?" thought poor Kitty ; 
 and she trembled at the idea of the 
 increased insignificance into which she 
 might shrink. Mrs. Hamilton knew 
 that a fine gentleman could not eat 
 more than a clown^ perhaps not so 
 much ; so she had no increased alarm 
 on the score which distressed her sister. 
 As to Geraldine, she pitied the poor 
 people too much amongst whom the 
 soldiers were brought, to awe, ruin, 
 and tyrannise over, however their own 
 faults might have caused their mis- 
 fortunes, not to feel annoyed at the 
 constant repetition of the soldiers! the 
 officers ! and, at last, the valets ! 
 
 The gentlemen themselves arrived at 
 length — they came on horseback, retired 
 immediately into their apartments to 
 dress, and in due time made their ap- 
 pearance in the drawing-room, where
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 105 
 
 Mr. Hamilton, surrounded by his family, 
 waited to receive them. Colonel Vava- 
 sour entered first. Compared with the 
 common society at Newtown Hamilton, 
 he might be termed an Apollo of Bel- 
 vedere for beauty, and his manners 
 were worthy of the court of T^ouis XIV. 
 but judging by a more ordinary stan- 
 dard, the world at large — he was a plain, 
 unaffected, gentleman-like looking man, 
 somewhat set off by a military dress, 
 and a less artificial cause, a military 
 carriage. He paid his compliments to 
 the whole party with grave politeness, 
 and with a something of displeasure 
 lurking in his countenance; as if the 
 gain of good quarters was a poor com- 
 pensation for the sacrifice of the ease 
 and independence of the mess or an 
 inn. Not so his companion : Major 
 Stuart was, without the possibility 
 of its being questioned, a handsome 
 
 F 5
 
 106 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 man — added to which, his very perfect 
 features were animated by a most in- 
 telligent countenance ; and his manners 
 were not only good, but of that kind 
 which bear the stamp of the world and 
 of the best society ; he could be agree- 
 able as well as polished ; and Geraldine 
 also knew that beauty, intelligence, and 
 pleasing manners, were not his only 
 recommendations; and that within his 
 noble exterior, was that which passeth 
 show — a benevolent heart ; for in Major 
 Stuart she beheld the benefactor of 
 Malony; one glance showed that their 
 former interview was remembered, and 
 that she needed not the introduction 
 her father made between them. 
 
 Minutes in Ireland to Geraldine's 
 mind moved like hours, and a Newtown 
 Hamilton evening was an age of ennui 
 and melancholy. What a transforma- 
 tion did one man produce ! — the dinner.
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 107 
 
 usually so dull, so tedious, was not only 
 pleasant, but delightful by the side of 
 Major Stuart; and for the first time 
 during their acquaintance did Mrs. Ha- 
 milton propose retiring to rest without 
 such a summons being impatiently ex- 
 pected by Geraldine. When once more 
 in her own room, Geraldine thought 
 not of sleep; with something between 
 a smile and a sigh, she cast herself into 
 a chair to reflect on the events of the 
 evening. Pleased Geraldine certainly 
 was — Major Stuart had paid her no 
 compliments, but if eyes were to be 
 believed, his spoke admiration. Malony 
 afforded a subject which soon placed 
 their intercourse on an easy footing. 
 Instead of combating her feelings for 
 the mistaken Irish, he approved them, 
 though so delicately that the most fas- 
 tidious soldier could have no fault to 
 find with one of his profession venturing
 
 108 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 on what might appear tender ground, 
 considering the service he was upon. 
 The tears starting into Geraldine's eyes, 
 Stuart observed them, and had inquired 
 their cause. 
 
 " Your sentiments of humanity are 
 so uncommon." 
 
 " Then, what are the sentiments of 
 Irish gentlemen ?" 
 
 " The reverse of yours."^ 
 " Then I wonder not they require 
 military aid, nor that an ignorant pea- 
 santry, with nothing to lose but their 
 lives, should attempt the only argu- 
 ment their superiors will attend to — 
 blows." 
 
 Geraldine sank to rest with the idea 
 of Stuart floating in her mind ; but ere 
 she finally closed her eyes, it seemed as 
 if a prophetic voice whispered in her 
 ear, that it would be well for her did 
 she never see him again.
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 109 
 
 Whilst Colonel Vavasour estimated 
 all other desagremens of the service as 
 light compared with the misery of being 
 obliged to associate with such persons 
 as Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton, his com- 
 panion in arms found their demerits 
 amply compensated to him by the bright 
 eyes and agreeable conversation of Ge- 
 raldine ; a piece of good fortune which 
 he entirely engrossed to himself, leaving 
 no portion as an antidote to his friend's 
 sufferings. It must be confessed that 
 Geraldine Hamilton had not the power, 
 if she had the inclination, to conceal 
 that she thought the good fortune equal 
 — how could it be otherwise ? The twen- 
 tieth part of Stuart's looks, talents, man- 
 ners, and attention, might have won 
 the heart of a girl situated as was Ge- 
 raldine. In justice it must be confessed, 
 that her heart was not immediately won 
 — one week had she lived under the
 
 110 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 roof with him, and it was still her own. 
 Seclusion had taught Geraldine humi- 
 lity ; and when Kitty talked of her hav- 
 ing made a conquest of Major Stuart, 
 she resisted the supposition as absurd. 
 Great allowances she could make for 
 her own ignorance of society, for absence 
 of all competition, but nevertheless that 
 Stuart could ever be otherwise than a 
 distinguished person, it was not pos- 
 sible to imagine ; excepting Vavasour, 
 every other officer in the regiment ap- 
 peared of a different species compared 
 to him. They seemed to acknowledge 
 his superiority, which might partly be 
 owing to his name and fortune, inde- 
 pendently of his personal qualifications ; 
 but being such as he was, that he should 
 be the conquest of a retired individual 
 like herself, so ill-connected, so subdued 
 in spirits, and changed in looks, was a
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. Ill 
 
 prospect, even in her most sanguine 
 moments, too visionary for Geraldine 
 to indulge a hope of seeing realized. 
 
 Such was the state of things at the 
 end of one week's acquaintance ; another 
 week brought some fluctuation in her 
 ideas. Stuart's attentions increased; 
 happiness added new brilliancy to Ge- 
 raldine's eyes ; and as she once more 
 consulted her glass, it whispered that 
 beauty might yet avail, and if it gained 
 her the prize of Stuart's heart, and 
 emancipated her as his wife from her 
 present abode, what triumph, what hap- 
 piness would not for once personal 
 charms accomplish ! Whilst she dis- 
 claimed to Miss Foster the possibility 
 of Stuart being even her admirer, secret 
 hopes rose thick within her bosom, which 
 his manner but too well encouraged. 
 Yet what to one was the feeling of a
 
 112 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 moment, in all probability, to the other 
 was the passion of her life. 
 
 Books and music were no longer soli- 
 tary employments ; of the latter, Stuart 
 was a passionate admirer, and his literary 
 information was extensive, far exceed- 
 ing Geraldine's knowledge ; but all 
 within her range afforded most delicious 
 subjects of discourse, whilst she hourly 
 added to her store what she gathered 
 from his conversation, or from the books 
 he lent her. But the greatest charm to 
 win the heart of Geraldine was kind- 
 ness to Malony, who, no longer a pau- 
 per, had quitted her small hut to be 
 the inmate of a neighbouring farm- 
 house, on a pension which secured her 
 good treatment and independence for 
 the remainder of her days. This was 
 Stuart's doing; nor was Malony the 
 only being who had reason to bless his 
 name. Many of his good deeds reached
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 113 
 
 Geraldine's ear ; but many more were 
 only known to Him who seeth in secret. 
 Did the same sky shine above ? Did 
 the same earth move beneath ? Was 
 not the whole world changed, and every 
 thing therein ? Was Newtown Hamil- 
 ton dismal and comfortless ? And were 
 Geraldine and Miss Foster, with agile 
 steps and faces radiant from contented 
 minds, the self-same beings, who for 
 years had vegetated rather than lived 
 beneath its roof? The transformation 
 was indeed great, but most simple w^as 
 the cause ; two men merely had pro- 
 duced the change, but they were men of 
 minds and manners ; the one not even 
 of a lively character, but whose words, 
 though few, were sensible, manly and 
 just. As to the other, he required no 
 dark back-ground to show his perfec- 
 tions to advantage. In the gloom of a 
 prison, in the broad light of day, in
 
 114 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 courts, camps, society, or solitude, Stuart 
 ever had been, and ever would be, that 
 being whom our poet has described : 
 
 *' His words are bonds, his oaths are oracles ; 
 His love sincere, his thoughts immaculate ; 
 His tears, pure messengers sent from his heart ; 
 His heart as far from fraud, as Heaven from earth." 
 
 How was Geraldine's love to end? 
 Stuart was evidently rich and inde- 
 pendent; the army was a taste, an oc- 
 cupation rather than a profession ; that 
 she was liked and perhaps loved, was 
 certain ; but would his affection stand 
 the test of absence ? would it lead him 
 to propose marriage to her, so that they 
 might never part more? Miss Foster 
 was so sure such must speedily be the 
 case, that notwithstanding Geraldine's 
 asseverations, that friendship, simple 
 friendship, was the whole extent of 
 feeling between them, she petitioned to 
 be allowed to accompany her to England
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 115 
 
 when she became Mrs. Stuart, had prac- 
 tised the part of bridesmaid, dreamed 
 every night of favours and cake, and 
 could hardly forbear congratulating 
 Major Stuart on his good fortune. 
 Kitty Foster's opinions had little in- 
 fluence over those of Geraldine ; Co- 
 lonel Vavasour's had a more decided 
 power. From the first of their ac- 
 quaintance, the Colonel had relinquish- 
 ed with the most perfect indifference 
 all Geraldine's society to his more high- 
 ly-favoured friend, and had sunk every 
 evening into his place at Mrs. Hamil- 
 ton's whist-table, without casting one 
 glance at the tete-a-tete^ which, as soon 
 as the cards were produced, took place 
 in the deep recess of a large win- 
 dow, Geraldine ostensibly occupied with 
 her work, Stuart with a book. For 
 three weeks had this system continued, 
 when suddenly Vavasour grew tired
 
 116 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 of cards. When no other substitute 
 could be found, he frequently obliged 
 Stuart to take his place, and attached 
 himself to Geraldine, destroying at one 
 blow to each the whole pleasure of the 
 evening. The lovers, for such, alas ! 
 they must be termed, consoled them- 
 selves with more lengthened walks by 
 the sea-shore, far from Vavasour's pry- 
 ing eyes ; but, nevertheless, his be- 
 haviour was not the less extraordinary, 
 most particularly as Stuart made no re- 
 sistance to his will, but was separated 
 upon every occasion from her whom he 
 loved by his officious friend, without 
 murmur or remonstrance. . Vavasour 
 paid Geraldine no compliments, but in 
 his conversation seemed ever trying to 
 sound her opinions and capacity ; and 
 if by accident she mentioned the name 
 of Stuart, his eyes were directed to- 
 wards her as if he would read her very
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 117 
 
 soul ; and if her eyes met those of her 
 lover, Vavasour could hardly conceal his 
 uneasiness. Why was all this ? It show- 
 ed that the idea of Stuart's love was 
 no vision of the brain, for his friend 
 evidently discovered it ; but with the 
 discovery came his opposition. And for 
 what reason ? Was Stuart engaged ? or 
 was she too poor an alliance for him to 
 form — too mean in family, wealth, and 
 connexion ? Geraldine's heart died 
 within her.
 
 118 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 The waves, as they murmuringly 
 stole from the shore, increased in 
 magnitude, till in the horizon a large 
 ship rose high on their foaming sum- 
 mits. " Such is life," said Stuart, as he 
 gazed on the retreating waters ; " so 
 calm, so pleasing on its outset ; the first 
 step so easy, that you advance imper- 
 ceptibly, till, surrounded by a rude 
 ocean, and at the mercy of those very 
 waves whose syren voice first lured 
 you to advance, you would fain return, 
 when too late, to that spot whence you 
 departed."
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 119 
 
 "To a man," answered Geraldine, 
 " such may be life, but not to woman.'* 
 
 " Do you envy, or pity our troubled 
 existence ?" 
 
 " Envy. You know you exist ; rising 
 on the wild waves, you feel it ; guiding 
 your powerful steeds, you live. But to 
 a woman, who treads the same ground 
 year after year, to whom language is 
 hardly necessary to express the few 
 ideas she is obliged to utter, to whom 
 the gift of mind is almost a torment, 
 talents superfluous, and her daily food 
 mockery, to sustain so useless and un- 
 profitable a life ; to such a one the storms 
 of life would be enjoyment. 
 
 * Sleep after toil, port after stormy seas, 
 
 Ease after war, death after life does greatly please.* 
 
 But to die without having lived; to 
 sink beneath, instead of remaining on 
 the earth, equally unknowing and un- 
 known, is of all misery the greatest."
 
 120 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 " Feeling all this," and Stuart drew 
 closer to him the arm which leaned on 
 his, '•' why are you here ?" 
 
 " Because I am helpless, and a wo- 
 man." 
 
 " You must not remain here ; have 
 you no friends in England ? Let me 
 assist, advise you." 
 
 Geraldine shook her head. " My 
 case is hopeless ; I am poor, indeed I 
 might say a beggar." 
 
 " And do you consider poverty as 
 such a misfortune ?" and Stuart smiled. 
 " How different are our ideas ! I am 
 rich and despise wealth, whilst you — " 
 
 " You mistake me ; I do not envy 
 you your wealth, but the utter hope- 
 lessness of my state certainly rests in 
 the absence of that dross which you 
 deem so little deserving of considera- 
 tion." 
 
 " I do not think so when others are
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 121 
 
 concerned: — I am rich," said Stuart, 
 and he reddened as he spoke, " and 
 if Miss Hamilton would allow me 
 to " 
 
 *• Though a beggar in fact, I am not 
 a beggar in act," said Geraldine, laugh- 
 ing ; " so do not insult me by finishing 
 your speech. One charity alone I re- 
 quire — pity." 
 
 " Pity ! Oh, Miss Hamilton, if you 
 knew — " Stuart paused, then after a 
 moment continued — 
 
 " I wish you to leave Ireland. Your 
 beauty and talents should be known ; 
 they would gain you admirers ; you 
 would marry, and then how different 
 your lot !" 
 
 " All this soimds well, but I do not 
 entertain such ideas ; and though it may 
 seem to contradict many former words, 
 yet I must say, that detesting the life I 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 122 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 lead, and have led for the last six years, 
 I verily believe that that life has in- 
 capacitated me for any other." 
 
 " You dream, Miss Hamilton ; you 
 are formed for any society ; and the very 
 seclusion you have lived in will enable 
 you to return to the world with greater 
 enjoyment ; it has also forced you to 
 do what the worldly have no time or 
 inclination for — to look into yourself ; it 
 is only prosperity which incapacitates." 
 
 " I believe you are right ; it was the 
 prosperity of my early years which has 
 incapacitated me — I feel it every hour, 
 and I shall always feel it : that world 
 you talk of, would be as much my 
 prison as my home ; my feelings are 
 fit neither for society nor solitude ; the 
 grave perhaps is their best resource, 
 their most congenial soil." 
 
 Stuart looked earnestly at Geraldine? 
 " You were once, then, very happy ?"
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 123 
 
 " Blessed indeed ; and for such hap- 
 piness, which lasted nineteen years, I 
 thank my God every night and morn- 
 ing." 
 
 " And was it only friendship made 
 you happy ?" 
 
 ** If I lived more in the world, I 
 might pretend to misunderstand your 
 inquiry — affect anger, or give you an 
 evasive reply ; but as it is, I will answer 
 a simple question as simply — it was 
 friendship only which rendered me hap- 
 py. Lovers I had, but their passion 
 never disturbed me. I had no wish to 
 marry — I was too happy to desire a 
 change — too young to conceive any 
 fear of remaining an old maid : so the 
 romance of my story," continued Ge- 
 raldine, smiling, "is, I fear, entirely 
 ruined in your ideas, now you find that 
 disappointed love has had no share in 
 embittering my existence." 
 
 G 2!
 
 124 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 " But you have embittered that of 
 others ?" 
 
 " How ? I do not understand you." 
 
 " The man who loved you, could 
 never love another." 
 
 Geraldine laughed. 
 
 " I will not doubt," said she, " your 
 sincerity, and thank you for the compli- 
 ment ; but, happily for themselves, my 
 lovers were not of such sensitive natures 
 — one I know to be the happy husband 
 of a very pretty wife ; and as to the 
 others, Geraldine Hamilton is no more 
 to them than that passing bird to us, 
 whose plumage, glittering in the sun, 
 excites our momentary admiration and 
 is forgotten. But for a Newtown Ha- 
 milton tete-a-tete we have had enough 
 of sentiment ;' I would rather talk of 
 the book which, thanks to you, I have 
 had the pleasure of perusing — ' Cow-
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 125 
 
 per's Letters' — how charming they are! 
 how unaffected, amiable, and lively !" 
 
 " Extremely so." 
 
 " Your praise is somewhat dry, me- 
 thinks." 
 
 " Because I do not want to speak of 
 Cowper. I would rather speak of your- 
 self." 
 
 " I will not have Cowper so unwor- 
 thily used," said Geraldine. " Of myself, 
 much, perhaps, may be said; but of him, 
 much more ; so, as he is the redundant 
 subject, let us continue on him. 1 want 
 you to tell me if you ever met any one 
 who was acquainted with him — whether 
 Lady Hesketh is alive — what has be- 
 come of Mr. Johnson — and if there is 
 any clue to the early love which Hayley 
 alludes to, and which was the probable 
 cause of his estrangement of mind." 
 
 Geraldine's eyes were turned towards
 
 126 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 Stuart as she eagerly made her inqui- 
 ries ; his met hers — what their expres- 
 sion was it would be difficult to explain, 
 but the expression v/as such as to bring 
 a crimson blush into Geraldine's cheeks, 
 and a half smile to her mouth; and 
 made her eyes retire from the glance 
 they pourtrayed, and seek a resting-place 
 elsewhere — they fell upon Vavasour, 
 standing close beside her ! A hasty pres- 
 sure from Geraldine's arm, made Stuart 
 turn from the contemplation of his com- 
 panion's varying complexion, and follow 
 the direction of her eyes, and they then 
 encountered those of his friend also. 
 
 " From whence come you, Colonel?" 
 demanded Stuart, rather haughtily. 
 
 " From home ; an express has just 
 arrived for you. Miss Foster gave me 
 some intimation where you were to be 
 found, so I took upon myself the task 
 of informing you."
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 127 
 
 "Miss Foster and yourself are ex- 
 tremely obliging, and I hope the cause 
 may prove worthy of the trouble you 
 seem to have taken that I should not 
 be an instant longer than it was possible 
 in ignorance of the contents of a paltry 
 letter." 
 
 " The express is from General , 
 
 at Dublin." 
 
 " That does not increase its import- 
 ance in my eyes." 
 
 " At this moment," said Vavasour, 
 with severity, " few subjects, I believe, 
 would be considered of importance by 
 you." 
 
 Stuart coloured, but making no an- 
 swer, turned towards home. Geraldine 
 had, she knew not well why, withdrawn 
 her arm from his at the sight of Vava- 
 sour, who offering his own, she dared 
 not refuse, though beneath Stuart's 
 downcast eyes she penetrated a glance
 
 128 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 of displeasure. After one or two obser- 
 vations from the Colonel, unheeded by 
 Stuart, and almost unanswered by Ge- 
 raldine, the walk concluded in silence. 
 On reaching the house, Stuart retired to 
 his own room in quest of his dispatches. 
 Geraldine and Vavasour remained alone. 
 
 "With whatever indifference Stuart 
 may affect to think of his letters," ob- 
 served the Colonel, " I am convinced 
 their contents are of no small import- 
 ance to himself and myself. They con- 
 tain, I imagine, the news of his promo- 
 tion, which he has been in daily expec- 
 tation of — a promotion which, however 
 satisfactory to himself, I shall deeply 
 lament, as removing him from our regi- 
 ment." 
 
 Geraldine started. Vavasour conti- 
 nued — " He will be a great loss indeed 
 — his popularity with the men, his strict 
 attention to duty and discipline, joined
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 129 
 
 to his generosity, mildness, and spirit, 
 have gained him all hearts, and rendered 
 him a model for the junior officers. 
 We cannot again expect to obtain such 
 a prize; but he deserves a wider field 
 than his own country, and I do not 
 wonder that he has long sighed for the 
 Peninsula as his scene of action." 
 
 "The Peninsula!" exclaimed Gerial- 
 dine. 
 
 " Yes ; has he never told you his de- 
 sire to be promoted or exchanged into 
 a regiment on foreign service ? But he 
 is not a man to talk to women about the 
 affairs of his own sex ; so your ignorance 
 is not surprising of what I have been 
 hourly anticipating, and what, by a 
 letter I had this morning, I make no 
 doubt the present dispatches confirm." 
 
 " Ignorant indeed !" sighed Geraldine, 
 when left to herself. " This, then, is the 
 end of all my hopes ; glory, not love, is 
 
 G 5
 
 130 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 the passion of Stuart's mind: the one 
 may be the delassement of a moment, the 
 other the business of his life. And I 
 am, like the rest of my sex, foolish, vain, 
 and weak ; and thought that for me he 
 would relinquish the darling passion of 
 his soul !" So reflected Geraldine, her 
 spirits more disturbed than she could 
 find an adequate reason for ; as whether 
 Vavasour was right or wrong in his 
 surmises as to Stuart's letter, it did not 
 follow he was to depart that very mo- 
 ment, or without explaining himself to 
 her. 
 
 At dinner. Major Stuart did not ap- 
 pear. Colonel Vavasour made his ex- 
 cuses ; he was engaged answering his 
 letters, and he added the information, 
 that his friend was appointed to a regi- 
 ment in Portugal. Geraldine's feelings 
 it would be vain to describe ; such as 
 they were, her utmost effort was called
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 131 
 
 forth, that they should not be too open- 
 ly displayed. Pale as death, with the 
 tears ever filling her eyes, she constrain- 
 ed herself to talk to Vavasour, who fill- 
 ed Stuart's place by her side ; and though 
 he was usually inclined to silence, yet 
 this day his evident wish was to enliven 
 Geraldine, as far as his power extended. 
 
 The evening wore away ; after a long 
 absence, the gentlemen appeared in the 
 drawing-room. Geraldine's heart beat 
 high, for Stuart was with them ; he 
 approached her not, but drank his coffee 
 conversing with Mrs. Hamilton ; cards 
 were proposed as usual, and Major 
 Stuart offered his services, and the next 
 moment was seated at the whist-table, 
 at the farthest extremity of the room 
 from Geraldine. 
 
 The unfortunate Geraldine raised her 
 eyes from her work ; she cast one look 
 towards Stuart, — a flash of lightning
 
 132 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 could not have awed him more ; for in 
 that look was exhibited all the feelings 
 of her mind — the most unbounded ten- 
 derness, subdued for the moment by 
 the torments of a woman scorned. 
 Stuart could bear no more; the cards 
 fell from his hand, and starting up, he 
 rushed out of the room. 
 
 Mrs. Hamilton stared with astonish- 
 ment ; but Vavasour, who was a far 
 better player, immediately taking his 
 place, calmed her anger, and prevented 
 remark. Major Stuart returned no 
 more ; he was to depart the following 
 day. Geraldine retired early to her 
 room, but not to sleep. Stuart's ap- 
 proaching departure now pained her 
 less than his unaccountable change of 
 behaviour. His desertion, if he did 
 intend it, stung her to the heart ; but 
 why was he to add unkindness to the 
 blow ?
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 133 
 
 " Alas !" thought she, " his sword is 
 his mistress, which, when in the scab- 
 bard, may admit of a rival ; but, un- 
 sheathed, commands all love, honour, 
 and affection. Geraldine's name will 
 not be engraved thereon, no thought 
 of her will be allowed to intrude ; her 
 broken heart will take nothing from the 
 triumph of victory, and will be despised 
 when compared with the death of a 
 comrade. Why are men so powerful ? 
 or women born with feelings which 
 make them their sport, their puppet, or 
 their slave ! No wonder Stuart talked 
 to me of England, of former friends, or 
 lovers, of pecuniary assistance, of every 
 thing, but what I, in my infatuation, 
 thought possible. He knew his own 
 prospects, and common charity was mis- 
 taken for so forlorn a wretch as myself, 
 for friendship— love!" 
 
 With the morning sun, came brighter
 
 134 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 thoughts ; five minutes' conversation 
 might explain and decide every thing. 
 " Perhaps," thought Geraldine, " he 
 fears for me the fatigues of a campaign ; 
 his friends may have other views, — my 
 leaving his arm yesterday and taking 
 that of Colonel Vavasour, may have 
 offended him. I can believe every thing, 
 but that he does not love me ; his looks 
 and manner have spoken his affection 
 a thousand times ; he cannot quit me 
 without saying adieu, and then all will 
 be declared, his love, and his present 
 coldness explained." 
 
 Geraldine flew down-stairs ; at the 
 breakfast-room door she met Miss Fos- 
 ter, hurrying from the apartment: she 
 held a handkerchief to her eyes; the 
 cause of her distress was in a moment 
 explained — Stuart was gone! He had 
 departed at break of day; a letter of
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 135 
 
 thanks to Mr. Hamilton for his hospi- 
 tality, in which were included compli- 
 ments to the ladies, was all his leave- 
 taking, and closed his connexion with 
 the family.
 
 136 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Stuart was gone. The chances of a 
 nnilitary life had brought him to New- 
 town Hamilton ; the same accident had 
 removed him ; his name, form, and visit 
 had passed away ; he was nothing now 
 to those with whom he had been every 
 thing. 
 
 " You must forget him," whispered 
 Kitty, as she clung round Geraldine's 
 neck. 
 
 " I can do all things but forget," 
 sighed the heart-broken Geraldine. 
 
 Vavasour evidently saw (as who but 
 Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton would not 
 have seen?) the distress of Geraldine;
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 137 
 
 he seemed to pity, and sought every 
 opportunity to pay attention to her 
 wounded feelings. His efforts were, 
 however, vain, and to the unfortunate 
 object, irritated by disappointment, al- 
 most obtrusive. She flew from his pre- 
 sence to weep in silence and solitude, 
 avoiding every opportunity he sought 
 to induce her to unburthen her sorrows 
 to him. Her sorrows were not to be 
 communicated ; their full extent was 
 known only to herself. Stuart had 
 never proposed marriage to her, he had 
 never told her by words that he loved ; 
 but she had seen his eyes, heard his 
 voice, felt the pressure of his hand, and 
 had heard him declare, no villain was so 
 black as one who raised hopes in a wo- 
 man's mind which he intended not to 
 fulfil. 
 
 Colonel Vavasour had obtained leave 
 of absence ; the day before that on which
 
 138 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 he was to take his departure, he was sit- 
 ting with Geraldine and Miss Foster, 
 who, both too much occupied with their 
 own thoughts, paid little attention to 
 his efforts at conversation. Wearied by 
 his fruitless efforts, and really desirous 
 to divert their dejection, he proposed 
 reading aloud ; the ladies assented. The 
 drawing-room at Newtown Hamilton 
 could not boast of one of the very few- 
 books the house itself contained. Va- 
 vasour was therefore obliged to have 
 recourse to his own store, and left the 
 room accordingly ; he soon returned 
 loaded with books. 
 
 " These are some of Stuart's heavy 
 baggage," he said, throwing them upon 
 the table, " which he has left me, with 
 many other affairs, too cumbersome for 
 an active campaign." 
 
 This information induced Miss Foster 
 to lay eager hands on one of the books.
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 139 
 
 and turning to the title-page, read the 
 precious name which was as constantly 
 almost in her mind as in Geraldine's. 
 There it appeared, " Edward Stuart," at 
 full length ; but beneath was the fol- 
 lowing, " The gift of his attached mo- 
 ther Caroline Lawnley." 
 
 " And pray who may Caroline Lawn- 
 ley be," inquired Kitty, " who calls 
 herself Major Stuart's mother ?" 
 
 " Why, Lady Lawnley, Lady Mary's 
 mother." 
 
 " I am not the wiser," answered 
 Kitty ; " Lady I^awnley writes herself 
 as Major Stuart's mother." 
 
 " And so she decidedly is, being the 
 mother of Lady Mary Stuart." 
 
 " And who may Lady Mary Stuart 
 be ?" inquired Miss Foster, looking ear- 
 nestly at Colonel Vavasour : " I did not 
 know Major Stuart had a sister."
 
 140 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 " A sister !" exclaimed Vavasour ; — 
 " Stuart has certainly a sister, but the 
 lady there alluded to is his wife." 
 
 " His wife !" screamed Miss Foster ; 
 " his wife ! Major Stuart married ?'' 
 
 " Good God ! and is this the first 
 time you ever heard of it ?" 
 
 ** How should I have ever been in- 
 formed ?" answered Kitty, indignantly ; 
 " if Major Stuart did not tell me him- 
 self, from whom, pray, was I to learn it ? 
 not from his behaviour most assuredly : 
 what business had he to come amongst 
 us with the air and words of one as 
 free as air ? My dear Geraldine, is this 
 
 But Geraldine was no longer to be 
 addressed; she had fallen senseless on 
 the couch on which she rested ; the 
 word wife had explained every thing, 
 and the full extent of her wretchedness 
 was now complete. With the aid of
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 141 
 
 Colonel Vavasour, Miss Foster convey- 
 ed Geraldine to her chamber, but it was 
 a long time before she rewarded their 
 care by showing signs of returning ani- 
 mation. 
 
 The world would have taught Geral- 
 dine to support such a blow in a more 
 heroic manner ; but of the world's wis- 
 dom she was now more ignorant than at 
 sixteen years of age : her feelings ex- 
 isted, but her judgment, dormant from 
 disuse, was no longer their guardian. 
 
 When Vavasour left her room, the 
 whole extent of her attachment, hopes, 
 and disappointments, was as plainly 
 exposed to his view, as though her 
 heart were in his hand. Of this, Ge- 
 raldine was painfully aware, but she had 
 no power to command herself ; her tears 
 were not to be restrained by thought of 
 what others might think. She knew 
 her father and his wife would not pene-
 
 142 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 trate her sorrow : and as to Colonel 
 Vavasour's lowered opinion, she was in- 
 different ; he might despise, ridicule her 
 if he would, it was not of him she wish- 
 ed to think, it was of Stuart — the mar- 
 ried Stuart ! the husband, probably, 
 of a beautiful, young, adoring wife, of 
 whom he treacherously concealed the 
 existence, and led astray the feelings of 
 a retired female, whose workings were 
 as clear as noon-day, and as easily to be 
 pardoned as observed, from her secluded 
 life and the desert of the mind in which 
 she dwelt ! 
 
 It was fortunate that at this moment 
 Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton had, most un- 
 usually, an engagement from home for 
 a few days ; so extraordinary an effort 
 of sociability on their part arose from 
 the departure of their two officer guests, 
 leaving their house vacant for the re- 
 ception of two others in their place,
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 143 
 
 to avoid which misfortune they created 
 some urgent business requiring their 
 presence at a distance ; and, in some 
 measure, to keep to the letter of their 
 excuse, they put themselves into a post- 
 chaise as soon as Colonel Vavasour had 
 driven from the door, and departed for 
 the abode of a distant cousin of Mr. 
 Hamilton's. Geraldine and Kitty were 
 also to have been of the party, but the 
 first was too ill with, what she termed, a 
 cold, to move, and the latter remained to 
 keep her company„ If this had not 
 been the case, some suspicions of the 
 distress of their relations must have 
 penetrated even the dull minds of Mr. 
 and ]Mrs. Hamilton ; as it was, they rat- 
 tled off for their visit without a thought 
 or a care for the sorrow they had left 
 beneath their roof. 
 
 Geraldine was ill, seriously so ; she 
 neither ate nor slept, and a fever con-
 
 144 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 sumed her. Miss Foster watched over 
 her with the tenderest anxiety ; but her 
 own sorrow, though not of a nature to 
 undermine her health, which, in Ge- 
 raldine's case, seemed highly probable, 
 yet prevented her being of the slightest 
 assistance in diverting her friend's mind 
 from the cause of her grief. Of Stuart 
 alone she talked, though sometimes in 
 the accents of reproach, yet more often 
 in a softer tone ; and when she had 
 abused him for concealing his marriage, 
 she would recur to his looks, manners, 
 popularity, and would descant for hours, 
 whether to his praise or censure, on his 
 evident love for Geraldine. To all 
 which topics, she, to whom they were 
 addressed, did by far too seriously in- 
 cline. 
 
 To a more accurate observer than 
 Kitty, it would have been very evident 
 that Geraldine's ills w^ere assuming a 
 
 I
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 145 
 
 form that required medical aid ; restless, 
 uneasy, incapable of attending to any 
 thing, lost often to all around, with an 
 aching head and violent pulse, she had 
 every symptom of approaching, if not 
 present illness, when the fourth evening 
 of Mr. Hamilton's and his lady's absence 
 closed upon the two desolate females 
 beneath their roof. 
 
 That evening an orderly dragoon 
 reached Newtown Hamilton, and hav- 
 ing performed his commission of deli- 
 vering a packet, which he had brought 
 express from Dublin, departed : the 
 packet was for Miss Hamilton, the di- 
 rection in Major Stuart's handwriting. 
 
 Stuart had promised Geraldine some 
 music ; in all probability the contents of 
 the packet sent were no more than so 
 simple a mark of attention, yet Geral- 
 dine viewed it as if a far more interest- 
 ing document. She hesitated to break 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 146 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 the seal, hoping that within was all she 
 dared desire, a few lines of affectionate 
 farewell, as a proof that every good feel- 
 ing was not dead within a bosom which, 
 but a few days back, she had imagined 
 to be the seat of every virtue, and which 
 the music he sent afforded an excuse 
 for conveying. The seal was at length 
 broken, no music was therein, but many 
 pages of close writing in Major Stuart's 
 hand. 
 
 *•' DUBLIN. 
 
 " I have seen Vavasour ; what he has 
 described to me has made me wretched. 
 How bitter are his reproaches ! but not 
 more so than I should deserve, could I 
 have been guilty of treacherously con- 
 ' cealing the existence of my wife. God 
 knows, I had no such odious intention ; 
 but an event which is never absent 
 from my mind, I had imagined no one
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 147 
 
 could be ignorant of ; though it is not 
 one that I am in the habit of bringing 
 forward as the most brilliant, though 
 prominent, feature in my life. 
 
 " As some extenuation for such re- 
 serve, I entreat you to read the follow- 
 ing pages ; there you will find how and 
 when the wTctched union took place, 
 which, though known to exist, and to 
 be an unhappy one, yet the peculiar cir- 
 cumstances attending it, few are ac- 
 quainted with. Dearest Geraldine, grant 
 me your pity, I ask no more. 
 
 " It was the battle of , the 
 
 cause of so much national joy and pri- 
 vate grief, which deprived me and a 
 little sister, but two years old, of our 
 father. Our other parent died in giving 
 my sister birth. A maiden aunt had, 
 from that moment, protected us ; and 
 still, as far as the girl was concerned, 
 promised so to do : how I was to be 
 
 h2
 
 148 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 disposed of was a more difficult matter 
 to arrange with those who, either ac- 
 tuated by humanity or relationship, in- 
 terested themselves in our behalf. It 
 has been said, that it is better to have 
 nothing than a little ; this solitary piece 
 of good fortune I possessed. My fa- 
 ther had nothing to bequeath but a 
 name, which a long line of ancestors 
 had left to him — a name which, in his 
 possession, had increased in value, whilst 
 the more substantial family acres had 
 vanished entirely. His friends and 
 my relations were in grand debate how 
 to dispose of me, when an unexpect- 
 ed auxiliary appeared in the person 
 of my maternal uncle, the Earl of 
 Lawnley. 
 
 *' The marriage of my parents had 
 been what is called a love-match ; that 
 is^ they had married from affection, not 
 from interest, and had consulted their
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 149 
 
 own feelings, not the feelings of others. 
 Lord Lawnley had taken little notice of 
 them afterwards, either because they 
 were too proud to solicit it, or he too 
 proud to grant it unsought. No sooner, 
 however, did he hear of my poor father's 
 fate, than his affectionate feelings were 
 aroused towards his offspring, and he 
 appeared in person to announce his in- 
 tention of becoming my sole protector ; 
 saying kindly, in return for the profuse 
 thanks my other relations poured upon 
 him, that he read that in my counte- 
 nance which would more than repay 
 him for any trouble I might give him. 
 He then inquired if I should like to go 
 with him. To the utter dismay of my 
 poor aunt Lucy, who would willingly 
 at that moment have dispensed with 
 my attention, I repHed, I would rather 
 stay with my sister and aunt. How- 
 ever, Lord Lawnley was pleased with
 
 1,50 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 my answer, and said he should be sorry 
 if I thought otherwise. He then drew 
 me towards him, and talked so elo- 
 quently of a beautiful pony — of a gar- 
 den that I should have of my own, and 
 of a lady I should call mamma, that my 
 tears, which at the first had poured 
 down my cheeks at the idea of leaving 
 my present home, were dried, and I 
 followed my uncle not unwillingly into 
 the carriage which was to convey us to 
 his seat in Warwickshire. 
 
 " From that hour Lord Lawnley be- 
 came more than a parent to me, for 
 few parents bestow such attention on a 
 son as he did upon me : had I, indeed, 
 been heir to all the vast possessions 
 which surrounded me, I could not have 
 been a greater object of importance than 
 I became from the first moment of my 
 arrival at the country residence of my 
 uncle.
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 151 
 
 '•' A gentleman of ability was engaged 
 at a large salary, far superior to aunt 
 Lucy's income, to superintend my edu- 
 cation ; and when I was removed to 
 Eton, he still continued to instruct me 
 during the holidays. To my classical 
 knowledge, I added French, Italian, 
 and German, and had read most of the 
 standard works in those tongues, from 
 merely devoting a few hours to such 
 studies during the school vacations — 
 a period which to most boys, however 
 indulged, leaves moments enough of 
 ennui as well as idleness. You may 
 wonder why I enter into such minute 
 details, but they are necessary to bring 
 me to that event in my life, to account 
 for which I now address you. The 
 most essential circumstance is to de- 
 scribe the character of my uncle. To 
 give you a just idea would require the 
 pen of a Clarendon. I feel my own
 
 152 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 inability, but I also feel that on his 
 mind, talents and influence being suffi- 
 ciently appreciated, rests my justification 
 for an act which has brought upon me 
 the greatest odium, and renders now my 
 conduct subject to the harshest inter- 
 pretation. 
 
 " I should rather imagine Lord Lawn- 
 ley was not much short of sixty at the 
 period of my becoming known to him. 
 My mother was only his half sister, and 
 many years his junior. His figure was 
 yet fine and erect, his countenance 
 animated, the whiteness of his hair 
 betokened age, otherwise he had no 
 mark of years about him, nor any in- 
 firmity but those to which the most 
 youthful are liable : his manners were 
 polished, rather, perhaps, more foreign 
 than national ; in other respects he was 
 strictly English, fond of politics, the 
 country, books, and the sports of the
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 153 
 
 field, and fond of little else besides his 
 wife, child, and, I may add, myself. 
 Lord Lawnley, though adored by his 
 wife and respected by his dependents, 
 was not what is termed a popular cha- 
 racter : with greater facility of making 
 himself liked than any one I ever knew, 
 he never, to my knowledge, made the 
 effort but with two persons — his wife 
 and myself. With those two he most 
 completely succeeded: his wife's love 
 was devotion, and mine complete sub- 
 serviency without servility ; still, not- 
 withstanding his generosity and ta- 
 lents, he was, by the world at large, 
 rather dishked. This feehng was not- 
 openly acknowledged ; the silence that 
 was held with regard to him was the 
 best proof of its existence. The fact 
 was, that from the peer to the humble 
 curate toiling through four services on a 
 Sunday, there was not one who fre- 
 . h5 

 
 154 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 quented his society but inwardly felt that 
 Lord Lawnley held him and others in 
 contempt, not for wanting or possessing 
 any good gift of fortune, but simply as 
 considering their understandings infe- 
 rior to his own, whatever their accom- 
 plishments or acquirements might be ; 
 and such suspicion was perfectly right. 
 He was never otherwise than sensible, 
 gentlemanlike, and in all societies an 
 object of attention ; but with few, very 
 few, did he ever advance beyond the 
 footing of an acquaintance. I remember 
 once his saying to me, when I had been 
 naming to Lady Lawnley all my friends 
 at Eton — ' Friends ! foolish boy, to call 
 such alliances friendships. Ten years 
 hence I should like you to give me an 
 account of them. If, in the course of 
 your life, you get one such friend as 
 lier^ pointing to Lady L , * I shall
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 155 
 
 esteem you happy. I hate acquaint- 
 ances to be termed friends.' 
 
 " Lord Lawnley's manners to me were 
 quite the reverse of those to the rest 
 of the world, and decidedly proved that 
 he wished to gain my love and to grant 
 me his. He would adapt his conver- 
 sation to my age and pursuits, or ele- 
 vate mine to his with so much sim- 
 plicity and ability as to surprise myself 
 at the maturity of my own conceptions 
 or the juvenility of his, rendering a tete- 
 a-tete with a man old enough to be my 
 grandfather preferable to every other 
 amusement in life. His ascendancy 
 hourly increased, and at length accom- 
 plished that end which has ruined my 
 peace, and which, I blush to confess, 
 was the end Lord Lawnley (with, I 
 had almost called it, Jesuitical cunning) 
 had ever in view from the moment he
 
 156 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 took me under his protection, — my mar- 
 riage with his daughter. 
 
 " This lady I shall now introduce to 
 your notice. Lord Lawnley married late 
 in life a lady, not then in her first youth, 
 though several years junior to himself; 
 they had but one child, a girl, whose ex- 
 treme delicacy rendered her, from the 
 moment of her birth, an object of the 
 utmost anxiety to her parents. For 
 many months her life was preserved 
 from day to day only by medical care, 
 and years elapsed before she ceased to be 
 an invalid. Lord and Lady Lawnley's 
 care was unbounded ; having no other 
 child to divert their attention, on her 
 they lavished all their tenderness. For 
 her sake they resided always in the 
 country, and the whole happiness of their 
 lives seemed to be centred in the exist- 
 ence of a feeble being, who, in addition 
 to bodily weakness, was in intellect far
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 157 
 
 below mediocrity. As she improved in 
 health, her mental powers were supposed 
 to advance, and at length reached a suffi- 
 cient degree of perfection to satisfy her 
 partial parents ; nor is it surprising that 
 those who fanned the flame from a state 
 bordering on darkness, should construe 
 a very faint glimmering of mind into a 
 steady, if not brilliant, light. 
 
 " Lady Mary was very little known 
 to me as a boy ; her health kept her 
 much secluded, in which there was as 
 much design as accident. Though liv- 
 ing in the same house, months would 
 pass over without my seeing her, and 
 then only when taken by Lady Lawn- 
 ley to visit her, with much ceremony, 
 in the elegant suite of apartments ap- 
 propriated to her use, where the costly 
 furniture certainly made a greater im- 
 pression upon my mind than their in- 
 habitant. I could recall to my recol-
 
 158 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 lection the perfumes which scented the 
 apartments when the person of the pos- 
 sessor had entirely faded from my mind. 
 The rooms, however, were much dark- 
 ened, so that I had but a faint idea of 
 her figure, reclined, as she almost con- 
 stantly was, on the sofa. The tone 
 of her voice was not unpleasing, as 
 she echoed the few observations Lady 
 Lawnley made. In the letters I re- 
 ceived from home her love was never 
 omitted, a courtesy I in due form re- 
 turned ; beyond this she certainly never 
 entered my mind. A circumstance, 
 however, took place when I was about 
 fifteen years of age, which led Lord 
 Lawnley to form another opinion. 
 
 " A boy rather my senior, at Eton, 
 said publicly that I had a cousin who 
 was an idiot. Fired at this insult, I 
 knocked him down : of course, such an 
 aggression on my part was not tamely
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 159 
 
 endured ; the blow was returned, and as 
 we were both tolerably pugnacious, and 
 neither of us ignorant of the pugilistic 
 art, a regular battle ensued. I was victo- 
 rious, and, as success is every thing in the 
 eyes of the world, the whole school w^ere 
 convinced of the justice of my cause, and 
 the falsity of the imputation against 
 Lady Mary's intellect. The only person 
 who in the end doubted it was myself ! 
 Though idiot was a strong term, yet my 
 conscience whispered me, as I reflected 
 upon the beating I had given my an- 
 tagonist, and upon my own smarting 
 bruises, that I had no reason to consider 
 Lady Mary's intellect far removed from 
 that unhappy state. 
 
 " Little did I think that an event for 
 which the master punished me, and my 
 companions applauded me, and which 
 was soon forgot by both the one and the 
 other, dwelt in Lord Lawnley's mind,
 
 160 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 and was regarded as a certain proof of the 
 affection I entertained for his daughter. 
 " At seventeen I quitted Eton, and 
 having chosen the army as my profes- 
 sion, returned home to await my obtain- 
 ing a commission in the Guards. As at 
 that time the war was carried on with 
 sufficient energy, no obstacles stood in 
 the way of a military spirit; I was 
 therefore somewhat surprised at the 
 tardy manner in which the purchase of 
 my commission went on, and expressed 
 my surprise and impatience several times 
 to my uncle. He would say — 'How 
 strange it is no one is ever content ! 
 here you are, with six hunters, a pair 
 of curricle horses, many grooms and 
 servants, guns and dogs incalculable, 
 in short, all that youths of your age 
 care for or think about, and yet you 
 must abandon such delights to become 
 food for powder, probably in a first en-
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. l6l 
 
 gagement, and will be rewarded for 
 your pains by a small corner of the 
 Gazette to record the event ; or, per- 
 haps, if you have good luck, you may 
 live, after hard knocks and battered 
 limbs, to obtain the honour of a monu- 
 ment in Westminster Abbey, with a 
 marble bust decked with a wreath of 
 laurel, for the idle Westminster boys to 
 pelt at. Well, well! you shall have 
 your way ; I will write for a pair of 
 colours for you.* 
 
 " As my w^hole soul was fixed on the 
 army, I thought my uncle's raillery 
 extremely ill-timed, and the anxiety I 
 felt at the delay, which still continued 
 spite of his promise, affected my health. 
 Lord Lawnley made no observation for 
 some time, but at length the long pend- 
 ing mystery was explained. We were 
 sitting one evening at table, after the 
 ladies had retired.
 
 162 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 "*You look pale, Edward,' pushing 
 the bottle towards me, ' what ails you ? 
 thinking of the toils of a campaign ?' 
 
 " ' It does not seem probable I shall 
 soon experience such toils,' I answered 
 sullenly. 
 
 " * What ! you have at last discover- 
 ed I do not approve of this army 
 scheme of your's T 
 
 " The colour flew to my cheeks, my 
 uncle's kindness at the same time rush- 
 ed to my mind, I bit my lips and was 
 silent. Lord Lawnley continued — 
 
 " ' The army, as every one must live, 
 is a good profession for a boy brought 
 up with a vast number of brothers and 
 sisters, to struggle for bread as he can. 
 It is also an excellent profession for a 
 high-spirited youth under exactly con- 
 trary circumstances, whose fortune is 
 far too great for the object of gain, to 
 preponderate over that of glory.'
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. l63 
 
 " * Good God ! Sir, and who ever had 
 gain in contemplation on entering the 
 army ?' 
 
 " * Old people, who have little else to 
 think of,' answered Lord Lawnley quiet- 
 ly, ' and who have lived long enough in 
 the world to entertain such paltry ideas 
 for those who cannot think for them- 
 selves.' 
 
 " ' I am convinced you are not se- 
 rious ; you wish to impose upon me, by 
 advocating sentiments quite contrary to 
 your well-known feelings of generosity 
 and noblemindedness.' 
 
 " ' And pray, what but the dross you 
 despise makes me generous and noble- 
 minded ? Let me tell you, Edward, 
 whatever philosophy may teach, and 
 you may imagine, money is a source of 
 happiness, and no one can do well with- 
 out it, who has received the education 
 of a gentleman ; unless he has met with
 
 164 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 such adverse fortune from his cradle, 
 as hardly to know it exists. Gray says, 
 * money is liberty ;' what higher compli- 
 ment can be paid it. It is because I 
 know you have a heart and understand- 
 ing capable of using, and not abusing 
 such liberty, that I would rather you 
 chose any other profession than the 
 army ; to advance in which, depends in 
 every sense on fortune, and which to 
 regard as bread by a youth brought up 
 as you have been, is positive starvation. 
 I would rather you chose the Law.' 
 
 " I tossed my head contemptuously. 
 
 " ' The Church,' continued Lord 
 Lawnley. 
 
 " I muttered something about cant. 
 
 " ' Well, since you are so difficult. 
 Medicine.' 
 
 " I laughed, and said, ' If I was not 
 to be a soldier, I would just as soon be 
 a doctor as any thing else.'
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. l65 
 
 " ' And kill men either way ; well, 
 you are very bloodthirsty in your desire.' 
 
 " ' I only desire to be a soldier,' I re- 
 plied ; * all other professions are equally 
 indifferent to me.' 
 
 " A silence ensued ; — without being 
 of a very suspicious nature, I was con- 
 vinced that Lord Lawnley had some 
 object yet unexplained. I once thought 
 he was going to declare, that some un- 
 fortunate speculation had reduced his 
 property ; or that an heir had started up 
 who would wrest from him both title 
 and estates. Some such reason, I was 
 assured, must be the cause of his evi- 
 • dently desiring, for the first time in his 
 life, to impress on me my absolute po- 
 verty. I certainly knew Lady Mary 
 would succeed to the greater part of his 
 property, and that she was his acknow- 
 ledged heiress ; and I was aware that I 
 had no claim upon him for a shilling.
 
 166 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 Still, I never felt myself a beggar, de- 
 pending, as I did, upon a man whose 
 liberality had hitherto been unbounded, 
 and whose means I had ever considered 
 as equal to his generosity. 
 
 " * I am still thinking of your future 
 prospects,' said Lord Lawnley, after a 
 pause ; * I hate that you should not fol- 
 low your wishes with regard to the 
 army, but I cannot bear the privations 
 and wretchedness that such a step will 
 probably entail upon you. If I could 
 settle four or five thousand pounds a 
 year upon you, the case would be differ- 
 ent ; but that, injustice to my child, I 
 cannot do. To her I shall leave every 
 sixpence of my unentailed property. 
 My Lincolnshire estates go with the 
 title, the rest will be Mary's.' Then, as 
 if the thought had just struck him, he 
 added, after a little consideration, and 
 trying to catch a view of my counte-
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 167 
 
 nance from beneath his downcast eyes, 
 — ' Ah ! my daughter ! — well, I believ.e 
 the best thing for you to do, would be 
 to marry her ; I should then provide for 
 you both ; and then, if she has no ob- 
 jection, you may go into the army, or 
 commit any other vagary you like : 
 What say you, Edward, — will you have 
 her ?' 
 
 " I started, and begged quickly my 
 uncle would not consider me any more ; 
 that he had bestowed eternal obligation 
 by the education he had given me, and 
 I implored him to leave the rest of 
 my future fate to fortune, which, hav- 
 ing once in my utmost need, raised me 
 up such a friend as himself, would not, 
 1 dared say, now desert me. 
 
 " * What !' exclaimed Lord Lawnley, 
 ' you would have me act the devilish 
 part of a patron in good earnest ; sup- 
 port, coax, fondle, and then abandon? —
 
 168 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 No; let me be guilty of every other 
 crime before such atrocity.' 
 
 " ' It would be no crime, my dear 
 uncle.' 
 
 " ' I differ from you. I have brought 
 you up in habits of luxury and inde- 
 pendence, till they are become neces- 
 sary to your existence ; at school, at 
 home, everywhere, you have been 
 equal to the first in the land ; through 
 life you must continue the same, or 
 all my boasted kindness will be mere 
 sport and mockery. I again repeat, I 
 offer you my child in marriage. In 
 accepting her, I do not wish you to 
 be ignorant of the satisfaction it will 
 give me to consider you really my 
 son, or that you will, in some measui*e, 
 confer an obligation upon me. Mary's 
 delicate constitution, her retired educa- 
 tion, have given her habits and ideas 
 adverse to the common system of so-
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 169 
 
 ciety and the world. Deprived of her 
 parent's protection, she would easily, 
 with her guileless, unsophisticated mind 
 and amiable disposition, become a prey 
 to any one coveting only her fortune, 
 and who might impose upon her by 
 pretended affection for her person. 
 Her marriage with you would secure 
 her the protection of a man of honour, 
 and remove a great source of anxiety 
 to myself and her mother. It is not 
 a subject to decide hastily upon — think 
 of what I have said — we will talk 
 farther on some future day.' 
 
 " However ignorant of the ways of 
 the world, however unused to society, 
 and however inclined to judge favour- 
 ably of any word proceeding from my 
 uncle's lips, yet his proposal, deliver- 
 ed with alarming seriousness, far too 
 strongly convinced me it was no sud- 
 den thought emanating from the pre- 
 
 VOL. I. 1
 
 170 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 sent discourse, but a settled plan, and 
 the cherished object of his heart. 
 Though I had no idea of compliance, 
 and was sure that Lady Mary's being 
 a few years my senior would be satis- 
 factorily urged as an obstacle, yet some 
 secret misgivings haunted my mind, 
 and in my dreams I had ever my 
 uncle's countenance regarding me with 
 looks of bitter wrath, and poor Lady 
 Mary's pale, emaciated form present to 
 my view. I trembled whenever my 
 uncle addressed me ; and if we were 
 left tete-a-tete, the agonies I endured 
 lest the subject should be again 
 brought forward, were almost insup- 
 portable. Some days elapsed in peace ; 
 but I could not help thinking Lady 
 Mary's dress (for she now appeared to 
 a certain degree in society) was par- 
 ticularly studied, and my notice called 
 to it more than ever happened before.
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 171 
 
 Nor could I but observe, that the little 
 compliments by such means forced from 
 me, were received by the father with 
 evident signs of pleasure. Not so Lady 
 Lawnley, who betrayed no satisfaction ; 
 and rather assumed a more grave air 
 than customary. By Lady Lawnley, 
 however, the proposal of marriage was 
 the next time opened to me. She did 
 not conceal how much Lord Lawnley 
 had it at heart ; hinted something that 
 Lady Mary had been consulted, and 
 approved her parents' choice ; and spoke 
 somewhat more coldly of her own satis- 
 faction. She enumerated the advan- 
 tages of the alliance, as far as I was 
 concerned — advantages of wealth, sta- 
 tion, and importance. She continued 
 her discourse a long time, and did not 
 seem to require an answer ; perhaps 
 fearing her own inability to combat 
 any objections I might make. So little, 
 
 I 2
 
 172 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 however, was I in the habit of differ- 
 ing from those who had been more 
 than parents to me, and so great was 
 my respect for their opinions, that had 
 all the reasons against the marriage 
 then struck me as forcibly as they 
 have since done, I know not how I 
 should ever have had courage to de- 
 clare them. I listened in silence, and 
 with rather a vacant mind, till roused 
 to attention by Lady Lawnley saying it 
 was her wish that the marriage should 
 not take place till after my first cam- 
 paign; and Lord Lawnley was deter- 
 mined, unless with the certainty of its 
 then completion, I should not enter 
 into the army at all. She concluded, 
 by telling me from him, that he gave 
 me a week to consider the proposal, 
 which if I declined, he should take 
 immediate measures for placing me at
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 173 
 
 the University, preparatory to my 
 studying the Law. 
 
 " However dishonourable you may 
 consider my conduct, however deficient 
 in virtue, perhaps treacherous and un- 
 manly, I am bound to confess that my 
 passion for the army was too glittering 
 a bait to be withstood, however painful 
 the condition attached to it. I have no 
 excuse to offer but my youth, and that 
 childish delight and gratification I ex- 
 perienced in pleasing others, and of be- 
 coming myself an object of universal 
 attention, I had almost called it adora- 
 tion, to those who possessed unbounded 
 influence over me. Still, I had many 
 uneasy moments. Doubts of my uncle's 
 disinterested regard would arise. Such 
 thoughts I would try to banish from my 
 mind, by summing up the favours he 
 had granted me for so many years, and
 
 174 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 by trying to force myself into the belief 
 that for my sake, and not for his daugh- 
 ter's, he was so desirous for the marriage. 
 My choice was made ; the fatal contract 
 signed. Lord and Lady Lawnley viewed 
 it with rapture. I was equally charmed 
 at an equally valid document appointing 
 me Cornet in the — regiment of dra- 
 goons, then under orders for foreign 
 service. This last circumstance was 
 rapture ; for to be a soldier and not to 
 serve was to gain but a small part of my 
 desires. My destined bride soon vanish- 
 ed from my mind. My uniform, sad- 
 dle, horse, bridle, sword, entirely occu- 
 pied my thoughts, displacing every 
 other more solid or gloomy idea con- 
 nected with the name of husband. 
 
 " I have heard of a man, who on the 
 eve of joining his regiment in America, 
 formed an imprudent matrimonial en- 
 gagement. In talking over the affair
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 175 
 
 with a friend, he expressed sorrow for 
 what he had done ; but by way of con- 
 solation added, that he should in all 
 probability be killed, which would pre- 
 vent the accomplishment of his marriage. 
 jNIy comfort was not precisely similar, 
 from my ignorance of, in a great mea- 
 sure, the precipice on which I stood. I 
 only hoped that the expedition I was 
 embarking in would be absent many, 
 many years, and that I should not re- 
 turn until I was a full colonel, if not 
 major-general. 
 
 " With some tears I tore myself from 
 the arms of my uncle and aunt, and em- 
 barked in that career, in the active pro- 
 secution of which was to be found the 
 only happiness that I should ever know. 
 
 " On board the transport I met, 
 amongst many new faces, one old ac- 
 quaintance, — the very boy who had 
 been my antagonist at Eton, when my
 
 176 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 chivalry took up the cause of Lady- 
 Mary's intellect : which Quixotism I was 
 too often reminded of by my uncle to 
 be likely easily to forget. To my great 
 surprise, I found my marriage was no 
 secret amongst my companions. Their 
 railleries on a subject which it was my 
 resolve to put away for the present from 
 my mind, were extremely annoying ; 
 and I swallowed, as if poison, the toasts 
 which the occasion, as they thought, 
 called upon them to give by way of 
 pastime, as v/e sat over our wine. Va- 
 vasour, my old antagonist, had, as be- 
 fore, his own suspicions ; but however 
 shrewdly he judged, he had learned 
 wisdom in that excellent school, expe- 
 rience, and no longer avowed an opi- 
 nion Avhich I had taken such forcible 
 measures to eradicate from his mind. 
 From a feeling that I had acted unjust- 
 ly tov/ards him, I scrupled not to make
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 177 
 
 every advance towards Vavasour possi- 
 ble. I was not repulsed, and by the 
 
 time we landed at , 1 had formed a 
 
 decided league of amity with him, not to 
 be interrupted by time and place, which 
 have often a very decided effect upon 
 friendships, however, to appearance, 
 closely woven. Brilliant as were my 
 expectations of a soldier's life, I was not 
 disappointed. Strong bodily health and 
 a lively mind conquered the worst parts 
 of the service ; every thing else was de- 
 lightful to me. The days only seemed 
 to fly too fast, as the increasing bulk of 
 a journal I kept for my uncle's perusal, 
 and at his desire, plainly marked. 
 
 " Of home I often thought with sa- 
 tisfaction, but only of home seen through 
 a long vista of years ; an abode of peace, 
 affection, and reflection, after a life of 
 activity, danger, and excitement, where 
 my uncle would listen to my tales of 
 
 I 5
 
 1 78 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 war, and Lady Mary, as seen in these 
 visions of my mind, assuming a less re- 
 pugnant character, would appear that 
 being all youths dream of, and whom, 
 my ignorance of the female sex, and 
 absence from Lady Mary, made me try 
 to assimilate her with ; how unjustly so, 
 a slight circumstance convinced me. 
 
 " A fever, which I had some time 
 neglected, obliged me, in an advance of 
 the army, to remain in a village, the 
 inhabitants of which were very much 
 our friends. The principal person of 
 the place received me into his house, 
 as it was imagined, to die — that I did 
 not do so, was owing to the strength 
 of my constitution, and to my kind 
 host, his wife and daughter, who 
 watched over me with the tenderest 
 care — a care to which, however, I 
 was long insensible. As soon as I re- 
 gained my other senses, gratitude was
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 179 
 
 awakened to the kind beings who at- 
 tended me ; most particularly to the 
 daughter, one of the loveliest creatures 
 I ever beheld. The father was a man 
 of more education and wealth than he 
 cared to acknowledge amongst his igno- 
 rant and poor neighbours. Having once 
 filled some subordinate place under a 
 foreign minister, he had gained some 
 insight into European affairs, which he 
 was delighted to discuss with me as he 
 sat by my bedside — a pleasure he was 
 rarely in the habit of enjoying, and a 
 pleasure the lovely Julia thought he 
 was sometimes unreasonable in the in- 
 dulgence of with myself. At such times 
 she would exert her influence, and half 
 seriously, half playfully, would draw 
 her father from my apartment ; not, 
 perhaps, aware that the very anxiety she 
 manifested prevented that tranquillity, 
 which she imagined was only endanger-
 
 180 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 ed by his long stories and eternal ques- 
 tions. Her mother had more penetra- 
 tion ; she watched the direction of my 
 eyes when fixed on the fine contour of 
 her daughter's face, and soon took an op- 
 portunity of informing me she was going 
 to be married. This information soon 
 produced a similar mark of confidence 
 on my part. The news quickly spread 
 through the family ; and I repented my 
 sincerity when I found myself assailed 
 on all sides by inquiries respecting my 
 destined bride, — whether I was not very 
 unhappy at being separated from her? — 
 if she was like Julia ? — And then they 
 would implore a description of her ; and 
 though I might have given any account 
 I chose, however flourishing, yet my 
 sense of veracity rendered their curio- 
 sity embarrassing — so much so, that at 
 last they thought no such person exist- 
 ed, and Julia was never weary of ex-
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 181 
 
 ercising her wit at the expense, as she 
 conceived, of my imaginary mistress. 
 1 remember, when she was one day de- 
 scribing me to her lover in terms far 
 beyond my deserts, she added, I had 
 but one defect, and affecting a melan- 
 choly air, said, that it was my misfor- 
 tune to be afflicted with a total loss of 
 memory at times, so that I had not the 
 least recollection of the person of my 
 destined bride— I had even forgot the 
 colour of her eyes. 
 
 " ' Then,' said her lover tenderly, 
 ' they could not be like Julia's.' 
 
 " I felt he spoke the truth, and turn- 
 ed away to avoid the glance which shot 
 from those beautiful orbs in return for 
 the compliment. 
 
 " The lovers truly deserved the name ; 
 they had known each other from child- 
 hood, and were as fond and affectionate 
 as they could well be under the strict
 
 182 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 regards of their parents. The contem- 
 plation of their feeUngs awakened sen- 
 sations I knew not of. I tried to banish 
 the thoughts that would arise in my 
 mind ; but the first time the picture of 
 mutual love and domestic bliss is pre- 
 sented to the view of an unsophisticated 
 youth, what ideas does it not open ! 
 what sensations does it not create ! at all 
 times difficult to banish, but impossible 
 in an abode so favourable to their en- 
 couragement. 
 
 " As soon as my health allowed, I 
 joined my regiment. Active service 
 made my late friends be to a degree 
 forgotten, but not so the ideas which 
 had arisen in their society. 
 
 " About three months after my re- 
 storation to health, I received a letter 
 from Lady Lawnley, in which she ex- 
 pressed herself extremely alarmed as to 
 the state of my uncle ; and her great
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 183 
 
 desire that I should obtain leave of 
 absence for a short time, as she could 
 not conceal that so precarious was be- 
 come Lord Lawnley's health, that if my 
 return home was delayed, it might be 
 too late. My attachment to my uncle 
 made me not hesitate a moment in re- 
 questing leave of absence, which our 
 recent successes made it not difficult to 
 obtain. I, however, simplified the fa- 
 vour as much as I possibly could, by 
 requesting only at the utmost one week 
 in England, for which moderation I had 
 a much more cogent reason than pleasing 
 the Commander-in-Chief. I now first 
 confessed to myself the decided change 
 my sentiments had undergone on the 
 subject of my marriage, since I lived in 
 Julia's family ; and I could not be de- 
 ceived as to the sickening sensation 
 which now crept through my veins, 
 when home, wives, mistresses, and love,
 
 184 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 were the topics of my companions' dis- 
 course. In remaining so short a time 
 in England, I hoped to avoid a fate 
 which I looked upon as inevitable as it 
 must be wretched. 
 
 " I was wrong in one of my calcu- 
 lations — on landing in England I heard 
 my regiment had been recalled, so that 
 my joining the army again was needless. 
 The state of my uncle's health, the heavy 
 atmosphere of England, and this last 
 blow, depressed my spirits to a degree 
 that I had hardly imagined possible. 
 At length I reached London, and found 
 myself at the door of a large house in 
 St. James's Square, which my uncle had 
 lately purchased, and then resided in for 
 the benefit of medical advice. 
 
 " Lady Lawnley's fears had not ex- 
 aggerated her husband 's case ; a very 
 short interview with her, and one glance 
 at the dreadful change which had taken
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 185 
 
 place in him, proclaimed truly the hope- 
 lessness of his state — information which 
 the physician but too plainly con- 
 firmed. 
 
 " With a body feeble, and worn 
 down to the utmost limit of life, Lord 
 Lawnley's mind partook in no de- 
 gree of the frailty of his frame ; it 
 seemed, on the contrary, rather to sup- 
 port than be supported. He conversed 
 with all his customary clearness and 
 sense ; and expressed himself to me 
 with even more than his former kind- 
 ness and affection ; and when he talked 
 of the satisfaction I had ever given 
 him, of the joy he felt at beholding me 
 again, of the pride my conduct abroad 
 had caused him to feel, and of the hap- 
 piness he experienced at knowing, that 
 when he was no more, I should be the 
 protector of his wife and child — when 
 such was his discourse, it seemed to me
 
 186 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 that the sacrifice of life itself would be 
 easy as a proof of my gratitude. Al- 
 ways at his bed-side, listening to words 
 which had ever possessed the most un- 
 bounded interest, as proceeding from his 
 lips, and which now fell with increased 
 influence, as the accents of him about 
 to rest in silence for ever, and in a 
 voice so faint as only to be heard when 
 bending close to his pillow, — at such 
 moments, is it strange that no recollec- 
 tion of those ideas which had accom- 
 panied me to the very threshold of the 
 house, ever passed my mind ? 
 
 " Enthusiastic gratitude, joined to 
 poignant grief at first witnessing that 
 which happeneth to all, and which time 
 and frequent repetition blunt the edge 
 of, almost to callousness — the death of a 
 friend — filled my entire soul. At such 
 a moment is it surprising that I re- 
 ceived from the dying Lord Lawnley
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 187 
 
 the hand of his daughter, and that any 
 sacrifice appeared light to procure the 
 ray of joy which darted from his closing 
 eye as he blessed me as his son. I 
 seemed transported from earth to hea- 
 ven; happy would it have been had I 
 been so before the arrival of that period 
 which, by softening my distress for my 
 uncle's loss, left me leisure to reflect 
 upon what I was — a husband ! 
 
 " Lord Lawnley's death put me into 
 possession of a large fortune, dearly 
 purchased. * It was time alone that 
 brought the truth ; at first grief and 
 business, to which I was totally unac- 
 customed, occupied my mind so entire- 
 ly that I had no leisure for other 
 thoughts. As my sorrow diminished, 
 and my capacity became more fitted for 
 the care and management of my affairs, 
 my vacant bosom's deadness to her who 
 was joined to me for life, her plain
 
 188 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 person, and weak understanding, began 
 to haunt me like a horrid dream, and 
 to render myself odious in my own 
 eyes : her looks, it was possible, I might 
 become accustomed to, for they were 
 merely ordinary features, as far removed 
 from positive ugliness as from beauty ; 
 but as to her mind, the case was hope- 
 less ! 
 
 " As long as possible for such an 
 excuse to have any meaning, the death 
 of my uncle was assigned as the reason 
 of my low spirits. I w^as glad to en- 
 courage such a delusion, but my heart 
 told me it was wrong. I became 
 morose, unsocial, and, at twenty, the 
 world speared a dreary blank. Men 
 were hateful to me ; I dreaded their 
 contempt for a marriage which could 
 only, in their eyes, be of the most sor- 
 did character. As to women, I dared 
 not think of them, and secretly resolved
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 189 
 
 to avoid their society. Strange as it 
 may seem, Lady Lavvnley evidently 
 understood and pitied me. She never 
 demanded my confidence, but would 
 gaze at me with so much mild ten- 
 derness, as proved it was not required, 
 and also proved that, though her lips 
 would never express aught against him 
 that was gone, her heart now, and pro- 
 bably ever had, rebelled against his 
 conduct as regarded myself. Her gen- 
 tle kindness if I was melancholy, her 
 anxiety if I was ill, and constant af- 
 fection, I could not be insensible to ; they 
 enabled me to exist the first six months 
 of my wedded life. 
 
 '* At length I escaped from my home 
 of splendid misery to the quarters of 
 my regiment. So completely were my 
 manners changed, that my companions 
 recognised me with difficulty ; but as I 
 was by good luck popular, and they
 
 190 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 good-natured, I was allowed to indulge 
 my wayward humours undisturbed. 
 
 Vavasour alone sought my confidence ; 
 he deserved, and obtained it. His kind- 
 ness and change of scene were of use to 
 my spirits ; but more than all a visit I 
 made to my sister Georgiana. This 
 sister, whom I had not seen for years, 
 I fondly loved, and constantly wrote to. 
 From motives of economy on the part 
 of my aunt — for my uncle's bounty had 
 never, even to the extent of a trifling 
 present, been extended to my sister — and 
 to be near some old friends of her's, 
 Georgiana and aunt Lucy resided in 
 Edinburgh, where, under the fostering 
 care of our dear old relative, my sister 
 grew into one of the most amiable, as 
 well as lovely of her sex. I cannot 
 describe to you the delight with which 
 I was received by my aunt and sister ; 
 the last threw herself into my arms.
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 191 
 
 without one suspicious feeling to check 
 the transports of her heart, that the man 
 could prove less amiable, less affection- 
 ate, than the boy, whose youthful atten- 
 tions had ever dwelt on her mind. Such 
 confidence was not misplaced, and how- 
 ever others may have taught her diffe- 
 rently, it was not from me she first 
 received the bitter lesson of hopes de- 
 ceived, 
 
 " A little tale of love was here dis- 
 closed to me, by my aunt, with down- 
 cast eyes and hesitating speech, as if she 
 herself were the heroine of the story; 
 but she feared my reprehension in per- 
 mitting Georgiana to form an engage- 
 ment with a youth, who, though unex- 
 ceptionable as to family^ was a younger 
 brother of not a very wealthy house, 
 and a little wild. But then Robert 
 Halliday was so handsome, so agreea- 
 ble, had known Georgiana so long, had
 
 192 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 loved her from the moment almost she 
 could speak ; and his parents, who were 
 the best friends she had in the world, 
 loved Georgiana as their child, and had 
 also given their consent to the engage- 
 ment. ' So, what could I do ?'. said aunt 
 Lucy, with almost tears in her eyes ; * I 
 could not well do otherwise than agree 
 to all the poor children asked.' 
 
 " No wonder my aunt expected to 
 find in me the hardened heart and 
 worldly mind; she could only judge 
 from my actions ; she did not see within, 
 feelings as warm, as tender, as little sor- 
 did as her own, or Georgiana's. Instead 
 of opposing, the case excited my warm- 
 est interest. The ample means I now 
 possessed, gave me the power to provide 
 them with a suitable income to marry 
 upon, which I immediately proposed to 
 Lord Halliday. My proposition was 
 not agreed to, from the erroneous idea
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 193 
 
 that early independence would be the 
 ruin of his son, and nourish every bad 
 propensity he had imbibed ; whilst 
 want of means, and fear of ultimately 
 losing Georgiana, would be his best 
 safeguard, till a £ew more years had 
 passed over, and brought steadiness and 
 discretion. Lord Halliday judged as 
 an honest man, not as a man of the 
 world. Of the world's ways, indeed, 
 he, from habit and inclination, knew 
 little. I felt he w^as wrong, both as 
 regarded my sister and his son ; but I 
 was in manner a stranger amongst them ; 
 I dared not oppose his wishes, and un- 
 willingly allowed the engagement to 
 continue. In the mean time I had the 
 happiness (the greatest my marriage 
 ever gave me) of bestowing such a for- 
 tune on Georgiana, as might have pro- 
 cured her the most splendid alliance, 
 had not her constant nature banished 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 19-i SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 every other idea from her heart but 
 him who had originally gained her 
 affections. 
 
 " On my return home, my aunt and 
 sister accompanied me. Lady Lawnley 
 received them in a manner to be highly 
 gratifying to me. To Georgiana — as who 
 would not? — she soon became fondlv 
 attached. The contrast between her and 
 her own unfortunate child in no manner 
 checked Lady Lawnley's kindness to my 
 sister. Lady JMary grew, however, fond 
 of Georgiana, and could not bear the 
 idea of her leaving her, and it was her 
 particular request that she might reside 
 always with us. Lady Lawnley added 
 her voice to the demand, to which I, in 
 part, lent a willing ear ; but only in part ; 
 Georgiana was not a plant to exist only 
 in that shade most congenial to Lady 
 INIary. I presented, therefore, aunt 
 Lucy with a house in London, where
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 195 
 
 she and my sister have ever resided part 
 of the year ; the rest Georgiana has al- 
 ways spent with Lady Lawnley, cheer- 
 ing her declining years, enlivening her 
 daughter, and, I must say, myself, when 
 my military duties allowed me to be at 
 home. 
 
 " And now — why do I write on ? 
 What more have I to say ? — that dread- 
 ful word Adieu ! Are we then never to 
 meet again ? Why did we ever meet 
 at all ? well can I say I have avoided 
 such as thee, such as all others would 
 seek — one in whom loveliness of person 
 is united with mind, manners, feeling and 
 education ; of whom, as long as I was 
 ignorant, I tried to believe men raved 
 when they talked ; and before whom, if 
 such existed, I dreaded the weakness of 
 my nature. But I was become of late 
 more careless, more bold. Those forms, 
 whose fair outsides promised every per- 
 
 K 2
 
 196 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 fection within, on nearer inspection 
 showed a very different aspect, and 
 their at first envied partners became 
 rather objects of pity ; for whilst /had 
 only to grieve over weakness of mind, 
 they had too often to lament depravity 
 of heart, which but too frequently 
 dwells in the richest casket. Such se- 
 curity became my ruin. We met; you 
 were lovely, but I was become harden- 
 ed to mere beauty of person, and, par- 
 don me for saying so, judging from 
 those 1 met you with, 1 did not think 
 I had aught to fear but from personal 
 attractions. I soon discovered my error 
 — I loved. Why then did I remain near 
 you ? — I have behaved infamously ; I 
 knew your feelings, and I knew my 
 own. Vavasour warned me to depart, 
 and yet I lingered. How, Geraldine, 
 can I ever obtain your forgiveness ? INIy 
 intention was not deception, but I
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 197 
 
 should have known, that purity such as 
 your's would never have encouraged 
 my intentions, had you imagined the 
 ties which bound me to another. Do 
 me this little justice: all I have ever 
 said, was not the result of premedita- 
 tion ; my heart has ever in speaking to 
 you, rushed to my lips, unguided by 
 my mind. Still, Geraldine, hear me ; I 
 must see you again — only once — neither 
 design nor accident will ever bring us 
 together in future. On quitting these 
 shores, I embark for Portugal ; and if 
 I survive the chances of war, England, 
 not Ireland, is the home to which I 
 return. I cannot come to your house, 
 where I should only be ushered into the 
 presence of your father, or Mrs. Hamil- 
 ton ; and if I saw you at all, only in 
 their presence, which it would be mi- 
 sery to endure — worse, indeed, than not 
 seeing you at all. Listen to me, there-
 
 198 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 fore : To-morrow evening I shall be on 
 the sea-shore, where we have so often 
 walked ; the place where I shall await 
 you will be the rocks on which we have 
 so frequently sat. Two hours I will re- 
 main there. There, and there alone, 
 will I receive your adieu, and, let me 
 hope, forgiveness. 
 
 " E. Stuart."
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 199 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 On a brilliant afternoon, towards the 
 latter end of September, a gallant vessel 
 appeared off the coast of Ireland, and 
 suddenly neglecting the fairest breeze 
 sailors were ever blessed with, slackened 
 sail within two miles of the shore, as 
 near as the rough nature of the coast 
 would allow them to approach, and a 
 boat with a select crew was ordered 
 out. 
 
 " Two hours I give you, Stuart," said 
 the commander of the ship, Captain 
 Morton; "and if the mighty Lords 
 knew of my delay in their service, a 
 precious rout they would make about
 
 200 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 it ; but, however, I promised to stay 
 my course for you, and on that con- 
 dition you are my passenger, and you 
 must promise me not to delay your re- 
 turn one moment after the signal gun is 
 fired. So, farewell ! good luck attend 
 you !" 
 
 " I give you my word of honour, I 
 will be in this ship as soon as it is possi- 
 ble after the signal is made ; on that 
 gloomy shore, there is one whom I must 
 see, happen what may." 
 
 "A woman! eh, Stuart? Well, I 
 wish you success, and if the fair one has 
 a mind to see foreign parts, I can stow 
 her with pleasure. Nay, do not shake 
 your head and look so solemn ; I think 
 she would be a very pleasant addition 
 to our society, which is very disinterest- 
 ed on my part, you must acknowledge." 
 
 Stuart faintly smiled, as he sprang
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 201 
 
 into the boat, and was quickly pulled 
 on shore by the nervous arms of his 
 companions. Morton watched their pro- 
 gress from the deck through his glass. 
 Stuart landed, and immediately with 
 hasty steps pursued the line of coast till 
 a turn in the shore and some rocks, 
 over which the waves broke, concealed 
 him from his view. 
 
 In due time the signal gun was fired ; 
 immediately afterwards the splashing of 
 oars was distinguishable, which sound 
 drew nearer and nearer, till their sud- 
 den silence, and the voices of the men 
 proclaimed the boat was at the ship's 
 side. In a few moments Morton's 
 cabin-door was hastily opened, and 
 Stuart stood before him — he looked 
 pale and agitated. 
 
 " Morton," he exclaimed, " we have 
 ever lived as friends ; once I had the 
 
 K 5
 
 202 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 good fortune to be serviceable to you : 
 can I claim, in return, a proof of friend- 
 ship from you ? I am not alone." 
 
 " The devil you are not ! Well, I 
 have no objection to your bringing any 
 one on board my ship ; a woman, too, 
 for such I presume she is, is always 
 welcome. There is only one, I pre- 
 sume? but, however, if you insisted 
 upon my receiving a whole seraglio, I 
 know not how I should refuse, when 
 I think of a certain obligation." 
 
 " Enough of that, my good fellow ; 
 it is only one passenger. She is on 
 the deck." 
 
 " Then the sooner I pay her my 
 devoirs, the better." 
 
 Captain Morton was a warm admirer 
 of beauty, and in the course of his 
 voyages had seen many a lovely face, 
 though of different complexions, fea- 
 tures, and climates ; but of all those.
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 203 
 
 whether dark or fair, cultivated or un- 
 cultivated, exalted or of low degree, 
 none ever struck him as so perfect in 
 form or face as she who now stood 
 before him. Her attitude was graceful 
 yet modest, as if shrinking from the 
 gaze of those around; but it was her 
 eyes, partly shaded by her raven hair, 
 that attracted chiefly his notice : in 
 them was an expression, beautiful as 
 they were, which excited other feelings 
 besides admiration — compassion ; for 
 the prevailing character of those lovely 
 orbs, as they wildly wandered over the 
 strange scene around, was despair ! 
 Morton would have spoken, but she 
 whom, after a pause of admiration, he 
 drew near to address, started backward 
 at his approach, then covering her face 
 with her hands, fell senseless at his feet. 
 Morton's acquaintance with women 
 was not confined to such as do honour
 
 ^04* SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 to their sex ; but from the models of 
 female excellence he had witnessed in 
 his own family, he knew such existed ; 
 and, next to beauty, virtue attracted 
 most his admiration. He possessed all 
 the high principles and gallantry common 
 to his profession, which feelings were 
 somewhat aroused by the heart-rending 
 scream of her whom he had just re- 
 ceived into his ship. He flew, even 
 before Stuart, to her support ; and as 
 lie held Geraldine (for, alas ! it was 
 her) in his arms, turned upon his friend 
 a look of indignation, and exclaimed, 
 ■with no little anger, 
 
 " Explain, Colonel Stuart, who this 
 w^oman is, and your reasons for bring- 
 ing her here. If you have torn her, 
 as I suspect, w^th rude hands from her 
 natural protectors, by the God above 
 us ! I will restore her. I^et the boat 
 be lowered ; I will not have my ship
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 205 
 
 the vehicle of dishonour, or contami- 
 nated by the presence of a broken- 
 hearted female and her seducer." 
 
 " Seducer !" and Stuart's eyes flashed 
 fire ; " at another time such a suppo- 
 sition should meet the only answer it 
 deserves ; but as it is for her sake, I 
 will bend to declare you judge most 
 wrongfully. And as to protectors ! poor 
 Geraldine ! would to God you had any 
 worthy of you ! then I should not 
 have been obliged to crave an asylum 
 for you from a man, in whose charac- 
 ter I have been most extremely de- 
 ceived, whilst imagining that from him 
 I w^as free from insult." 
 
 " Well, well," said Morton, a little 
 better satisfied, " I did not mean to 
 insult you, and my suppositions are 
 not very unreasonable ; but as it is, 
 the poor thing, however she came here, 
 does not seem likely to trouble us
 
 206 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 long; her pulse beats at a rate far 
 beyond calculation. Support her, there- 
 fore, whilst I summon the surgeon." 
 
 The ship surgeon, a cold, pompous, 
 little man, in whose practice a fainting 
 female had hardly ever before appeared, 
 looked astonished, and quietly pro- 
 nounced that the lady was dying. 
 Stuart uttered a scream of agony. The 
 surgeon, a little surprised by the in- 
 terest shown, examined his patient 
 more closely. 
 
 " Why, perhaps not actually dying ; 
 but little likely to live forty-eight 
 hours." 
 
 Stuart spoke not, but his look was 
 that of despair. Morton, softened by 
 his sorrow, forgot his anger; and 
 affecting gaiety, turned to the surgeon. 
 
 " You know, Williams, you are a 
 confounded croaker : you always pro- 
 nounce every body to be dying, to
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 207 
 
 enhance the merit of the cure. I 
 command you to let us have a proof 
 of your talents by bringing this lady 
 to life. You know I am sovereign here, 
 and must be obeyed. Summon all 
 your myrmidons and assistants ; exert 
 all the powers of your art ; I give 
 you my cabin to perform your rites 
 in ; but restore this fair lady you must. 
 I cannot have so pretty a creature 
 perish on board my ship." 
 
 Williams knew his Captain's humour. 
 
 " According to the articles-of-war. 
 Sir, obedience is my duty. I will do 
 my best ; but if I fail — " 
 
 " If you fail," interrupted Morton, " I 
 will have you brought to a court-martial 
 of all the pretty ladies in England ; and, 
 from such a tribunal, you would have no 
 chance of escaping with your life." 
 
 " JNIorton, for God's sake cease such 
 levity," said Stuart, in a supplicating
 
 208 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 tone; " if we are to remain on board, 
 may I convey Geraldine below ?" 
 
 " To be sure — And now I think of 
 it, there is that poor woman to whom 
 I gave a passage, let her be called." 
 
 A fresh -looking young woman now 
 appeared : she had been lately married 
 to a soldier of a regiment just embarked 
 for Portugal ; her lot was not cast with 
 those who followed the fortunes of their 
 husbands. Her distress and youth had 
 excited so much compassion, that it 
 reached Morton's ears, and he good-na- 
 turedly obtained the commanding officer 
 of the regiment's leave to give her a pas- 
 sage, his ship being under orders to join 
 the English fleet off Lisbon. AVith this 
 female's assistance, Stuart conveyed Ge- 
 raldine below, where Mr. Williams com- 
 menced his operations by taking a con- 
 siderable quantity of blood from the 
 arm of his patient ; the result was satis-
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 209 
 
 factory, as far as restoring life. Ge- 
 raldine opened her eyes and faintly 
 spoke, but her words were incoherent, 
 and evidently proclaimed a wandering 
 mind. She knew not where she was, 
 nor those around ; such a disorder Wil- 
 liams could do no more for than to ad- 
 minister a composing draught, under 
 the influence of which Geraldine soon 
 became tranquil, if not asleep. 
 
 The wind, which had been favourable 
 and fresh during the day, towards night 
 shifted, and became as contrary as it 
 was violent ; it increased until, in a few 
 hours, it blew a perfect hurricane ; and 
 though the break of day still found the 
 vessel stemming the waves gallantly, 
 yet, such was the force of the tempest, 
 that it seemed possible that the next 
 moment might find her engulfed in 
 the contest by her furious and power- 
 ful enemy. At such a time, that Ge-
 
 210 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 raldine and Stuart should be forgotten 
 was not surprising ; their own danger 
 was sufficient occupation for the Cap- 
 tain and his crew ; Geraldine's life or 
 death could be nothing to them — but 
 to one it was every thing. The tempest 
 raged around, and, in the pauses be- 
 tween each gust, voices of authority 
 were heard — the surgeon had aban- 
 doned his patient, to take measures, if 
 necessary, for his personal safety, and 
 to assist, or make a show of assisting, 
 in the management of the ship. Stuart, 
 with his hand fast locked in Geraldine's, 
 heeded not the danger they were in, 
 nor aught but her rapidly improving 
 pulse, and her gentle breathings, de- 
 noting a sound and unfeverish slumber. 
 His other companion, the poor woman 
 who had been summoned to attend upon 
 Geraldine, lay close to Stuart's feet.
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 211 
 
 frightened and trembling, uttering oc- 
 casional plaints, in which the name of 
 her husband was often heard, and the 
 sorrow he would feel if his poor wife 
 fell a victim to the waves. 
 
 Stuart tried to administer comfort to 
 her whenever the noise around allowed 
 his words to be heard : in which he also 
 had another inducement besides general 
 kindness ; he wished, if they escaped 
 the storm, to secure her good offices 
 for Geraldine during the remainder of 
 the voyage ; and therefore added a 
 promise, which is often better than 
 words — gold. This latter charm was, 
 however, long uncared for ; in the dreary 
 day which seemed only the precursor 
 of the night of death, gold could bear 
 little or no value ; but, as the day 
 sank, the storm seemed to abate its fury, 
 and gradually more worldly ideas arose,
 
 212 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 and it again resumed its acquired im- 
 portance : a poor baby, too, yet unborn, 
 flashing across the mother's mind, she 
 listened to Stuart's promises with in- 
 creased avidity, and professed her in- 
 tention of earning his kindness by un- 
 remitting attention to the object of his 
 anxiety. Geraldine was certainly better 
 — Mr. Williams, who at last bethought 
 him of his patient, gave hopes ; and 
 seeming desirous to make up by present 
 attention for past neglect, Stuart availed 
 himself of his offer to remain by her 
 side whilst he sought some repose. At 
 break of day, ascertaining that Geral- 
 dine's state was still favourable, he began 
 to consider the necessity of seeking his 
 friend, and making him the necessary ex- 
 planations for the intruder whom he had 
 brought into the ship. He found Mor- 
 ton on the deck ; in his look there was 
 much of anxiety, but more of resolu-
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 213 
 
 tion ; and that air of confidence which 
 lightened the bosoms of those beneath 
 him of half their cares. The wind 
 was sinking, but a violent swell con- 
 tinued. 
 
 On Stuart's appearance Morton ea- 
 gerly approached him. " Well," point- 
 ing to the ship, " you see how well my 
 fair lady has weathered the storm ; I 
 hope you can give me as good a report 
 of yours." 
 
 " She is much better. At vour lei- 
 sure, Morton, 1 have much to ex- 
 plain to you, much to ask your pardon 
 for." 
 
 " Pardon ! you need not ask my par- 
 don, and I hope not that of my fair 
 guest." 
 
 " Morton, you mistake." 
 
 " Well, well, I dare say I do, but I 
 have no time to stop and explain. If 
 all goes on favourably, meet me in an
 
 214 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 hour s time ; we will then breakfast 
 together, and talk over all your af- 
 fairs." 
 
 The friends shook hands and sepa- 
 rated. 
 
 It was both necessary and just that 
 Stuart should give Morton every expla- 
 nation regarding Geraldine which he 
 might require. After their breakfast 
 was concluded, he entered upon the sub- 
 ject of their acquaintance. Briefly nar- 
 rating what the reader is already ac- 
 quainted with, he came to the period of 
 his late interview with her. It appeared, 
 that when he landed he hastened to the 
 spot he had himself appointed ; Geral- 
 dine was not there, nor, after awaiting 
 nearly an hour, did she make her ap- 
 pearance. Impatient and alarmed for 
 fear she should not grant him the wish- 
 ed-for interview, he approached nearer 
 the house, and within a short distance
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 215 
 
 from it beheld, to his great pleasure, the 
 object of his search. 
 
 She did not appear, however, as if 
 she had any intention of meeting him : 
 she was seated beneath a tree, one hand 
 covering her eyes, whilst in the other 
 was carelessly held the packet which he 
 had sent her. 
 
 The sound of Stuart's voice aroused 
 her ; she started up, and uttering an 
 exclamation of delight, threw herself 
 forwards. Stuart caught her in his 
 arms, where, laying her head upon his 
 shoulder, she gave way to a violent pas- 
 sion of tears, which she indulged as 
 much from bodily weakness as feeling. 
 
 When Stuart landed, his only thought 
 had been to obtain Geraldine's pardon 
 for his offence in not openly confessing 
 his marriage, and perhaps to obtain her 
 consent to their correspondence. Such 
 was the extent of the gratification he
 
 216 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 proposed or expected from the visit ; 
 but when he saw her in his arms, heard 
 her convulsive sobs, and felt the throbs 
 of her beating heart, other thoughts 
 arose, nor was it difficult at that mo- 
 ment to obtain her consent to quitting 
 with and for him a home and country 
 she detested. Such was Stuart's his- 
 tory : for the reader's benefit we must 
 add a few words more. 
 
 Addison has observed, " Such is man's 
 unhappy condition, that though the 
 weakness of the heart has a prevailing 
 power over the strength of the head, 
 yet the strength of the head has but 
 small force against the weakness of the 
 heart ;" and in Geraldine's case, to men- 
 tal might be added bodily debility, 
 which for a time, a very, very short time, 
 obscured her better judgment and prin- 
 ciples. Hastening to the shore, sup- 
 ported by Stuart's arm, and in the boat
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 217 
 
 by his side, quitting a country wherein 
 she had wept so many bitter tears, and 
 spent so many wearisome hours, she 
 seemed lightened of all her cares, and 
 in her fevered brain happiness seemed 
 once more within her grasp. It was not 
 till she stood on the deck of a large 
 vessel, strange faces around her, and 
 stranger scenes, that a sudden convic- 
 tion of the madness of the step she had 
 taken rushed to her mind ; her fair 
 fame blasted, she was an outcast, an 
 alien, a creature to be shunned by the 
 good, and, tenfold greater degradation, 
 sought by the bad. Something, too, of 
 her brother, the scene before her brought 
 to her mind ; the thought was dreadful 
 — the blood seemed to freeze in her 
 veins, and when a stranger approached 
 to welcome her, with that light-hearted 
 smile which seemed assured of a good 
 reception, her feeble frame sank, and 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 218 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 the blood rushing towards her brain, 
 she fell senseless and almost deprived of 
 life. 
 
 After musing a little on the tale he 
 had heard, Morton inquired of Stuart 
 what were his intentions with regard 
 to Geraldine : " She cannot accompany 
 you to the army;" and he looked hard 
 at his friend. 
 
 "It is perfectly evident, from what has 
 taken place in this vessel, that Geraldine 
 merely threw herself into my power 
 when in a state of excitement or posi- 
 tive delirium. I trust I am not a man 
 to avail mvself of such a circumstance ; 
 and whatever thoughts may have arisen 
 when I saw her in my arms, they en- 
 tirely vanished on the discovery of her 
 afflicted condition." 
 
 " Would you restore her to her fa- 
 ther?" 
 
 '' Never."
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 219 
 
 " But if she desired it ?" 
 " She cannot desire it. That poor 
 girl who is now attending her has, pro- 
 bably, ties to attach her to her native 
 home, however sunk in poverty and 
 ignorance it may be, that the hapless 
 Geraldine does not possess. Her father 
 is coarse, selfish, and ignorant ; he loves 
 her not : his wife is a worse specimen 
 of himself." 
 
 " But her reputation?" said Morton. 
 " There is no one at Newtown Hamil- 
 ton to whom fair fame is particularly 
 dear : the neighbours are only a few 
 drunken, ignorant wretches, and with 
 those Hamilton is for ever at variance. 
 I never heard of a respectable visitor at 
 his table, and even the officers are now 
 no longer his guests: Geraldine's repu- 
 tation will therefore escape, as her tra- 
 ducers can only be her father and 
 mother-in-law ; and if they find any 
 
 L 2
 
 220 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 one to vent their feelings on, they 
 are too much disliked themselves to 
 be attended to." 
 
 " Well, well, all the better," answered 
 Morton cheerfully ; " she is a lovely 
 creature, and will make you a delicious 
 wife some day." 
 
 " You rave, Morton." 
 
 " Not a bit ; Lady Mary cannot live 
 for ever." 
 
 Stuart coloured. 
 
 " Morton, these are observations I 
 have never allowed : Lady Mary's life, 
 taking in the chances of war, is a much 
 better one than mine ; and even if such 
 was not the case, I detest any prospects 
 which have as their primary basis so 
 awful a circumstance as death." 
 
 " Well, then, I am very wrong to 
 count my old uncle's protracted days as 
 I do : I am always thinking what I 
 shall do when he dies ; but I will try to
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 221 
 
 follow your example in future, and not 
 fidget on the subject. This pretty cap- 
 tive, however, I must confess, might 
 put your virtue to a high trial : and I 
 am afraid, if I were you, I should be 
 obliged, as Charles Surface says, to 
 borrow a little morality. But, however, 
 it is the present, not the future, we 
 must discuss." 
 
 " I have been considering," said 
 Stuart, " the placing Geraldine in some 
 respectable family in Lisbon : I have 
 money to level most difficulties." 
 
 " That will never do," replied Mor- 
 ton ; " I have a much better scheme. 
 Listen ! I was in the Tagus just before 
 the French entered Lisbon, and was 
 enabled to show kindness to some nuns, 
 who, however, had been the original 
 benefactors. One of my sailors got into 
 some scrape on shore, and was left for 
 dead at their convent-gate; they took
 
 222 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 him in, dressed his wounds, and returned 
 him safe and sound to his ship. Their 
 humanity demanded my thanks and 
 future good offices; so, on the ap- 
 proach of the French, I took on board 
 my vessel their plate, and, what they 
 valued much more, a parcel of old relics 
 and rubbish, which, but for the store 
 they put upon them, would have been 
 just as well at the bottom of the sea. 
 In better times I returned to Lisbon, 
 restored my precious deposits, and am 
 adored by the old Abbess in consequence. 
 It is with her your Geraldine must be 
 placed : at this moment, anywhere else 
 but in a convent she would be subject 
 to everlasting annoyance and distress, 
 without a regular protector. We must 
 invent some history — a husband killed 
 at Trafalgar or Vimiera — or broken 
 health — change of air; in short, any- 
 thing you like, to secure her from the
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 223 
 
 gaze of man. The town is full of 
 soldiers and sailors, very good fellows in 
 their way, and chiefly our own country- 
 men. The Portuguese women are all 
 hideous and disagreeable, though they 
 have their soi-disant admirews both in 
 your and my profession : if, however, 
 a fair specimen of our island's beauty 
 does appear, it creates only a sensation 
 to be compared to the cry of the French 
 being at the walls ; she is followed, 
 talked over, and adored. Such incense 
 is all very well if she have a brother, 
 father, or husband to restrain it within 
 just bounds; but alone, without such 
 ties, as Miss Hamilton would be, it 
 would be far better to restore her at 
 once to the horrors of her father's 
 mansion." 
 
 Morton's scheme was highly pleasing 
 to Stuart ; they were shortly joined by 
 Williams, who gave a good account of
 
 224 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 his patient, and Stuart only awaited a 
 farther confirmation of her amendment, 
 to announce the arrangements which he 
 and Captain Morton had made, when 
 they reached their destination.
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 225 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Geraldine lived ; the tide of life 
 flowed once more freely in her veins, 
 and she rejoiced in her existence. Alas ! 
 why ? for what had she to live ? with- 
 out fortune, family, fame ! 
 
 " But who to dumb forgetfulness a prey 
 This pleasing, anxious being ere resign'd, 
 Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day, 
 Nor cast one longing lingering look behind?" 
 
 And for the " cheerful day" was all 
 Geraldine had to live, and that she yet 
 enjoyed its beams raised her heart in 
 humble gratitude to God. 
 
 She spoke little beyond a few words 
 of thanks to those around her, chiefly 
 
 L 5
 
 226 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 addressed to her female companion. To 
 Stuart she dared not raise her eyes, and 
 when IMorton visited her, the colour 
 flew to her pallid cheeks, as if in his pre- 
 sence the world's scorn seemed opened 
 upon her, and that his eyes, which in 
 truth beamed only compassion and ad- 
 miration, meant to level at her the re- 
 buke of the respectable and virtuous. 
 Of Stuart's countenance she knew no- 
 thing ; she dreaded equally its coldness 
 or affection. 
 
 One evening, after much solicitation, 
 Stuart made Geraldine exchange the 
 confinement of the cabin for the pure 
 air of the deck. The balmy breeze and 
 noble expanse of ocean seemed to reani- 
 mate Geraldine's feelings, and for the 
 first time since her entrance into the 
 vessel, did she voluntarily commence 
 any discourse with Stuart — it was only 
 on the splendour of the setting sun as
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 227 
 
 seen sinking in the ocean ; but it led 
 insensibly to other subjects, and to a 
 renewed freedom of conversation, so 
 that at length Stuart found the desired 
 opportunity of gently informing Ge- 
 raldine of his wishes and plan for her 
 establishment when they should reach 
 Lisbon. 
 
 How grateful did Stuart's words fall 
 on Geraldine's ear ! What a load of 
 dreadful surmise and anticipated evil did 
 it not remove from her heart ! She could 
 almost have found in her mind to fall on 
 her knees and thank him for his honour- 
 able conduct ; as it was, she could only 
 answer with her tears, and a faint but 
 earnest " God bless you for your kind- 
 ness !" A faint scruple at length arose as 
 to becoming a creature of bounty ; but 
 Colonel Stuart at this moment clearly 
 proved that she must submit ; and when 
 Geraldine hinted at gaining her liveli-
 
 228 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 hood by her talents, he as decidedly 
 proved that that must be a future con- 
 sideration. She had no desire to dispute 
 his advice ; his noble behaviour made 
 her happy in being indebted to him for 
 even the bread she ate, and, in the 
 warmth of her gratitude, she expressed 
 her feelings with an energy which made 
 Stuart almost regret that they were only 
 excited by a measure which would pro- 
 bably separate them for ever. How- 
 ever, he tried to console himself by the 
 conviction that she never could be his 
 but by the extinction of those ties which 
 Morton regarded as probable, and he ever 
 had considered as almost impossible. 
 
 After a tedious passage, which Ge- 
 raldine alone was unobservant of, the 
 shores of Portugal appeared in sight. 
 To all but her it was a view of delight ; 
 she concealed, however, any outward 
 demonstration of contrary feelings from
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 229 
 
 her companions; but within her heart 
 she acknowledged, that when she quitted 
 that ship she abandoned the only sem- 
 blance of home and friends the world 
 contained for her : the evil, however, 
 was unavoidable. 
 
 Stuart, an enthusiast in his profession, 
 scanned the interesting land before him 
 with rapture, and viewed the half-filled 
 sails with an impatience which as yet 
 the society of Geraldine had prevented 
 him from feeling. 
 
 Captain Morton had his own reasons 
 for rejoicing in the termination of the 
 voyage. It has been before observed he 
 was a great admirer of women, and it 
 need not be added, more particularly 
 of such as were handsome. Still, from 
 whatever cause arising, want of suffi- 
 cient sentiment or want of sufficient 
 time, his love for the sex had never pro- 
 duced any thing but a violent flame.
 
 230 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 fierce and evanescent, no sooner awaken- 
 ed than quenched. It was somewhat of 
 an unpleasant discovery which the leisure 
 of the voyage gave him an opportunity 
 of making, that there never was a wo- 
 man whose affections he would more 
 willingly obtain than those of his fair 
 passenger, or one whom each day in- 
 creased his feeling for, instead of sub- 
 duing, as had been the case in all his 
 former passions ; nor, considering the 
 peculiarity of their situations, with 
 whom the case was more hopeless and 
 dishonourable; for though he might 
 make her his wife, which Stuart could 
 not do, and place her at once far from 
 detraction and poverty, yet he was 
 assured Geraldine would never listen to 
 his proposals, and that they would only 
 deprive him for ever of her acquaint- 
 ance and of Stuart's friendship. To
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 231 
 
 conceal, therefore, his love was the busi- 
 ness of Morton's life, which, to a man 
 of a peculiarly open honest disposition, 
 was a task of no small difficulty ; more 
 especially in the constant society of her 
 whom he admired, and who, however 
 she might guard her feelings and ex- 
 pressions when talking to Stuart, with 
 his friend was under no similar restraint, 
 but poured forth with the most perfect 
 simplicity the genuine gratitude of her 
 heart, for the kindness she received on 
 board his ship; glad that in one instance 
 no other construction could be put upon 
 her sentiments than the true one. Mor- 
 ton too well understood her behaviour ; 
 but whilst it marked her indifference, it 
 was very far from producing the same 
 return from himself. It was therefore 
 with no small pleasure, as a conclusion 
 to the disquietudes he felt, that he
 
 232 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 found his frigate embraced within the 
 broad bosom of the Tagus, and Lisbon 
 in view. 
 
 What glorious days does not the idea 
 of Lisbon recall ! With that place 
 are connected all those events, now fast 
 fading from view, which should exist in 
 memory for ever ; should be engraven on 
 our hearts; should ornament our walls 
 in painting ; be the pride of our libra- 
 ries in history ; the topic of our dis- 
 course to our children ; the theme of 
 song ; the subject of theatrical represen- 
 tation ; in short, mixed up with every 
 concern of our lives, foreign or domestic, 
 grave or gay. Such should be the case ; 
 time was, that such would be the case ; 
 but as time is — how difiPerent ! — and the 
 selfishness, the levity of the age is in 
 nothing more strongly marked than in 
 the oblivion into which the glorious, 
 poetical, romantic Peninsular war has
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 23S 
 
 fallen. Amongst the many thousands 
 who landed at Lisbon, and from thence 
 never rested till they were encamped in 
 the fertile fields of France — amongst 
 those many thousands, did none survive 
 who can write?* Or, have French fop- 
 peries and fooleries so entirely perverted 
 their feelings, that they are ashamed to 
 have been the conquerors of so gay and 
 smart a nation, with such taste in their 
 dress and theatrical amusements — and 
 for lack of associating with whom, ex- 
 cepting in the way of war, we were all 
 become very moral and very dowdy ? 
 
 All was now bustle and agitation — 
 guns were fired, signals made, strange 
 voices heard ; all but Geraldine seemed 
 interested, if not happy ; and even she 
 
 * Colonel Napier's, and other works of a lighter 
 character, such as ' Anecdotes of the Peninsula,' 
 * Cyril Thornton,' &c. were not published when 
 this was written.
 
 234 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 forgot, for a time, her sorrows, as she 
 gazed on the lovely scene around her, 
 and felt, for the first time, the soft 
 balmy air of a southern clime. But the 
 air and the scene could not fill her mind 
 all the wearisome day, when deprived of 
 every other enjoyment, with no Stuart 
 or Morton to speak to ; for they, in- 
 stantly on casting anchor, had gone on 
 shore to fulfil each his separate duties. 
 The many hours of their absence were 
 painfully closed by the reappearance of 
 Morton alone. Stuart would return no 
 more — he had too much occupation for 
 the few hours he was yet to remain in 
 Lisbon. The following morning he was 
 to take the command of a small detach- 
 ment, consisting of recruits for different 
 regiments, who were to join immedi- 
 ately the main body of the army at 
 , about thirty leagues from Lisbon.
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 235 
 
 " I shall then see him no more," said 
 Geraldine, turning pale as death. 
 
 " Yes, you will," replied Morton, 
 quickly ; " Stuart is to meet us to-mor- 
 row as early as possible, and, under our 
 united escort, we are to convey you to 
 the convent you have already been in- 
 formed of. I have seen my friend the 
 Abbess. She is delighted at the idea 
 of having you for a boarder ; and, spite 
 of all her bigotry, we heretics are 
 at this time not to be despised in this 
 country ; particularly if, as in Stuart's 
 case, their private wealth is equal to 
 their public valour. You are to pass as 
 Madame Mortimer, an Irish lady, and 
 my distant relation, in bad health, and 
 recommended change of air by your 
 physicians." 
 
 Geraldine sighed heavily at the neces- 
 sity of so many falsehoods on her ac-
 
 236 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 count, and also grieved that Stuart's 
 bounty was an unavoidable weight of 
 gratitude, to add to the peculiarity of 
 her situation with regard to himself. 
 She thanked Morton, however, for his 
 kindness., 
 
 "When I am once within the con- 
 vent walls," said Geraldine, " the best 
 thing that can happen, would be for 
 you to forget all that has occurred on 
 board this ship, or that such a being as 
 myself exists in the world ; indeed, 
 I am only imagining a very possible 
 event. You will easily forget me, and 
 Colonel Stuart should do so, and pro- 
 bably will. The love of his profession, 
 
 and the conviction of his duty to 
 
 his wife, will obliterate every other 
 feeling." 
 
 "Do you speak to be contradicted?" 
 inquired Morton. " Of Stuart's feel- 
 ings you can judge as well as myself;
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 237 
 
 but of my own, I can only say, they are 
 such that no time or society can ever 
 render otherwise than they are now ; 
 and, till I meet your counterpart in per- 
 son and disposition, I shall run little 
 chance of ever forgetting the fairest 
 form I ever saw, and, in my estimation, 
 the sweetest mind." 
 
 Glaring as was the admiration con- 
 tained in this speech, it was lost on Ge- 
 raldine; she thought too lowly of her- 
 self and of her conduct to suspect Mor- 
 ton of being even her admirer, much 
 less lover. Again she thanked him, with 
 the utmost simplicity, for his kindness, 
 humanity, and friendship. His com- 
 pliments she entirely passed over — for 
 what she knew, they might be only the 
 common style of gallantry addressed by 
 all men to all women, not absolutely 
 plain. 
 
 The sun had not yet appeared above
 
 238 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 the horizon on the foUowmg morning, 
 when Morton and Geraldine were re- 
 ceived by Stuart on their landing. A 
 carriage was near, into which Geraldine 
 and her companions hastily mounted, 
 and proceeded at a tolerable quick pace, 
 considering the heavy vehicle and rough 
 pavement, through several streets ; no 
 words were spoken. They were at the 
 Convent-gate — in the large gloomy court 
 — the moment after in the presence 
 of the Abbess. A few minutes were 
 given to introduction and discourse, a 
 few" more to leave-taking — Stuart had 
 pressed Geraldine's hand for the last time 
 — the sound of his horse's hoofs died 
 on her ear as he galloped to overtake 
 his troops, already in the outskirts of 
 the town — he was gone — Morton was 
 gone — the v/orld seemed closed upon her 
 for ever.
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 239 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 It is to be hoped, that those into the 
 hands of whom these pages may fall, 
 will never have had reason to partici- 
 pate in Geraldine's feelings, when, on 
 her knees, she expressed her unbounded 
 sense of the mercy granted her, and 
 with all the eloquence which language 
 gave her the power to command, poured 
 forth in prayer her gratitude and praise ; 
 the boon obtained being a home, perhaps 
 for life, in a foreign convent; amidst 
 strangers, whose persuasion was no al- 
 lurement, and of whom she was ignorant, 
 both as to their persons and language ; 
 but whose retirement, and, to a certain
 
 240 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 degree, self-denial, she was equally bound 
 to share — far from her native land and 
 any natural friends, unknowing and 
 unknown ! Yet for such mercy Geral- 
 dine's heart overflowed with thanks- 
 giving, and, compared to many bitter 
 moments passed, she was happy. She had 
 escaped a most awful precipice — she was 
 pure — pure in the eyes of Heaven, and 
 as to the world's censure she was too 
 insignificant for its scrutiny — they might 
 judge as they liked. Though probably 
 never to see Stuart more, yet she was 
 certain of his affection ; it was no crime 
 to think of him ; common gratitude 
 should bring her benefactor hourly to 
 her thoughts, for was it not to him she 
 owed the food she ate, the clothes she 
 wore, and lastly the gift of an innocent 
 asylum with an innocent conscience ? 
 Excepting for the brief period when
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 241 
 
 visions of married bliss floated in Ge- 
 raldine's mind, and nearly broke her 
 heart when they dissolved in air, she 
 had known no such contented hours as 
 those she now enjoyed. Every thing 
 was in unison with her feelings and 
 romantic mind. The deep tone of the 
 bell summoning to prayer — the music 
 — the picturesque though coarse dresses 
 of the sisters — their simple diet — their 
 apparently unworldly minds, and the 
 tranquillity of their speech and move- 
 ments, inspired Geraldine with awe 
 and interest. As she wandered in the 
 convent garden, whose walls shut out 
 the sight of man, and whose lofty trees 
 almost excluded that of day, a tran- 
 quillity long unknown took possession 
 of her mind; another world occupied 
 her ideas more and more each hour ; and 
 for the years she had yet to pass in this, 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 242 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 that they should be spent where she 
 now was, became daily more her hope 
 and design. 
 
 The convent was not very large, nor 
 splendidly endowed ; its importance had 
 much diminished by the removal of the 
 Court and the misfortunes of the coun- 
 try ; still, compared to many other reli- 
 gious houses, its condition was rather 
 flourishing. One great source of its 
 revenue had of late sadly fallen off: the 
 disturbed times, and emigration of so 
 many noble families, had removed all 
 those females who had been with them 
 for their education as boarders ; and, 
 excepting a few, whose ultimate desti- 
 nation was the veil, Geraldine stood 
 alone in the convent, as in the world, 
 without ties; an isolated being, uncon- 
 nected with any around her. 
 
 Though she had confessed herself a
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 243 
 
 Protestant, yet, as an Irishwoman, the 
 good nuns were prone to judge leniently 
 of her heresy ; more particularly as Ge- 
 raldine acknowledged often attending the 
 Catholic chapel in Ireland, and was most 
 constant in her attendance upon church 
 service, though under the Popish form. 
 That she would soon embrace their 
 faith hardly any one doubted. The 
 next step was the veil ; a perspective 
 as pleasing to the more worldly part 
 of the community, as to the more 
 saintly. The large sum Stuart had 
 presented the convent with on Geral- 
 dine's arrival, had raised ideas of her 
 wealth and importance, which the di- 
 minished nature of their own funds and 
 consequence made a consideration not 
 to be overlooked, when the idea pre- 
 sented itself of her becoming one of the 
 sisterhood. 
 
 m2
 
 244 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 Public events had much relaxed the 
 once rigid discipline of the convent ; 
 and thouf]:h still some few of the more 
 austere recluses sought no advantage 
 from their now more freely opened 
 doors, nor from that source of so much 
 good or ill, more freel}^ indulged con- 
 versation ; yet the larger part of the 
 community regarded the subject in a 
 less suitable point of view, and indulged 
 freely, in their leisure moments, in spe- 
 culations as to the war now carrying on 
 in their country, in which the secular 
 names of Wellington, Beresford, &c. 
 &c. were as frequently brought forward, 
 as that of their most trusted patron 
 saint. 
 
 The French language vv^as very little 
 spoken, but Geraldine soon became a 
 proficient in the Portuguese and Spa- 
 nish. In embroidery, also, she became
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 245 
 
 sufficiently expert to assist the labours 
 of the nuns in their hours of relax- 
 ation, when they devoted themselves 
 to their needles for the benefit of 
 the poor ; for the money so acquired 
 was ever bestowed in charity, so that 
 no worldly motive actuated the only 
 amusement which lightened the mono- 
 tony of their lives. 
 
 The soft climate, the calmness of her 
 life, the kindness of her associates, all 
 combined to restore Geraldine to health ; 
 and at the very moment when serious 
 thoughts would often occupy her of 
 never quitting her present abode, her 
 beauty had never been so striking, so 
 fit to occupy a place in the world, and 
 command the homage of men. Tw^o 
 sources of distress Geraldine had : the 
 dangers of the profession Stuart was 
 embarked in ; and anxiety for her fa-
 
 246 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 ther and Miss Foster. How had her 
 absence affected them ? in what way 
 had it been considered ? was her mo- 
 tive known, her companion suspect- 
 ed ? She did not imagine her loss 
 would much distress her father ; but to 
 Miss Foster it would be great indeed, 
 and to write to her was a scheme that 
 often entered the mind of Geraldine. 
 It was still to be executed, when, after 
 six weeks' residence at Lisbon, a letter 
 was brought to her from Stuart. The 
 greater part consisted in the following 
 extract from a letter of an officer in 
 Stuart's former regiment, dated from the 
 neighbourhood of Newtown Hamilton. 
 
 "'I believe you were rather interest- 
 ed in Mr. Hamilton's pretty daughter, 
 Geraldine. About a week back she 
 vanished from her father's house ; no
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 247 
 
 traces have been discovered of her, be- 
 yond a bonnet and shawl found on the 
 banks of the river, with an incoherent 
 note addressed to Miss Foster. They 
 say Mr. Hamilton showed very little 
 feeling upon the occasion ; they all ap- 
 peared in black last Sunday at church, 
 and I dare say the father and his wife 
 will, long before their mourning fades, 
 have forgotten the being to whose me- 
 mory they originally clothed themselves 
 therein. Miss Foster is going to Dub- 
 lin to reside with a cousin lately married ; 
 the poor thing, they say, is wretched at 
 the loss of Miss Hamilton : which her 
 cousin hearing of, sent a most pressing 
 invitation to her, to change the scene, 
 and, to smooth all difficulties, made her 
 husband the bearer of the message, 
 with instructions to bring Miss Foster 
 back with him. She, therefore, poor
 
 248 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 thing, is released from the house of sla- 
 very which she has so long inhabited; 
 and I dare say, when better dressed, and 
 enlivened by kind treatment, may capti- 
 vate some retired tradesman or wealthy 
 attorney.' — Such," continued Colonel 
 Stuart, " are the details most interesting 
 to you in Dawson's letter. I hope now 
 your heart will be at rest as to those 
 you have left. I do not understand 
 whence has arisen the idea of your 
 death, but I trust you will agree with 
 me in thinking it a fortunate circum- 
 stance. It ever rests with yourself to 
 prove the contrary ; but that, under the 
 name of Mortimer, your life may be 
 happy, or at least free from pain, is the 
 most earnest prayer of one, who, as long 
 as he lives, will be your most devoted 
 friend, and who, at his death, will leave 
 you that to render you independent of 
 any Hamilton whatsoever.
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 249 
 
 " I heard by accident, a few days 
 back, of your brother; he was well, 
 and made Post mto a frigate in the Me- 
 diterranean. God bless you !" 
 
 This letter was full of interest to Ge- 
 raldine. The report of her death, whe- 
 ther propagated or believed by her 
 father, was equally inexplicable. If the 
 story of the note found by Miss Foster, 
 with her bonnet and shawl, had any 
 truth to support it, that truth could 
 only rest with Miss Foster. She must 
 have written the note, and placed her 
 shawl and bonnet by the river side, to 
 prevent others entertaining suspicions si- 
 milar to her own, which were probably 
 not far removed from the truth, and 
 which she wisely imagined, as far as the 
 world was concerned, were better con- 
 cealed, though the veil under which 
 they were hid was suicide. The cir- 
 
 M 5
 
 250 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 cumstance which delighted Geraldine 
 most in the letter, was Kitty Foster 
 having quitted Newtown Hamilton. 
 She remembered well having heard 
 frequent mention from her of a cou- 
 sin, who, by a sudden acquisition of 
 fortune, was enabled to marry a per- 
 son to whom she had long been attach- 
 ed : this she remembered, and that Miss 
 Foster's pleasure had been as unfeigned 
 as Mrs. Hamilton's ill-natured remarks 
 on the event ; for the latter lady hated 
 to hear of money which she had no 
 chance of touching ; and never partici- 
 pated in sorrow or happiness, uncon- 
 nected with self; indeed, the felicity of 
 others seemed as if drawn from her own 
 store ; and a marriage, which rendered a 
 very deserving young woman the hap- 
 piest in the world, was considered by 
 her amiable relative in the light of an 
 affront : the bride's bliss she had no
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 251 
 
 power to touch by word or deed ; but 
 her sister's she could, and did damp, by 
 every sour expression her acid dispo- 
 sition could command; and as, in that 
 respect, her vocabulary was any thing 
 but moderate, poor Kitty suffered for 
 her friend's felicity almost as much 
 misery as pleasure. 
 
 The paragraph in Stuart's letter, which 
 Geraldine regarded most, was that con- 
 cerning her brother : that brother she 
 so tenderly loved, and should never 
 meet again. Her most bitter feelings, 
 when she regarded the step she had 
 taken, arose from what her brother 
 might feel. Once she had thought of 
 confessing all, throwing herself on his 
 mercy and protection ; but there would 
 arise before her a certain air of austerity, 
 as well as authority, which his profes- 
 sion, if not his nature, had printed for- 
 cibly on Hamilton's handsome features ;
 
 252 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 and Stuart would talk to her of absence 
 slackening the bonds of relationship ; 
 that domestic ties were as nothing to 
 a man who had friends in every port, 
 whose home was the sea. Geraldine 
 believed not that her brother's love was 
 so unstable ; but she well knew, that 
 her love for him was founded on his 
 character for honour and rectitude, 
 which had strengthened the ties of 
 blood ; and which very character, were 
 her faults disclosed, would rise in judg- 
 ment against her. She might outlive 
 his affection, but never his sense of what 
 was to her credit or discredit: — happily 
 this last blow was spared him, and how- 
 ever strangely brought about, it was 
 evident that her death, not dishonour, 
 was what Hamilton had to lament. 
 
 Geraldine had spent nearly three 
 months in the convent, when one morn-
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 253 
 
 ing she was agreeably surprised by a 
 visit from Captain INIorton. A shade of 
 thought overhung his brow as he enter- 
 ed; but, on perceiving Geraldine, his 
 countenance cleared, and, forgetting the 
 object of his visit, he eagerly poured 
 forth his delight at seeing her again, and 
 in such improved health and beauty. 
 Geraldine laughed, but arrested the 
 progress of Morton's compliments, by 
 an inquiry if he knew any thing of 
 Colonel Stuart. Morton coloured, and 
 hesitatingly brought out a letter. 
 
 " Is it for me?" inquired Geraldine, 
 eagerly holding forth her hand. 
 
 " It is for you to read ; but first I 
 must explain — prepare — in short, my 
 dear Miss Hamilton, I have heard of 
 Stuart—" 
 
 " And why not from him ?" inquired 
 Geraldine, a suspicion of the truth dart- 
 ing across her mind.
 
 254 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 " He could not write himself: he is — " 
 
 "111! — wounded! — speak, for God's 
 sake, speak." 
 
 " That letter must tell you : he is 
 wounded — not dangerously. Do not 
 alarm yourself without reason : he will 
 do well ; I am sure he will." 
 
 The following were the contents of 
 the letter, which Geraldine's eyes, over- 
 flowing with tears, with difficulty per- 
 used. 
 
 " Dear Sir^ 
 " As Colonel Stuart's friend, I take 
 the liberty of addressing you. A slight 
 affair took place yesterday, previous to 
 the enemy evacuating the position they 
 have so long held. It was a gallant 
 skirmish ; the enemy were driven back ; 
 but not without some loss (chiefly tem- 
 porary) on our side. Colonel Stuart, I 
 am sorry to say, is very severely wound-
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 255 
 
 ed ; the ball has not yet been extracted. 
 He and his fellow-sufferers are left in 
 the quarters they lately occupied, the 
 rest of the army being in advance. 
 My object in writing this, is to beg of 
 you to find a man of the name of 
 Saunders, who came out in the last 
 packet from England, as valet to Colo- 
 nel Stuart, who is desirous at this mo- 
 ment to have his attendance. I en- 
 close you his direction, and hope you 
 will find some convenient method of 
 sending him as speedily as possible. I 
 
 understand a detachment of the 
 
 regiment have lately landed, and are 
 ordered immediately up; if they come 
 by water, nothing could be more easy 
 than for Saunders to be of the party, 
 with directions to the commanding officer 
 
 to land him at A , by which place 
 
 they must pass, and where the wounded 
 are left. Trusting to your kindness to
 
 256 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 arrange this affair as soon, and as con- 
 veniently as possible, 
 
 " I remain. Sir, &c. kc, 
 
 " John Anderson." 
 
 The letter fell from Geraldine's pow- 
 erless fingers, and covering her burning 
 cheeks with her hands, the tears fell 
 in torrents from her eyes. Morton 
 viewed her with compassion. 
 
 " Do not distress yourself so much, 
 my dear Miss Hamilton ; Stuart will do 
 well, I am assured ; you see his wound 
 is only called severe, not dangerous." 
 
 " I know not," answered Geraldine, 
 in broken accents, " how a severe wound 
 cannot be called dangerous ; a blast of 
 cold air, the least emotion, or most tri- 
 fling neglect, may, in one instant, con- 
 vert a case not absolutely dangerous 
 into utter hopelessness. If 1 could but 
 see him once again !"
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. ^57 
 
 " It is impossible." 
 
 ** Impossible indeed !" 
 
 " If I could possibly command twen- 
 ty-four hours, I would run down to him 
 myself; the place he is at, is no great 
 journey, going by water." 
 
 Geraldine started. " Indeed ! how 
 far ?" 
 
 ** The distance I am not assured of, 
 but, with fair breezes, I am well con- 
 vinced I could see Stuart, and yet not 
 be two nights absent from my vessel." 
 
 " Pray, pray then go," said Geraldine, 
 imploringly, " the sight of a friend will 
 give him new life." 
 
 " Such a friend as you !" 
 
 " As me ! could I, might I go to 
 him? I should only desire to stay a 
 very short time, that once more he 
 might know a friend was near, one 
 human being interested in his fate, who 
 would lift the glass of cold water to his
 
 258 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 parched lips, and perhaps^ O God! re- 
 ceive his parting sigh ; — but no, if a 
 friend were near, he would live, he 
 would be watched, soothed, and enli- 
 vened. We all know — our meanest 
 hospitals proclaim it, how much attention 
 and kindness contribute to a patient's 
 recovery ; but, with such aid as he may 
 obtain by chance, or at best by menial 
 hands, how is it possible? Let me, I 
 implore, accompany this Saunders." 
 
 " There would be nothing so very 
 dreadful in the undertaking, if you had 
 a female companion ; if Saunders were 
 a woman, the matter could be arranged 
 in an instant ; maybe he is not a very 
 stout fellow, and might not object to 
 putting on the garb of your sex for the 
 journey." 
 
 " Do not ridicule my foolish wish," 
 said the blushing Geraldine : " if you 
 cannot approve, do not mortify me by
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 259 
 
 laughing at what are bitter enough of 
 themselves, without additional pain — 
 the feelings of woman." 
 
 " Laugh at your feelings ! my dear 
 Miss Hamilton ; I honour and adore 
 them ; and, so far from wishing to com- 
 bat them, listen to my project, and I 
 am afraid even you yourself may be 
 surprised at the ease with which I enter 
 into your wishes. You must put on 
 man's attire, — this I could procure you ; 
 and you might accompany this Saun- 
 ders, as a friend of Stuart's, desirous to 
 visit him. You could have no fatigue, 
 performing the journey by water. The 
 detachment embark to-morrow morning; 
 with a fair breeze, I do not imagine you 
 would be twenty-four hours, perhaps 
 much less, but the exact distance I 
 know not. What say you ?" 
 
 Geraldine was silent. To become again 
 a wanderer ; to leave her present abode
 
 260 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 of peace in the garb of a man, without 
 protection or companion even, but a 
 hired domestic and a stranger, occa- 
 sioned a short conflict in her mind ; but 
 the decision was soon made ; Stuart's 
 danger counterbalanced all sense of per- 
 sonal inconvenience or feminine deli- 
 cacy. She took Morton's hand, and 
 faintly uttered her decision was taken. 
 
 " If I see him but once again, I shall 
 be happy, and, if my attention can assist 
 his recovery, how grateful shall I be, 
 how well rewarded for any inconve- 
 nience, or even annoyance, the reaching 
 him might occasion me !" 
 
 " Would that Stuart could reward 
 you in the only way you deserve, and 
 that he desires !" 
 
 " Name it not," said Geraldine, pene- 
 trating his meaning; " I am not worthy 
 to be his wife, or that of any honest 
 man. When he is restored to health,
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 261 
 
 if it be God's will he recover, I must 
 see him no more — these walls must se- 
 parate us for ever." 
 
 JNIorton departed ; something of doubt 
 as to the assistance he ought or could 
 give Geraldine in her journey, seemed 
 latterly to arise. He promised to write 
 to her that evening, when his decision, 
 as to the practicability of her project 
 was made, on which its execution, of 
 course, depended, Geraldine was oblig- 
 ed to be content ; for the attempting to 
 leave Lisbon, without Morton's assist- 
 ance, was far too wild a scheme for her to 
 entertain for a moment. In the retire- 
 ment of her own apartment, she com- 
 menced what little preparations she 
 could make for her journey, with an 
 alacrity which showed how much she 
 trusted in Morton's judgment being in 
 the end favourable to her desire. Her 
 preparations had long been made, and
 
 262 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 the convent-bell had proclaimed many 
 a passing hour before that judgment 
 was ascertained ; and when, at length, 
 a note was put into her hands, it was 
 some time before she had courage to 
 open it, fearful that it should crush 
 those hopes, which enabled her to 
 support, with tolerable composure, the 
 knowledge of Colonel Stuart's danger. 
 With the note was a large parcel ; it 
 contained the following : 
 
 " To-MORRow morning, at four of 
 the clock, I shall be ready to convey 
 you from your present abode to the 
 place of embarkation. You must be 
 dressed in the man's attire I send with 
 this ; it is such as I thought most 
 adapted for you to wear ; but, to avoid 
 the observation of the good sisters, I 
 need hardly mention to you, that you 
 must put over all a gown or pelisse
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 263 
 
 of your own, which can be easily cast 
 off when outside the walls, or in the 
 carriage, on the road to the river-side. 
 
 " You will find no military officer 
 in the boat which awaits you ; only 
 a lad, who commands the sailors, and 
 whom I have informed of the addi- 
 tion to his passengers; naming you 
 as a Portuguese, an acquaintance of 
 mine and Stuart's, whom you were de- 
 sirous to visit in his present wounded 
 state. 
 
 " Yours, 
 
 " F. Morton." 
 
 The dress contained in the parcel 
 was a common man's attire, to which 
 was added a large Spanish cloak, in 
 which her figure could be completely 
 enveloped, and a Spanish hat, as effec- 
 tual a screen to her face. After care- 
 fully examining and securely locking
 
 264 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 up these precious means of insuring her 
 reaching Stuart, she repaired to the 
 Lady Abbess, to inform her of the 
 necessity she was under of quitting her 
 present abode for a few days, on a 
 visit to a friend, but humbly hoped 
 such an absence would not render her 
 return the less desirable or convenient. 
 The Abbess answered, as politeness dic- 
 tated: Mrs. Mortimer was her own 
 mistress, to go and come as pleased 
 her best: she added, however, some 
 advice as to the dangers of the world, 
 particularly to one so weakly grounded 
 in the true faith ; but she prayed she 
 might see the errors of her ways, which 
 the blessed Virgin's power could point 
 out in the world as well as in the cloister. 
 From lack of curiosity or indifference, 
 the good lady niade no inquiry as to 
 the name of Geraldine's friend; they 
 parted, therefore, with the utmost cor-
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE, 265 
 
 diality, never, as it proved, to meet 
 again. Had Geraldine been aware that 
 such was the case, she could hardly have 
 quitted her pious companions and their 
 peaceful walls, without a sigh ; but, 
 whether Stuart lived or died^ in Geral- 
 dine's mind no doubt ever arose but 
 that her only place of refuge in the 
 world was the convent. 
 
 Long before the hour appointed, Ge- 
 raldine was ready for Morton's arrival ; 
 and when the lay-sister, who acted as 
 servant, announced that he was there, 
 she had only to slip a gratuity, as a 
 reward for her past services, into her 
 informer's hand, and descend the stairs. 
 At the door was Morton, the carriage 
 was in waiting, and by exactly the 
 same uncertain light in which she had 
 entered Lisbon, she left it, without 
 more knowledge of the place and its 
 inhabitants than the acquaintance of a 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 266 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 few old nuns and their recluse abode 
 had given her. 
 
 Morton told Geraldine he had given 
 Saunders to understand that she was 
 a young friend of Colonel Stuart's, who 
 had resided many years in Portugal, 
 and who, being in indifferent health, 
 was glad to change the air by visiting 
 
 A , as well as by that means to 
 
 see his friend. " To the officer who 
 commands," he continued, " I told 
 nearly the same story : to him, if he 
 addresses you, you must be extremely 
 humble ; with this Saunders, and others, 
 you may be as haughty as you please ; 
 but the scion of authority must have his 
 full share of consequence from your 
 hands, or he may bore you considerably 
 by his impertinence." 
 
 " My only object," said Geraldine, 
 '^ will be to attract as little notice as 
 possible ; and I trust that the noble man- 
 ner in which you have facilitated wishes
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 267 
 
 that many would have deemed absurd, 
 and too troublesome to be complied 
 with, will not be rendered abortive by 
 any folly, or want of circumspection 
 on my part." 
 
 " Never fear ; you have good wit, 
 and good judgment. Your journey is 
 only for one day, and I have overheard 
 on whom you put your trust : the thin 
 partition of our cabins, on board my 
 ship, betrayed that secret to me. Con- 
 tinue such prayers, and you will need 
 no other friend than Him, whose power 
 the worst must at times acknowledge, 
 however at variance their lives may ap- 
 parently be to such a confession." 
 
 The genuine kindness of this speech 
 brought tears into Geraldine's eyes. 
 
 " Nay, you must not cry ; that is 
 against all wisdom : be as gentle as you 
 please ; but out of respect to the dress 
 you wear, T implore, no tears." 
 
 N 2
 
 268 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 After a moment's pause, Morton con- 
 tinued, as if speaking his thoughts 
 aloud — " Some people would call me 
 mad, to be letting this poor thing 
 loose on the wide world ; but in some 
 cases I know not how to act — I can 
 weather a storm, and fight a ship twice 
 my size ; but the devil take me, 
 if inland cases do not puzzle me con- 
 foundedly. There is poor Stuart, sick 
 and wounded ; God only knows how 
 severely. Could I, in common charity, 
 keep from him a fair creature, who lias 
 no other friend in the wide world but 
 him : who is more fit to be his nurse, 
 than any other creature living ; and 
 v/hose kind heart would break, if she 
 did not join him ? Yet the benevolent 
 world would talk of his being married, 
 and she young and handsome ; and of 
 propriety, and what not. Well, let 
 them talk."
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 269 
 
 Then turning more decidedly to Ge- 
 raldine, he said, " You must write to 
 
 me when you reach A . If the 
 
 wind does not serve, I shall, of course, 
 continue at Lisbon ; but a letter, at all 
 events, will follow me. Here we are. 
 There is the boat you are to go in ; it is 
 the least ; but that secured your having 
 the fewest companions. The military 
 officers are together in that vessel, which 
 I perceive is already under weigh ; there 
 is no time to be lost." 
 
 The carriage stopped ; Geraldine was 
 hurried from it by Morton ; the boat 
 waited only for her ; witli her friend's 
 assistance she sprang into it, and, seat- 
 ing herself by the important Saunders, 
 was in an instant pushed from the shore, 
 and skimming gaily along the broad ex- 
 panse of the Tag us. 
 
 Geraldine's companion, Mr. Saunders, 
 was the exact representative of his whole
 
 270 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 tribe — an invariable com plainer about 
 trifles ; but yet, in matters of moment, 
 not averse to exertion ; always in alarm 
 for fear of compromising his own dig- 
 nity and that of his caste, by being 
 too willing, too good-tempered, too ac- 
 commodating ; and so, from principle, 
 idle and sulky, when, in his heart, he 
 longed for employment, and knew per- 
 fectly that with nothing to do, he was 
 the most wretched man in existence ;, 
 and that when sulky, he only punished 
 himself, or at best his companions in 
 the steward's-room. Still he was staunch 
 to his trade and tribe, and therefore 
 Geraldine had no complaint to make of 
 his forwardness, as during the whole 
 journey he rarely opened his lips ; and 
 was in his heart of hearts calculating 
 how he was to draw from his new mas- 
 ter his travelling expenses for a voyage 
 which cost him nothing; how he was
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 271 
 
 to enhance the merit of leaving Eng- 
 land to attend him, till the Colonel 
 would imagine no remuneration suffi- 
 cient for the favour of his services. 
 With regard to his companion, he had 
 evidently but one course to pursue, to 
 repel all familiarity from a being so evi- 
 dently inferior to himself as a gentle- 
 man without an attendant, such being 
 precisely nobody in the estimation of a 
 gentleman's gentleman. 
 
 The boat made rapid progress, and 
 evening closed upon a lovely day, and 
 gave place to one of those brilliant 
 southern nights, which, to one used to 
 our northern clime, seems almost a fore- 
 taste of heaven. The morning dawned on 
 the fairest landscape which had ever met 
 Geraldine's eyes ; and as she gazed at the 
 lovely scene around, a boatman pointed 
 out a distant convent, which, as he said, 
 overhung the town of A . A turn
 
 272 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 in the river soon brought the convent 
 much plainer to view, and in a short 
 time, the whole town was in sight, and in 
 a few more minutes, the boat was pulled 
 on shore. Saunders and Geraldine land- 
 ed imuiediately ; their late companions 
 pushed away from the shore, and hasten- 
 ed to rejoin their fellow -vessels, now 
 somewhat in advance. Geraldine keeping 
 Saunders ever in view, moved upwards 
 into the town. To a fine, athletic-look- 
 ing man, whose countenance of recent 
 suiFerings strongly contrasted with the 
 mould in which his upright figure and 
 well-knit limbs were cast, Saunders ad- 
 dressed himself, with inquiries as to 
 Colonel Stuart's quarters. The soldier 
 offered to be his guide; he preceded, 
 Saunders followed, and Geraldine timid- 
 ly brought up the rear, very doubtful 
 whether her companion had the slight- 
 est knowledge of her being under his 
 guidance.
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 273 
 
 The house in which the English had 
 found asylum, had once possessed im- 
 portance as the residence of a nobleman 
 of power and wealth ; but its splendour 
 had vanished with its owner, who hav- 
 ing from principle or self-interest sided 
 with the invaders of his country, was 
 obliged to share the reverse of fortune 
 which they soon experienced at the 
 hands of the English armies, then first 
 opening into greatness in the Peninsula 
 — he was consequently an exile, his 
 name held in opprobrium, his revenues 
 expended by others, and his once splen-^ 
 did palace a desert, unless, as now, the 
 temporary abode, or rather hospital of 
 strangers. Still, abandoned as it was, 
 marks of better and brilliant days re- 
 mained: the open court in which stood 
 a beautiful fountain— the fragrant though 
 unheeded plants ; silk hangings, mirrors 
 and marble were in every room, whilst 
 
 N 5
 
 274 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 a suite of apartments occupied by the 
 English, opened on a broad terrace walk 
 overhanging the Tagus, and ornamented 
 by statues and vases which a fairer 
 clime than even that they now dwelt 
 under, had seen the creation of, by 
 hands long since mouldering in dust, 
 lea vino; in their monuments records of 
 talent which their descendants have no 
 power to equal. 
 
 Into one of the apartments of this 
 suite Geraldine was ushered with Saun- 
 ders, where, at a small table, two gentle- 
 men were seated, occupied by a game 
 of chess. The one, a stout, hard-featur- 
 ed, grave man, of middle age, his arm 
 suspended in a sling, was a person of 
 too little curiosity, or too fond of his 
 game, to notice even slightly the en- 
 trance of the strangers ; — his companion 
 was of a different mould of the same 
 species. He was slightly made, spruce-
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 275 
 
 ly dressed, radiant with health ; and, 
 whilst his companion was raising his 
 ponderous arm, and opening his gaunt 
 fingers over the devoted head of a 
 knight he meditated taking captive, 
 had glanced his keen eye upon the 
 persons of the new-comers, and had 
 formed his own conclusion as to who 
 they were. The servant who ushered 
 them into the room retired; Mr. An- 
 derson, for such was the name of the 
 more animated of the two chess-players, 
 rose to take a nearer survey of the 
 strangers, — particularly that one, who, 
 enveloped in a cloak, hung timidly be- 
 hind him, who, to all appearance, could 
 be no other than the expected valet of 
 Colonel Stuart. 
 
 " Saunders, I presume," said Mr. An- 
 derson, " is your name. Sir ; and pray 
 who may you be?" turning his full eye 
 upon Geraldine.
 
 276 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 " Sir, my name is Mortimer ; I am a 
 friend of Colonel Stuart's ;" answered so 
 truly a feminine voice, as to raise a com- 
 passionate smile on the features of An- 
 derson. 
 
 " A friend of Colonel Stuart's ; and 
 pray of what sex ?" 
 
 At that moment to have found her- 
 self again immured in Newtown Hamil- 
 ton, or in the convent cell never to 
 leave it more, would have been an al- 
 ternative to rejoice at, in Geraldine's 
 mind, so that it screened her from the 
 glance which shot from Anderson's eye 
 as he spoke. 
 
 Her pale cheek became of the hue 
 of the damask rose, but she mildly re- 
 plied : " My dress, Sir, I imagine, can 
 best answer that question." 
 
 " Gentlemen are not in the habit of 
 keeping their hats on, even in the com- 
 pany of their own sex, if such are 
 
 I
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 277 
 
 strangers," answered Anderson, coolly 
 regarding that of Geraldine, which from 
 ignorance, as well as a desire to conceal 
 her face as much as possible, she had 
 neglected to take oif. 
 
 The reproof renewed Geraldine's 
 blushes, but she took her hat from 
 her head with an apology for her for- 
 getful n ess. The surgeon, for such was 
 Mr. Anderson, regarded her for a mo- 
 ment : her dark hair falling round her 
 very handsome face left no farther doubt 
 in his mind as to her sex, but he made 
 no remark ; advising, therefore, the young 
 gentleman to sit down, he rang for a ser- 
 vant to conduct Saunders to the offices, 
 and himself departed to acquaint Colonel 
 Stuart with the addition to their forces. 
 
 Geraldine was left alone with the 
 invalid officer, who, seeing his game 
 not likely to be concluded, lighted the 
 solace to all his cares, a cigar, and
 
 278 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 devoted himself to it and his own 
 thoughts, apparently unconscious of any 
 one else being in the room. At the 
 conclusion of his second cigar, however, 
 he gave symptoms of a desire to com- 
 municate, and consciousness of another 
 person being present ; and after several 
 hems, grunts, and other less agreeable 
 and more unseemly modes of clearing 
 his utterance, he inquired, in a rough 
 tone, " What news there was in Lis- 
 bon ? Had the projected change in 
 the Regency taken place?" Geraldine 
 being perfectly unconscious of any 
 change, or of any event without the 
 sacred walls she had long dwelt within 
 — acknowledged her incapacity to grant 
 the information required. The officer 
 frowned, resumed his cigar, and spoke 
 no more. A servant, with refreshments, 
 was the next interruption ; then fol- 
 lowed Mr. Anderson.
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 279 
 
 Again was Geraldine obliged to un- 
 dergo the keen scrutiny of his eye, 
 which left little doubt in her mind 
 that her secret, if not discovered, was 
 suspected ; and then ensued the bitter 
 reflection, if, such being the case, the 
 reception Stuart would give her would 
 be sufficiently satisfactory to counter- 
 balance the contemptuous curiosity of 
 others ; and whether his influence or 
 health would allow him to secure her 
 from what was far worse, their atten- 
 tion or familiarity. Anderson spoke 
 politely, however : he told her Colonel 
 Stuart was desirous to see her ; but 
 advised first some refreshment. 
 
 " A glass of wine, I recommend," he 
 continued, pouring one out, and hold- 
 ing it to lips from which all colour was 
 fled ; " your journey has fatigued you 
 sadly." 
 
 Geraldine in a few minutes was suffi-
 
 280 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 ciently recovered to attend Anderson, 
 who, judging her interview with Colo- 
 nel Stuart needed not his presence, con- 
 ducted her to his door, when, throwing 
 it open, and announcing her name, he 
 retired to his game at chess. 
 
 Geraldine stood alone in the presence 
 of him for whom she was a homeless 
 wanderer ; for whom she had abandoned 
 the outward modesty of her sex ; for 
 whom she was without name, country, 
 relation, or friend. 
 
 " Do you know me ?" she said, in 
 a low voice, not moving from the door 
 just closed upon her. 
 
 " Geraldine ! my dearest Geraldine ! 
 My heart, then, told me true. I knew 
 no other but you would seek me in 
 sickness and solitude." 
 
 " Do you despise, hate me — does 
 the dress I wear excite pity, anger, 
 or derision? Does my visit forfeit
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 281 
 
 your respect — cause your contempt in- 
 stead of thanks ? Oh ! Stuart," and 
 Geraldine drew nearer the couch on 
 which he reclined, " consider me as your 
 sister, your nurse — regard me in any 
 way that shall entitle me to your gentle 
 kindness, your brotherly protection, and 
 your pity ; but do not, in mercy, up- 
 braid me for my boldness and inde- 
 corum." 
 
 " Upbraid you, Geraldine ! " and Stu- 
 art*s languid eyes were once more bril- 
 liant from intelligence. 
 
 *' Listen to me," continued Geral- 
 dine : " do not upbraid me now, or at 
 any future period ; and banish from 
 your heart, voice, and looks, every 
 thought which would combine my 
 action with any other feeling than 
 mere humanity and gratitude.'' As 
 she spoke, she sank on her knees at 
 the foot of the sofa, and covering her
 
 282 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 face with her hands, wept aloud. Her 
 tears fell, and her convulsive sobs 
 caused far more pain to Stuart than 
 his wounds had ever given him ; but 
 to Geraldine they brought relief, and 
 she suffered the less from her feelings 
 having vent. Stuart's feeble, but well- 
 known and beloved voice, still found 
 a passage to her heart ; and his words 
 were all she desired, all she hoped 
 for, yet trembled when she expect- 
 ed — they breathed entirely the soul of 
 honour, manliness, and friendship, min- 
 gled with unbounded thankfulness, gra- 
 titude, and respect ; and so sacred did 
 he consider the proof Geraldine had 
 given him of her attachment, that he 
 softly breathed in her ear a promise 
 that the word love should never pass 
 his lips, till he was free, if freedom he 
 ever gained, from those ties which 
 now bound him to another.
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 283 
 
 Geraldine smiled even in her tears, 
 as the words of Stuart gained her ear ; 
 and rising, she drew a chair near her 
 friend, and, for a few moments, silence 
 ensued ; but they had too much to im- 
 part for its long continuance — the his- 
 tory of Stuart's wounds must be told to 
 Geraldine, who, in her turn, had to im- 
 part the history of her journey, and how 
 assisted by Morton's kindness. When 
 Stuart spoke of his wounds, Geraldine's 
 heart sickened ; but he was now better, 
 though feeble, and spoke with his cus- 
 tomary animation, of joining his regi- 
 ment in ten days. Geraldine started : 
 for a moment a jealous pang shot across 
 her heart ; and she hated that absorb- 
 ing love of glory, which made the mo- 
 ment of her probable desertion, even 
 at the instant when her charitable visit 
 should alone have occupied his mind 
 — as one to be anticipated with delight
 
 284 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 and satisfaction, though the consequence 
 must be their separation : the pang was, 
 however, momentary, and was entirely 
 subdued, when Stuart, as if reading her 
 thoughts, uttered with a faint smile, 
 and as faint a voice, 
 
 " I could not love thee, dear, so much, 
 Loved I not honour more." 
 
 Geraldine smiled ; but the word love 
 was to be banished from their discourse, 
 so she eagerly entered into conversation 
 concerning her present plans. 
 
 Stuart warmly insisted upon her re- 
 suming the dress of her sex, and tak- 
 ing up her abode in the house as his 
 relation. *' You need not hesitate, 
 Geraldine ; there are here no curious 
 eyes, no impertinent tongues ; sickness, 
 the cause of this house having inhabit- 
 ants at all, is an engrossing occupa- 
 tion ; and even if it w^ere not, mili- 
 tary discipline renders my conduct as
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 285 
 
 chief here, and consequently yours as 
 my guest, impervious to all remark or 
 regard." 
 
 " I would rather have the free than 
 compulsive good opinion of the world." 
 
 " Of the world, most assuredly — but 
 there is no world here — and still I am 
 sick and wounded ; I cannot move 
 without assistance ; I have no society, 
 no friend ; and, if the sanction of the 
 world were obliged to be obtained to 
 grant you permission to remain as my 
 guest, it must be more hard-hearted 
 than ever I have found it, if such a 
 favour were refused for perhaps only 
 one little week; after which, God 
 knows if we are ever to meet again." 
 
 " God indeed knows," sighed Ge- 
 raldine. 
 
 " Of the inmates of this house," con- 
 tinued Stuart, " an elderly officer will 
 join his regiment to-morrow, and with
 
 286 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 him depart all the privates who are 
 effective ; there will then remain two 
 or three soldiers, a poor youth far 
 too ill to have any concern beyond his 
 own sick room, and Anderson, who, 
 I will confess, has eyes and ears enough 
 for all the world, but whom, neverthe- 
 less, being but one body, I can trust : 
 his situation in the army he owes to 
 me, very possibly his future advance- 
 ment ; therefore I shall demand of him 
 three things; first, a female dress for 
 you — secondly, the most agreeable apart- 
 ment in the house for your occupation 
 — and, thirdly, that he should be blind, 
 deaf, and dumb, as regards yourself at 
 this moment, and at every future pe- 
 riod of his life. But here comes the 
 man in question." 
 
 Mr. Anderson entered, and again did 
 Geraldine's dark eyes cower beneath 
 the gaze of his grey ones ; and, had
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 287 
 
 she known where to have gone, she 
 would gladly have left the room. 
 
 Stuart shortly explained what Mr. 
 Anderson needed not to be informed 
 of, that the masculine garb was merely 
 for temporary convenience on the jour- 
 ney, and he begged him to put all the 
 milliners and dress-makers the town 
 afforded into requisition for Mrs. Mor- 
 timer's proper equipment in the dress 
 of her sex. Mr. Anderson bowed and 
 smiled, promised obedience, and sum- 
 moned an elderly female, who acted as 
 housekeeper in the palace, to convey 
 Geraldine into the apartments, that she 
 might choose the one most agreeable 
 to herself.
 
 288 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 CHAPTER XIL 
 
 Whatever my prudish readers may 
 expect, I am bound to acknowledge 
 that bodily fatigue was the only un- 
 pleasant conviction the leisure of her 
 own apartment brought to Geraldine's 
 mind. Her female fears had so far 
 outrun her female hopes, that, on ar- 
 riving at A , to find Stuart alive 
 
 was the extent of the good fortune she 
 dared to expect ; but his danger was 
 past, his recovery certain, and yet not 
 advancing so rapidly as to make him 
 spurn attention and groan at confine- 
 ment. Then, though she knew his no-
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 289 
 
 ble nature, even the noblest may for 
 once forget their principles, or think 
 them uncalled for when such a proof 
 of devoted attachment was before them 
 from one of another sex, and one too 
 who was amenable to no earthly friend 
 or tribunal for her actions, and, whe- 
 ther they were good or bad, rested 
 solely between herself and her con- 
 science; — but Stuart had by no glance, 
 or word, let such feelings betray them- 
 selves, even if they dwelt in his heart. 
 He was very kind, tender, gentle ; but 
 it was the kindness, tenderness, gen- 
 tleness of a brother ; and the gratitude 
 he expressed for her visit, the delight he 
 acknowledged, were all shown as from 
 friend to friend. When the word impru- 
 dence stole from Geraldine's lips, Stuart 
 laughed ; and there was that in his 
 open manly smile which gave her more 
 
 VOL, I. o
 
 290 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 faith in his protection than scores of 
 oaths and protestations from others 
 would have done. 
 
 Anderson alone filled her with dread ; 
 his free manners and freer glances alarm- 
 ed her, but then Stuart was his patron ; 
 still she had her misgivings. In obe- 
 dience to Colonel Stuart, however, she 
 had to thank him for a female garb, of 
 the form of Spain. Plain attire is not 
 the most becoming, but it is the trial 
 for beauty ; a plain woman's object is to 
 divert eyes from herself to her dress, 
 but the handsome need be at no such 
 pains. Geraldine's attire was most simple 
 in material and form ; its beauty in great 
 measure arose, therefore, from the figure 
 it contained, which, in addition to a very 
 lovely face, formed as fair a sample of 
 female beauty as Anderson had ever 
 seen. As to Stuart, he loved, and his love
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 291 
 
 had arisen certainly under circumstances 
 in which dress had no voice. The vulgar 
 style adopted, as to costume, of the very 
 few who attempted to be in the fashion 
 at Newtown Hamilton, had made Ge- 
 raldine most zealously adhere to that she 
 herself had imported on her first arrival, 
 which, after the lapse of seven years, could 
 only appear, to Stuart's better instructed 
 eye, antique in form, as well as or- 
 dinary in materials. When she now 
 appeared before him in the elegant dress 
 of Spain, he could not be insensible to 
 the change; but the compliments on her 
 looks were entirely confined to Ander- 
 son : — they were to Geraldine's mind far 
 too profuse, particularly when compar- 
 ed with Stuart's silence ; the wisdom 
 of which conduct she was obliged to 
 acknowledge, and yet sighed that it 
 should be necessary to the full extent of
 
 292 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 absolute silence. What woman's ear 
 but regrets the loss of his admiration for 
 whom the world's praise is as dross? 
 
 Colonel Stuart's wounds were still 
 painful, but not any longer dangerous ; 
 they required rest and care. With the 
 aid of Anderson's arm he could soon 
 reach a pavilion at the extremity of 
 the terrace overhanging the river ; and 
 the weather being favourable, it was 
 here that he and Geraldine spent much 
 of their time. Stuart had a few books 
 with him, and in the splendid pages of 
 Shakspeare, and the delightful ones of De 
 Sevign^, many happy hours flew away, 
 as the soft voice of Geraldine impart- 
 ed their contents to her friend, whose 
 feeble strength forbade him to take his 
 share in the exertion, but not in the 
 pleasure, which, great as it is at all 
 times, is enhanced when partaken of 
 by a being of similar taste and feelings.
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 29'^ 
 
 In a few days Geraldine's presence 
 ceased to be a matter of astonishment, 
 and she formed an individual of too 
 great importance in the society for 
 any one to question the propriety, or 
 reason of her being a part of it. She 
 cheered the few remaining sick soldiers 
 by her soothing care ; enlivened the 
 morning and evening meal which An- 
 derson shared with his patient, and to 
 one human being was all that woman 
 could be — friend, nurse, consoler, and 
 instructor - — for, alas ! to poor Albert 
 Douglas, a youth but seventeen years 
 of age, it fell to Geraldine's lot to teach 
 the bitter lesson of resignation to the 
 Divine will, where its power is mani- 
 fested in removing from the world a 
 youthful bud just opening into life. 
 There is nothing wounding to the feel- 
 ings in the death of age ; it is the end 
 we all look to, to which we must all 
 
 o 3
 
 29^ SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 come ; yet, whatever we may see, and 
 hear, and know, still to the high in 
 youth and spirit, death has no con- 
 nexion but with advanced life ; but 
 to see a boy just springing into life, 
 with the roses of a child upon his cheeks, 
 and the softness of a child in his voice — 
 to see such a one sinking into the grave, 
 hurried from friends, home, pleasure, 
 and fame, by the ruthless hand of war, 
 is a sight to move the most callous to 
 pity, the most frivolous and worldly to 
 reflection. It was such as Geraldine had 
 to witness and soothe, and for a long 
 time she deluded herself with the hope 
 that care might avail, and the youthful 
 hero's fate be averted. Such hopes 
 were vain. Stuart, in his occasional 
 visits to the bed-side of Geraldine's 
 patient and his comrade, read too plainly 
 in his hectic colour, brilliant eyes, and 
 deep-seated cough, that another foe be-
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 295 
 
 sides his wounds existed in the consti- 
 tution of the youth ; and such an idea 
 Anderson could not but corroborate. 
 
 The father of Albert Douglas was 
 the fifth son of a Scotch gentleman, of 
 better blood than fortune, whose death 
 drove four sons into the wide world to 
 seek their bread and enlarge their un- 
 derstandings, and kept one at home for 
 exactly a contrary purpose — to eat the 
 bread others had earned, and to allow 
 his mind to stagnate, if not to make a 
 retrograde movement. Of the four ex- 
 iles, one went to the East Indies, another 
 to the West, the third became a cler- 
 gyman, and the fourth, the father of 
 Albert Douglas, was established, spite 
 of his swelling heart, noble name, and 
 early habits, in a merchant's counting- 
 house of the city of London. To a 
 spirited youth, bred up amongst moun- 
 tains, a horseman and sportsman, what a
 
 296 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 vast prison did not London appear ! and 
 to one who had imbibed in his cradle 
 grand notions of his warlike ancestors 
 and noble blood, what a contemptible 
 profession a merchant's ! Time, how- 
 ever, subdued his patrician feelings to 
 the level of his plebeian state, and when 
 at the end of six years he married his 
 master's daughter, as rich in worldly 
 store as in personal charms, Scotland, 
 the land of his fathers, was no longer 
 regretted ; and if some yearnings to- 
 wards home still remained, a visit, after 
 the lapse of fifteen years, to his brother, 
 most effectually cured such sentimental 
 longings. How illusive are the feelings 
 of youth ! Astonished as the natives 
 were at JMaster Albert's equipage, hand- 
 some wife, and train of servants, their 
 surprise was nothing to Master Albert's 
 own, as he viewed, with unprejudiced 
 eyes, the castle which had lived in his
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 297 
 
 imagination as of importance sufficient 
 to arrest an army — a castle merely in 
 name ; the park was a field, the rocks 
 seemed shrunk, and his brother, the lord 
 of all, to whom his juniors had humbled 
 themselves in childhood as only second 
 to the king in greatness, a country 
 squire ! without manners, information, 
 or even rural ease — occupied with tri- 
 fles — a sportsman to kill time more than 
 game ; a justice of the peace for no love 
 of justice, but authority, — and only de- 
 votedly attached to the bottle. Mr. and 
 Mrs. Albert Douglas remained only a 
 fortnight, which seemed both to the one 
 and the other of eternal duration, and 
 both departed, secretly convinced that 
 in the small study of their father, dark 
 and gloomy as it might be, there dwelt 
 more active virtue, more true nobleness 
 of heart, real generosity, and public spi- 
 rit, than could be found in fifty such
 
 298 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 lairds as his brother ; and yet at seven- 
 teen it was the laird he adored, envied — 
 the merchant he despised ! 
 
 Mr. Douglas was the father of four 
 children, — three girls and one son, the 
 present object of Geraldine's interest. 
 This youth, as the only son of a man 
 of large fortune, (for such, by the death 
 of his father-in-law, Mr. Douglas had 
 become,) was not destined- to any pro- 
 fession. 
 
 His father had retired from the trade 
 in which his w^ealth had been acquired ; 
 and having purchased a beautiful estate 
 in Devonshire, had there established 
 himself, and there did he intend the 
 chief interest, occupation, and wishes of 
 the young Albert should centre ; but 
 the young Albert thought otherwise, 
 and when he quitted Harrow-school, he 
 determined to be a soldier. Perhaps his 
 father did not view with displeasure
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 299 
 
 symptoms of a spirit which betrayed his 
 noble descent ; but still he could not 
 endure the idea of parting with his 
 child, and whilst at one moment he 
 flattered his taste by encomiums, the 
 next he repented, sighed, hesitated, and 
 would have refused his consent, could 
 he have refused his darling Albert any 
 thins:. But Albert ever had had his own 
 way, and though of too amiable a dis- 
 position to make his will annoying to 
 others, still he had lived to seventeen, 
 uncontradicted. It was too late to be- 
 gin the task of refusal ; his wish was 
 therefore granted, and spite of his mo- 
 ther's agonies, and his sisters' tears, he 
 tore himself from their arms to follow 
 the profession of a soldier. His regi- 
 ment was in the Peninsula. The voyage 
 was prosperous, his companions in arms 
 agreeable, the country beautiful, and 
 the life enchantincr. Such was the
 
 300 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 tenour of Albert's letters home. His 
 mother became more composed, his 
 father began to partake somewhat of 
 his enthusiasm, and by his own fire-side 
 trod over again every step of the cam- 
 paign, and his sisters smiled through 
 their tears, but all felt secretly the 
 dangers of the service ; and the eagerness 
 for the post, their quick-changing colour 
 when the village-bells unexpectedly 
 rung, in dread of its being symptomatic 
 of a victory, or when any unusual dis- 
 turbance met their ear, however trifling, 
 denoted where their hearts were centred. 
 At length the letters ceased — it might 
 be the wind w^as adverse, or the enemy 
 had fallen in with the packet, or Albert 
 was become idle. A foreign letter 
 arrived, but it was no longer the be- 
 loved hand-writing that met their eye ! 
 A stranger with tenderness addressed 
 them — much was said of Albert's gal-
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 301 
 
 lantry, popularity — and then an action 
 was described, where the English troops 
 had covered themselves with glory ; but 
 all would not avail, the fatal truth must 
 be told, and the miserable father had to 
 read that his darling only son had been 
 found amongst the wounded, and though 
 he still survived, his case was hopeless ! 
 and this fatal letter was dated several 
 weeks back ; so that the hope expressed 
 that Mr. Douglas would hasten to his 
 son, seemed one almost too late to act 
 upon — yet it must be done — and he 
 had hardly imparted the sad tidings to 
 his family, ere he was on his road to 
 Falmouth, to embark by the first packet 
 for Portugal. But this is anticipating 
 a period which was yet to come. 
 
 The solitude of his sick room had 
 been as painful to poor Albert Doug- 
 las as his wounds ; and had Geraldine 
 Hamilton been toothless, deformed, and 
 
 VOL. L p
 
 302 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 hideous, he would have regarded her 
 with enchantment as an angel of light, 
 so that she addressed him with kind- 
 ness, and would listen to his words 
 with some apparent interest — but when 
 in such a shape as Geraldine, she was 
 adored. The pleasure, the boyish glee 
 her visits produced, was to the more 
 mature and reflective mind of his friend 
 a source of distress ; it proved, in his 
 unwillingness to be alone, how formed 
 he was for the world and all its gentle 
 associations ; and when he implored 
 her to repeat her visits, and to pro- 
 long them, there was that in his fatally 
 bright eyes, and feverish anxiety, which 
 drew tears into Geraldine's eyes as 
 she promised to do all in her power 
 to please him. To her he would talk of 
 home, his father, mother and sisters, and 
 even describe a beautiful horse he had 
 hunted on, and who never was to be
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 303 
 
 mounted by any one till his return. 
 Anderson was desirous Albert should 
 know his danger, and to Geraldine was 
 assigned the bitter task of preparing his 
 boyish heart for the cruel information. 
 
 She would talk to him of the mi- 
 series of the world ; that those were 
 happy who finished their career ere 
 their trials began. Her youthful au- 
 ditor was not backward to understand 
 lier meaning ; but very unwilling to 
 believe the extent. Not that he trem- 
 bled, not that the future struck him as 
 terrible. His very boldness was, how- 
 ever, awful ; his very ignorance of hav- 
 ing in aught offended, was painful for 
 those, who, having lived longer, had 
 thought more, and believed in trem- 
 bling. Geraldine knelt by his bed, she 
 prayed for him and for herself, — he 
 prayed too, fervently prayed ; but the 
 smile was still on his lip, the fire in his
 
 304 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 eye. A slight change for the better 
 took place. Geraldine was the first to 
 entertain hopes of a possible recovery, 
 and the poor invalid not the last — 
 Stuart, however, was incredulous. 
 
 " He will not live," he whispered to 
 Geraldine ; " but do not weep ; such 
 feelings, such spirit, and sucli looks as 
 his, are perhaps removed in mercy from 
 a world, where the happiest are ever 
 found to be the callous, selfish, and slen- 
 derly gifted, either with mental or per- 
 sonal qualifications." 
 
 Geraldine sighed, but made no reply. 
 She knew Stuart spoke of the world as 
 he had found it — it was no splenetic 
 effusion, caused by momentary disap- 
 pointment. 
 
 Poor Albert's partial re-establishment 
 was of short duration, — he relapsed for 
 the worse, and then seriousness seemed 
 to accompany the change ; he would
 
 SELF-GUIDANCE. 305 
 
 draw from Geraldine thoughts of a fu- 
 ture state, and listen with more delight to 
 the portions of Scripture she read to him 
 than to far gayer studies. Geraldine 
 had lived long enough, and had suffered 
 keenly enough to impress on her mind 
 the high value of the Scriptures ; but 
 with Albert the case was different, and 
 hours of restraint and confinement were 
 too strongly connected in his mind with 
 serious reading, not to make him start, 
 and almost object, when first Geraldine 
 made such a proposition. 
 
 A sick bed, an undivided mind, and 
 the soft voice of her who read to him 
 those portions of the New and Old Tes- 
 tament, which she thought best suited 
 to her hearer, opened his heart to truths, 
 which wretched must be the man who 
 is insensible to, from whatever source 
 such indifference may proceed. For 
 as has been very lately expressed, " a
 
 306 SELF-GUIDANCE. 
 
 belief in a life beyond this world is the 
 only thing that pierces through the 
 walls of our prison-house, and lets hope 
 shine in upon a scene, that would be 
 otherwise bewildered and desolate." — 
 These are the words of a man of the 
 world, a wit and poet ; but yet no stre- 
 nuous advocate for the truths of Chris- 
 tianity. — His testimony, therefore, may 
 be exculpated from that accusation of 
 cant, so liberally bestowed upon every 
 sentiment and word not decidedly irre- 
 ligious. 
 
 END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 LONDON : 
 PRINTED BY SAMUEL BENTLEY, 
 Dorset-street, Fleet-street.
 
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