L I E> R.AFLY OF THE UN IVLRSITY Of ILLINOIS Se-48 .1 I \ SELF-DEPENDANCE. A NOVEL, IN THREE VOLUMES. VOL. I. LONDON : THOMAS CAUTLEY NEWBY, PUBLISHER, 72, MORTIMER St., CAVENDISH S though it seemed to both b 3 4 SELF-DKPENDANCE. mantling with streams of unmingled joy. Over this sunny period of her existence rose dark, lowering clouds. The hour of trial came, and so sudden, so overwhelming was the change, that her senses well nigh reeled under the fearful conviction — Could the charge be well founded? Could Edward merit accusations of so awful a nature, that his fellow man shuddered to hold farther intercourse with him, and even her own father had closed his doors against him, forbidding his name, once familiar as a household w T ord, to be mentioned in his presence. Her heart heaved indignant at the charge — The assassin of his friend ! the loved companion of his youth ! the plunderer of the unconscious corse as it lay at his feet ! She believed it not, and as she dwelt on the many proofs he had given of manly and honorable feeling, and the open, honest brow, the undisguised index of the heart within, she warmly repelled the endeavours that were made, even by those who deeply and sincerely loved her, to shake her confidence in his truth. When, however, the result of his public trial, ending in a verdict of guilty, met her ear — when she dwelt on the circumstances detailed in its report, fixing upon him, by a chain of SELF-DEPENDANCE. .? clear and connected evidence, the combined charges of murder and robbery, the torpor of despair crept over her, and the caresses of her mother were unfelt and unreturned. When alone, she turned for refuge to his printed de- fence, scanning every word as pregnant with some favourable interpretation : as she read, her wonted serenity returned. Whatever his fellow man might deem of him, though guilt and ignominy fastened on his name, every word was stamped with truth, and the weak, fragile creature that once would have shrunk from contact with the rude breath of public opinion, now bade defiance to its judgment. His closing appeal to Heaven in assertion of his innocence, swept over her delighted senses with resistless conviction. " That God will never desert thee, Edward. Man has con- demned thee — all on earth have deserted the 3, all — save one." A hand clasped hers. The little Mary, her young and faithful attendant, was kneeling beside her, gazing wistfully upon her with tearful eyes, wishing to comfort but fearful to intrude. In her hand she held a slip of paper, it caught Matilda's observation as she turned towards her. She hastily real 6 SELF-DEPENDANCE. its few lines, inscribed in Edward's well known characters. " I stand alone, Matilda; the world has denounced and branded me with the blackest crimes ; my innocence is my support, yet ere I quit this country, and for ever, to herd with guilt in climes far away, will Matilda venture into my prison gloom, and bless me with her presence once more ?" u Whence, Mary, did you gain possession of this paper ?" "My dear mistress, a stranger man, as I passed out of the garden gate, called me by name, bade me deliver it to you, and said he had waited many a weary hour for a sight of me." " Mary, the contents are of a fearful nature, no ear but'thine has heard them — I must not pause in obeying bis last wish. Will you help me, Mary?" " Say what you wish me to do, dear mis- tress, I am young, but will attempt anything for both your sakes. He was ever kind and good to me." It was in truth a novel sight to see these two innocent, isolated females, strangers yet to SELF-DEPENDANCE. 7 the world and its sickening trials, in deep de- liberation how best to reach the imprisoned youth. They had in part arranged some crude mode of action, when a gentle tap at the chamber door arrested the discourse. <4 It is my old nurse, Alice," said Matilda, '* the almoner of my bounty. She comes at the appointed hour, to claim my promised help for some of our poor neighbours." Alice's delight was to wait on her gentle child, as she called her. From her birth she had tended her through growing years, shared all her childhood's transient griefs, and now when she was verging on womanhood, had watched the progress of her attachment to Edward, whose kind disposition had endeared him to the whole household. Since the fatal issue of the trial, her old heart bled for her gentle child. She still believed him innocent, but how few shared her belief. The proofs against him seemed so resistless that the public paused not to doubt. Here were three met together who cheered each other with con- viction of his innocence, and met with ready listeners. Alice sat by Matilda's side, kissed her pale cheek, and throwing her arms around her, sobbed aloud. 8 SELE-DEPENDANCE. u Alice," said Matilda, " I must not weep, a crisis is at hand, and I must meet it with firmness." She now told her of Edward's anxious wish, her own determination to meet it, and the difficulty she felt how to carry it into effect." 11 I cannot blame your resolve, my child, it would be cruel to refuse the poor boy's last request before he is sent away, and the path can, I think, be made open and easy." It appeared that one of the turnkeys in the prison was her own nephew, who, for his good conduct, had been raised to a place of trust. " Mary shall go to him," said Alice, " with a message from me, he must know all, and I feel this difficulty will be soon got over." The result proved that Alice was not too sanguine. The hour was arranged that day for her visit to the condemned, and in silence and secresy she stole along the crowded streets, accompanied by the faithful Mary, and reached the gates of the prison. SELF-DEPEND ANCE. CHAPTER II. Their guide at length stopped, and unlocking a low door, bade them follow him within, which done, he carefully closed and fastened it again, then applied his key to an inner grating which slowly yielded to his exertions. u In one hour," said the jailer, " I shall return." They stood alone. She had now reached the haven of her wishes She prayed for firmness, but leaned sick and dizzy against the damp wall. Gradually the dim light revealed the objects round. Deep and heavy must have been the sleep of the prisoner, whose breathings she heard at intervals, and felt thankful for the respite. b 5 10 SELF- DEPEND ANCE. A few moments and he sprang upon his feet, "Matilda! my dreams have not then mocked me; I thought I heard your voice." She gazed, unable to speak, she knew the loved, familiar voice, else she had never re- cognized the altered shape that bent over her. His once proud, graceful figure, moulded by elegance itself, its natural graces ever enhanced by outward neatness, was now shrouded in a convict's dress, and bore the stamp of the meanest degradation. It was the dread sight of reality which she now first encountered, her firmness wholly gave way, and she sank on his bosom in a wild agony of tears. In vain Edward called upon her to repress her feelings ; she continued so alarmingly ex- cited, that he at length placed her in Mary's arms, and sinking on his knees before her, " Matilda, hear me — calm this emotion, though these tears prove your unaltered af- fection, indulge them not now ; in one short hour, bethink thee, we must part, and haply for ever. On that one hour depends, per- chance, my future destiny, as to the dispersion of those fearful clouds that now, in the sunny time of youth, thus thicken around me. Matilda, the world has cast me off as worth- 8ELF-DEPENDANCE, 11 less —even your own parents disown me. I have no friend but you, but instead of the happy lot which I fondly hoped awaited me, when I should claim you as my bride f<*om your willing parents, we are doomed to an eternal separation, every cherished hope withered for ever. I would not have solicited this interview, but you, Matilda, you cannot think me guilty; when I am far away, will you, Matilda, shield my injured name? If 1 justly merited my present degradation, we never more must have met, as with such purity as yours guilt should hold no communion." The appeal was not in vain \ as he spoke, she gradually grew calm— she felt the truth of all he said. The time allowed was too precious to be wasted in fruitless tears — her wonted energy returned. Sue felt the necessity of unrestrained converse during the limited period of their interview. " Edward, my presence here must prove my conviction of your innocence. Speak on — not a w r ord, not a wish of yours shall fall unheeded — my fate, my happiness is linked with yours. To thee and the re-establishment of thy fair fame, I here devote myself. Every 12 SELF-DEPEND ANCE. word of thy public defence is engraven on my heart, and every word is stamped with truth/ Never had the lovely girl so deeply interested him. She seemed to fling all her sex's timidity aside, and to stand forth alone as his guardian angel, devoted to his service, and possessed of power equal to her will. As he gazed on the delicate, fragile being before him, no longer trembling with excess of emotion, but rousing herself to firmness to meet the trials which might await her, in the fullest confidence of his truth and innocence, he felt the countless value of the affection of such a being. " Matilda, when will that blissful hour arrive, when I shall call thee mine — I never knew thy worth till now, now when I must lose thee, and for ever." She felt his hot tears upon her hand, heard his stifled sobs. She bent over him, and softly said. " Edward, the fatal summons will soon be here." The words operated like a charm upon him. " Still my better angel ; I will imitate your ■ firmness. *' Matilda, you know I have been arraigned SELE-DEPENDANCE. 13 for robbery and murder, and from the verdict against me, the public deem me guilty. The victim was my attached friend and school- fellow, Dormer. His light heartedness and good nature were the delight of all ; you can bear witness to both as he was ever a favorite with you. We left the West Indies at the same time, w r ent through our school career together in this country, he ever buoyant with the hope of returning to his parents, while my spirits were saddened with the thought that I had no parent at home awaiting me, but was an orphan entrusted to the care of others. He was supplied profusely with money : my sources were more confined, but ' one heart, one purse,' was our motto. Yet it was he, my friend, my more than brother whom I murdered, whose parents' hopes I bowed to the dust, making their hearth desolate, and myself a public spectacle of guilt and ignominy. Matilda, all, save thee, believed it ; but there is a power above that will, in its own good time, vidicate the right. Matilda, you recollect our happy water ex- cursion to Richmond, when your parents smiled upon our intercourse ; scarce two months have since elapsed, all was then gaiety and sunshine ; I felt no anticipation of evil, yet I 14 SELF-DEPENDANCE. consider my present situation as linked with the events of that day. Well may you start. The day preceding, I accompanied Dormer to his banker's, on whom he had a letter of credit for a large amount ; the notes which he re- ceived he rolled up in his usual indifferent way, and put loosely into his pocket ; I cautioned him against the risk, and we had some conversation respecting it ; on quitting the bank door, where some persons were" stand- ing, one of whom civilly picked up Dormer's glove, which he accidentally dropped ; I casually noticed the circumstance, and that the stranger was handsome and prepossessing. In our ex- cursion on that eventful day the steamer was crowded, and I frequently missed Dormer, but engaged by your side, Matilda, the impression was but momentary, as he was ever on the watch for amusement. I saw him at length in a distant part of the vessel in close converse with a person whom I recognized as the hand- some stranger of the banking house. You may recollect that Dormer introduced him to us, that he joined our party for the day, and that all were fascinated by his engaging manners. He seemed to court my good opinion, but from some undefined feeling, I SELF-DEPEND ANCE. 15 repelled his advances. Between Dormer and himself the intimacy appeared to increase, and I more than once met him at my friend's lodgings. He was full of anecdote, declared himself an Italian noble by birth, was devoted to society and all its attendant pleasures, having apparently ample means for self gratification. He was, however, fond of play, and gradually initiated Dormer in its mysteries, at first tor small stakes. The pleasing excitement was new to Dormer, who soon gave way to its all absorbing influence. I saw his danger, strove to check it, but he laughed at my fears, as his losses were too trivial for uneasiness ; I soon, however, noticed a failure in his wonted buoyancy of spirit. He was generally an early riser, now I found him in bed at noon, listless and languid. The Count had lured his victim to the night orgies of the public gaming table. ' I withstood,' said Dormer, ' all his entreaties, till he brought ridicule to his aid — he called you my mentor, my bear leader, who kept me muzzled for selfish purposes, and laughed at my patient submission to my lead- ing strings. " Let him solace himself with his pretty Louise, of whom he is so fond, and no longer interfere with your pleasures.' This 16 SELF-DEPEND ANCE. was said in a sarcastic tone, foreign to Dormer's habits, proving that the Count's insinuations had made a deep impression. I saw and re- gretted this, but my friendly caution was con- sidered as an unwarrantable spirit of dictation, which feeling I sirove in vain to dispel. In the midst of our argument, which increased, his servant entered the room. I shortly left him, bidding him decide, but not hastily, whether he preferred the continuance of the stranger's acquaintance to mine." There was part of this narrative which Ma- tilda heard with a throbbing heart. She almost rose to disengage herself from the arm that supported her, but the emotion passed away. He might have read her feelings, for, ere he continued, he softly breathed in her ear, — "Matilda, I was never unfaithful to you even in thought." A pressure of the hand was her only reply. " From that day our intercourse ceased, though the sincerity of my attachment suffered no diminution. He sedulously avoided me. The Count whom I suspected to be an impostor, and a profit gamester, wholly engrossed him. SELF-DEPENDANCE. 17 I accidentally met them in the street walking arm-in-arm, when avoidance on Dormer's part was scarcely possible. I marked his companion whisper to him, as I approached with my usual friendly recognition. Dormer slightly touched his hat. e As friends, Sir, we meet not again. I am aware of your slanders against me — if continued, we meet as enemies.' I demanded an explanation. His companion laughed aloud and forced him onwards ; I stood rooted to the spot with surprise and indignation. I would have followed, but the street was an improper place for a brawl. I returned home to my lodgings, and scarcely conscious of what I was doing, took my pistols out of the case, and was examining them, when my servant Charles brought me a note. He seemed surprised to find me thus employed, and respectfully en- quired if anything was wrong. 'Be not alarmed, Charles, I think you know me too well, to suppose I shall use these weapons in a disgraceful cause.' ' I hope Mr. Dormer is well, Sir, he now seldom visits you.' * Charles, Dormer's conduct has partly caused my pre- sent employment. Ere this time to morrow he may be recalled to a sense of his injustice towards me.' 18 SELF-DEPEND ANCE. "These conversations may seem trivial, Ma- tilda, to mention, but were important in the result. I passed some hours alone, uncertain what steps to adopt to prove to the super- cilious foreigner, I was not to be thus wan- tonly insulted with impunity, and to snatch Dormer from the dreadful precipice on which be stood. It was late when I sallied out, dis- guising my person in a large cloak, beneath which I concealed my loaded pistols. " The streets were almost deserted and I un- consciously found myself at the door of a noted gaming house, whose passages I threaded till I entered a large, well-lighted, crowded saloon. The room was in a state of excite- ment, and every one seemed absorbed in the eoul-debasing work. The demon of play reigned triumphant. Voices mingled together, fierce with every passion. It was some time before I could distinguish individuals, but there, in a prominent character in the centre of the table, sat the Count, and near him his uncon- scious victim. They suspected not the eye that was so intently fixed upon them. From some remarks that dropt near me, I learnt that the stakes had, in no night, been so heavy, and that the sums won and lost had been im- SELF-DEPEND ANCE. 19 mense, and still, from the excitement of the parties, increasing in amount. * ' That foreigner,' said one pointing to the Count, 'will scarcely have left wherewith to pay his passage, for we start for the continent together to-morrow. Again he loses, and his usual coolness seems to have deserted him.' Not a word was lost upon me. I found that the almost exclusive winner of the night was Dormer himself, whose losses had, on former evenings, been invariably heavy. The Count increased his stakes, only to swell Dormer's gains. I marked his rage and disappointment, while Dormer's brow was all calm indifference. The Count more than once rose from his seat and conversed apart in muttered terms with a man of forbidding look. I listened, but could catch nothing distinctly. Again and again the same ill-fortune blasted his continued attempts to retrieve his losses, till goaded to frenzy, his money, his credit wholly gone, he started from the table, leaving Dormer carefully counting his winnings, and retired with the same person to a distant part of the room. Shortly he re- turned, and leaning over Dormer's chair, seemed to ask him some hurried questions. I partly heard the reply, • In an hour or two, 20 SELF-DEPENDANCE. not sooner; I want refreshment.' The Count and his companion disappeared. The hubbub in the room increased. The extraordinary tide of fortune in Dormer's favour this evening, caused by no dishonorable means, setting at nought the concerted arrangements of his ex- perienced adversaries, was tossed from mouth to mouth, while many a scowling look watched him during his novel employment. The com- pany gradually retired. One of the waiters now announced the refreshment he had ordered, congratulating Dormer at the same time on his singular success. Dormer carelessly asked him to guess what he thought his winnings might amount to. c It must then be a guess, probably £2,500.' ' All above that sum shall be yours," said Dormer. The excess proved near £200, which he handed over to the as- tonished waiter. There were few remaining in the room. The waiter had more than once fixed his eyes upon me, as I stood wrapt in thought on the eventful scenes of the night, while strange suspicions, which I could not resist, rushed across me. Without making myself known to Dormer, I turned to quit the room, and at the door again encountered the waiter. On passing him, my cloak caught some obstruc- SELF-DEPENDANCE. 21 tion, and fell to the ground. I hastily resumed it, but in the action, the pistols were exposed to his observation. The sight naturally alarmed and increased his vigilance : he followed me to the outer door, when in the darkness of the night, I eluded his farther observation. When I had threaded two or three streets, I stopped to deliberate how best to rescue Dormer from his perilous situation. Every incident that oc- curred at the gaming house, again rose before me, and strengthened my worst fears that the Count was a reckless, unprincipled gamester, linked with wretches to whom probably mur- der was familiar. His rumoured departure on the morrow when he expected he should be farther enriched with the plunder of my de- luded friend, his frenzy of disappointment, his hurried and private consultations, his parting whispers to Dormer, when he leant over his chair, all seemed ominous of ill. The convic- tion flashed resistless upon me. He would be this night waylaid and robbed of his accumu- lated winnings, on his return to his lodgings. Impressed with the idea, I forgot all his ingra- titude in my fears for his safety, and resolved to linger in the neighbourhood, till the dawn should relieve my apprehensions. 22 SELF-DEPENDANCE. " Dormer's lodgings were somewhat retired, situate in a large garden, the approach to which from the public road, was along a solitary lane, little frequented. In my progress I entered a low public house, where even now some wag- goners were taking their early breakfast. I sat down in an obscure corner, deeming that Dormer yet lingered in the gaming-house, and unconsciously fell into a doze. How long I slept, I know not. When I woke, my fears returned in full force, and 1 hastily left the place. It was yet dark when I reached the solitary lane. I heard a faint noise, the strug- gle was then begun, I ran forward and short- ly stumbled over some one, laid prostrate and motionless on the ground. A lamp glimmered faint in the distance, but it sufficed to confirm my fears. "It was my wretched friend. I endeavoured to raise him into a sitting posture, but his head fell heavy on my breast. His coat, his vest, seemed forcibly torn open, and were clammy as if moist with blood. He gave no signs of recognition. I groaned in agony and kissed his cold lips. Were my fears correct? Had he been robbed and murdered ? near the body I picked up a roll of papers which I uncon- SELF-DEPENDANCE. 23 sciously placed in my pocket. While thus employed, I thought I heard whispers and a faint tread. I retired within the angle of a wall which wholly concealed me. I observed two indistinct figures steal towards the body, on reaching which they stopped to search it. I heard one mutter with an oath, as if disap- pointed in the object of his search. Judge of my feelings when I recognised the Count. Maddened with conviction of his guilt, I stept from my hiding place, and darting onwards, fired a pistol at him, shouting his name. I wished to grapple with them, but alarmed at this unexpected occurrence, they were already in the distance, and soon lost to sight. My poor friend now wholly engrossed me, when I found myself suddenly seized by powerful arms, and incapable of rendering him any as- sistance. My new assailants were some police* men whom the report of fire arms had brought to the spot. I implored them to procure a conveyance for the removal of my friend who had been barbarously robbed and murdered. The discharged pistol was taken from me, and I was handcuffed. The body was carried to a neighbouring public-house, where I was con- 24 SELF-DEPENDANCE. fined and guarded during the night. Yes, I was looked upon as the murderer. " f Your comrades,' said one, 'have behaved scurvily to you, Master, in thus leaving you in the lurch.' f My comrades ! say, are they ta- ken ? if so, confront me with them, I am no shedder of blood.' 4 Fine words, master. There are marks on your coat that speak a different tale.' " As the day dawned, I shuddered at the spec- tacle I exhibited. My clothes were clotted with blood. I was carefully searched, and every article taken from me. Suffice to say, an inquest was forthwith held on the body, and as the awful tidings spread, the small room was crowded. " The conviction of my guilt iucreased during the progress of the enquiry. The evidence against me was so strong, so circum- stantial, that it flowed in one resistless torrent, but when the waiter from the gaming house detailed my suspicious conduct in his presence, mv concealment of weapons evidently for some nefarious purpose, and swore distinctly and po- sitively that the roll of papers which had been taken from my person, was the identical roll of bank-notes made up by the murdered gen- tleman in his presence, and that the red tape SELF-DEPEND ANCE. 25 with which they were tied, he had himself sup- plied for that purpose, one general feeling per- vaded the room, ( what need we any further witnesses.' "Even his extravagant generosity to the waiter seemed to aggravate the clamor against me, and my appeals were impatiently listened to. My acquaintance, of whom several, in- cluding your father, were present, urged my attempt to escape previous to the delivery of the verdict* I spurned the proposal, confident in my own innocence. The verdict came — * wilful murder,' — sounded on my ears, yet I quailed not. The court where I was to be tried, was then sitting. Before the expira- tion of the week, I was placed at its bar. The evidence against me was increased in strength. Even my servant Charles deposed to my load- ing the pistols, and my threats of vengeance against Dormer. "My counsel was bold and eloquent in my defence, but the Count whose capture was so essential to my acquittal, where was he ? I spared no expense to discover him ; emissaries w T ere out in the search after him ; but all this anxiety was considered a mere ruse. Still the persevering energy of my counsel, who was vol. i. c 26 SELF-DEPEND ANCE. animated] by no ordinary zeal, seemed to rise with each obstacle. The effect, however, was like the lightnings' flash, brilliant but evanes- cent. " i Pause, gentlemen of the jury,' he ex- claimed as he closed his powerful appeal, ' ere you brand with a murderer's name, and con- sign to an ignominous end, the unfortunate prisoner at the bar. He is guiltless of the awful crime he is charged with. Not one of you, gentlemen, would shrink with deeper horror from its commission. Should, however, your verdict be fatal to him, let me, humble as I am, record my conviction that the hour of remorse will arrive when you, with unavail- ing tears, will call to mind my present caution. I talk not now as a hired advocate. Though scarce a week has elapsed since our first meet- ing, every word that he uttered, every expla- nation that he gave of the causes which led to the present crisis, carried such conviction with it, that I entered upon the trust he reposed in me with the same fearless confidence as if he had been to me a friend and a brother.' " This manly appeal, the outpourings of a generous heart in defence of injured innocence, was considered as the usual display of venal SELF-DEPENDANCE. * ( eloquence. The verdict was against me — I was sentenced to death. I was told from the bench, the country required the forfeit of my life for my violation of its laws. Yes, this wanton mockery of justice fell from the lips of venerable age and wisdom. Short sighted mortal ! I was told to employ the few days which yet remained to me on earth, in prepa- rations to meet that God whose commandments I had so daringly defied and broken. Short sighted mortal 1 that God was my support. I was removed to my cell, yet I quailed not. " Though deserted by all, as a wretch de- serving of his fate, my generous advocate still continued his disinterested exertions in my favour, and by his unwearied solicitations, my sentence was commuted to transportation for life. He frequently cheers by his presence and converse, this solitary cell, and, Matilda, I have confided to him our mutual affection, and deeply does he appreciate, like me, the value of that heart which amidst the de- solation that overwhelms me, still clings with unabated confidence to the conviction of my innocence. u Matilda, I hear a step ; the hour is expired, and we must part." c 2 28 SELF-DEPENDANCE. " Kneel with me, Edward ; hear me call on Heaven to witness my renewal of vows of con- stancy. 'Tis all I can — it may soothe in ab- sence." 'Twas done: he kissed, for the first time, her pale lips; their former guide summoned them hastily from the cell — a stifled sob was heard. He stood alone. SELF-DEPEND ANCE. 29 CHAPTER III. " On scenes of public sorrow and national distress we gaze as upon a gallery of pictures, which strike us with wonder and admiration. Domestic calamity, is like the miniature of a friend, which we wear in our bosoms and keep for secret looks and solitary enjoyment." Well do these lines, emanating from a pen dipped in the very life -stream of the heart, and tracing, with powerful truth, all its secret windiugs, pourtray the treasured grief which Matilda shrined in the deepest foldings of her breast. There are few sorrows, however severe, 30 SELF-DEPENDANCE." which time cannot alleviate : even the void Caused by the death of those nearest and dearest to us, when the earth seems all desolation, and we ask in vain the wonted pressure of the loved one's hand, the tones of the familiar voice, now doubly valued since lost for ever : even this fearful void, by the merciful arrange- ment of Heaven, is gradually filled by other cares. We feel the bereavement to be irrepa- rable, the departed cannot return to us, and it is to another and a better world only that we can look for our re-union. But this treasured grief of Matilda's was not wholly of this spiritual nature. It was still linked with the world, and there were moments when a faint flutter of the heart spoke the de- lighted eagerness with which she listened to the suggestions of hope, that even yet she might be happy here. These light-gleams were but momentary. Wherever she turned, the mighty world, the overwhelming torrent of public opinion, seemed arrayed against her. How could her still small voice be heard amidst the deafening roar be- neath which the fair fame of Edward had fallen, blasted for ever ! The excitement in the public mind had now SELF-DEPEND ANCE. 31 passed away, lost in the whirl of new events. The world had done its duty, and consigned the guilty wretch to a life of toil, ignominy and repentance in a distant clime. He was gone, he was forgotten, and the question of his guilt or innocence, as linked with doubt, would now have been considered the ravings of a madman. Yet this rooted opinion she had to combat and to prevail against, ere the public's erroneous decision could be reversed. How could her weak arms stem this over- whelming tide — her solitary protest rise in successful opposition to the fiat of countless thousands, in every grade of society ! Yet, on her alone rested this gigantic effort; to her alone had been confided its accomplishment; she had devoted herself to the attempt, in the last trying interview with Edward, and with the fearless energy of a martyr she clung to the promise. 'Twas her waking thought, her nightly dream, and when she reached home after the eventful meeting, she confided all that had passed to her attached nurse. She had no other friend, save one, and in the silence and solitude of her chamber, she turned to that one and prayed for the aid of His holy spirit to direct and strengthen her at the present crisis. 32 SELF- DEPEND ANCE. Such a prayer never failed, when poured forth from a trusting, dependant heart. She felt, when she rose from her knees, the healing influence of that blessed assurance, " I will never leave thee nor forsake thee. Yet, there were times when the sickness of despair came over her, W T hen the common duties of life became irksome, when, in the cheering converse of her two faithful attendants, she sought the wonted consolation, but found it not. Mrs. Godfrey, Matilda's mother, was well aware of her daughter's clandestine visit. She was one of those domestic wives who looked little beyond home and the performance of its daily routine of household duties, in which centred her chief delight. Ever cheerful, the smile that was so familiar to her flung a charm over all she said and did, and even more than her personal attractions, yet in full lustre, rendered her house the eager resort of those who fully understood how much more piquant a good dinner becomes when beauty and good- humour give the welcome. Matilda was her only child, on whom she doted to idolatry — indeed, she at one time carried this to so painful an excess, that she was unwilling to allow her, in her younger SELF- DEPEND ANCE. 33 years, any of those cheerful recreations which add vigour and elasticity to the expanding mind, as well as to the body. In fact, her child would have been brought up by rule, in tainted atmospheres and crowded rooms, with an occasional ride in the carriage, and frequent glances of envy, through the closed windows, at the happy beings of her own age, exulting in all the bouyancy of freedom, on the elastic turf of the gardens, had not her mother felt alarm at the pale cheek and dejection of spirits, and with thoughtless haste resorted to the other extreme, which, though extremes are considered dangerous, in this instance, was at- tended with the most gratifying result. Yet, fond as she was of her lovely child, her attachment to her husband amounted even to weakness. It was not fear, it was not appre- hension that if his temper was not soothed and constantly watched, it would break out into fretful ebullitions, that caused her frequent appeals to him, needlessly apologizing for what to those around seemed to require no apology. It arose from the single-heartedness of her de- votion towards him. A smile of approbation from him was a cordial to her heart : il he were pleased — if he expressed any peculiar gratifica- c 5 34 SELF-DEPENDANCE. tion that his favourite dish was finished off to a charm, her delight was evinced in the con- tinuation of the endearing notices she lavished upon him, which gradually fastened upon his unsuspicious partner the sobriquet of "my dear-" He was a solicitor — now the principal in that office whose dusty floor he had swept as a boy — i n extensive practice, whose numerous agencies and confidential appointments brought him into frequent intercourse with his noble clients. Wealth flowed into his coffers; a large establishment, vying with the wealthiest in all its splendid accompaniments, gratified his own fondness for external display, which, if left to itself, would have sacrificed elegance at the shrine of gaudy profusion. Here the natural sense of the wife stepped in, proving that amidst the catalogue of her domestic virtues, prudence was not forgotten. Godfrey willingly surrendered the house- hold arrangements to his wife, as the praises universally bestowed upon the elegance and style of his dinners, were music to his heart. He was himself attached to the enjoyments of the table — knew, or affected to know, the varied compounds of the different dishes, SELF-DEPENDANCE. 35 which knowledge naturally passed current with those that shared the good things with him, while the -rotundity of his person in- creased every year, with the means of gratifi- cation. As he sat at his own table, the gaze and envy of the less fortunate, in cheerful famili- arity with more elevated rank, discussing the merits of the most expensive wines, in the full plenitude and enjoyment of all that wealth could give, who that saw him could count him otherwise than a happy man ? One thing was, however, wanting — one step in the ladder of happiness which he had not attained. He had no son to inherit his vast possessions, for whose sake all the lucrative establishments and connexions he had formed would have been doubly appreciated, who might have linked his hitherto unknown name with some ennobled family, to whom money was of paramount importance. It was during his most distinguished parties that this disappointment was most acutely felt, though its effect was but momentary, aad the observer suspected not there was any inward feeling that harmonized not with his habitual good-humour. 36 SDLF-DEPENDANCE On Matilda rested his worldly expectations, and as he gazed upon her tall, lovely figure, and contrasted its natural graces with the artificial votaries whose every movement and word seemed shaped by rule, his heart swelled with all a father's pride. At her first introduc- tion, to which he had looked forward with mingled feelings, he was gratified with the ad- miration she excited — and never could a more enchanting being meet the fascinated gaze. Her father, in mistaken fondness, would have lavished his gold in the outward adorn- ment of so beautiful a creature. That moment was dangerous to Matilda — on it hung the colour of her future life. When temptations, the most seductive to the female heart, were thus displayed before her, and by a father's hand, she felt gratified by his love, but was firm in adhering to her loved simplicity of dress, except when circum- stances imperiously required a departure from it. This might be an unwonted feeling in one so young, when the imagination is apt to run riot in the novel excitement of an enchanting world, the path which a father's hand strews with every species of delight ; but with her it SELF-DEPEND ANCE. 37 was a natural bias. She looked not for admi- ration, though so strongly exciting it. Though she inherited her mother's cheer- fulness, and her light laugh flung its frequent music o'er the delighted ear, there were times when it was altogether hushed, and a pensive langour would speak in her softened tones, as her heart swelled in responsive sympathy with some tale of sorrow. That heart was the seat of deep and strong feelings as yet unknown to herself — not that crude, morbid sensibility which has generally its source in affectation, ever breathing pity for the afflicted, but shrink- ing from contact with it. When Matilda had reached her twelfth year, her mother dismissed the governess that had hitherto superintended her education, replacing her with another of more matured experience, and whose elegant manners were more adapted to prepare her pupil to enter that society in which she seemed destined to fill no common station. Happily for Matilda, Madame Legrand, the new governess, was a woman of no ordinary mind. She was a widow, born in Geneva, of English parents, and had passed through so many vicissitudes that Matilda, as she listened to them, deemed the recital a romance. 38 SELF-DEPENDANCE. Her mind was deeply imbued with that for- titude which arises from religious principle, without which she must have sunk under her various struggles. This principle was ever present with her, influencing every thought and action, and gave an inexpressible charm to her conversation, which was new to Matilda, opening in her heart an unknown fountain of feelings and emotions which had hitherto lain dormant. She was then unaware that in a few short years, she would have to bless the gentle cares that watched over her unfolding bloom, and sowed in her heart, which might otherwise have been overrun with worthless tares, seeds that ripened into glorious fruit. The lessons which she received fell not on barren soil — she was taught to value the ad- ventitious gifts of this world's goods in their true light ; to consider herself as the almoner of Heaven, and in every trial that might await her, to pray for strength whence only aid could come, and to rest, with unshrinking faith, on the blessed promises contained in the one only book. The eager listener drank these glowing truths, which were destined to have so deep an influence on her future years, imparting at SELF-DEPENDANCE. 39 this early age a firmness and character to her disposition which coloured all her thoughts. The governess was, however, no enemy to cheerfulness, to those scenes of amusement and recreation which like bright flowers diversify the chequered path o'er the dark waste of life. She deemed^their temperate indulgence in accor- dance with the intent of the giver of all good. Well she knew and felt, "what a joyful and pleasant thing it is to be thankful ;" but that feeling can best arise from a properly consti- tuted heart, using, not abusing His merciful dispensations, owning its utter unworthiness of them, and whose thankfulness, even in the midst of profusion, was as sincere as if breathed from the pallid lips of want. How fervent is the prayer of thankfulness, what sunshine breaks o'er the benighted soul, when we are unexpectedly relieved from some depressing affliction. We seem to tread on air ; the bouyant heart breaks forth into a song of gratitude to our Heavenly Benefactor : all is sincere — but is it lasting ? Alas ! for frail mor- tality, the grateful song soon dies upon our lips, recollection of the past mercy is weakened in the exciting whirl of a transient world, and would be blotted out for ever, could we silence 40 SELF-DEPENDANCE. the upbraiding whispers — that inward monitor from which we cannot escape. Yet, there was one bias of Matilda's mind, which her governess strove in vain wholly to eradicate. This was her belief of apparitions, of supernatural appearances, and a superstitious veneration for omens. This love of the marvellous she imbibed from her nurse Alice, with whom it was a favourite subject; and on her tales of terror, which she considered it treason to doubt, her " gentle child," from her earliest years, used to hang with a thrilling delight which "grew with her growth and strengthened with her streugth." Her governess combatted this enervating weakness, and it was fortunate for Matilda that she had such a patient monitress, who saw and felt the thousand ills such erroneous belief was heir to, fraught with power to poison her future existence, if allowed to tyrannize uncon- trolled. Her calm reasoning weakened the impression, but could not wholly efface it. Bitter was their parting, when Matilda had reached her seventeenth summer. The period of Madame's engagement had expired the previous year; but the entreaties of her SELF -DEPEND ANCE. 41 pupil deferred the dreaded hour of separa- tion. It came at last. The gratified parents richly recompensed her faithful services, and she tore herself from the embraces of her be- loved charge, intending to return to Geneva, where a relative of her husband had lately and unexpectedly bequeathed to her a considerable property. 42 SELF-DEPENDANCE. CHAPTER IV. Mrs. Godfrey suspected the cause of her daughter s temporary absence during her visit to the prison, and was not sorry that her sus- picions were shortly confirmed without the ne- cessity of a direct appeal. She well knew Matilda's adherence to truth, which with her was paramount to every other consideration and never sacrificed at the shrine of expe- diency. She was glad to be spared this alter- native, as she could not shut her eyes to the conviction that her daughter was not only sincerely and deeply attached to Edward, but SELF-DEPENDANCE. 43 that this attachment had reached its present crisis with the indirect sanction of her parents, who had watched its progress without any ex- pression of disapproval. After Edward's notorious conviction, they could not avoid feeling that some portion of this notoriety clung, as it were, to them. They would gladly have buried in oblivion, their in- timacy with the wretched convict; but even this they feared would be of easier attainment than to extinguish the rooted attachment of their darling child. In her presence they care- fully avoided all allusion to the past, but when together, it was frequently referred to. They flattered themselves with the hope that amid the excitement of new scenes, she might gradually be weaned from her fatal fondness for one, the mention of whose name woke universal dis- gust. They sincerely lamented his dreadful fall from the high station he held in society, but the void he caused therein was already filled up, and was it not for the too evident dejection of their child, the cheerful tenor of their way would have experienced no lengthened interruption. Though Edward was considered as her acknow- ledged suitor, it was more a tacit acquiescence 44 SELF-DEPENDANCE. on the father's part, than an approval, that en- couraged the belief. He could not be blind to his daughter's par- tiality, and his own easiness of temper, with his reluctance to give pain where he doted with such excess of fondness, reconciled him to the consequences, and he became a passive ob- server of what was so evident to all. Edward was neither in wealth or rank, such as his am- bitious hopes anticipated in his son-in-law, but his elegance of manner and acknowledged talent rendered him a general favourite. His greatest recommendation, however, in Godfrey's eyes, was his extraordinary likeness to the most fashionable nobleman of the day, whereby he acquired the familiar appellation of his 4 double.' The notoriety he in consequence acquired, in- creased the circle of his acquaintance, and Godfrey hailed this somewhat equivocal proof of merit with delight, as flinging a sort of ex- clusive halo around him. He valued him not for himself, but for the distinction the world conferred upon him ; so that when the appal- ling charge levelled Edward with the dust, the shaft sank deep into his heart, but it was barbed by shame and disappointment, more than pity for the youthful sufferer. SELF-DEPENDANCE. 45 There were many aspirants to the posses- sion of the hand of the wealthy heiress, but every hope was crushed in the general belief that Edward was the successful suitor. Late events tended to revive these hopes. The path to her favour was now considered open, and competitors started in rivalry for its possession. Some weeks had passed since the events re- corded in the preceding pages, and during that period, the ill-fated youth, in obedience to the mandate of an injured country, was already on his voyage to a distant penal settlement. No friendly voice, no soothing grasp of the hand, save that of the independent advocate, cheered the parting moment, and it required more than mortal energy to withstand the suffocating rush of mingled feelings that swept over his desolate heart, as he turned from that good man, to mix with the herd of desperate wretches, the destined companions of his voyage, that in reckless abandonment of hope, seemed to grapple with destiny, and with sa- vage mirth bid defiance to its worst inflictions. The public journals announced the departure of the convict ship, particularly stating with unenviable notoriety, that Edward Mortimer, whose deed of blood had so lately engrossed 46 SELF-DEPENDANCE. the fashionable world, was among the num- ber of the outcast criminals on board, in pur- suance of his sentence of transportation for life. Matilda read the thrilling paragraph, but as she had previously cherished no hope of farther alleviation of his sentence, the pang was less severe. While he was yet on English ground, she could not avoid clinging to a vague, undefined feeling that some unforeseen occur- rence might yet interfere in his favour, to pre- vent his departure. She knew not whence it could possibly arise, or where to flee in search of it, and she passed the interval in restless anxiety, the continuance of which must have undermined her health. When, however, the tidings were confirmed, she was herself sur- prised at the change that came over her. The agony resulting from lengthened suspense was softened down to a less painful emotion. Un- certainty was over, and she was absorbed in the one all-engrossing idea that he was gone. During the remainder of the day, she sat almost stupified in her own room, regardless of time, heedless of all about her, and even the weeping Mary failed to attract her attention. Her mother, as she entered the room, saw the SELF-DEPENDANCE. 47 newspaper at her feet, and suspecting the cause of her abstraction, instantly removed it. Her heart bled for her poor child, and in anxious suspense, she patiently watched over her till a shower of tears came to her relief, and restored her wonted consciousness. She sat by her bedside to a late hour, and left her not till a deep slumber gave cheering prospect that she would rise refreshed and comforted. And she awoke refreshed. She poured forth her thankfulness to the giver of all good, and prayed for the gift of His holy spirit to strengthen her weakness. The agitation of her mind passed away, and she reverted with more tranquillity to recent events. Her mo- ther hailed with joy the blessed change. The voice, the look, the step of the patient sufferer, all owned its gratifying influence, but none welcomed the delightful conviction, with sin- cerer joy than the faithful Mary. A few mornings after, when Matilda des- cended to the breakfast room, she found a stranger seated at the table with her father. "Matilda, my love/' said her father, "this is Mr. Newton." She started as she heard the name of the generous advocate of her beloved Edward. 48 SELF-DEPENDANCE. He rose to meet her, and with a gentle pres- sure of the hand, led her to her seat. As if to calm the agitation his presence excited, he continued his conversation with Mr. Godfrey, du- ring which she had leisure to notice him. He was a man of heavy, forbidding aspect, and sallow complexion, with a low forehead which by no means indicated expansion of intellect, but the unfavourable impression these were calculated to make upon her, was wholly for- gotten in the mellifluous tones of his voice, which came like music on the ear. She lis- tened with increasing interest, as she recollected it was his voice that was raised in vindication of injured innocence, and she wondered that such resistless eloquence could be poured in vain. His teeth were good, and it was when he smiled, that his harsh features were lighted up with an expression of benignity, which seemed his natural element. As he left the room with her father, after a hasty meal, he turned to her. " My dear young lady, I wish to bespeak your favour for a stranger who dines here to- day." SELF-DEPENDANCE. 49 M My favour ia ready for any friend of yours ; but who is the stranger ?' ie My niece, a desolate orphan by the will of Heaven." As he spoke, a tear stood in his eye. "I am ready to love her," said Matilda, " but you will accompany her." He felt the full import of this question, and bowing, replied in the affirmative. During the day she looked forward to the meeting with Mr. Newton, in the anxious hope that she might hear the mention of Ed- ward's name from one who had displayed such zeal in his defence, and who had not deserted him, when he was forsaken by all, at the trying moment, when his farewell was for ever. A party of twelve was expected to dinner, after which it was proposed to attend a pub- lic concert, which was announced to be under distinguished patronage. Mr. Newton came first — a fair-haired girl hung on his arm, whom he introduced as his niece. Matilda rose to meet the lovely stran- ger who clung to the proffered hand, as if she had been taught to meet a friend in her. She was two years younger than Matilda and had lost her widowed mother at that critical VOL. I. D 50 SELF- DEPEND AKCE. period when her cares were most required. This knowledge made her more interesting to Matilda and the acquaintance was scarce begun, ere they were mutually pleased with each other. Among the guests, was Mr. Seymour, heir presumptive to an earldom, a great traveller, whose acknowledged good taste, added to his amusing talents, rendered him everywhere an acceptable visitor. He was the man whom Mr. Godfrey, if the choice had rested with him, would have selected for his son-in-law, nor was such expectation either presumptuous or unfounded. Since Matilda's introduction into the world, Seymour had been deeply interested by her natural graces both of person and manner, rendered in his estimation, more attractive from the wealth she was destined to inherit. He had, however, resigned the field to one whom he considered the favoured suitor, though he still at every opportunity, was found by her side. Like others, he now considered the prize open to competition, and nothing daunted by the supposed durability of first attachments, started for its attainment. He sat at her right hand during dinner, and though she was de- sirous of taking advantage of the opportunity to converse with Mr. Newton, who sat on her left, she was only enabled to do so at intervals, as SELF-DEPEND AXCE. 5 1 Seymour seemed determined to monopolize her attention by amusing her with his travel- ling anecdotes. u But you are not yet eligible as a member of the Ladies Travellers' Club, I believe, Miss Godfrey. You have not set foot on con- tinental ground." "Not yet, but I anticipate much delight in so doing." "Be satisfied then, with the anticipation and test not the reality. There are certainly de- lightful places of sojourn, but they are few and far between, and but of late years. It is in the travelling that the discomforts are so sensibly felt. One of your romantic turn would anticipate the delight of exploring Swiss or Italian scenery, but the vision fades before the sober truth. There are none of the com- forts of home, which the English so well un- derstand, out of the beaten track, to recruit you after a fatiguing day for a renewal of the campaign on the morrow. 1 must, however, make an exception in justice to the hospice of the Great St. Barnard. There, in the midst of the wildest horrors surrounded by the eternal sncws of the loftiest Alps, I have enjoyed lux- uries and comforts that might rival many a d 2 LIBRARY UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS 52 SELF-DEPEN DANCE. well-furnished hotel in some luxurious capi- tal. Prepare for trials, Miss Godfrey, ere you start." " You shall not frighten rue, Mr. Seymour. It seems you are not of those that appreciate every thing of foreign growth, and return with a prejudice, real or affected, against your own country." •' You only do me justice. With me, the comparison is in favour of my own country, I confess I am too fond of my own ease, to aban- don its substantial comforts for any supposed, equivalent abroad, and the introduction of foreign customs wholly uncongenial to our climate, and feelings. My friend, Lord Whar- ton, thinks otherwise. He gave us a singular dinner yesterday to celebrate the opening of his new banquetting hall, copied 1 suppose from some Moorish palace in Spain, where he has been long wandering, and about which he has been boring his friends by letter. Fortu- nately it was hot as the dog days, and the effect was really imposing. The opened win- dows exposed a delicious flower garden with rows of orange trees, leading to a magnificent fountain. Within, the coup d'iEil was enchant- 8ELF-DEPENDANCE. 53 ing, the painted walls and ceiling, the marble pillars, the carving and gilding, the exquisite statuary, the variegated-floor polished as a mirror all was striking, but not appropriate to the oc- casion. All was spiritual, devoted to a gross and carnal purpose, an English dinner. The attendants reeled about on the slippery pave- ment, scattering the contents of the choice dishes, and altogether the clatter was so great, I could not hear myself talk." "That was a pity," exclaimed Ellen Travis, a pretty girl at his right hand, acom- panying the remark with a hearty laugh. u Oh ! happy privilege of youth and beauty,' said Seymour, somewhat discomposed, " that can thus give way to playfulness, nor fear blame or censure !" This outburst only increased her mirth. "How did the feast end, Mr. Seymour? Though you had plenty of gilding, I fear you were short of carving/' "A thunder storm dissolved the enchant- ment, and the rain intruded so fearfully into the fairy building, that I hurried home with increased relish for the enjoyment of English comforts, and a Turkey carpet." 54 SELF-DEPENDANCE. During this seasonable interruption, Matilda turned to Mr. Newton and though they conversed on incidental topics, yet every word conveyed unwonted interest, as establishing an intimacy so welcome to both. They knew, they felt, there was one subject they were both eager to enter upon, to which the intercourse once begun, would gradually lead. The present was not the moment for such interchange, which was better fitted for more private communication and the opportunity occurred sooner than Matilda anticipated ; Mr. New ton told her that, pre vious to the announcement of dinner, he had arranged with Mrs. Godfrey that his niece was to remain her guest for a few days, during his own ab- sence from London on professional business. " So that as I start at an early hour to- morrow, she is even now, Miss Godfrey, your visitor." " And a welcome visitor, Mr. New^ton — be- sides being your relative, her orphan state bespeaks my warmest sympathy. See, she appears to be watching us. How sweet her pensive smile as she meets my look !" " Her look," said Newton, '* I can well read, She would give worlds to be seated at your side." " She will be soon gratified then," said Ma- SELF-DEPENDANCE. 55 tilda, ie as I shall decline accompanying the party to the concert, and we can pass the eve- ning together." Seymour caught the last remark. " The party must then be given up, nor shall I regret it. We can repeat those beau- tiful duets together, Miss Godfrey." "The party will not be given up," said El- len Travis, in a grave tone ; " and your at- tendanceis indispensable. Is there nota favour- ite piece of yours to be performed, and have you not promised me to point out its beauties ? I shall be lost without you." Ellen Travis was a secret admirer of Sey- mour, and somewhat jealous of his evident preference for Matilda ; with the quickness of a woman's tact, she perceived that Matilda did not appear flattered by his attentions, and that she might apprehend no rivalry in that quarter. She saw that vanity was the gentleman's weak side, and this she used as a weapon against himself to forward her own attacks on his heart. Her playful satire was mingled with so much wit and good- humour, with so many grati- fying appeals to his acknowledged good taste, that in spite of himself and too much blinded by self-love to suspect any concealed motive, he 56 SELF-DEPENDANCE. still turned, like the moth attracted by the flame, to listen to the fair flatterer whose Hebe- like face and bewitching eyes, he confessed to himself, had attractions peculiarly their own. Dinner was at length ended, the carriages were shortly announced, and the delighted Ellen Travis obeyed the summons, leaning on the arm of the contented Seymour, by whom the contemplated duets with Matilda were for the time forgotten. The only occupants of the drawing-room now, were Matilda, Mr. Newton and his lovely niece. The conversation imperceptibly as- sumed a mournful cast, caused by Miss New- ton's description of a storm at sea, during her voyage from Lisbon, rendered more awful by the sufferings of her dear mother. " I could not wish any one that I loved," said the unconscious girl, " to be exposed to the terrors of such a scene. ,, Matilda hastily turned to Mr. Newton, who read in the wild expression of her look, the thoughts awakened by the remark, and which invited his confidence. " My dear Miss Godfrey, in our darkest hours, Heaven has not left us without a com- forter. We only aggravate our distress wilfully SELF-DEPENDANCE. 57 to reject all hope of its happy termination. We are taught to cast our cares upon One who has declared He will never leave us, not forsake us if we turn to Him with a trusting heart. Why should you doubt that he, whom I am proud to call my friend, whose unde- served fate we both deplore, will yet return in all the purity of acknowledged innocence ?" " I have never despaired, Mr. Newton, nor will despair, my belief in his truth is, like yours, still unshaken, and God in His good time will defend the right. But your last accounts from Edward, of what nature are they?" " He is well — his mind's energy has not been subdued by outward circumstances. The particulars of your prison interview with him I have heard from his own lips; am I mis- taken, Miss Godfrey, in considering your interest in his well-being as deeper than that of a common acquaintance ?" 11 In that interview, Mr. Newton, I renewed my vows of constancy, and called on Heaven to witness their sincerity, I have devoted my- self to the re- establishment of his fair fame, nor will 1 shrink from the attempt, it is a work which Heaven must approve, and Heaven will strengthen me for the trial." 58 SELF-DEPENDANCE. The solemn calmness of her determined tone, her devotion to a task which seemed unat- tainable by human power, in utter abandon- ment of self, affected the good man to tears. He saw the inutility of endeavouring to com- bat a passion which was based on principle, and which had grown to its present strength under the eye of her parents. The tale of her devoted heroism in the prison was now con- firmed from her own lips ; it seemed invested with a halo of sacred dignity, which repelled all wanton interference, and as he gazed on the impassioned speaker, he could not but pay due homage to the nobleness and single- heartedness of her conduct. Here was no selfish motive. It might be hard for the world to understand it, whose powerful fiat might brand it as an Utopian dream, so different from its own cold calculations. The purpose which he once entertained to strive to change the current of her thoughts, and to wean her from her all engrossing resolution, was laid aside as utterly futile, and in its stead all he could attempt to do was to guide and watch her in her unex- ampled course. It yet seemed to him a dream that a young, delicate female, nursed in the enjoyment of every gratification the world SELF-DEPEN DANCE. 59 could offer, should in the most sunny period of of her existence, when that world on which she was just entering was spreading all its pleasures at her feet for her acceptance, turn away without one regret and with all a martyr's eagerness, link herself with gloom and wretchedness. " My dear Miss Godfrey, I share your en- thusiasm, well convinced it must go hand-in- hand with your judgment. When I first saw Edward, as his professional adviser, I was struck with his fearless energy of demeanour, considering the awful situation in which he stood; it 4 was not the reckless courage of despair, as 1 at first deemed it, but the self- possession arising from the consciousness that he was unjustly accused. This unfolded itself in all his replies to my searching examinations, gradually weakening, and at length wholly dissipating the suspicions I entertained to his prejudice ; I stepped forward in the face of the world as his advocate ; my conviction I endeavoured to impress upon others, but un- happily without success. That foreign Count, on whose capture my client's safety depended, eluded all our efforts to discover him, and no doubt immediately after the murder, he had 60 SELF-DEPENDANCE. hurried, disguised, to the coast; large rewards were advertised for his apprehension, de- scriptions of his person circulated, but all in vain." " It is so very strange," said Matilda, thought- fully u that all trace should be lost, no connecting link discovered, after the offer of such tempting reward ; the tie among bad men is seldom so strong as not to be shaken by such inducements. Had he no haunts in London besides the gaming table, where some clew might be found." " It appears that he changed his lodgings fre- quently, as we discovered two or three which he had occupied for a short time and hastily quitted, leaving no trace behind him, not even by the means of any letter or paper which might have been unconsciously left, or any ac- cidental enquiry for him after his departure. At the last lodgings I found he was accom- panied by two foreign ladies, one rather ad- vanced in years, still handsome and showy in her dress, the other a beautiful girl, about seventeen." Matilda started at this remark, and hesi- tatingly asked, SELF-DEPEND ANCE. 6 1 " What relation did they bear to the Count, Mr. Newton?" " From the landlady, whom I closely questioned, and who seemed to have no motive for concealment, I learned but little, the elder lady she considered to be his wife, and the younger, whom they called Louise, might be his daughter, but it was merely conjecture; they paid regularly, and though they had many visiters and kept late hours, her inter- ference was never required as to any breach of decorum on their part." This short recital deeply interested Matilda, she could scarcely conceal her agitation, as she enquired what length of time had elapsed between the Count's quitting those lodgings and the fatal night. " As far as I could learn," replied Newton, " about three months." EPENDANCE. but I shudder at the daring hypocrisy of that man who ascends the sacred place with no de- cided distinction in his mind of right or wrong, nor impressed with a deep sense of the awful responsibility that rests upon him, should he mislead the flock that look up to him as their guide and instructor ?" Seymour was evidently struck with the modest enthusiasm of the speaker, and could not help saying, he had now a practical proof before him, of his remark respecting the talent of the youth of the present day. Charles merely bowed to this observation, and would have closed the subject had not Godfrey ap- pealed to him. " Can such a state be allowed to continue and to roll on uncontrolled, like a pack of dogs, halloed to the chase? Is there no powerful hand, no vested body, to crush this profanation of the sacred character, where proved to exist, this worldly mindedness, envy, and uncharit- ableness, which even our spiritual guides so thoughtlessly harbour against each other, ren- dering the church a laughing stock to our dis- senting enemies. Why should there be this diversity of opinion about the necessity of certain symbols and ceremonies, when all SELF-DEPKNDANCE. 85 should be actuated by the same spirit iu the worship of the one true God !" " You bring the subject to a natural issue, uncle, by a question frequently put. We are all prone to error, old as well as young ? Men are but children of a larger growth ! The church establishment may not inaptly be com- pared to a school. There are various grade?, successively filled from the lowest by com- petent men, the higher grades conferred upon superior talent and merit, the highest filled by more dignified age, experience, and vigilance, to whose superintending and fostering care every member might with confidence turn, and whose decisive and watchful eye would promptly detect any error that might creep among them, any deficiency of moral conduct that might tend to sully the purity of the establishment. No excuses can justify a departure from tiiis obvious line of duty, and ii any innovations have crept into the church and the public mind thereby unsettled, to whom can that public mind look but to those high authorities for a calm and dispassionate investigation into the cause and origin of these alleged abuses, that the public mind may be disabused of its error in its inter- pretation of what nniy be strictly in accordance with church ordinances, or such innovations, if 86 SELF-DEPENDANCE. so proved, at once swept away, and the diffe- rent ministers, if not willingly disposed, com- pelled by authority not wantonly to set at defiance the respectful appeals of their congre- gation^, but be themselves examples of humility and peace. The dignitaries of the church do not seem to have acted with that combined energy which such a crisis imperiously de- manded, and by their lukewarmness, as a body, have given more confidence and consistency to this restless spirit. "Their periodical charges to the assembled clergy are sometimes of a wavering nature, as they touch indecisively on the agitating topics of the day. They, however, admit the injustice hitherto done to the poor man, by virtually excluding him from the church, though their equal in the sight of God ; the body of the church is to be his exclusive property, fitted up for his accommodation, a change which, il carried into effect, even at this eleventh hour, will be thankfully hailed throughout the land, and enable the poor man with the free, unfettered spirit of the sincere Christian, to worship in the same temple with his richer brethren. " They seem impressed with the conviction that something more than mere words was ex- SELF-DEPEND ANCE. 87 pectecl from them, but shrink as it were, from responsibility, and should a black sheep have crept into the fold where all should be pure and sinless, they appear more willing to shelter the tainted wretch, though he set the la\\ r 3 of God and man at defiance, than to rescue the sacred office from such foul pollu- tion ; such conduct is a mockery of the hal- lowed functions entrusted to the vigilance of a servant of the most High. It cannot, however, be denied, that the established clergy of the present day, are fully alive to the necessity of the most unceasing vigilance and activity, and have amply vindicated themselves from the charges of indifference and indolence which had long fastened upon them, but in their haste to win the race, their zeal has overstept discretion, and they have armed themselves with unscrip- tural weapons, brandishing a fire-brand, the sparks of which have recoiled upon them- selves." Charles suddenly paused. . u There is a time for all things, uncle, and I consider there is an apology due to the ladies at least for my ill-timed warmth, in checking the general flow of conversation, and presuming to monopolize more than is my due. There 88 SELF-DEPENDANCE. are certain subjects which carry me beyond the bounds of decorum." " If I may judge, Charles, by the attention of the ladies, which has been long riveted on your countenance, they require no apology. However, at present, I will not weary you by a renewal of this interesting question, but it must not be forgotten." When the ladies bad retired, Godfrey re- marked upon the proud and exalted eminence on which England stood, after all the fearful storms she had weathered at home and abroad. "Those at home," said Charles, "are most to be dreaded, for if England be only true to herself, she may defy the world. There ia no country where the wealthy are more disposed to contribute to charitable endowments, where the noble tide flings wide its gates, inviting the afflicted poor, without money and without price, to partake of its proffered relief, and it may in consequence appear a contradiction to assert, that I consider the poor of this cuuntry as a neglected, an injured class. The legisla- ture makes laws for their benefit, dividing the land into extensive districts, planting in the centre, its gigantic, tomb-like prisons, all for one professed object, the reception and comfort SELF-DEPENDANCE. 89 of the poor. Oh ! what a mockery of the afflicted poor ! They turn with horror and disgust from the terms on which they are al- lowed the wretched boon. They must crush every feeling of independence which God him- self has planted in the bosom, reduce them- selves to the state of the beasts that perish, submit to the rending of those natural ties that bind and endear the aged couple to each other, and burn more intensely when they are torn from the humble cottage which has so long sheltered them, and where they hoped to die in peace, when summoned to that rest in their Saviour's bosom which was denied them here. Even this last consolation, the framers of that law, which was expressly stated to provide for the comforts of the poor, but in every clause seems to consider poverty a crime, and punishes it accordingly, have shut against them. " Enter in, thou infirm old man ! whose crime it is to be poor, enter within these isolated prisons where hope never comes. The last affectionate link that binds yourself and your aged wife to the world is snapt for ever. The law in its tender mercies has broken up your humble cottage, and prepared you an asylum here, but even here you must be severed from 90 SELF-DEPENDANCE. each other — the law has no sympathy with the natural feeling of humanity. It demands the separation of husband and wife, of child and parent. Enter in, and be thankful. "Can it be a matter of wonder, that the swelling hearts of the poor, thus insulted and betrayed, should recoil with indignant horror from this unfeeling mockery : that they should cling to the naked roof, and welcome poverty with its train of evils, still to he enabled to worship in the humble church, and to linger sometimes o'er the turf, where some dear rela- tive may sleep, to be soothed in their last mo- ments by the presence of those they love, rather than accept an ignominious shelter in that gloomy pile, there to die like a dog in a corner, uncared for, and unlamented." " You draw a sad picture, Charles," said Godfrey, a let us in conscience hope it is too highly coloured !" u My remarks, uncle, are the result of facts. I do not mean to deny that there may be in- stances in which this Poor Law enactment, may, in the cant phrase, work well; but they are few and far between. The cry against it is heard on the morning gale, and muttered threats of vengeance, make the night hideous. SELF-DEPENDANCE. . 91 What is it the poor, the labouring man re- quires ? He shrinks from no toil, is ready to expend his strength, his mental energies for his employer, and claims, in return, a moderate subsistence. To this he has a right, but for this he loooks in vain. Has he no feeling, no sense of injustice, no soul to be saved, no per- ception of hunger, thirst, and cold, that hu- manity is thus outraged? In the manufac- turing districts, the working population, male and female, move about like a race of spectres, overtasked, their energies strained to the ut- most, till a palsy of mind and body, completes the wretched picture, and their cries for relief to the legislature rise unheeded. Turn to the agricultural counties ; there the incendiary fire, the midnight alarm, prove the desperation to which the hapless wretch is driven by the un- merited miseries which crush him to the dust. The wealthy farmers cannot shut their eyes to the dreadful scenes which scare them from their sleep, to witness the midnight havoc of their property, yet with obstinate and wilful blindness, they attribute it to any but the real cause, each laying the flattering unction to his soul, the cause rests not with me. Fatal de- lusion ! that hesitates to grapple with the evil, 92 SELF-DEPEND AN CE. and apply a remedy which is close at hand. The shout of despair and vengeance rings on their ears from the tongues of famished wretches from whose bones and sinews they suck their own wealth. Can such tragedies be of daily occurrence in a christian country, and be for one moment suffered to exist ? How can we reconcile the outpourings of that morbid phi- lanthropy which professes sympathy with dis- tant suffering, wihch wanders from town to town, repeating the same well-organized tale of horrors, with the calm indifference that heeds not the plaintive cry of the famishing wretch at its feet? It is well said, that pre- vention is better than cure. There cannot but be a limit to the patient endurance of suf- fering, and heedlessly to trust to its continuance exceeds the folly of that man who falls asleep on the edge of a precipice." " There is much truth," said Seymour, " in your alarming statements. I have been myself a careless observer, but he must be wilfully blind that does not observe these prominent signs of the times. Kindness may do much to allay the evil. Severity may aggravate it." "Kindness, Mr. Seymour, and some proof SELF-DEPENDANCE. 93 of sympathy with the wants of our less fortu- nate brethren, would work wonders. The farmer shelters himself under the trivial ex- cuse. " c It is true no man can exist on the miser- able pittance I give my labourer, but I do not give less than my neighbour, and there is the union poor house, if he be not satisfied.' "'Discontent is the natural result. His wife and family cry to him for bread. . He is roused to frenzy, and adds guilt to starva- tion.'" " Tell me, my dear boy," said Godfrey, " does your worthy father share your gloomy senti- ments ? Such a state of things can never exist in the neighbourhood of the rectory, as I well know his personal activity, and kindness on behalf of those who may require them." " My father, my good father !" said Charles, and tears sprang to his eyes, " was his example followed through the length and breadth of the land, how blessed would be the effects. I have attended him in his daily rides. Smiles welcomed him every where, he would patiently listen to every complaint, relieve the distrest, cheer the fainthearted, and his frown was the terror of evil doers. Though not strong in 94 SELF- DEPEND ANCE. constitution, he forgot his own personal com- forts, when the welfare of those around him was in question. For this reason, he attended as a guardian, at the union boards, softening, as far as he could, the harsh features of the law, which he felt pressed too heavily on the poor. In his periodical rides to the poor house for this purpose, I have heard blessings invoked on his head, as he passed along, for his active zeal on their behalf. In him they felt/ they knew, they had a friend, who was never wearied in doing good." o to Godfrey felt himself strangely affected by this filial outburst, this affectionate tribute to a kind father. Worldly minded as he was, and little used to the melting mood, he could have flung himself into Charles's arms, and wept like a child. A pause ensued, during which Charles rose to rejoin the ladies, and left the room. Charles- could not avoid feeling mortified that he had taken so prominent a part in the discourse during dinner, considering it might be deemed the pedantry and affectation of a young man, new to the world, and fond of hearing himself talk. With these thoughts, he entered the drawing room. The cheerful laugh of SELF-DEPENDANCE. 95 Ellen Travis met his ear. She was reclining on the ottoman, her animated and beautiful features beaming with expression, as she amused Matilda with some of the ephemeral anecdotes of the day. On a buffet at Matilda's feet, sat a fair haired girl, gazing on the im- passioned speaker with delight, and echoing her cheerful laugh. Jt was a picture fraught with such sweet enchantment that Charles lingered in his approach, to feast his eyes upon it. Matilda observed his pause. " Are we objects to inspire alarm, Charles, or too frivolous to claim your attention ?" " To speak the truth, fair Coz. ; my hesi- tation arose from a selfish motive, to gaze on a group of loveliness which comes upon me with all the freshness of novelty. The gloom of col- lege life is never brightened by such visions." Ellen Travis had admired his fine counte- nance, during dinner, and had laughingly asked Matilda, when they reached the drawing room, whether he could talk so eloquently on other subjects, more interesting to the female ear. His present remark proved that he was not merely an animated statue, and satisfied her that he was not insensible to the charms of female fascination, but his look rested with 96 SELF-DEPENDANCE. most delight on the lovely girl sitting at Ma- tilda's feet. Emily suddenly turned and met Charles's fixed gaze, from which she seemed to shrink in alarm, and buried her face in Matilda's lap. During dinner, she had hung in silent admira- tion on the eloquent and thrilling tones in which he advocated the cause of his distressed fellow-creatures. The subject to her was new and overpowering, and he appeared to her like a being of another world, sent on some holy mission of high and awful import. As such, she listened to him with a degree of awe which added to the interest he excited. That she should at all attract the notice of such a man, she could not anticipate, nor could she controul her emotion when she turned from his earnest look. At her age, every impression was but momentary, but the emotion and its cause did not pass unnoticed by Matilda, who felt gratified by Charles's passing notice of her protegee. While Godfrey was engaged in discussion over his coffee with the minister of his parish, Seymour, who was not only an enthusiast but a proficient in music, rose from the side of Ellen Travis, who would gladly have monopo- SELF-DEPENDANCE. b7 lized his attention, and struck a few chords on the piano, which summoned the younger mem- bers of the party round him. Matilda's sole object was to please all, Ellen Travis to fasci- nate one ; and as the latter hung over the harp and commenced one of the old Scotch ballads, flinging into the melody a thrilling pathos that seemed not of earth, her hearers listened in silent delight. It was not an exhibition of art clothed in studied graces assumed for the occasion. She seemed wrapt within herself, embodying the feelings and thoughts of the simple, strain. Emily surrendered herself to the resistless enchantment, and unbidden tears coursed down her cheeks. Charles was not an indifferent spectator, he watched her speak- ing countenance, and wondered at the sudden interest, one, till that day unknown, had ex- cited in him. Over Seymour, Ellen's triumph was complete ; that simple melody riveted his hitherto wavering resolution and his heart was no longer his own. Emily's mother was devotedly attached to music, and had spent some years in Italy in a fruitless search after health. The education of her fatherless daughter claimed her almost ex- clusive attention, and it was not surprising that VOL. I. F 98 SELF-DEPEND ANCE. Emily, from her early years, should im- bibe her mother's taste, who, as she travelled along, delighted in culling the fairest 'flowers of melody, the songs of many lands, thereby cheering the darkened hours of her precarious existence. Emily's proficiency disappointed not her mother , her voice, though as yet un- formed, was sweet and plaintive, and gave promise of no common excellence. As she listened to Ellen Travis, the scenes of other days came over her memory, when her own performance of some favourite melody of her mother's, elicited praises from that tongue which w T as now mute for ever. Ellen Travis had retired to the ottoman, over which the en- raptured Seymour leaned, whimpering soft nothings in her ear, but fraught with bright anticipations to herself. " Emily, my love," said Matilda, who still lingered at the piano, " your uncle talks highly of your powers of voice and finger; we are alone, and I am sure you will not refuse to gratify me." " I would, I would, but we are not alone." Charles heard the timid girl's remark, and retired to a distant part of the room,, while Emily, unwilling to decline the natural request, SELF-DEPENDANCE. 99 rallied her powers and took Matilda's place. She commenced with a prelude on the instru- ment that proved the correctness of her uncle's praise, and sang the following ballad. My native vale, my native vale, Where Arno's sunny waters glide 1 I pour my sighs upon the gale, I bend me o'er the vessel's side, To catch thy fragrant breath once more, As dimly fades thy lessening shore To poor Louise, They tell me I must deck my brow With snowy pearl, and gems so fine, And lose, midst heartless pomp and show, All memory of thee and thine. I heed them not — to me more fair Thy simple flowers that wreathed the hair Of poor Louise. Why did they think my face was fair, Or deem my artless song divine ? When thou can'st boast of charms more rare, Of voices sweeter far than mine. May others share the glittering store, And thy lov'd bosom shield once more The poor Louise. F 3 100 SELD-DEPENDANCE. The merry voices that at dawn Were wont my loitering steps to chide. The birds I lov'd, my favorite fawn, The vintage feast at eventide, Farewell, farewell, tho' forced to part, They cannot tear ye from the heart Of poor Louise, Matilda listened to the youthful singer with intense interest. It was not solely occasioned by her surprise at the surpassing beauty of the performance — other and more absorbing con- siderations crowded o'er her thoughts, the name of Louise struck a chord on her heart that awakened a fearful host of sensations, all pressing on her future fate. It was strange, but she could not divest herself of the idea that her destiny was somehow linked with the poor Louise, whose plaintive sorrows had met with so powerful a representative as the unconscious Emily. There was another of her hearers, whose undisguised wonder and breathless at- tention to the ballad, would, under other cir- cumstances, have disturbed the serenity of Ellen Travis. During its continuance, Seymour paused in his oft told tale, and seemed to forget she was near to him ; when concluded, SELF-DEPENDANCE. 101 " Tell me, Miss Newton, and be not alarmed at my vehemence, whence have you derived that newly-imported gem, which has hitherto been circulated in manuscript, only among a favoured few. That very air I promised Miss Godfrey this morning in tho park, should be my passport to her smiles this evening; my intent was frustrated, and I now hear it when least expected." Emily was for a time unconscious of the emotion her song excited. She was absorbed in the mournful contemplation of past events associated with it. It was not a fanciful subject, she herself knew and had shared the sorrows of the poor Louise, and it was one of those incidents of her young life, that seemed to pass like a beauteous vision before her, soon lost to sight, but whose brief visit was not destined to be soon forgotten. The urgency of Seymour's question surprised her, a9 she could scarcely believe that the simple air, however interesting to herself, had already won admiration else- where. " I knew the poor Louise herself, Mr. Sey- mour, she was a beautiful Italian girl, who chanced to be a passenger in the same vessel 1 02 SELF-DEPEND ANCE. with my mother and myself ; we returned from Italy by sea, as it was hoped the voyage might prove of service to my mother." She thought of her mother, and in vain struggled to repress her tears. Matilda saw and respected her emotion, well knowing its cause ; but she was herself greatly agitated by Emily's short statement. She longed to question her farther, in order to relieve the suspense which, in spite of her exertions to conceal it, so overpowered her self-possession, as to be obvious to Charles, who had, during the song, silently glided again to Emily's side. Seymour did not renew the subject, as he saw the painful impression it caused to the youthful songstress, and returned to his station near Ellen Travis, who shortly explained to him the orphan's solitary state and recent loss of her mother. Charles looked forward to the unreserved communication promised by Matilda, respecting the afflicting events which, since their last meeting, had so severely tried her, when he might enquire the history of the youthful stranger who had, during the evening, so much interested him. That communication, however, could not take place till the morrow ; restraint crept in, and SELF-DEPEND ANCE. 103 the party broke up, some longing for what the world is generally anxious to avoid, the in- dulgence of their own thoughts. The following day was destined to be a day of trial to Matilda. She was already dressed when Emily, at an early hour, entered her dressing room. Matilda saw with pleasure that every trace was obliterated of the emotions of the preceding evening, as she dwelt with all the buoyant elasticity of youth on the de- light she anticipated from the proposed re- newal of her excursion of yesterday. " Emily," said Matilda, " it is with more than common curiosity, I beseech you to tell me more about the Italian girl, the poor Louise. She has even occupied my dreams, and had it not been for your own knowledge of her, I should have deemed her some child of ro- mance. 5 ' "I will do it willingly, dear Miss Godfrey, for I have pleasure in talking about her. It was one lovely evening when the shores of Italy were yet in sight, and I was seated on the deck with my mother, I first noticed a slender girl who was alone, leaning over the side of the vessel, seemingly wrapt in thought. We were talking about the expected joys of home, to 104 SELF-DEPENDANCE. which we were returning, and the improve- ment which the sea breezes had already made in my mother's spirits, when 1 distinctly heard her sobs, and she turned to gaze at us, her dark eyes swimming in tears. I need not tell you that we felt an unaccountable interest in the stranger ; my mother addressed to her a few words of kindness, and her diffidence gradually gave way. Whenever we came on deck we still found her there, as if anxiously waiting our return ; our kindness won her con- fidence, and her short but affecting story was soon told. She was born of humble parents in Tuscany, happy and contented, ignorant of the world beyond her native hills, where her every wish was centred. Sometimes strangers came among them, allured by the beautiful scenery, particularly during the vintage season. It was at such a time, when they were cele- brating one of their village festivals, when, as queen of the feast, Louise was in the midst of her young companions, crowned with chaplets of native flowers, in alternate enjoyment of song and dance on the banks of the Arno, that two female strangers alighted from their carriage and witnessed their revels. At the close, one of them, who had been an attentive SELF-DEPEND ANCE. 105 observer of the unconscious Louise, accosted her and returned with her to her cottage. Her mother, though unused to such visiters, re- ceived them hospitably, and Louise was pleased with the notice they bestowed upon herself; after some time they quitted the cottage, pre- senting Louise with some trifling gifts, which, however, in her eyes acquired a value from their novelty. Previous to their departure they had a long conversation apart with her mother, about the purport of which Louise was not at all solicitous, little dreaming it could be of importance to herself. The strangers, one of whom seemed an attendant, frequently renewed their visits, and the interest they felt, or affected to feel, in Louise, gradually warmed her gentle heart, and she looked for- ward to the return of the ' kind lady' with growing pleasure. It seemed that this lady, who was high in the estimation of the world as a professional singer, was, after an arduous campaign, recruiting her exhausted powers by travel and exercise when she first saw Louise : she was struck with the natural grace and beauty of her person, the elastic buoyancy with which she executed the village dance, and the sweet tones of her voice as she poured f 6 106 SELF-DEPENDANCR. forth, unfettered as the lark, the thrilling melodies of her native land. She longed to appropriate this ' wonder 7 to herself and train her for public exhibition, anticipating to her- self an increase of worldly advantages ; she knew her plan must be difficult of execution, as a mother's heart might be expected to oppose a serious obst acle ; but she despaired not, and the result proved favourable to her wishes. Louise's mother was a widow, bur- thened with a numerous family, and was gradually won over by the lady's plausible re- presentations that Louise's temporary absence would be for the general good of herself and family, and that she would, in a tew year?, return with ample means to provide for the comfort of all ; money was not wanting, the mother's scruples were overcome, and even Louise felt a temporary rush of joy when she heard she was to accompany the kind lady, and revelled in anticipation on the new and de- lightful scenes which awaited her. It was, however, only temporary, the trial came and it was indeed bitter. Her departure was ar- ranged to take place during the night lest her companions might throng around her and im- pede the design ; Louise clung to her mother's SELF-DEPEND ANCE. 107 knees, besought her to change her purpose, but in vain, she was borne unconscious to the carriage and woke to new scenes and new sensations in the magnificent city of Florence. She had no reason to complain of the * kind lady,'\vho was ever ready to gratify her wants and wishes, but Louise had as yet none but what were linked with home ; she submitted patiently to the daily routine of instruction intended to fit her to play the part designed for her. Her simple dress was exchanged for one more costly, but it roused no change of feeling, she was in heart still the same. When we first saw her she was on her route to Paris with her new protectress, who intended thence to proceed to London, to fulfil a professional engagement. Such are the outlines of Louise's history; her friendless state, her artless sim- plicity daily won upon us, and her more cheer- ful countenance evinced her thankfulness for our notice; her sweet voice and familiar ac- quaintance with the melodies of her native land, served to beguile the monotony of the voyage, particularly to my mother, with whom the one I attempted last evening was a leading favorite ; she adapted words to it, arising from the affecting story, and when sung by Louise ,108 SELF-DEPKNDANCE. in the mild, still night, imparted a thrilling interest which none but herself could give ; mine was but a faint attempt. Only once we saw the lady, on whose protection she was thrown, as she was indisposed during the voyage; she thanked us for our kindness to Louise. While she wns engaged in talking to my mother, I watched her attentively, much amused by her variety of conversation, and I thought her voice the most melodious I had ever heard. Some of the passengers quitted the vessel at Marseilles, among them our new acquaintance ; Louise took an affecting leave of my mother, but she flung her arms round ray neck in an agony of distress, and her last words breathed a hope that we should meet again." When Emily had concluded, Matilda's silence still continued; she had now food for intense thought, for she was satisfied with the correct- ness of her suspicions, that the Louise men- tioned by Emily was the same interesting girl that seemed linked with Edward's fate. Be- fore she could arrange the tumult of her thoughts, they were summoned by the break- fast bell to other duties, though of a less spiritual nature. SLEF-DEPENDANCE. 109 " Matilda," said her father, as he rose from the breakfast table,