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 http://www.af-chhve.org/details/jessyorroseofdon01lond
 
 JESSY, 
 
 A TALE. 
 
 Printed by J. Darling, Leadenhall-Stieet, London.
 
 JESSY; 
 
 OR, THE 
 
 ROSE OF DONALiyS COTTAGE, 
 
 IN FOUR VOLUMES. 
 
 BY THE AUTHOR OF THE BRAVO OF BOHEMIA, ^c. 
 
 'Tis Nature's most iuviolable law, 
 
 To make each species propagate its kind : 
 
 The generous oflfspiing from the generous stock 
 
 Derive the virtues, and confess the sire. 
 
 HIGGON. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 >» m « ■ < 
 
 the Mintrv 
 
 CO. LE 
 
 1818'; 
 
 Printed at the Minerva Press for 
 
 A. K. NEWMAN AND CO. LEA DEN HALL-STREET,
 
 1
 
 QZ'b 
 V. 2 
 
 TO 
 
 LJDY COPE SHERBROOKE. 
 
 MADAM, 
 
 \^ITH that timiditj' an author can 
 scarceiy fail to experience in offering 
 lier first production to a Britisii pub- 
 lic, famed as is their generous sup- 
 port and liberal encouragement of 
 rising merit, I ventured some few 
 years since to enter the list of candi- 
 dates for their favour, bj the prescn- 
 a 3 tation
 
 Vi DEDICATION. 
 
 tation of a small work, which had 
 but few claims to their notice, san- 
 guine in its success as far only as 
 depended upon the lenity which might 
 be extended towards it. 
 
 At the entreaty of many friends, 
 desirous of obtaining a local descrip- 
 tion of New Brunswick, which my 
 residence in the province enabled mc 
 to give with tolerable accuracy, I 
 was induced to hazard the fate of a 
 second work, under the favourable 
 auspices of our late worthy president, 
 Lieutenant-General Hunter. 
 
 But no such plea autliovized a third 
 
 intrusion
 
 DEDICATION. vii 
 
 intrusion upon the indulgence hitherto 
 extended to the writino-s of an un- 
 known author; and the ** Rose of 
 Donald's Cottage" would have 
 long continued in its obscurity, had 
 not the condescending goodness of 
 Lady Sherbrooke transplanted it 
 into the Literary Parterre, where, sup- 
 ported by her fostering hand, it may 
 be permitted to raise its humble head, 
 and bloom its little season, among 
 the more lasting and distinguish' 
 ed Flowers of Genius and Merit, 
 since the mild virtues of her ami- 
 able character, adding the brightest 
 lustre to her title, and: endearing her 
 to every class happily situated near 
 
 her
 
 Viii DEDICATION. 
 
 her person, cannot, while so justly 
 demanding the I'espect and admira- 
 tion due to her exemplary worth, fail 
 to influence the opinion of those 
 whose knowledge of her own highly 
 cultivated mind may induce them to 
 scan the merits of her favoured lira" 
 tegee. 
 
 But in consigning it to your Lady- 
 ship's protecting care, some ibw re- 
 marks are necessar}^ lest it should 
 hereafter occur, that your promised 
 patronage has been extended to the 
 trifling production of hours which a 
 wife and mother might have appro- 
 priated to more useful purposes. Un- 
 der
 
 DEDICATION. ix 
 
 der this impression, permit me to as- 
 sure you, that the advantage of chil- 
 dren, dear to me by every tie of 
 nature and affection, every valuable 
 quality of the heart, which can raise 
 them in the estimation of a parent, 
 has been the greatest stimulus to the 
 exertion of my pen ; and aware how 
 readily the juvenile mind is led to 
 adopt what most excites its admira- 
 tion, I have devoted many hours, 
 which might have been unprofitably 
 wasted in sleep, in forming for their 
 amusement unvarnished tales, in 
 which I have unifonnly endeavoured 
 to place Virtue and Vice in such 
 
 points
 
 at DEDICATION. 
 
 jpoints of view, that while the fiction 
 was calculated to please and interest 
 the youtliful imagination, it could 
 neither mislead their principles, nor 
 endanger their judgment, carefully 
 adhering to the representation of such 
 characters as they will constantly 
 meet with in real life : and these mo- 
 tives will, I trust, not only exonerate 
 me from a neglect of duty while thus 
 employed, but justify your assertion, 
 Madam, that I would only employ 
 my pen in the defence of Virtue 
 and Humanity; while the gratifying 
 assurance that you really believe this 
 will render me still moi^ ambitious 
 
 of
 
 DEDICATIOX. XI 
 
 of continuing to merit the generous 
 opinion you have formed of 
 
 Your Ladyship's 
 Most obedient 
 
 Humble Servant, 
 
 THE AUTHOR, 
 
 St. John's, New Brunswick, 
 North America.
 
 JESSY. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 X WICE had the little casement of 
 Donald's cottage been opened with anxi- 
 ous solicitude by his faithful Margretta, 
 as she listened in expectation of his well- 
 known step — not a sound broke on the 
 solemn stillness of the fast-closing even- 
 ing, save the faint echo of the long dis- 
 tant sheep-bell, or, at intervals, the bark- 
 ing of dogs in the adjoining village; 
 and twice she dejectedly returned to her 
 vacant seat, for the gathering clouds had 
 long foretold an approaching storm, and 
 vol.. I. B the
 
 a JESSY. 
 
 the heavy drops of rain which already, 
 beat against her window, by proving it 
 was near, awakened her fears for a hus- 
 band's safety. 
 
 His path lay across a dreary heath, 
 which could afford him no shelter from 
 the violence of the torrent that now be- 
 gan to issue from the portentous clouds, 
 and her heart sickened as the hollow 
 blast vibrated round her lonely dwelling. 
 For a moment she looked with anguish 
 on her sleeping infants, who smiled, un- 
 conscious of the warring elements ; but 
 when the vivid flashes of lightning, suc- 
 ceeded by loud peals of thunder, which 
 threatened, as she believed, instant de- 
 struction, appalled every sense, she clasp- 
 ed her hands in agony, and knelt by 
 them in all the horror of despair. 
 
 Still the tempest raged with unabated 
 fury; but Margretta, motionless with 
 terror, continued gazing on her children, 
 till the shrill voice of the trusty Carlo, 
 who had accompanied his master, caught 
 
 her
 
 JESSY. 3 
 
 lier ear — it proclaimed his safety — de- 
 spair was banished by the certainty ; and, 
 in the next moment, clasped to the affec- 
 tionate heart of Donald, JNIargretta forgot 
 the storm. She was unconscious also 
 that he was accompanied by a stranger, 
 till, having relieved her fears by an as- 
 surance that he had sustained no in- 
 jury from the tempestuous weather, 
 Donald entreated his guest would be 
 seated, and with honest simplicity apo- 
 logized for the inattention of his wife, 
 which he attributed solely to the fright 
 she had sustained from knowing he was 
 out in so rough a night. 
 
 " And yet I would willingly encounter 
 just such another, my good friend," said 
 the stranger, " to witness such a meeting ; 
 though truly we have had a sorry jour- 
 ney, and but for your hospitable invita- 
 tion, I should even now be enduring 
 the pitiless storm, which appears to have 
 lost httle of its violence." 
 
 It was even so ; for the rude-formed 
 B 2 walls
 
 4} JESSY. 
 
 walls of the humble dwelling feebly re- 
 sisted the ceaseless rain which battered 
 against them, while the loud murmurs 
 of the hollow blast bespoke the evident 
 convulsions of surrounding nature. But 
 the innocent are fearless, and it was thus 
 with Donald : his frugal repast, prepared 
 by the hand of her he loved, stood ready 
 for his reception ; the cheerful fire blazed 
 on a clean swept hearth, and his children 
 slept in safety ; it was not, therefore, 
 for a man thus encompassed with earthly 
 comforts that the storm could have a 
 terror. 
 
 His guest was warmly entreated to 
 partake their fare ; and during the home- 
 ly meal, Margretta learnt he was on his 
 way, when overtaken by Donald, to visit 
 a lady who resided at no great distance 
 from them, and whom both her husband 
 and self reverenced as a superior being : 
 it was a sister long lost, and deeply re- 
 gretted, whom, after many a fruitless 
 search, he had at last traced, with much 
 
 difficulty?
 
 JESSY. 5 
 
 difficulty, under a feif^ned name, to a 
 dreary solitude in the north of England; 
 but no sooner had the rustic pair dis- 
 covered that their present inmate was 
 truly the brother of madam Duncannon, 
 than their assiduity was, if possible, re- 
 doubled, and the honour his presence con- 
 ferred rendered them inattentive to every 
 thing but his accommodation ; and in 
 vain he proposed attempting that night 
 to reach the cottage she was said to in- 
 habit. 
 
 Were they to suffer a relation of ma- 
 dam Dun cannon's again to expose him- 
 self to such a storm ? No — besides, their 
 beloved lady would be in bed long since, 
 and might be alarmed by so late a 
 visitor. 
 
 Every objection, therefore, to his in- 
 commoding them by a longer stay was 
 overruled ; and, with a promise that 
 Donald should accompany him at an 
 early hour on the following day to her 
 abode, the stranger determined to pass 
 B 3 the
 
 6 JESsr. 
 
 the night beneath their roof, happy that 
 Heaven had favoured his inquiries, by- 
 leading him to people so well prepared 
 to satisfy him in much he had yet to 
 learn of this beloved sister. 
 
 " You are doubtless," he said, " old re- 
 sidents in this part of the world, and can 
 tell me how long Mrs. Duncannon has 
 been in your neighbourhood ?'* 
 
 " That I never heard," replied Don- 
 ald ; *' but she must have been here long 
 before us, for we learnt her praises from 
 young and old when we first came to 
 this cottage, and had soon reason to join 
 in them. Margretta fell sick shortly after 
 we took it, and I had most certainly lost 
 both her and the little angel you see, 
 sir, sleeping there, but for the goodness 
 of madam and her noble son." 
 
 " She has a child then ? Heaven be 
 praised !" said the stranger, with an en- 
 ergy that startled his auditors. 
 
 ** Yes, sir," continued the enraptured 
 Donald, ** and such a child kings might 
 
 covet—
 
 JES^Y, 7 
 
 covet — But, as I was saying to your 
 honour, she found us out, and never 
 ceased to visit our poor dwelling, till 
 her kind care had restored them both to 
 health, since which she has been our best 
 friend, and is become so fond of my little 
 Jessy, that she almost lives with her ; 
 this indeed is partly to please master 
 Seymour, who is never happy but when 
 she is near him.'* 
 
 ** They are then, perhaps, nearly of an 
 age ?" returned the stranger. 
 
 " There is but two years difference," 
 Donald replied ; " the son of my bene- 
 factress is seven years old, and my little 
 girl nearly five ; but your honour would 
 be pleased to see their childish affection 
 for each other, and this you will have an 
 opportunity of doing, if you do not set 
 out too early, as master Seymour will 
 not fail to pay us an early visit, afler such 
 a night as this, to satisfy himself that 
 Jessy was not frightened by the thun- 
 der." 
 
 B 4 This
 
 8 JESSY. 
 
 This simple account of tlie children 
 had excited more curiosity in the breast 
 of the stranger than Donald was aware 
 of; he was himself the child of Nature, 
 her pure laws alone his guide, and futu- 
 rity a book he never studied, for the 
 present brought with it content and her 
 attendant peace ; he therefore daily wit- 
 nessed the infant attachment of Seymour 
 and Jessy, without an idea bordering on 
 those which possessed the man to whom 
 the artless tale was told. He, on the con- 
 trary, moved a distinguished character 
 in that world of which Donald knew but 
 the name: education had refined his 
 sentiments, but ambition had sapped the 
 foundation of a once-noble mind, while 
 avarice had taught him the narrow dis- 
 tinction between rich and poor. Hence a 
 connection, however remote, which might 
 ally greatness to the sons of industry, 
 VN^as a supposition not to be tolerated ; 
 and the evil he now contemplated, though 
 small as a grain of sand from its oozy 
 
 bed,
 
 JESSY. 9 
 
 bed, might become a cloud of sufficient 
 magnitude to obscure the prospects he 
 already had in view for the offspring of 
 this newly-recovered sister, now he learnt 
 she had a child, and that fortunately, as 
 he termed it, a boy : rapid as vrere the 
 transitions of his ideas during the reci- 
 tal, they had determined him how to 
 act ; and having assured Donald he would 
 wait the event of Seymour's arrival be- 
 fore he sought his mother, next inquired 
 by Vvhom ^Irs. Duncan non was visited, 
 and in what manner she chiefly spent 
 her time? 
 
 To the first question, Donald an- 
 swered — " He understood madam chose 
 the lone house on the bourn side be- 
 cause she would see no company, and 
 that he did not think the great people 
 could believe such a lady lived there, for 
 she kept no other servants than a little 
 girl, w^hom she had taken from a neigh- 
 bouring hut, and old Gilbert, who al- 
 ways attended master: Seymour in his 
 B 5 rambles,
 
 10 JESSY. 
 
 rambles, while his good mother was pay- 
 ing her visits to the sick poor, in whose 
 service she employed all the time not 
 spent in learning her son ; for sl>e was 
 thought to be a main great scholar, see- 
 ing she played all kinds of music, and 
 had beautiful pictures that she had paint- 
 ed herself '' 
 
 " If she has so few attendants," said 
 her brother, interrupting him, " I am 
 fearful she must have been in great ter- 
 ror during this tempestuous night, and 
 from the situation of her house, in dan- 
 ger also ?" 
 
 " No, your honour," he replied ; " had 
 her dwelling come to harm, I should 
 have had a messenger long ere this, for 
 she is surrounded by little huts, whose 
 inhabitants would all risk their lives to 
 save hers, and some would have run to 
 our cottage, had they vt^anted assistance ; 
 and as for fear, she is much too good to 
 know it, for she tells us in all our trou- 
 bles, the great God who made us means 
 
 not
 
 JESSY. 11 
 
 not that we shall perish, and that be- 
 lieving in him, we have nothing to fear. 
 Storms too, she assures us, are not sent 
 to harm us, and even ^largretta now 
 does not mind the most dreadful." 
 
 " Not," she returned, " when you are 
 safe at home." 
 
 The stranger smiled at her artless pro- 
 viso, and having congratulated her on 
 his present safety, retired for a few hours 
 to the bed his kind hostess had prepared 
 for him. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 <^*^^r ^NT ^^r^^»4^r'^'^1«^r^«^# 
 
 Anticipating the arrival of Seymour, 
 he arose at an early hour, and so fully 
 was his mind engrossed by the various 
 opinions he had formed as to the child 
 he was taught to expect, from Donald's 
 B 6 description.
 
 12! JESSY. 
 
 description, that not a thought occurred 
 of the little Jessy, who was the subject 
 of his expected visit : but when, on enter- 
 ing the apartment in which the family- 
 were assembled to partake the morning^s 
 repast, her cherub form met his sight, 
 astonishment became a term too poor for 
 the sensation he experienced. A rosy- 
 faced boy, whose smiling countenance 
 told his happy temper, was employed in 
 parting, with his little sunburnt fingers, 
 the luxuriant curls, that more than half 
 concealed eyes, blue as the azure hea- 
 vens ; and having kissed her with frater- 
 nal affection, he said — " Now, Jessy, 
 make room for Edward to sit down by 
 you.*' 
 
 But the stranger's appearance at that 
 moment disconcerted them ; Edward 
 looked abashed, and Jess}^ clinging to 
 the side of JMargretta, eyed him with 
 childish confusion. 
 
 Donald had spoken in raptures of Sey. 
 mour Duncannon, but Jessy's incompar- 
 able
 
 JESSY. 13 
 
 able beauty he had not even named. 
 Could a rustic possessing such a child 
 fail to know its worth, or to admire it as 
 a prodigy ? surely not. 
 
 In a moment the danger of such a 
 companion, though in infancy, for Sey- 
 mour, darted on his mind, and made him 
 vmjust to the honest worth of his host, 
 whose modest diffidence was now con- 
 strued to art, and his silence thought to 
 be premeditated, that the elTect might 
 be greater when he saw her; but as he 
 gazed in silent wonder, Donald entered 
 from his early labours, and having re- 
 spectfully inquired how he had rested, 
 proudly took the still but half-reconciled 
 girl from Margretta's apron, and advan- 
 cing towards him, said — " This, sir, is the 
 child whom our neighbours call the 
 * Rose of Donald's Cottage,' because ma- 
 dam Duncannon named her such one 
 morning, when the cold air had given 
 her cheeks a fine colour ; but indeed," 
 he added, " she is seldom without it." 
 
 Ashamed
 
 14 JESSY. 
 
 Ashamed that he had for a moment 
 accused the chaste simplicity of the man 
 who thus addressed him, and struck by 
 the power of infantine beauty, he took 
 her on his knee, acknowledging his ima- 
 gination could never have pictured such 
 perfection in the human form. 
 
 Donald's expectation was soon veri- 
 fied ; for, before the conclusion of their 
 meal, the uplifted latch proclaimed the 
 arrival of a visitor, and in the next in- 
 stant a face, in which health vied with 
 the expression of every feature, was 
 thrust into the contracted space, while, 
 in a manly animated voice, its possessor 
 exclaimed — " Well, good folks, here I 
 am !" 
 
 But at that moment his eye rested on 
 a stranger's face, and though a stranger 
 was of all things least expected in Don- 
 ald's cottage, his embariassment was mo- 
 mentary ; for having iLrown open the 
 door, which he had till then held, he ad- 
 vanced with a noble undaunted air into 
 
 the
 
 JESSY. 15 
 
 the room, and after bowing gracefully 
 to the unknown guest, turning to Don- 
 ald, he said — " I am happy to find you 
 all well this morning, after so boisterous 
 a night. I was feai-ful Jessy would be 
 sadly frightened, which has brought me 
 so early ; but she looks none the worse." 
 
 While speaking, his eyes wandered 
 from his little friend, who was reluctant- 
 ly kept on her seat by the gentleman 
 w^ho held her, and their pointed expres- 
 sion marked the curiosity his presence 
 there, as well as her situation on h:s 
 knee, excited. 
 
 Donald and Margretta having made 
 their grateful acknowledgments for his 
 kindness, eagerly inquired after Mrs. 
 Duncannon, and received with pleasure 
 the assurance of her health and safety. 
 " But poor Gilbert," he added, " is, I 
 believe, something the worse for the 
 storm, for I have left him wading through 
 the mud, and wondering I could get on 
 so fast, without remembering the differ- 
 ence
 
 16 JESSY. 
 
 ence of his legs and mine ; but I begged 
 him not to hurry, as I should meet him 
 on my return, not having a moment to 
 stay, as my mother spends the morning 
 at home." 
 
 The restraint imposed on Jessy now 
 becoming painful, she made an effort for 
 a release, and having obtained it, glided 
 silently round to the chair near which 
 Seymour stood. He observed the mo- 
 tion with apparent pleasure, and taking 
 her hand, said — " I shall not see you 
 again to day, for I must study hard, be- 
 cause to-morrow I shall have to attend 
 your lessons, as you will spend the day 
 with my mother, and I shall come with 
 Gilbert to fetch you early. Edward, 
 my good fellow," placing his hand on 
 her brother's head, " good-bye to you." 
 
 And then bidding each a separate 
 adieu, he was hastening to the door, 
 when Donald, begging his pardon for 
 stopping him, said — " He was preparing 
 to set out also for madam Duncannon's 
 
 with
 
 JESSY. 17 
 
 with the gentleman he saw, who had 
 business with her." 
 
 This intelligence rivetted him, for never 
 had a being passed their threshold in his 
 remembrance, save the rustic clan by 
 %vhom they were sun'ounded, and among 
 whom he had spent the few past years of 
 his existence. 
 
 Willing to mitigate his evident sur- 
 prise, by in part revealing who he was, 
 the brother of JMrs. Duncannon inquired 
 if his mother had ever named any of her 
 relations to him ? 
 
 " Never, sir," was the answer; " nor 
 do I think she believes herself in posses- 
 sion of one, since she has lived some years 
 on the bourn side, in a solitude, w4iich I 
 have often heard her declare she would 
 never willingly resign." 
 
 " Perhaps," returned the stranger, 
 ^* you can influence her to believe she 
 has yet a brother, tenderly interested 
 for her welfare, when I assure you he 
 has, since his return to England, sought 
 
 her
 
 l8 JESSY. 
 
 her -with unremitting assiduity, but that 
 it is only within these few week she has 
 fortunately discovered her retirement." 
 
 " And you know that brother, sir ?'* 
 returned Seymour, as if musing intently 
 on what he heard, but started on being 
 told he then stood before him; and 
 though it was the first relation he had 
 ever seen, besides the parent he revered, 
 a consciousness of the duty he owed 
 to the brother of that parent instinctive- 
 ly led him to take the extended hand of 
 his uncle, which he pressed respectfully, 
 entreating he might be allowed to pre- 
 cede Donald and himself, with informa- 
 tion that would doubtless afford his mo- 
 ther much pleasure, and which the great 
 surprise might otherwise damp. 
 
 To this no objection could be started, 
 and the delighted boy set out ; but if his 
 speed, quickened by the wish of seeing 
 Jessy, had in his journey thither out- 
 stripped his aged companion, it was far 
 exceeded on his return by the important 
 
 news
 
 JESSY. 19 
 
 news of which he was the willing he- 
 rald. 
 
 Breathless with impatience, he entered 
 the apartment in which Mrs. -Duncan- 
 non awaited his arrival, who, while she 
 reproved him for using such undue exer- 
 cise, secretly admired the beautiful glow 
 of health which that exercise had in- 
 creased on his youthful cheek. Elated 
 with the story he was going to impart, 
 Seymour prefaced the sequel by an ac- 
 count of the strange gentleman he had 
 met in Donald's cottage; but when he 
 added, the purport of his business there 
 w^as to seek her, a more than usual pale- 
 ness passed over her interesting features, 
 and in faltering accents she demanded his 
 name? 
 
 That Seymour had never learnt ; but 
 when he mentioned his consanguinity, 
 with clasped hands she exclaimed, "Then 
 the little peace solitude could only insure 
 me is broken in upon, and I have no lon- 
 ger aught to expect but ceaseless anxiety ! 
 
 Where,
 
 ;Z0 JESSY. 
 
 Where, my poor boy, is this relation, 
 ■who comes to deprive us of the only 
 wealth his unkindness spared me — a re- 
 tirement unmolested ?" 
 
 How different was this reception to 
 that his ardent mind had pictured ! 
 
 Seymour listened attentively while she 
 spoke, but incapable of assimilating her 
 words to his own ideas, he looked si- 
 lently towards the window for his ap- 
 proach; while Mrs. Duncannon, ab- 
 sorbed in a deep reverie, noticed not hm 
 arrival, till the voice of Donald inquir- 
 ing for her recalled the powers of recol- 
 lection. Hers were evidently of a pain- 
 ful nature, and instead of returning the 
 oifered embrace, she coolly resumed the 
 seat she had left on his entrance, after de- 
 siring Seymour to set a vacant one f©r 
 the gentleman. 
 
 " And why not, my Helen, for his 
 uncle ?" said her brother. 
 
 " Because I have yet, sir," she replied, 
 with studied indifference, " to learn how 
 
 far
 
 JESSY. 21 
 
 far you merit the title you seem so im- 
 patient to claim. Seymour, my love," 
 she continued, " I have business with 
 this gentleman ; see that the good Don- 
 ald has some refreshment, and when I 
 wish for your presence, I will call on you." 
 
 Seymour retired, his little heart swell- 
 ing with the various emotions this singu- 
 lar transaction had given rise to, and for 
 two hours anxiously awaited the signal 
 which was to recall him to his mother's 
 room. But what was his surprise when, 
 Donald being first summoned, he in 
 the next instant saw him depart with 
 that uncle, from whose arrival he had 
 formed expectations which he was never- 
 theless at a loss to define ! 
 
 On his re-entering the apartment 
 which he had so reluctantly quitted, 3Irs. 
 Duncannon appeared more composed, 
 though he could easily perceive proofs of 
 recent agitation, and that she had shed 
 tears, since the traces of them were still 
 discernible. 
 
 '' You
 
 S2I JESSY. 
 
 " You are doubtless, my beloved boy, 
 surprised at the sudden departure of this 
 new-found relation," she said with kind- 
 ness, as he entered the room, " and I re- 
 gret that I cannot fully explain the mo- 
 tives which make me rejoice in that depar- 
 ture; but of this be assured, however 
 strange my conduct may appear to you, 
 I am biassed by no motive save that of 
 your future welfare ; my own happiness 
 is not held in competition with yours, 
 and I exist but to promote it. Should 
 I ultimately fail in doing so, it will be 
 an error of judgment only, since it is the 
 criterion of my every action." 
 
 This Seymour hesitated not to be- 
 lieve ; but there was a mystery in the 
 whole that he could not develop, and 
 that mystery imposed a tax on his active 
 imagination, that for a few hours became 
 painful ; but his wag the happy age when 
 mutability is a blessing — when so rapid 
 are the successions of pain and pleasure, 
 that even the tear of infant sorrow is not 
 
 unfreq^uently
 
 JESSY. 25 
 
 unfrequently seen to glisten on the very 
 cheek dimpled by playful smiles. 
 
 CHAPTER HI. 
 
 His mother gradually resumed her wont- 
 ed composure, but forbore leading to 
 the subject of their late visitor, and 
 Jessy was permitted to spend the follow- 
 ing day wdth them; but Gilbert was 
 dispatched alone for her, and though this 
 marred a project of Seymour's, which 
 w^as to inquire what became of the 
 stranger when he left their house, in 
 her presence he forgot the disappoint- 
 ment ; and notwithstanding her father 
 was for some time in close conference 
 with Mrs. Duncannon, in consequence 
 
 of
 
 ^4 JESSY. 
 
 of her sending for him, he sought no op- 
 portunity of seeing hiai alone ; and sue* 
 ceeding months passed on without any- 
 further interruption to the sequestered 
 life they led. 
 
 Seymour's improvement exceeded 
 even a mother's wishes ; nor did she ap- 
 pear to derive less pleasure from the 
 opening beauties of Jessy's mind, which, 
 cultivated under her care, promised to 
 equal that of her exterior form. Their 
 early attachment had never given her a 
 moment's concern, for she either con- 
 sidered it as too trivial for notice, or was 
 indifferent as to the result. The very 
 few great neighbours she possessed 
 would perhaps have termed her mode of 
 conduct towards the children absurd, if 
 not imprudent ; but her actions came not 
 within the scale of their observations, 
 and her rustic friends were much too ig- 
 norant to form an opinion, and too de- 
 voted to her service to believe she could 
 err. But her beloved seclusion was again 
 
 to
 
 JESST. 25 
 
 to be interrupted, though from another 
 quarter, and that when least expected. 
 
 A castle near to her dwelling, once the 
 seat of northern hospitality, but long 
 since the terror of weak superstition, pro- 
 bably from the very circumstance of its 
 being uninhabited, reared its ivy-decked 
 turrets, and proudly bade defiance to every 
 iiostile attack, ^vhile tlie warlike chief 
 who last owned the venerable pile pos* 
 sessed only the narrow circumference of 
 a vaulted mausoleum, bordering his de- 
 mesne, and where he slept in peace with 
 his forefathers. 
 
 It bounded a favourite walk of Mrs. 
 Duncannon's, and often, while the child- 
 ren ranged the grounds, she seated her- 
 self near the building, contemplating in 
 it the epitome of fallen greatness, though 
 it not unfrequently led her to a painful 
 retrospect of the ^ast, by a comparative 
 view of the changes in her own life ; for 
 she had moved in a far different scene 
 from that in which fate had now placed 
 
 VOL. I. c her,
 
 §6 JESSY. 
 
 her, nor had her dawning sun beheld 
 evep a vestige of the clouds which had 
 obscured its meridian, and still hung 
 portentous over its declining rays. But 
 the rectitude of a virtuous mind gave 
 firmness to her conduct — trifling evils 
 could not intimidate her, and if she did 
 not rise superior to those of a greater 
 magnitude, she evinced in every added 
 trial a greatness of soul that enabled her 
 to stem the torrent of opposing sorrow. 
 Choice, not disgust, had driven her from 
 the ^vorld ; for, considering it but as a 
 preparatory step to a better, she had 
 never beheld its defects with a jaundiced 
 eye ; and though few had more keenly 
 felt its vicissitudes than herself, she blend- 
 ed with her instruction to the young 
 Seymour such pleasing descriptions of 
 it, that it might have been supposed her 
 voluntary exile had rather enhanced its 
 value than weakened its powers of at- 
 traction ; while with the purest j udgment 
 she corrected his opinion of those who, 
 
 he
 
 JESSY. 27 
 
 lie was given to understand, existed in it, 
 by drawing so accurate a description be- 
 tween the vicious and the good, that 
 while he shrunk from the approach of 
 vice, by proving the detestation in which 
 he held it, his little heart exulted in the 
 performance of every action that he was 
 taught to believe would insure him the 
 2'espect and approbation of good and 
 noble minds : hence his love of virtue, 
 ^nd the dignity of soul that raised him 
 above the child. 
 
 Their accustomed perambulation had 
 one evening brought them so near the 
 castle, that JVIrs, Duncannon beheld with 
 sui'prise, windows, which during her re- 
 sidence in the neighbourhood the sun 
 had never penetrated, opened to receive 
 the fragrant breaths of heaven, whii^ 
 the circHng smoke, issuing from its gothic 
 chimney, arose in spiral form above the 
 lofty battlements. Several domestics 
 crossed the long-deserted avenue, which 
 she had so frequently paced unmolested; 
 c 2 but
 
 SS jEssr. 
 
 but their presence proved hers was no lorf 
 ger proper, and she hastily turned her di- 
 rection. 
 
 That the castle was going to be in- 
 habited, observation left no room to 
 doubt ; but her curiosity was no farther 
 excited by the circumstance, than to cause 
 a momentary regret that she should in 
 future be debarred the privilege of wan- 
 dering in its sequestered walks. 
 
 Seymour would have asked a thou- 
 sand questions, but his curiosity, when 
 it tended not to useful knowledge, was 
 a propensity his mother never indulged ; 
 of this he was aware ; therefore having 
 wondered what laird was coming to re- 
 side so near them, he tripped after Jessy, 
 with a heart much lighter than the new 
 possessor of the castle boasted. 
 ^i But an incident so unexpected covild 
 n^t long remain a secret, and Gilbert 
 was prepared for his mistress's return, 
 tvith a history that lost little in its rela- 
 tion by the garrulity of old age. " The 
 \ lord
 
 JESSY. 29 
 
 lord Malcolm," he said, " had purchased 
 the estate, and was coming with a con- 
 siderable clan to reside in it ; but it was 
 very strange T 
 
 ; ** Surely, my good friend," replied- 
 Mrs. Duncannon, smiling at the signifi- 
 cant shrugs, that were meant to express 
 something remained yet untold, " there 
 is at least nothing very wonderful in this 
 part of your story." 
 
 " What ! not, madam, in so great a lord 
 taking the castle, when it has been de- 
 serted so many years?" 
 
 " Decidedly not; only a great lord, 
 as you term him, could have occasion 
 for such extensive premises, which has 
 probably been the cause of its remaining 
 so long uninhabited, as the late possessor 
 is said to have left no descendants, and his 
 heir-at-law, if there is any, has never 
 claimed it ; at least so I have been given 
 to understand." 
 
 " But then, madam, the present lord 
 
 is so impatient to get to the castle, that 
 
 c3 he
 
 30 JESSY. 
 
 he will not wait for the common repairs 
 being done ; and they say it is a sorry- 
 place inside for such a great man ; in- 
 deed his servants think, when he sees 
 ^very thing around him so gloomy, it 
 will make him worse than he is now." 
 
 " Is he then in ill health ?" asked Mrs. 
 Duncannon. 
 
 " Much worse, my lady," and agaiix 
 Gilbert's shoulders made a rapid inclina* 
 tion towards his ears ; " he is beside him- 
 self; that is, at times, for at others lie is 
 quite well, and is a very good master; 
 but I fancy, had he been as good a father, 
 he might have been more happy." 
 
 Gilbert was now advancing to the 
 marvellous part of his narrative, which 
 he would have enlarged by the embel- 
 lishments of his own opinion, but his mis- 
 tress no sooner found the relation extend- 
 ed to the domestic affairs of her newneigh- 
 bour, than she checked his volubility 
 by remarking, that as lord Malcolm's 
 private character could be of no conse- 
 quence
 
 JESSY. 31 
 
 quence to them, they would wave the 
 subject. 
 
 He would fain have proceeded, for he 
 had yet much to communicate, but Mrs. 
 Duncannon's commands, though always 
 delivered in the mildest accents, were, he 
 well knew, indisputable. Gilbert was 
 therefore silent, though he made ample 
 amends for the constraint he had been 
 obliged toputonhisown love of talking, by 
 rehearsing the foregoing particulars, with 
 all he knew, to the little girl who w^as 
 a domestic in the house with him ; but 
 this, though it appeared so important to 
 the good old man, amounted to no more 
 than that it was rumoured lord Malcolm 
 had disinherited an only son, once his 
 greatest pride, and had never been seen 
 to smile since. 
 
 Several days succeeded the little inci- 
 dent, during which Seymour as usual 
 paid his daily visits to the cottage of 
 Donald, and Jessy, in return, spent her 
 happiest hours at the bourn side, when 
 c 4 the
 
 3« JESSY. 
 
 the appearance of a splendid equipage 
 announced the arrival of their new neigh- 
 bour. 
 
 A sight so new could not fail to astonish 
 the children. Mrs. Duncaniion, as she 
 beheld it pass at a small distance from her 
 humble mansion, heaved a sigh, without 
 a consciousness of having done so ; while 
 Gilbert rubbed his hands, pleased with 
 the determination he had secretly made 
 in his own mind, of getting acquainted, 
 if possible, with some of the many ser- 
 vants who were going to reside at the 
 castle. 
 
 But a different scene took place at the 
 obscure residence of Jessy : Donald, as 
 usual, returned from his rustic employ- 
 ment, though the hour of his doing so 
 somewhat exceeded that in which Mar- 
 gretta was accustomed to expect him ; 
 but it served as a pretext for his plead- 
 ing more than common fatigue, and re- 
 tiring almost instantly to bed ; yet his 
 sleep, when there, was not, as usual, the 
 
 sweet
 
 JESSY. SS 
 
 sweet restorative to weary nature ; its po- 
 tent power pervaded his fmme, but reach- 
 ed not the more active mind, which evi- 
 dently laboured under some concealed 
 oppression, though whence the heavy 
 siglis that at times reached the anxious 
 ear of Margi'etta, she could not divine. 
 
 Of sorrow they had hitherto known 
 but little, since their poverty had placed 
 them beyond those imaginary wants that 
 so often create disappointment, and their 
 attendant train of evils ; and the coarse 
 bread that cherished them, though earned 
 by the sweat of his brow, v/hile sweetened 
 with content, left them careless of a 
 change of fortune, but grateful for that 
 they enjoyed. She was convinced no bad 
 deed could have rendered him thus rest- 
 less, for she knew his honest heart would 
 have shrunk from the performance of an 
 unjust action : she had followed him 
 to the seat of war, for Donald had been 
 a soldier — seen him prepare with daunt- 
 less intrepidity to meet his countiy's foes, 
 c 5 and
 
 §4 JESSY. 
 
 and sleep, on the eve of doing so, peace- 
 ful as the passive infant, who dreamt 
 not of making war, or its countless dan* 
 
 Unable, therefore, to assign a more 
 satisfactoi-y reason for his apparent un- 
 easiness, she endeavoured to persuade 
 herself it might be the effect of a dream ; 
 and having tranquillized her own mind 
 by the probable suggestion, she yielded 
 to the ascendant pov/er of sleep, which^ 
 by closing her eyelids, left her totally 
 unconscious of the hours Donald counted 
 wdth impatience, till the soaring lark^ 
 high over his straw-built roof, called 
 him to his daily task. 
 
 Never had morning's tuneful herald 
 been more welcome ; and having arisen; 
 with alacrity, kissed the still-sleeping 
 cheeks of Jessy and Edward, he hastened 
 forth to early labour. 
 
 But scarcely had Mrs. Duncan nort 
 seated herself at the breakfast-table than 
 Donald was announced ; he had always 
 
 been
 
 JESSY. 9^ 
 
 been a favourite, and her favourites were 
 ever greeted with the smile of sincerity; 
 but a moment served to convince her it 
 was to more than a common incident 
 she owed the unusual visit of her rustic 
 neighbour; and having desired him to 
 be seated, inquired what had brought 
 him thus early to the bourn side ? 
 
 " To ask your advice, madam," he re- 
 plied, " without which I know not how 
 to act." 
 
 Struck by his eager manner, she en- 
 treated him t6 say in what she could 
 serv'e him; but the entrance of Sey- 
 mour left him only time to solicit a pri- 
 vate conference, as his business with her 
 related to lord Malcolm, the new pos- 
 sessor of the castle. * 
 
 IVIore than ever surprised at his in- 
 creasing agitation, as with the purport of 
 his visit, she retired with him, giving^ 
 orders that she might receive no inter- 
 ruption during the time Donald was with 
 her. 
 
 C 6 Whatever
 
 SQ JESSY. 
 
 Whatever the result of this private 
 interview, it was carefully concealed on 
 either side ; for Donald returned with a 
 heart so much lighter, that when Mar- 
 gretta related her apprehensions of the 
 preceding night, he assured her, with a 
 smile, they Avere groundless, as he was, 
 at that moment, happy as usual; and 
 Mrs. Duncannon carefully evaded lead- 
 ing to the subject of his visit to her. 
 
 But if lord IMalcolm's arrival was so 
 soon *known among them, he, in turn, 
 was not long in making himself equally 
 acquainted with the various characters of 
 the humble neighbours by whom he was 
 surrounded — intelligence he cliiefly owed 
 to the vokibility of his favourite valet, who, 
 in a feV days, contrived to make himself 
 perfect master of the little history in which 
 they were all comprised, and in which 
 Mrs. Duncannon bore no inconsiderable 
 part. The inhabitants were in general pea- 
 sants — the hardy sons of labour, whose 
 sturdy frames, inured to toil, proclaimed 
 
 them
 
 JESSY. 37 
 
 them the rude children of nature, and 
 in whose hves there was httle variation, 
 since their only study was, by industry, 
 to procure the common means of sub- 
 sistence — their only ambition to prove 
 the fealty with which they served the 
 lord of whose clan they proudly owned 
 themselves subjects: but her household 
 came not within this number ; yet, se- 
 questered as v/as the life she led, tliough 
 unknown, and almost unattended, she 
 w^as, he found, nevertheless a ruling star ; 
 every cottager breathed her name with 
 ecstacy, and in reciting her praises, heed- 
 ed not the inquiry they w^ere so little 
 prepared to answer, of w^ho she was, or 
 whence she came. The mystery, 'there- 
 fore, that enveloped her, excited a de- 
 gree of interest in the mind of lord Mal- 
 colm, which promised, for a while, to 
 divert it from the baneful cause which 
 had cankered peace, and left him the hope- 
 less victim of devoted misery. 
 
 He conjectured she must be the child 
 
 of
 
 38 JESSY. 
 
 of sorrow, or whence this seclusion front 
 the world? for who that felt the mild 
 influence of happiness, and revelled in 
 the full sunshine of felicity, would seek 
 a residence so mean, in the chill solitude 
 of a northern sky ? It could only be a 
 soul ni|)t by the cutting breath of ingra- 
 titude—stung by the venom of some 
 unkindly sorrow, that could listen to the 
 loud blast, and feel soothed by its seve- 
 rity. 
 
 With such a motive he had sought it, 
 and determined, though surrounded by 
 the appendages so requisite to his rank 
 in life, retired within himself, to indulge 
 the gloomy habit which had for some 
 yeai*s grown on him. 
 
 Unchecked in his narrative, Leopold 
 omitted speaking of het son, for that 
 would have been touching a chord with 
 which his lord's sorrow was too nearly 
 connected ; he therefore left the discovery 
 of Seymour, and his affinity to Mrs. 
 Duncannon, to the effect of chance; 
 
 but
 
 JESSY. 39 
 
 but her protegee was not forgotten, and 
 the * Hose of Donald's Cottage' lost Httle 
 of her rustic fame in the recital of lord 
 JNIalcolm's informer ; but the account of 
 a child, even beautiful as he proclaimed 
 her, weighed lightly in the scale of that 
 interest her patroness had excited ; and 
 having dismissed his servant, he rumi- 
 nated on the most probable means of ob- 
 taining an interview with the Recluse 
 of the Bourn. But with a heart proud 
 in its own prerogatives, implacable in 
 its resentments, and soured by disap- 
 pointment, he still reverenced female 
 delicacy ; it was therefore no easy task — 
 since, to break in on her retirement, 
 without havin^T a motive to assim for 
 SO doing, was not at all compatible with 
 the respect he already, though unknown, 
 felt for her ; and, as his household con- 
 sisted but of domestics, he had no chance 
 of inducing her to visit the castle — when 
 an incident, least expected, presented the 
 
 wished-for
 
 40 JESSY. 
 
 wished-for opportunity, and that within 
 a short period of his arrival in the neigh- 
 bourhood. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 His only daughter had married a mail 
 in all respects her inferior as to birth 
 and fortune ; but as, at the time of her 
 marriage, lord Malcolm's every wish was 
 centered in the son who was to give to 
 posterity the name and dignities he so 
 proudly vaunted, the indiscretion of his 
 daughter was scarcely heeded ; and hav- 
 ing given her a portion more than ade- 
 quate to the choice she had made, he 
 turned every thought to the future 
 aggrandizement of that son, for whom 
 
 alone
 
 JESSY. 41 
 
 alone he lived ; and the early propensi- 
 ties of his generous nature justified the 
 love he bore him, had it made him less 
 indifferent to the child v^ho by nature 
 had equal claims on his affection, since 
 the lovely woman who gave them birth, 
 in the awful hour of >closing existence, 
 bequeathed them equally to his paternal 
 care, though she had often witnessed, 
 with painful solicitude, the evident pre- 
 ference Alphonso maintained over their 
 infant Madeline. But in losing her mo- 
 ther, Madeline lost her only friend, since 
 lord Malcolm's fondness faded with his 
 remembrance of the being who adjured 
 it ; and though Alphonso loved her with 
 a brother s aifection, the superiority of 
 his years gave him pursuits in whick 
 she would haA^e been an intruder. She 
 was, therefore, at the command of her 
 father, mostly confined to that part of 
 the house appropriated to herself and at- 
 tendants, and where he occasionally paid 
 her the short visits which w^re made as 
 
 a point
 
 49 jEssr. 
 
 a point of duty, rather than from motives 
 of paternal love. 
 
 To the mistaken indulgence, there- 
 fore, of her governess, and such of the 
 d.omestics who were privileged to be- 
 come her occasional associates, Madeline 
 owed the dangerous sentiment that first 
 inspired her with an idea of seeking hap- 
 piness in her own way : she believed it 
 depended wholly on finding a mind con- 
 genial with her own, which was, from 
 neglect, too much uncultivated to leave 
 her a safe arbitress of her own fate. She 
 had talents which her partial mother 
 would have nurtured till perfection had 
 given tliem lustre, and obliged even 
 lord Malcolm to view them with admi- 
 ration ; but they lost the fostering hand 
 that should have rear d them w^hile yet 
 in embryo, and the blossom, thus nipt, 
 gradually withered, leaving only a heart 
 disposed to every virtue, but weak in 
 its resolutions, and easily subdued. 
 
 A prize thus free of access was not 
 
 long
 
 JESSY. -idk 
 
 long unsought ; nor had the fortunate 
 candidate for her favour reason to com- 
 plain of a mistress's tyranny ; for Made- 
 line required only a friend to whom she 
 could confide every sentiment, and hers 
 were pure as artless ; she believed such a 
 companion and mutual affection were 
 the only requisites to make life desira- 
 ble ; and thought her happiness secured,- 
 when, in the brother of the only female 
 friend allowed to visit her, who was the 
 daughter of a deceased clergyman, and 
 related to her governess, she found 
 the impassioned lover who lived but in 
 her smiles. 
 
 Little persuasion was requisite to- 
 wards removing her from her paternal 
 roof, since a father's love had never en- 
 deared her residence in it ; and Alphonso^ 
 whom alone she would have consulted, 
 was on his travels. 
 
 Lord Malcolm, unable to reconcile 
 himself to a separation, had accompanied 
 him part of the way, and was still ab- 
 sent I
 
 44 JESSY. 
 
 sent ; no obstacle, therefore, remained to 
 impede her wishes ; and he had the mor- 
 tification of learning, on his return, that 
 Madeline, regardless of his anger, and the 
 consequence, had left her nursery for a 
 husband's arms. His hasty lips had half 
 pronounced a curse on his neglected child, 
 for daring to seek from another that pro- 
 tection he had himself denied her ; but 
 a remembrance of her mother's injunc- 
 tions, and a conviction of his own neglect, 
 checked the sentence ; and having heap- 
 ed them on the man who had thus base- 
 ly stolen her from him, he endeavoured 
 to forget the stab his pride had sustained, 
 by enabling her to make an appearance 
 that might neither disgrace himself nor 
 the beloved boy who was now to inherit 
 all he possessed, and whom two years 
 from that event brought to Scotland, as 
 fair a flower as it could boast. 
 
 Madeline's indiscretion, nay, even her- 
 self, were no longer suffered to steal on 
 his recollection, for his mind, engrossed 
 
 by
 
 JESSY. 4S 
 
 by oiie only object, turned but to the 
 happiness of which he so eagerly sought 
 to lay the foundation ; but it is a seed 
 seldom sown by the hand of an ambi- 
 tious father, and as seldom raised to per- 
 fection in that soil which avaricious great- 
 ness has marked its own. 
 
 Alphonso, the idol of a father's love 
 and possessed of sentiments that did ho- 
 nour to his nature as a man, could not 
 but venerate the parent thus kindly in- 
 terested in his welfare, and believed that 
 his own life was of far less estimation to 
 himself than would be that of lord ]Mal- 
 colm. Years of misery had been spared 
 to each, if the latter's death at that pe- 
 riod had put his affection to the test ; 
 but Alphonso was to prove that filial 
 ties are not the strongest which bind us 
 to earth, and tliat, though they form one 
 of nature's most endearing links in the 
 great chain of human existence, it is 
 easily severed by the more potent magic 
 of all-subduing love; and too late he 
 
 found
 
 46 JESSY. 
 
 found his own ideas of happiness were 
 incompatible with his father's views — 
 too late discovered that a hitherto-indul- 
 gent father could become an implacable 
 judge. The Scottish court hailed him as 
 one of its brightest ornaments, and if 
 nobility had charms, there were few 
 among its fairest daughters that would 
 have refused an alliance with Malcolm's 
 heir, who in personal beauty had few com- 
 petitors—in chivahy stood unrivalled; 
 but in vain lord Malcolm directed his 
 choice — in vain pointed out those virgins 
 whom rank and fortune destined as brides 
 worthy of his selection : Alphonso could 
 admire, but he had no longer a heart to be- 
 stow ; and, relying on the fatal indulgence 
 which had kft him exposed even to the 
 seduction of vice, had his so\il been less 
 noble, he dared to own that virtue, in 
 its purest garb of native simplicity, un- 
 adorned save by matchless beauty and 
 innate worth, had lured him from am- 
 bition's tasteless shrine to worship the 
 
 indigent
 
 JESSY*. 47 
 
 indigent daughter of a man, whose dear- 
 est days had been spent in the tented 
 field, and who, faUing covered with scars 
 on the bed of honour, had left his orphan 
 child a soldier's portion — the nice sense 
 of a father's honour, and the bitter re- 
 membrance of his unrequited services. 
 
 Staggered by the temerity w4th which 
 he dared to avow the probable destruc- 
 tion of all his hopes, and agonized by a 
 prospect of their failure — for well he knew 
 the intrepid firmness of Alplionso's mind, 
 lord Malcolm gazed on him in breath-- 
 less agitation ; but the impending storm 
 was too great for suppression, and burst 
 with fatal violence on its devoted vic- 
 tim — every denunciation of WTath was 
 threatened, if he consented not to sur- 
 render the cursed siren by wliom he w^as 
 seduced to a father's vengeance — every 
 bitter invective poured on her hapless 
 head, that rage and disappointed ambi- 
 tion could invent. But the storm Al- 
 phonso's sincerity had raised proved his 
 
 shield
 
 'sliield against its violence, by rendering 
 4nni still more determined to defend the 
 lovely girl of whom he was now be- 
 come the sole protector, and he quitted 
 his father's presence with a composure 
 that left the latter still more at a loss 
 how to act, for as yet he knew not the 
 <^xtent of the evil he anticipated with 
 phrenzied terror, and dared to trust kind- 
 ness and entreaty might effect what his 
 imgovernable passion had failed to dOv 
 
 Again, therefore, Alphonso was sum- 
 moned, but it w^as only to deprive his 
 incensed parent of that reason which his 
 fo'st paroxysm of rage had already 
 staggered; resting on the proofs of af- 
 fection so often received from this ido- 
 lized son, his first aim w^as to attack those 
 feelings which, he yet hoped, leaned to a 
 parent's side, and began by representing 
 not only tbe failure of all his promised 
 expectations, but the final wreck of a fa- 
 ther's happiness, if he persisted in the ill- 
 fated attachment which had caused his 
 
 deviation
 
 JESSY. 4^ 
 
 deviation from that duty he had, through 
 life, so punctually fulfilled. — '' Can my 
 son," he said, taking his hand with kind- 
 ness, " resolve to behold the parent who 
 for his sake sacrificed every tie of na- 
 ture but that which bound him to thee, 
 crushed by thy ingratitude, humbled to 
 the dust, his fondest hopes blasted, and 
 the measure of his years filled up by 
 sorrow of thy inflicting ? Many cannot 
 now remain to me ; and that life had 
 been closed with transport, which I re- 
 signed to give added wealth and honour 
 tD my soul's idol, while his affection 
 soothed each pang of expiring nature. 
 Say then, am I to seek a premature grave 
 from thy conduct ? shall Alphonso, for- 
 getting the filial duties that bound him 
 to me, become at once the parricide? 
 It cannot be — he cannot sacrifice the 
 friend who has cherished him from in- 
 fancy for one too Httle known to merit the 
 title. Believe me, Alphonso, the rash af- 
 fection thou wouldst call love is not that 
 VOL. I. D passion :
 
 50 JESSY. 
 
 passion : lured by the fascinating charm 
 of beauty, so fatal to the romantic ardour 
 of youth, thou hast mistaken the term — 
 for love is pure as the thoughts of dying 
 samts when angels hover over them — 
 harmless as pilgrims' kisses on the shrine 
 of holy martyrs; it is the zephyr, and 
 not the whirlwind of the soul — reason, 
 affection — all, all will conspire to plead a 
 father's claims, and thou wilt yet bid 
 him live to see thee what his proudest 
 ambition would make thee — a long-re- 
 membered ornament to thy country — ^to 
 hear thee bless him "for rescuing thee 
 from an ignoble connexion, that would 
 have hurled thee to an obscurity never 
 designed a fate like thine." 
 
 Overpowered by the sensations which 
 agitated him, lord Malcolm stopped and 
 looked anxiously for the reply he never- 
 theless dreaded ; but he had gone too far, 
 and in stigmatizing Adela, the innocent 
 unoffending Adela, he'rendered Alphonso 
 unmindful of all those claims he had so 
 
 forcibly
 
 JESSY. 51 
 
 forcibly enumerated, and stiil more te- 
 nacious of those she had on him, which 
 were such as no father could sever, no 
 kw disannul — she was his, by every sa- 
 cred vow confirmed on eavth, and re- 
 gistered in heaven. Still he keenly feh 
 the severity of lord ^lalcolm's disap- 
 pointment, for the second object of his 
 affection had not lessened the love he 
 bore him; and had he expressed at in 
 terms less severe, less injurious to tiie 
 wife of his bosom, would have regretted 
 that nature had not formed his heart and 
 wishes consonant to those of his parent^ 
 by giving him a thirst for that ambition, 
 his total contempt of which would now 
 too probably for ever alienate them from 
 each other, and involve himself and 
 Adela in insurmountable difficulties. 
 But the die was cast, and the feir fame 
 of her he had vowed to jwotect was not 
 to be sullied by even an air df mystery 
 which a public avowal of his marriage 
 could alone remove. Therefore, having 
 D 2 assured 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 ILLINOIS LIBRARU
 
 52 JESSY. 
 
 assured lord Malcolm, that though he had 
 dared in one point to follow the dictates 
 of his own judgment, which had unhap^ 
 pily clashed with his wishes, he would 
 in every other instance find that no 
 situation in life should render him un^ 
 mindful of his duty, or unworthy the 
 affection of a father, whose every com- 
 mand had hitherto been his dearest law. 
 " But if," he added, " I have presumed to 
 make a choice unapproved by your lord- 
 ship, even you, I proudly assert, will 
 own, on a knowledge of her worth, that 
 I have selected a gem which will add 
 honour, and not receive it, from a title 
 I never wished to give her, till life, dis- 
 possessed of every charm, shall, in the 
 full of years, leave you no desire but a 
 joyful immortality." 
 
 "Never, never, detested hypocrite, in- 
 sinuating viper, shall these eyes behold the 
 siren who has planted daggers in my aged 
 bosom ; and could I purchase life, mine 
 should be extended till, satiated with 'a 
 
 continual
 
 JESSY. 58 
 
 continual view of the misery my daily 
 curses heaped on you both, I resigned it 
 to leave you a title you could no longer 
 enjoy — when accumulated evils, the 
 stings of hunger, and the curse of po- 
 verty, had left you no wish but that of 
 a shelter in the grave which held an in- 
 jured father." 
 
 Appalled by the reiterated maledic- 
 tions, issuing from lips accustomed only 
 to bless hhn, Alphonso stood transfixed 
 with horror ; but lord Malcolm desisted 
 not till his son, roused to agony, entreat- 
 ed to be heard ; but the enraged savage, 
 or ferocious tiger, had sooner listened to 
 Heaven's divine attribute, mercy, than 
 the being he vainly supplicated. A 
 confirmation of this fatal marriage was 
 not to be borne — Ambition foiled, his 
 iiitherto undisputed power set at nought, 
 were evils not to be tolerated: reason 
 fled the contest, and in forsaking him 
 left room for an insidious guest — it was 
 the only one to be endured, because the 
 D 3 only
 
 51 JESSY. 
 
 only one formed to soothe the present 
 tumult of his soul ; to her baneful in- 
 fluence, therefore, he committed every 
 remaining faculty of his mind, and from 
 the dictates of revenge, vowed to receive 
 every satisfaction his injured spirit de- 
 manded. Alphonso was already loath- 
 some to his sight, and in the bitterness 
 of his rage he struck him — an indignity 
 only to be forgotten in her presence 
 whose voice soothed every care to rest. ' 
 Casting, therefore, on lord Malcolm a 
 look more expressive of pity than anger, 
 he sought Adela, the ministering angel 
 of peace. But the soft smile that bade 
 him welcome, the fond embrace and en- 
 dearing inquiry of what had detained 
 him, added poignancy to the unmerited 
 insult he had received ; and, as he clasp- 
 ed her in silence to his bursting heart, 
 the tear of anguish, forced from his burn- 
 ing eyelids, fell on her beauteous cheek, 
 and mingled with the pearly drop that 
 had stolen from its confines on behold- 
 ing
 
 JESSY. 55 
 
 ing his increasing agitation. Alarmed by 
 the wildness with which he surveyed 
 her, she entreated he would allow her 
 to call assistance if he found himself un- 
 well ; but the fortitude he had meant to 
 assume had totally forsaken him, and 
 the conviction that he was now a beggar, 
 aided by a cruel remembrance of the dis- 
 graceful blow, unmanned him quite. 
 Grasping her hand with added violence, 
 he exclaimed, with an hysteric laugh— ^ 
 ** Tyrant, I defy thy curses 1 she is inno- 
 cent, and thy malice cannot harm hev 
 thy vengeance reach her, but through 
 this heart, which thou must lacerate to 
 find the recess which holds her! No, 
 Adela," he continued, " you must not 
 leave me, for they would separate us— ^ 
 my father would tear thee from me." 
 
 The truth was now obvious: Al- 
 phonso had owned his marriage, and 
 lord Malcolm had refused to sanction it. 
 Tliis she had always dreaded, and was 
 therefore less surprised at the result ; but 
 D 4 Adela
 
 56 JESSY. 
 
 Adela was not the love-sick girl, who, to 
 secure a husband, would herself disre- 
 gard every obstacle, remove ev€ry im- 
 pediment to her wishes, by setting at 
 defiance the whole train of filial duties 
 if tliey clashed with her own romantie 
 views of happiness ; hers was indeed the 
 pure and hallowed love lord Malcolm had 
 so well defined — but it was a love that 
 iK)ught not to lure Alphonso from his 
 duty, since she never failed to raise new 
 difficulties whenever he had surmounted 
 those she was continually representing. 
 
 He owned ambition was the shrine bis 
 father had raised, and expected him to woi*- 
 ship — " But then, my Adela," he con- 
 tinued, " it is raised on tlie foundatioti 
 of affection, and will the more easily 
 give way when my vv/ishes are known to 
 lord Malcolm. I know also his high ve- 
 neration for ancient pedigree, and how 
 inuch he values the prerogative of high 
 birth, but Adela's virtues will more than 
 compensate for her want of either; Once 
 
 more.
 
 JEssr. 57 
 
 more, by every human tie, he will rea- 
 dily pardon my want of confidence i:i 
 him, and proudly adopt the lovely daugh- 
 ter I shall present him." 
 
 Adela was not so sanguine ; report 
 spoke not thus favourably of lord Mc- 
 Colm's condescension ; he w as known to 
 be haughty and overbearing to those he 
 considered his inferiors — aitful, design- 
 ing, and insinuating to his equals — but 
 even servile to those whom superior rank 
 left him any thing to expect from their 
 favour or notice. She knew his un- 
 bounded affection for Alphonso in some 
 measure warranted the latter's hopes of 
 forgiveness, because it was supposed his 
 very existence depended on the happi- 
 ness of his son ; but still she dreaded her 
 want of title, more than fortune, would 
 be an irreparable barrier to his favour; 
 and to rob Alphonso of such a father's 
 affection, to involve him in difficulties 
 of which she would be the fatal oiigin, 
 was an idea too painful for reflection, 
 D 5 and
 
 58 JESSY. 
 
 and detennined her to risk the tortures 
 of an eternal separation, in preference to 
 a union unsanctioned by him who had 
 alone the right of bestowing the only 
 man to whom she aspired. 
 
 But Alphonso was not the cool pla* 
 tonic lover, whom reason could suffice ; 
 the beauteous form of Adela — her exalte 
 ed mind, far exceeding even her exterior 
 charms, and her unprotected state, were 
 incitements calculated to inspire a mind, 
 ardent, enthusiastic as his own, with 
 more than common perseverance in the 
 cause he had undertaken, which was to 
 draw from that cheerless solitude, in 
 which the death of her father had placed 
 her, a being who would adorn society, 
 and prove to the world, " How many 
 a flower is born to bloom unseen ;" for 
 «Vich at that period was Adela's fate. The 
 Ditter bread of dependence, derived from 
 an unfeeling relation, was her only re^ 
 source, and as yet had not armed her 
 timid nature with that fortitude requi- 
 site
 
 JESSY. 59 
 
 site to the half-formed resolution she 
 had made of embarking in the world, 
 on a speculative exercise of those accom- 
 plishments which, in happier days, had 
 been her choicest amusement, and might 
 now fit her for the tuition of those more 
 gifted with fortune, but less endowed 
 with the valuable qualifications that 
 alone add lustre to wealth and beauty. It 
 was not her eyes, beaming intelligence, 
 which first attracted Alphonso, but the 
 intellectual beauties of that mind of 
 which they were the reflecting mirror — 
 nor her lips, on which a thousand smiling 
 graces played, but the sentiments utter- 
 ed by lips so formed to enslave, that first 
 excited his admiration ; he saw her and 
 loved — heard the simple story of her 
 wayward destiny, and vowed at once to 
 become her future protector, believing 
 Heaven had favoured his pursuit of hap- 
 piness in presenting him so fair a struc- 
 ture of its divine works. 
 There were times when a momentary 
 D 6 dread
 
 60 JESSY. 
 
 dread of lord Malcolm's withholding^ his 
 sanction to the step he was about to 
 take crossed his mind, but it could not 
 stagger his plighted faith; for though 
 the one was essential to his peace, the 
 other was requisite to his existence^ 
 which, unpossessed of Adela, wa& no 
 longer desirable. In vain, therefore, her 
 entreaties, that he would resign all 
 thoughts of an alliance with her pover- 
 ty, unless bis wishes were first autho- 
 rized by his father ; and she declared her 
 -vyillingness to abide by his decision, 
 when those wishes w^ere made known to 
 him, even though the result should mili- 
 tate against her own peace. 
 
 Alphonso was deaf to entreaties, 
 which he knew must for ever close the 
 only prospect he had of a union with 
 her, and rested not till, at the hallowed 
 shrine of hymeneal rites, he sealed the 
 solemn oath which gave him Adela, and 
 the sole power of defending her orphan 
 state* This secured, he had little leisure 
 
 to
 
 JESSY. 61 
 
 to attend the frequent warnings of tena- 
 cious memory — that violated duty de- 
 manded those atonements which ^ in the 
 fullness of his liappiness, he had hitherto 
 neglected ; but the evil, which at a dis- 
 tance appeared of so little magnitude^ 
 •when brought nearer, assumed a gigantic 
 form, and as it made him daily more 
 apprehensive of lord Malcolm's censure, 
 rendered him also less inclined to seek 
 an opportunity of making an avowal^ 
 the result of which must add so much 
 to his future happiness or misery^ 
 though the latter was a term he be- 
 lieved incompatible to a life spent with 
 Adela. 
 
 As yet lord Malcolm had but indi- 
 rectly named those wishes, which w^ere 
 nevertheless the ruling passion of his 
 mind, because he trusted Alphonso 
 would, perhaps, when least expected, 
 own the power some distinguished 
 beauty had acquired over him ; for he 
 trusted the key to his son's confidence 
 
 was,
 
 efS JESSY. 
 
 was, by habitual affection, safe in his 
 own keeping; but a prospect, exceed- 
 ing even his sanguine expectation, hav- 
 ing presented itself, farther delay be- 
 came dangerous, and as Alphonso stili 
 remained silent on a subject in which he 
 was so interested, he determined to be 
 more explanatory as to those views he 
 had in contemplation for his future 
 settlement, by his expressing his own 
 anxiety to bless the beloved progeny, 
 who were, like youthful blossoms, to 
 adorn his winter of age. 
 
 Animated by the warmth with which 
 his father expatiated on the theme he 
 had chosen, and considering Adela as 
 the being destined to give those de- 
 sired blessings, he forgot for the mo- 
 ment that " fortune had not smiled pro- 
 pitious on her birth," or graced it vrith 
 the empty title which alone gave merit 
 to the possessor in lord Malcolm's eyes : 
 the only sun ^hich gilded her dawning 
 hour of life was that of paternal love — 
 
 her
 
 jEssr. 63 
 
 her only riches the spotless fame of 
 those who gave her existence, and to 
 v/hom she was indebted for the elegant 
 accomplishments that added perfection 
 to her mental charms, and fitted her to 
 move with native ease in the most 
 polished sphere. Alphonso had long 
 anticipated with rapture the period 
 which would enable him to place her in 
 such, and believed the propitious mo- 
 ment was at length arrived so favour- 
 able to his wishes; without daring, 
 therefore, to reflect on the probable con- 
 sequences of the disclosure he had to 
 make, or the effect it might have, he 
 avowed with what transport he should 
 hear his father's benediction bestowed 
 on offspring of his own, should Heaven 
 bless him with such ecstatic ties. 
 
 " Why, then, my Alphonso, waste 
 the flower of life without seeking a con- 
 genial soul to favour my ardent wishes? 
 —.why, with a heart formed for every 
 social virtue, dost thou still keep it thu« 
 invulnerable to love ?" * 
 
 Alphonso
 
 64 JESSY. 
 
 Alpbonso owned it was not. 
 
 Lord Malcolm smiled his approbation 
 of the avowal, and urged him to a far- 
 ther confirmation of his half-formed 
 hopes, but they were crushed by the 
 very explanation he solicited; for a fa- 
 ther's valour, or a daughter's virtues, 
 since both were pennyless, he deemed 
 little compensation for the high-born 
 qualities he listened with avidity to 
 hear graced the. exalted fair one whom 
 Alphonso was about to give him for a 
 daughter — and stung by the severity of 
 a disappointment so little expected, it 
 was not till his offending son again 
 stood before him, that he had resolution 
 to demand the name of the base sorce- 
 ress who had thus plotted his destruc- 
 tion? 
 
 Alphonso proudly named Adela ; but 
 if her name only, like an electric shock, 
 thrilled his whole frame, the assertion 
 which followed it, that she alone had 
 ever inspired him with love, unstrung 
 every nerve; gasping for respiration, he 
 
 asked
 
 JESSY. 65 
 
 asked — " Were it possible he had heard 
 right, since earth's remotest bounds 
 could not have produced a being more 
 obnoxious to his senses than Adela Mon- 
 trose ?" She was the daughter of a man 
 every way his superior but in titles and 
 estates, and whose noble endowmei^ 
 of mind and person had been the first 
 cause of severing a friendship that, as 
 schoolboys, had promised to strengthen 
 with their years, notwithstanding few 
 characters could be more opposite. 
 
 Malcolm, accustomed to expect a title, 
 between which and himself no obstacle 
 existed, and nursed in the lap of luxury 
 and independence, could select his com- 
 panions at pleasure, and reject them 
 whenever caprice taught him to expect 
 in a new one what he had found defi- 
 cient in the one discarded; the little- 
 ness of soul which, even in that early 
 age, marked so many of his actions, first 
 led him to select and court the society 
 of Lionel Montrose, because he was 
 
 deemed
 
 68 JESSY. 
 
 deemed the flower of their academy, 
 and his favour sought by every boy 
 conscious of his worth. Noble, candid, 
 and unassuming in his manners, he not 
 only gained universal admiration, but 
 unbounded esteem; and though he 
 ^ired the first overtures of Malcolm's 
 friendship to vanity alone, his own vir- 
 tues cemented the bond of their early 
 union ; since, while conscious of the many 
 imperfections that tinged the character 
 of his noble friend, he beheld them with 
 a friend's partiality, believing they were 
 blemishes that might, with care, be era- 
 dicated before they had reached the 
 term of errors, and trusting to the ta- 
 lents which he knew him to possess, as 
 a hostage for his future worth, gave him, 
 without restriction, that unlimited con- 
 fidence he so anxiously solicited. 
 
 Lionel Montrose was destined to a 
 military life, and that in its severest 
 school, since it was his only dependence. 
 He therefore carefully improved his 
 
 mind
 
 JESSY. 67 
 
 mind in the tactics important to the pro- 
 fession he was to follow ; and, as far as 
 possible, inured his body to the fa- 
 tigues it was fated to encounter, by em- 
 bracing with avidity every exercise in 
 which athletic strength or agility were 
 required. He was brave, dauntless, and 
 intrepid, but totally unconscious that 
 nature had gifted him beyond the youth- 
 ful companions among whom his tutors 
 rated him a shining meteor ; and it v/as 
 from this very conviction Malcolm prid- 
 ed himself on ranking him as his dearest 
 friend. As such they parted, when Mon- 
 trose first embarked in his country's 
 cause, while succeeding years saw a 
 continuance of it, disinterested and firm 
 on the part of the latter, but on the for- 
 mer's tinged by the baneful envy which 
 Lionel's heroic valour failed not to ex- 
 cite, whenever fame proclaimed added 
 proofs of his martial deeds. This was 
 a flame which, once lighted, needed no 
 additional fuel to feed its violence ; but 
 
 Montrose
 
 68 JESSY. 
 
 Montrose was fated, not only to brealt 
 the bond of amity which had so long, to 
 the surprise of every one, subsisted be- 
 tween them, but to convert his early 
 friend into a deadly foe. 
 
 A heart so formed for friendship could 
 not long remain insensible to the charms 
 of love, and at an early age, Lionel be-^ 
 came the enraptured husband of a wo- 
 man, much too lovely to escape the ad- 
 miration of Malcolm, to whom she was 
 introduced shortly after her marriage. 
 He was still single ; but had Mrs. Mon- 
 trose been the same, and even disen- 
 gaged, he would never have sought her 
 as his wife, since an alliance with her 
 could neither add to his rank or fortune ; 
 and difficult as it might now be to make 
 her his mistress, the design was not 
 wholly impracticable, since his passion 
 for her had already, in imagination^ 
 borne down all opposition^ — removed 
 every impediment, at least to the at- 
 tempt; for in proportion as his love for 
 
 her
 
 JESSY. €9 
 
 ner increased, his friendship for Mon- 
 trose diminished, till he became hateful 
 to him; as being the husband of a wo- 
 man so lovely, and whonfi he had sworn 
 to seduce from her duty. Nature had 
 gifted his external appearance with more 
 than manly beauty, but in so doing blend- 
 ed it with a heart capable of degrading 
 the form he bore, by rendering it in ge- 
 neral a curse to those with whom he as- 
 sociated in the female world, since few 
 whom he deemed worth obtaining had 
 power to resist the spell which doomed 
 them to become his victims. Mrs. ^lon- 
 trose did not promise to become an easy 
 prey, but it rendered him more deter- 
 mined ; and he omitted no opportunity 
 of convincing her, that it was at the 
 shrine of beauty, not friendship, his 
 adoration was paid. Painful as was the 
 discovery her excellent understanding 
 had made, she carefully concealed it 
 from tlie husband of her affection, at the 
 same time behaving in such a manner 
 
 to
 
 yO JESSY. 
 
 ^o lord Malcolm, that he could not fot 
 a moment suppose even her vanity was 
 gratified by his unjust preference. But, 
 as if disregarding the consequence, his 
 attention to her was redoubled, till even 
 Lionel was alarmed, since neither the 
 disinterested friendship, which he had 
 never violated, nor his implicit confi- 
 dence in the sjx>tless purity of his Em- 
 ma's fidelity, could erase the conviction 
 of his own senses, that she had inspired 
 Malcolm with love; but it was a sub- 
 ject too delicate for the ear of either, 
 and he buried the fatal surmise deep in 
 his own heart, till the base confession 
 obliged Mrs. Montrose to seek from her 
 husband that protection, which she fore- 
 saw was her only shield against the de- 
 termined arts of his faithless friend. 
 
 It was an injury even the noble soul of 
 Montrose could not pardon — an insult 
 not to be brooked in silence. Waving, 
 therefore, alike the ties of former friend- 
 ship, and the title which gave him a 
 
 mean
 
 JES^y. 71 
 
 mean superiority, he demanded satisfac- 
 tion as a man. 
 
 Malcolm accepted the challenge with 
 rapture, and while his arm, nerved by 
 revenge, sought the final destruction of 
 his opponent, his mind became daunt- 
 less, fh>m the impious expectation that 
 his death would be a final triumph over 
 wife and husband. But if he iights well 
 whom a bad cause leads to the field of 
 action, how much better defended is 
 that man who, leaving his cause in the 
 hand of Omnipotence, stands bui^on his 
 own defence, and seeks only retribution 
 for the injuries he has sustained ! Mal- 
 colm, spurred by revenge, thirsted for 
 victory, and to obtain it fought witk 
 fury; while Montrose, equally determin- 
 ed, but more guarded, parried blows 
 which were meant to leave his Emma 
 unprotected, and exposed to the future 
 machinations of Malcolm, since they 
 were evidently aimed at his life, but in 
 turn gave those which were more effec- 
 tive
 
 T2 JESSY. 
 
 tive, till his sword having passed through 
 the arm which supported his adversa- 
 ry's, the contest was decided by the 
 fermer generously tlirowing down his, 
 aaid leaving him to his own reflections, 
 and the care of his attendants. 
 
 From that moment, Malcolm's lips 
 never pronounced the name of Mon- 
 trose unaccompanied by the bitterest 
 curses revenge could stimulate him to 
 utter ; but the object of it was no long- 
 er in his power, having left Scotland 
 on distant service, with his wife and 
 the infant «oji to whom she had given 
 birth. 
 
 Years succeeded the event, and lord Mal- 
 colm being engaged in new pursuits, for- 
 got Montrose, either in the character of 
 friend or enemy, till after his own mar- 
 riage with a very aniiabie woman, when 
 the fate of war again brought him to 
 Scotland — ^no longer the happy husband 
 of the blooming Emma, but a cheerless 
 widower, bearing about bim the sable 
 
 habiliments
 
 JESSY. 75 
 
 habiliments of a rooted sorrow, and 
 cherishing, with enthusiastic fondness,.a 
 lovely little girl, the only surviving 
 wreck of his former happiness, for 
 whom IMrs. Montrose had fca-feited her 
 own existence, a few months succeed- 
 ing that in which she had consigned 
 her smiling boy to an early grave. 
 
 Never had revenge been so gTatified as 
 lord Malcolm's, or eyes so feasted as were 
 his, when by any chance they encoun- 
 tered the altered person of his former 
 fi'iend, on whose countenance the traces 
 of a fixed but manly sorrow were so con- 
 spicuous ; and he only regretted the sa- 
 tisfaction he derived from seeing him 
 thus changed was to be transient, as 
 major Montrose, having resigned his lit- 
 tle Adela to the care of his sister for a 
 few months, again rejoined his regi- 
 ment, then under sailing orders, for a 
 destination at that time too uncertain to 
 allow of his taking her with him. The 
 infant Adela was at that period a being 
 
 ¥0L. I. E too
 
 7'i JESSY. 
 
 too insignificant to partake of the re- 
 sentment which through life followed 
 her father, with whom she had been 
 some years before lord Malcolm even 
 suspected she had left Scotland, and to 
 which she returned only on the death 
 of her justly-lamented parent. But the 
 aunt, under whose hospitable roof some 
 of her early days had passed, and who 
 would have cherished her with a mo- 
 ther's fondness, was no more: distant 
 relations, therefore, and those uninterest- 
 ed in her welfare, were all that now re- 
 mained to the sorrowing girl ; but even 
 their unwelcome asylum was a protec- 
 tion she needed, and her affectionate 
 heart saw not the extent of their un- 
 kindness, in the gratitude she felt for the 
 little they so reluctantly bestowed ; and 
 all was more than compensated by their 
 allowing her to breathe the same air 
 with Alphonso Malcolm, who had 
 sought her affection from the period of 
 his having met her at a neighbouring 
 baU. The
 
 JESSY. 75 
 
 The disinterested generosity of her 
 father's disposition, extending even to 
 his bitterest enemies, had prevented his 
 ever having named lord Malcolm as 
 such. She was therefore a str^iger to 
 their knowledge of each other, and a 
 thousand circumstances had combined. 
 to render Alphonso equally so. He be- 
 lieved, therefore, the profession of her 
 father, to which he knew lord Malcolm 
 was partial, and the honour with which 
 he had acquitted himself in it, would 
 plead powerfully in favour of his orphan 
 Adela. 
 
 But no words could do justice to his 
 horror, when with more than phrenzied 
 fury he vociferated her name, at the 
 same time loading herself and parent 
 with every opprobrious term imagina- 
 tion could invent — " And thou, accursed 
 viper!" he exclaimed, " not satisfied with 
 for ever blasting a father's hopes, must 
 seek the deadUest venom with which 
 thou couldst sting him ! Know, that as 
 E 2 there
 
 76 JESSY. 
 
 there lives not a being in creation but 
 that I would have pardoned, save Adela 
 Montrose, so my life shall now be ex^ 
 hausted in devising curses for thy tor- 
 Jnent, and on thee and thine will I sa- 
 tiate that revenge which her father's 
 death left unappeased — but I never 
 loathed even him more than I now do 
 thee;" and the blow which nearly 
 levelled Alphonso with the dust, as he 
 spoke, proved that more than common 
 hatred must have usurped the affection 
 he had so long enjoyed unrivalled. It 
 rendered him for some minutes totally 
 insensible of what had passed, and he 
 almost regretted the return of reason, 
 which brought with it a retrospect too 
 painful for remembrance: at first he 
 -determined again to seek lord Malcolm, 
 'for he had left the room ; but the in- 
 stant appearance of a servant, who be 
 conjectured might be the bearer of some 
 ^message, arrested his attention — the man 
 'fippea^ed embaitassed; and, after much 
 
 hesitation.
 
 JESSY. 77 
 
 hesitation, entreated he would pardon 
 him for delivering an order, which he 
 was doubtless Httle prepared to re- 
 ceive. 
 
 Alphonso, after what had passed, had 
 every thing to expect, therefore assured 
 him — " He was ready to hear lord Mal- 
 colm's commands, of whatever nature 
 they might be." 
 
 " They are then, sir — " and again his 
 voice faltered — " they are, sir, that you 
 instantly quit his house — never to re- 
 turn." 
 
 " Be it so, my good Jaques," he re- 
 plied ; " for lord Malcolm's house is no 
 longer a fit residence for me, when I 
 have no longer a father in it;" and 
 v/ith trembling steps he prepared for 
 his departure. Bi.it he was too justly be- 
 loved by every domestic in lord Mal- 
 colm's service to be allowed to do so 
 unattended, and the blessings which 
 followed him as he passed the thresh- 
 old served b.ut to increase the agony 
 E 3 with
 
 78 JESSY. 
 
 with which his already oppressed heart 
 and wounded spirit were tortured. 
 
 His own servant was unfortunately ab- 
 sent at the time, and without considering 
 the agitated state in which he must ap- 
 pear before Adela, he thought only of 
 jfinding consolation from her, for all his 
 unmerited wrongs, though he determined 
 but partly to explain the transactions of 
 the morning — a resolution that vanished 
 on beholding her. 
 
 The undeserved insult he had endur- 
 ed appeared to acquire added poig- 
 nancy from reflection, while concomi- 
 tant circumstances increased the bit- 
 terness of that despair with which he 
 was enveloped, and produced a tempo- 
 rary madness, which for some time ren- 
 dered him regardless of the consolation 
 he had sought as his only solace. But 
 her soothing voice yet retained its power 
 over his even insensible mind, and whild 
 he clasped to his throbbing heart the 
 blessing he deemed worthy every sacri- 
 fice
 
 JESSY. 79 
 
 fice he had made, Hope whispered " he 
 had much to live for f and he made the 
 effort. It was, however, long a doubt- 
 ful one, till youth, and the unwearied 
 attention of the wretched Adela, raised 
 him from the verge of that grave, which 
 had appeared so long to await him, and 
 in w^hich he would willingly have for 
 ever buried all remembrance of the dis- 
 graceful blow, but that it must have 
 left his hapless vv'ife exposed to the rage 
 of his merciless father. From the effects 
 of his direful curses it was not possible 
 to shield her, since poverty, the first 
 great evil, already alarmed him by its 
 too certain approach, and threatened to 
 prove that the maledictions of an in- 
 censed parent were indeed most justly 
 to be dreaded. 
 
 Lord jNIalcolm's munificence, tallying 
 wdth his love for Alphonso, had ever in- 
 finitely exceeded his own wants; but 
 the generous liberality of the latter left 
 him improvident of the future, as at 
 E 4 that
 
 BO JESSY. 
 
 that time he would have believed his 
 own necessities could need no supply. 
 When he had outlived a father's love, a 
 long and dangerous sickness had now so 
 exhausted what he possessed, that bare- 
 ly sufficient remained to obtain what ap- 
 peared the only resource, a subaltern's 
 commission in the army, on which scan- 
 ty subsistence himself and Adela, the 
 beloved being wham he had rescued 
 fi'om dependence, to plunge into want, 
 must now exist. But this was compara- 
 tive happiness to a separation from her ; 
 and a dread that lord Malcolm might 
 even meditate such a step rendered him 
 more impatient to join any regiment 
 that would, by his so doing, remove him 
 from Scotland ; but, as if his disobedi- 
 ence was to receive its full reward, ob- 
 stacles unthought of, impediments never 
 expected, incessantly occurred, to frus- 
 trate his design, and from month to 
 month procrastinate the attainment of 
 his commission, during which period 
 
 Adela
 
 JESSY. 81 
 
 AdeU became a mother. — Alphonso 
 gazed with rapture on the blooming 
 pledge, but his joy was tinctured wdth 
 the melancholy reflection, that impend- 
 ing curses hung over its infant head, and 
 threatened destruction to its every fu- 
 ture prospect : the young Alphonso was 
 indeed the " child of misery, baptized in 
 tears ;" for accumulated evils, the result 
 of increasing poverty, daily robbed its 
 parents of the faint hope which had 
 sometimes promised a remission of their 
 sufferings, when an only friend, whose 
 long and proved fidelity evinced him 
 such, and whose absence had augmented 
 all that they endured, returned to be- 
 hold a reverse of fortune, w^hich he be- 
 lieved incompatible with Alphonso's 
 fate. To his friendly confidence the ex- 
 tent of e\ery suffering was unfolded — 
 the cruel indignity he had sustained re- 
 vealed, and from friendship he received 
 every solace the nature of his situation 
 could admit : to his purse Alphonso 
 E 5 was
 
 S2 JESSY. 
 
 was indebted for pecuniary favours, and 
 to his interest for almost instantly ob- 
 taining the commission which, under 
 so many pretences, had been so long 
 detained. 
 
 Nor did his generous enthusiasm in 
 their welfare then stop; for, unjust as 
 he conceived lord Malcolm's conduct, 
 and dear as Alphonso had ever been to 
 him, he could not wholly exculpate the 
 latter from having erred in a point of 
 duty due from him to a father, hitherto 
 so indulgent. His heart was therefore 
 set on effecting a reconciliation, he was 
 willing to believe not wholly impracti- 
 cable; but a moment served to con- 
 vince him, on the first interview for that 
 purpose, nothing less than the final de- 
 struction of the wretched family thus 
 sacrificed to revenge and disappointed 
 hopes, could satisfy the resentment 
 which had abated nothing of its vio- 
 lence. 
 
 tiord Malcolm derived a savage plea- 
 sure
 
 JESSY. 83 
 
 sure from the knowledge he failed not 
 to obtain of all that passed, and assured 
 their generous mediator, his only conso- 
 lation was derived from a conviction of 
 their daily misery. Shocked to find 
 that human nature could undergo such 
 a revolution as lord Malcolm's had done, 
 and not less disgusted wdth his inhuma- 
 nity, he left him, to empower the in- 
 jured son to join his regiment, which 
 was then about to embark for England ; 
 and tliither he was accompanied by 
 Adela and his infant boy ; but scarcely 
 had they landed on its hospitable shore, 
 when they were again destined to re- 
 embark on foreign service — a movement 
 which must, for a time at least, remove 
 them from lord Malcolm's vindictive 
 power. 
 
 E 6 CHAP-
 
 f€ JESSY. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Thus perished the fotid hopes of an 
 ambitious father, for lord Malcolm now 
 considered himself as childless, and look- 
 ed around him in vain for the promised 
 comforts of his future years : the loved 
 boy, whose open virtues daily added to 
 the love he bore him, and for whom he 
 once implored its choicest blessings, was 
 BO longer his fond companion, and even 
 the unnatural satisfaction derived from 
 •witnessing the sufferings of the oppress- 
 ed, deserted, and insulted Alphonso, was 
 denied, since he also was torn from him ; 
 and Madeline, if by chance a remem- 
 brance of her intruded upon his agonized 
 mind, was placed in the background of 
 
 his
 
 JESSY. 85 
 
 Ills present affliction. The mansion in 
 which he had reared Alphonso was be- 
 come hateful, because every apartment 
 in it reminded him of the lost ingrate, 
 and he wandered from place to place, a 
 ** living monumentof miseiy." If a nume- 
 rous retinue, or display of magnificence 
 surpassing his wealthiest neighbours^ 
 eould have concealed the bursting heart 
 which throbbed indignantly beneath his 
 embroidered vest, lord jMalcolm would 
 have been thought a happy man ; but his 
 sorrow was too poignant for dissimula- 
 tion ; it added much to the irritable tem- 
 per he had always possessed, contracted 
 his brow into an incessant frown, and 
 tinged his whole countenance with a 
 degree of asperity Vv'hich plainly indi- 
 cated he was the victim of internal 
 struggles. Those who knew the source 
 condemned but could not pity him, 
 while strangers, only judging it must 
 arise from domestic misfortunes, silently 
 extended that commiseratioB for w^hich, 
 
 if
 
 86 , JESSY. 
 
 if sensible of it, he had not thanked 
 them. 
 
 - His health at last visibly declined, and 
 by the advice of a favourite physician he 
 was prevailed on to visit the south of 
 France, v^here he spent some few 
 months, and on his return took imme- 
 diate possession of the long-deserted 
 castle in the vicinity of Mrs. Duncan- 
 non's neighbourhood, though for what 
 motive, or by what authority, no one pre- 
 sumed to inquire. It was rumoured he 
 had purchased the whole demesne, but 
 of whom was still to be discovered, since 
 no one had resided in it, or even appear- 
 ed to claim the estate, since the death of 
 its last owner, lord Stuart, and who had 
 certainly died without issue. But the 
 residence of so rich and powerful a man 
 among them was considered a desirable 
 acquisition, and he everywhere found 
 himself received with that homage at all 
 times so flattering to his innate pride, 
 which his grief had served rather to 
 
 augment
 
 JESSY. 87 
 
 augment than diminish ; but his sore 
 mind sought daily for incidents that 
 could, by interesting him, spread a tem- 
 porary forgetfuhiess over the power of 
 memory, and his faithful servant failed 
 not to select such as might aid the de- 
 sign and promote the desired effect. 
 Hence the energy with v/liich he dwelt 
 upon the singular circumstance of such 
 a woman as Mrs. Duncannon residinc: 
 in the lone house on the bourn side 
 with so few attendants, though her 
 whole appearance was calculated to 
 strengthen the supposition that she was 
 not altogether what she decidedly wished 
 to be thought. Who then could she 
 be ? or whence the motive of her seclu- 
 sion ? became next the subject of his 
 restless inquiries, and promised to hold 
 in suspense, at least for a time, every 
 other theme. 
 
 For several days he rode in expecta- 
 tion of obtaining even a casual view of 
 his fair neighbour, but, as he petulantly 
 
 averred
 
 88 JESSY. 
 
 averred on his return to Leopold, his 
 wishes were eternally marred by disap- 
 pointment, as indisposition prevented 
 Mrs. Duncannon from enjoying her ac- 
 customed v/alk ; and though her indis^ 
 position was by no means serious, Sey- 
 mour refused to leave her even once a- 
 day for that purpose himself, and still 
 persisted in sharing a confinement which 
 Jessy enlivened by her constant attend- 
 ance ; for Mrs. Duncannon now regret- 
 ted even her temporary absence, and 
 would have gladly taken her entirely 
 under her own care, had not many cir- 
 cumstances combined to render the abode 
 of her rustic parents a more proper asy- 
 lum. Eut she omitted no opportunity 
 of giving her every advantage derived 
 from improvement, and looked forward 
 w^ith a pleasing expectation to the pe- 
 riod in which, deprived of her beloved 
 Seymour's society, she might find a re- 
 source in the cultivated understanding 
 of the little Jessy, modelled ^s it would 
 
 be
 
 JESSY. 89 
 
 be under her own tuition — an event 
 which she nevertheless dreaded, though 
 she knew it was unavoidable ; for, ex- 
 tensive as was her own knowledge, and 
 much as she had in her power to impart, 
 he had nearly reached that age in which 
 a tutor V, as becoming essentially requi- 
 site to such parts of his education as she 
 did not believe herself competent to 
 undertake, though his progress in learn- 
 ing had hitherto left her little to regret 
 from the want of one. 
 
 Returning health having enabled her 
 to resume the daily rambles of which for 
 a short time she had been abridged, the 
 delighted peasants once more with rap- 
 ture hailed her approach among them, 
 nor was lord Malcolm less gratified to 
 hear Leopold had met her returning 
 from a round of humble visits; and on 
 the following day, understanding she 
 had passed the castle in her way to a 
 small copse, in which she frequently 
 rambled, he set out, accompanied only 
 
 by
 
 90 JESSY. 
 
 by his servant, and relying on chance io 
 favour his wishes of an interview. 
 
 Having followed the path it was most 
 probable she had chosen, and entered the 
 woody recess, intent on the purpose 
 which led him there, his attention was 
 arrested by the sound of different voices 
 in conversation at that moment. In an- 
 swer to some one who ceased speaking, 
 a female voice replied — " But we are 
 not, my dear boy, to form hasty conclu- 
 sions, or draw inferences which may be 
 prejudicial to those Vvhose actions we 
 presume to scan ; neither are exterior 
 appearances to become the criterion by 
 >vhich we would judge another, for they 
 are often fallacious. Found your judg- 
 ment therefore at all times on a thorough 
 knowledge of the parties concerned, and 
 never suffer your opinion to be biassed 
 even by the breath of a multitude, much 
 less the vague reports of servants, w^ho 
 are too often instigated by some mean 
 or servile motive, and in such cases 
 
 rarely
 
 JESSY. 91 
 
 rarely founded on the basis of truth: 
 not that I would hence infer they are 
 an unimportant class of people — far from 
 it ; they have their uses in society, have 
 relative duties to fulfil, which render 
 them, in their station, of equal import- 
 ance with their lord, and many of them 
 are more valuable members of the com- 
 munity. I am certainly displeased with 
 Gilbert," added the same voice, in the 
 mildest accents, " for endeavouring to 
 interest you in a matter v>ith which he 
 must himself be totally unacquainted ; 
 but it is a subject we will discuss more 
 fully at a future period." 
 
 Struck by the peculiar sweetness of 
 the tone in which ever}^ word was ut- 
 tered, lord Malcolm had involuntarily 
 stopped, but scarcely had they ceased, 
 when conscious that, though uninten- 
 tionally, he had been guilty of a weak- 
 ness, he pursued the winding path, 
 which brought him instantly in front of 
 a rising ground, commanding an excel- 
 lent
 
 92 jessy: 
 
 lent prospect of the surrounding coun- 
 try, and on \vhi:.h Mrs. Di-incannon,- 
 Seymour, and Jessy were seated. A mo- 
 ment served to convince him the inte- 
 i'esting stranger then hefore him could 
 be no other than the one he sought, and 
 the situati<3n in which they met favoured 
 in every respect his wish of addressing 
 her. She had, with her youthful com- 
 panions, risen on his approach, and in 
 the most graceful manner returned the 
 obeisance made on his part, and was re- 
 tiring, when lord Malcolm entreated 
 his presence might be no interruption to 
 her enjoyment of the scene then before 
 them, adding — " I have ever, madam, 
 been an enthusiastic amateur of Nature's 
 works; but your selection of this beau- 
 tiful spot proves you a connoisseur in 
 them, since my short residence in this 
 part of the world has never yet present- 
 ed me a prospect altogether so pic- 
 turesque." 
 
 ** Your walk, sir, has probably been 
 
 limited
 
 JESSY. 93 
 
 limited then," she replied, v>ith her 
 usual ease of manners, uncertain that it 
 was lord ^Malcolm to whom she spoke, 
 though from the description she had had 
 of his person, she felt more than half 
 disposed to believe it could be no other, 
 " otherwise there are in these parts 
 many situations equally desirable, in 
 point of prospect, though habit has fa- 
 miliarized this to me, from its being more 
 retired." 
 
 Pleased thus to have drawn her into 
 conversation, he expatiated largely on 
 the surrounding scenery, which imper- 
 ceptibly led to the subject of drawing; 
 this in turn gave place to history, and 
 her comments on each proved the know- 
 ledge she possessed must have been de- 
 rived from an excellent education, and 
 that highly cultivated. 
 
 During their conversation, his eyes 
 had more than once rested on the open 
 features of Seymour; but though no- 
 thing could be more strikingly interest-
 
 94 JESSY. 
 
 iiig, he neither appeared to notice him, 
 nor the lovely girl who was busily em- 
 ployed in forming the flowers he culled 
 for her into wreaths; and when Mrs. 
 Duncannon summoned them to take 
 their leave, he returned her parting 
 compliments without condescending to 
 remember she was accompanied by 
 children, whose uncommon deportment 
 at their age would have been so obvious 
 to any other beholder : yet he returned 
 to the castle, pleased in having convinced 
 himself Mrs. Duncannon was even more 
 than report had named her, and deter- 
 mined to believe there was a mystery 
 attached to her secluded life worth his 
 elucidating ; but, as if for the first mo- 
 ment recollecting she was not alone, he 
 sternly demanded of Leopold whose 
 children were the companions of her 
 walk? 
 
 " One, my lord," he timidly replied, 
 " is the peasant girl whom they call the 
 Rose of Donald's Cottage, from her un- 
 common
 
 JESSY. 95 
 
 common beauty, and the other is Mrs. 
 Duncannon's son." 
 
 A deep-drawn sigh, on the part of his 
 lordship, told there %vas even yet a string 
 which vibrated to a name once so dear ; 
 but he suppressed its utterance, and 
 added, with eagerness — " Then Heaven 
 has given her also one of its direst curses, 
 which in your relation of her household 
 you omitted to name." 
 
 Conscious this w^as the case, Leopold 
 remained silent, and lord Malcolm 
 changed the subject. But every thought 
 w^as now engrossed by plans that might 
 enable him to become better acquainted 
 with his fair neighbour, none of which 
 had promised success, when a letter 
 from England was deUvered to him : the 
 superscription he knew to be that of his 
 discarded Madeline, and at any other 
 time it would have been consigned to 
 the flames unopened; but Mrs. Dun- 
 cannon had harmonized every feeling, 
 and having almost unconsciously broken 
 
 the
 
 96 JESSY. 
 
 the seal, his eyes eagerly ran over Intel- 
 Jigence from \n hich he derived a twofold 
 pleasure. Death had removed one being 
 obnoxious to his remembrance, and by 
 leaving his daughter a widow, had open- 
 ed a field for the speculation that at 
 present interested him infinitely beyond 
 his sanguine expectation. In the bitter- 
 ness of grief, she related the recent loss 
 of her husband, to whom she was fondly 
 attached ; and though she presumed not 
 to ask an asylum in her father's house, 
 entreated he would extend that protec- 
 tion to herself and child, which her 
 widowed state demanded. 
 
 " I will do more, Madeline," he men- 
 tally exclaimed ; " thou shalt return to 
 my roof, since he who tore thee from 
 thy parent tree is happily no more." 
 
 But paternal love had no share in the 
 arrangement thus hastily made in the 
 deadened breast of lord Malcolm; no 
 benign virtue, no social duty existed, 
 in thus receiving his long-deserted and 
 
 almost
 
 JESSY. 97 
 
 almost forgotten^ daughter ; he was m- 
 fluenced by no other motive than that 
 of laying a foundation for her visiting, 
 and of course being visited by, the Re- 
 cluse of the Bourn — a point he was 
 determined, if possible, to accomplish. 
 
 To chance, therefore, lady IMadeline 
 was indebted for what she was willing 
 to believe convincing proofs of her fa- 
 ther's returning love, in a letter com- 
 manding her to lose no time in hastening 
 to Dunwarden Castle, where she would 
 find a future residence, provided she 
 could accept his offer on the prescribed 
 conditions, which were, that she should 
 resign the son of whom she spoke to 
 the guardianship of any person she might 
 think proper to choose; as, though it 
 was his intention to provide for him, it 
 was his fixed determination never to see 
 him. 
 
 Attributing this resolution wholly to the 
 fatal disobedience of Alphonso, she saw 
 not the extent of its unkindness, and so far 
 
 VOL. 1. F from-
 
 ^8 JESSY. 
 
 from accusing her father of severity, 
 pitied the feelings by which she believed 
 him actuated ; her affectionate heart an- 
 ticipated the probability of soothing by 
 filial attention his wounded spirit, and, 
 dear as was her child, she felt justified 
 in parting with it on the terms proposed, 
 which, from never having expected, she 
 more gladly accepted. 
 
 Frederick Sinclair had already reached 
 his fourteenth year, four of which he had 
 passed at a public seminary, and as his 
 mother was perfectly satisfied with the 
 advantages he obtained in every branch 
 of his education, which her own partia- 
 lity and little knowledge of the world 
 induced her to believe was already com- 
 pleted, she did not hesitate to leave him 
 wholly in the care of the gentleman with 
 whom he had been so long a resident, 
 while she hastened to Scotland, impa- 
 tient to receive a father's embrace, which 
 promised to await her arrival there. 
 But a cold repulsive salute, on the part 
 
 of
 
 JESSY. 99 
 
 of lord iVIalcolm, checked theardour which 
 prompted her to shed on his bosom the 
 mingled tears of joy and sorrow. Yet he 
 bade her welcome, and she endeavoured to 
 forget the coolness of her reception, from 
 a conviction that her own and brother's 
 conduct had contributed much to render 
 her father w^iat he w^as, and rejoiced that 
 he had even allowed her the privilege of 
 being so near his person, for much as 
 they were estranged to each other, the 
 very term of father earned with it a 
 magic charm. But lord IMalcolm derived 
 not the same pleasure from the society 
 of his child ; her attentions were soon 
 irksome, and to avoid them he passed 
 whole hours in the seclusion of his own 
 apartment, almost regretting that he had 
 ever allowed her to become an inmate of 
 the castle ; since it too late occun-ed to 
 him, that should he succeed in bringing 
 his daughter acquainted with Mrs. Dun- 
 cannon, she w*ould not, like ^ladeline, 
 give up the company of her child to 
 Y 2 please
 
 100 JESSY. 
 
 please his capricious humour, or visit 
 where her son's presence would be deemed 
 an intrusion, ^nd he felt that the know- 
 ledge he had been so long anxious to 
 obtain could not recompense him for the 
 misery of being compelled occasion ally- 
 to receive them both ; and, with the ca- 
 price that now invariably formed the 
 contour of his whole conduct, he deter- 
 mined not only to forget he had ever 
 been interested in the fate of Mrs. Dun- 
 cannon, but studiously to avoid the 
 chance of seeing her, since he learnt 
 that Seymour was her inseparable com- 
 panion. 
 
 Leopold was made acquainted with 
 his lord's intention, and with regret saw 
 him again relapse into his former torpid 
 state, from which his late visionary 
 scheme had no longer the power of with- 
 drawing him ; nor was the gloomy an- 
 cient edifice he inhabited calculated to 
 remove the threatened evil, since its 
 gothic structure and gloomy apart- 
 ments
 
 JESSY. 101 
 
 merits frequently threw a damp on the 
 conviviahty of the numerous domestics, 
 which the Hberality of their lord could 
 not wholly disperse. Hence it some- 
 times happened that a shadow, though 
 reflected from the very being it terrified, 
 or the wind passing through the lorg 
 galleries, occasioned by the aperture of a 
 half-closed door, has raised for the mo- 
 ment false alarms, which it required all 
 the powers of reason to disarm, and 
 'U^hich WSS 3!??^W ad?ninisti^i«p<^ bv tho 
 worthy old steward, who alike despising 
 the pusillanimity of the men, and pity- 
 ing the weakness of the women, never 
 failed to argue with so much eloquence 
 on their ideal fears, at the same time so 
 satisfactorily explaining the cause, that 
 he eventually crushed the hydra super- 
 stition, which, but for his sage counsel, 
 was beginning to render his fellow-ser- 
 vants as miserable as their lord, though 
 from a different cause. Nor were these 
 terrors confined merely to the domes- 
 F 3 tics.
 
 102 JESSY. 
 
 tics, since the widowed Madeline, un- 
 cheered by the society of one female, 
 her own woman excepted, wandered 
 through the dreary abode till her mind, 
 weakened by her recent loss, became 
 more susceptible of fear than she had 
 believed it possible she could be; still 
 less could she reconcile to herself how 
 lord Malcolm, possessing an estate 
 which wealth and taste had contributed 
 every thing to make desirable, should 
 
 |/i<OA^l \>ix\y oviii-oiy «*jv* i lAiilV^LlO <J11C lit; 
 
 now occupied — an observation she ven- 
 tured to make one evening, when he 
 appeared more communicative than 
 usual. 
 
 " Because," he replied, with an aspe- 
 rity that made her regret having put 
 the question, ** ingratitude, by making 
 the one hateful, drove me from it ; and 
 this, from being better suited to the pre- 
 sent tenor of my mind, is preferred. 
 Chance," he added, " while I Avas on the 
 continent, placed me in company with a 
 
 man
 
 JESSY. 103 
 
 man who holds this estate in trust for 
 an heir not yet found ; he mentioned the 
 situation, which I recollected, from hav- 
 ing some years since observed it, in a 
 tour I made, but at that time little sup- 
 posed the residue of my wretched life 
 was to be spent within its mouldering 
 walls ; but such will be the case, unless, 
 which is not very probable, the rightful 
 owner should claim it, as on those terms 
 only I now hold it. It is a sorry resi- 
 dence, Madeline^ for thee, but as you 
 have always used the freedom of your 
 owm mind, my invitation imposes no 
 shackles from which you cannot easily 
 emancipate yourself" 
 
 She felt the sarcasm, but a starting 
 tear was the only reply. 
 
 Lord JSIalcolm observed it, and strong- 
 ly as his stubborn lieart resisted the feel- 
 ings nature designed a parent should 
 know, in this instance indirectly owned 
 its power; for softening his voice, he 
 continued — " Madeline, I am become a 
 F 4 bankrupt
 
 104 JESSY. 
 
 bankrupt in happiness, have for ever re- 
 nounced the world, and have therefore 
 nothing more to do with society ; neither 
 canst thou enjoy it here, without tres- 
 passing on that seclusion, a thirst for 
 which brought me to this spot, nor will 
 I have it violated, even by Mrs. Dun- 
 cannon." 
 
 Madeline listened with astonishment, 
 for it was a name she had never before 
 heard; and lord Malcolm, vexed at the 
 error into which he had so involuntarily 
 plunged himself, confusedly added — " I 
 tneant to have said — there is, I under^ 
 stand from Leopold, a lady in this ob- 
 scure neighbourhood, who, if known, 
 might make your residence in it more 
 supportable, whose appearance speaks 
 «very Ijhing in her favour, and with such 
 an associate, Dun warden Castle might be 
 deemed less solitary. But she has a com- 
 panion that, were I to encounter during 
 her visits to you, would remind thy 
 wretched father of a vulture, whose fangs 
 
 • still
 
 JESSY. 105 
 
 still tear his wretched heart, and make 
 every being hateful to his sight that 
 bears the name of son. Oh, Alphonso ! 
 has time no power to dissolve the tie 
 which binds my doating soul to thee ? 
 Why, when thy execrable ingratitude 
 has reduced me to the verge of the 
 grave, on which I linger only to behold 
 the extent of thy misery, does accursed 
 memory treasure up every harrowing 
 reflection, now only replete with barbed 
 arrows — incessantly whisper what thou 
 wert before I had vowed to hate tliee, 
 and place before my aching eyes the idol 
 once dearer than life or light, when I 
 would only remember thee as a murder- 
 er? for thou hast murdered my peace, 
 and sealed thy father's eternal perdition, 
 since heaven could not be such if thou 
 wert exiled from it, and thither thou 
 canst not enter, laden as thou art with 3 
 parent's heavy curse, which never can be 
 revoked." 
 
 *^ In mercy say not so,, my father !" 
 F 5 said.
 
 106 JESSY. 
 
 said the trembling Madeline, as she 
 clasped lord Malcolm's knees, at whose 
 feet she had prostrated herself, almost 
 unconscious of the motion: "Even now 
 is the godlike attribute mercy pleading 
 in thy softened breast, and here will I 
 kneel till the blessed pardon passes those 
 lips which were never framed to curse 
 thy hapless offspring. Speak, my lord ! 
 say only that Alphonso " 
 
 And she stopped, as if awed by the 
 temerity which had induced her to utter 
 a name she had been so imperiously 
 commanded never to repeat; but she 
 might have proceeded unreproved — torn 
 by the contending emotions of his own 
 mind, he disregarded both the appeal 
 and situation of his kneeling child, till 
 encouraged by the silence w^hich affec- 
 tion for the banished Alphonso con- 
 strued as favourable to his cause, she 
 again ventured to say — ** Dare I believe 
 my brother has yet a friend ?'! 
 
 Starting from her hold, he exclaimed, 
 
 in
 
 JESSY. 107 
 
 in a voice that thrilled every nerve — 
 " Yes, he has a friend — for that friend 
 he became a parricide — for that friend 
 bartered prosperity for poverty — madly 
 forsook a doating father, and with that 
 friend he now enjoys curses that hourly 
 remind him of the sacrifice he has made. 
 Tell him, Madeline, if you know the spot 
 which holds him, I have never revoked 
 a curse my lips pronounced against 
 
 him '^ 
 
 He was proceeding, but the extended 
 form of the now senseless Madeline ar- 
 rested the powers of utterance : her spi- 
 rits, weakened by the solitary life she 
 led, rendered her unequal to the task 
 she had undertaken, and buoyed up with 
 the too sanguine expectation that the 
 moment was anived in which a media- 
 tor only was requisite to gain over, as 
 she believed, her relenting father to the 
 exiled Alphonso, she was altogether 
 unprepared for the awful sentence, which 
 destroyed even a plea for hope, and 
 F 6 wliick
 
 108 JESSY. 
 
 which had no sooner passed her parent's 
 lips, than she sunk motionless before 
 him. Awed by the deathlike paleness 
 which had passed over her still beautiful 
 features, he raised her from the ground 
 and folded her in his trembling arms ; 
 but at that moment, as if nature waged 
 war with his children, and delighted to 
 make him act in opposition to his own 
 wishes, he either saw, or fancied he did 
 so, in Madeline's face, an expressive re- 
 semblance of his lost son, sufficiently- 
 strong to shake his already agitated 
 nerves, and reduce him even to woman's 
 weakness. A moment only he gazed, 
 imprinted an impassioned kiss on her 
 yet cold lips, and having placed her on 
 the sofa, rung the bell with violence. 
 
 Leopold instantly obeyed the sum- 
 mons, when lord Malcolm, glad of any 
 pretext to leave the room, harshly com- 
 manded him to stay with his daughter, 
 and that himself would send her woman 
 immediately ; though such at that mo- 
 
 jnent
 
 JESSY. 109 
 
 ment was the perturbed state of his 
 mind, that it is more than probable he 
 would have neglected to do so, had he 
 not encountered JVIary in the way to 
 his own room ; and then, as if uncon- 
 scious of the necessity there was for her 
 immediate attendance, he merely said, 
 her lady wanted her, and passed onward 
 to the apartment, in which he shut him- 
 self up, to elude, as it were, the incessant 
 tormentor of his wretched existence. 
 But in vain he did so; there is an attend- 
 ant whom neither bars nor locks have do- 
 minion over — whom the destined victim 
 still finds at his side, though he mingles 
 in the busy crowd, the full blaze of the 
 brilliant circle, paces the solitary confines 
 of his closed chamber, or stretches his 
 weary limbs, stiffened by iron fetters, in 
 the condemned cell. 
 
 Years had now seen such an attend- 
 ant, the unappeased scourge of the viru- 
 lent lord Malcolm : he had thrust out 
 from his paternal roof the child of his 
 
 beatified
 
 110 JESSY. 
 
 beatified Louise, the fond and faithful 
 wife whose last breath had so solemnly 
 consigned him to a father's care. True, 
 he had not become the murderer of that 
 child, but murder is not the only crime 
 of which the conscience takes cogni- 
 zance : he had obliged that son, once so 
 exemplary for duty and affection to- 
 wards him, to become a forlorn exile, 
 enduring all the horrors of increasing 
 poverty, and doubly wretched under the 
 heavy penalty of a father's malediction, 
 and which extended even to the inno- 
 cent offspring of that persecuted child of 
 sorrow. This he had done, and for this 
 conscience hourly upbraided him : in \mn 
 his disappointed views, his mortified 
 pride, vindicated his cause, by proving 
 that it was a father's prerogative to dis- 
 card a disobedient son; blasted ambi- 
 tion, ungoverned passion, unrelenting 
 violence, could not conquer the small 
 still voice, that incessantly whispered he 
 had done wrong, 
 
 CHAP-
 
 jEssr. Ill 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Seated in his arm-chair, around which 
 no smiUng pledges of his Alphonso's ex- 
 istence " climbed to snatch their grand- 
 sire's kiss," as he had once fondly sur- 
 mised they would do, he threw his 
 aching eyes across the vacant space, 
 happy only in the idea that he had 
 escaped from a scene too painful for his 
 weakened senses, wholly regardless of 
 the situation in w^hich he had left his 
 daughter, with no other attendant than 
 Leopold ; but he was of late years too 
 little accustomed to the society of the 
 female sex to recollect the delicate at- 
 tentions due to them, and had far too 
 high an opinion of his servant's probity, 
 
 to
 
 112 JESSY. 
 
 to have seen any impropriety in his own 
 conduct. Without, therefore, troubhng 
 himself to inquire if MadeHne had re- 
 covered, he amused himself with read- 
 ing, vinconscious of the period which 
 had intervened, when Leopold entered 
 his room for orders ; nor did he then no- 
 tice what a more anxious father would 
 have construed into ample cause for 
 alarm — the altered countenance of his 
 domestic, whose presence awakened the 
 remembrance of his daughter's situation, 
 and having merely learnt that she was 
 better, but had retired to her chamber, 
 he troubled himself no farther on the 
 subject, than openly inveighing against 
 her folly in irritating him by a conver- 
 sation he had so often warned her to 
 avoid ; and Leopold, eager to elude the 
 observation of his master by entering 
 into conversation, made no farther com- 
 ments on what had passed, and took the 
 earliest opportunity of again leaving the 
 apartment. 
 
 He
 
 JESSY. lis 
 
 He had been many years a faithful 
 serv^ant to lord Malcolm, and by his 
 honest worth acquired an ascendancy 
 over his master, which enabled him 
 to conquer his habitual splenetic hu- 
 mour more adroitly than any other per- 
 son could do; and this, as is too often 
 the case, by making him a decided fa- 
 vourite w ith his lord, lessened the good- 
 will of his fellow-servants towards him ; 
 but conscious of his own integrity, he 
 disregarded the sarcasms evidently level- 
 led at the supposed motive of his un- 
 w^earied zeal in his master's cause, 
 namely, the future aggrandizement of 
 himself, from that wealth which it was 
 not probable the rightful heir would 
 ever enjoy. But in this his enemies 
 argued with the narrow ignorance of 
 little minds, nor did they know the 
 heai't they judged : hitherto fidelity had 
 been its leading traits; born and edu- 
 cated in humble life, he owed to his 
 own perseverance, and the attention of 
 
 a good
 
 114 JESSY. 
 
 a good old steward in the family, where 
 his father had been head-gardener, the 
 progress he had made in learning, and 
 which had induced lord Malcolm to 
 rate him above the common class of ser- 
 vants. This had created much jealousy 
 in his household, but had never raised 
 the object of that mistaken jealousy 
 above himself Actuated by the humane 
 desire of contributing as much as pos- 
 sible to his lord's comfort, by soothing 
 the extremes of passion to which he was 
 so prone to give way, he found little 
 leisure for other pursuits, and might lite- 
 rally be said to devote ever}^ thought 
 and action to his lordship's service. But 
 a few hours, even a shorter period, had 
 worked a revolution in his nature, which 
 made reflection painful, and staggered 
 his own belief: the disinterested affec- 
 tion w^hich had for years bound him to 
 lord Malcolm w^as, in one fatal moment 
 for them both, weakened. 
 
 When his lordship had left the room 
 
 to
 
 JESSY. 115 
 
 to summon, as he said, Man- to her 
 lady's assistance, Leopold, silently con- 
 demnino* the harshness which he did 
 not hesitate to believe had reduced her 
 to the situation in which she still lay, ap- 
 proached the senseless Madehne, with 
 those sentiments of respect he had ever 
 entertained for her, mingled with in- 
 creasing pity for the unpleasant life she 
 led, subject to the unkindness of so se- 
 vere a father ; but scarcely had his eves 
 rested on her pallid features, more in- 
 teresting than he had ever seen them, 
 than a sentiment altogether new per- 
 vaded his soul. — " Beautiful victim !" he 
 silently ejaculated, '* who could injure 
 excellence like tliine? Would that Leo- 
 pold had wealth and power, or had been 
 destined thy protector, even in poverty 1" 
 Kneeling down, he clasped the inani- 
 mate hand, whose snowv whiteness daz- 
 zledhis enraptured sight, while its touch, 
 though cold as the silent grave, added 
 fire to the fever which thrilled in every 
 
 vein.
 
 Il6 JESSY. 
 
 vein^ HeaVy and convulsive sighs pro* 
 mised returning life, but as that life 
 slowly resumed its functions in the hap- 
 less Madeline, reason forsook the now 
 distracted Leopold. Folding her to his 
 bursting heart, he exclaimed — "Live, lady 
 Madeline, if you would not see the veriest 
 wtetch in nature expire at your feet." 
 
 Slowly opening her languid eyes, 
 but unable to comprehend what she 
 heard or saw, she continued gazing in 
 silence, vmtil roused to recollection by 
 words which had nearly deprived her a 
 second time of that sense she had as yet 
 imperfectly regained. Scarcely had he 
 clasped her in his impassioned arms, 
 than, heartstruck by the almost invo- 
 luntary action, he relinquished the sa- 
 cred burthen, but still continued kneel- 
 ing by her. — " Hear me, lady Madeline," 
 he continued, " in what I have no longer 
 power to conceal, that from this moment 
 my life is in your hands, for I have 
 dared to love you ; yet shall my daring 
 
 presumption
 
 JESSY. 117 
 
 presumption be concealed from every 
 eye but yours." 
 
 Roused to energy by the feelings of 
 wounded pride, without deigning to re- 
 ply, she sternly demanded what had 
 brought him to that apartment? and, 
 with a strength of mind that ill accord- 
 ed with her exhausted frame, command- 
 ed him to leave it instantly, as he would 
 avoid ±he just resentment of lord Mal- 
 colm for his base ingi-atitude. 
 
 " I go, lady Madeline," he said, " to 
 drag on in future a wretched existence, 
 which you can terminate with a breath ; 
 for the moment that reveals my fatal 
 secret will see me a corpse at your feet." 
 
 Terrified by what she believed proofs 
 of insanity, and distracted by the rapid 
 succession of ideas which passed over 
 her imagination, at a loss to know how 
 she had been left alone with this appa- 
 rent madman, and still more astonished 
 at the absence of her woman at such 
 a time, she could only again desire him 
 
 to
 
 118 JESSY". 
 
 to send Mary to her immediately, pur- 
 posely avoiding a subject which alike dis- 
 tressed and bewildered her with surprise. 
 
 " One word more, lady Madeline," 
 he replied, " and I fly to obey your 
 commands, which must henceforth be 
 my law: say only you pity the being 
 you behold thus hurled from happinesss 
 to misery. Your forgiveness I dare not 
 ask, for already my tortured brain is 
 sensible of my crime's extent; but as 
 you value lord Malcolm's comfort, do 
 not add to the bitterness of his soul a 
 knowledge of my involuntary guilt: 
 habit has made me essential to him ; 
 but I solemnly swear never, never to 
 survive his conviction of my forfeited 
 integrity, and I ask only your pity." 
 
 Still commanding her assumed com- 
 posure, she said — " Leopold, if my com- 
 miseration is indeed requisite to your 
 peace, you have it, but a continuance of 
 it depends on yourself; for know also, 
 the instant you presume again to forget 
 
 the
 
 jEssr. 119 
 
 the respect due to the daughter of lord 
 Malcohn, neither your threats nor my 
 own lenity shall screen you from the 
 just reward of your unwarranted pre- 
 sumption. Now leave me, lest I revoke 
 what I have already said." 
 
 Without agam speaking, Leopold left 
 the room ; but scarcely had he closed the 
 door, when the fortitude which had been 
 supported only by terror gave way, and 
 had not a violent burst of tears relieved 
 her oppressed heart, her woman would 
 have found her reduced to the same 
 situation in which the unfeeling lord 
 IMalcolm had deserted her. Unluckily 
 for lady jNIadeline, Mary was hastening 
 to an appointment made before she met 
 his lordship, whose deliberate manner 
 of issuing, as she supposed, her lady's 
 commands, induced her to presume on 
 the known forbearance of her temper 
 by trespassing a few minutes, well aware 
 it would be forgiven. Those minutes 
 had passed so rapidly as to have been 
 
 unconsciously
 
 120 JESSY. 
 
 tinconsciously protracted, till" recollect- 
 ing the summons, she was so hastily 
 pursuing her way to the drawing-room 
 as to leave Leopold barely time to say 
 in passing, that lady Madeline had been 
 impatiently waiting for her. 
 
 Accustomed frequently to surprise her 
 in tears, Mary was less astonished than 
 she would otherwise have been at the 
 situation in which, on entering the room, 
 she found her lady ; but when, on rising 
 to go to her own room, her trembling 
 limbs refused their office, the affi-ighted 
 girl entreated she would allow her to 
 call assistance, or, at least, to acquaint 
 lord Malcolm with her indisposition: 
 this, however, she refused, and assuring 
 her she should be better when she had 
 slept, redoubled her efforts to gain her 
 chamber. This with difficulty she suc- 
 ceeded in accomplishing, but had no 
 sooner laid her aching head on the pil- 
 low, which promised to be a restless one, 
 than all the misery of her present situa- 
 tion
 
 JESSY, 121 
 
 tion presented itself with added keenness 
 to her enfeebled mind. 
 
 Deprived by death of a husband whose 
 affectionate attention had, in her opinion, 
 more than compensated for the affluence 
 she relinquished for his sake, she had no 
 longer a protector sufficiently interested 
 in her hapless fate to shield her even 
 from. insult, since she too plainly dis- 
 covered, if lord JNIalcolm had ever felt 
 for her a father's love, it was long since 
 alienated, and the various instances of 
 his harsh unliind treatment, which she 
 had so often endeavoured to find ex- 
 cuses for, now appeared magnified. One 
 being only in the world was interested 
 for her — could appreciate her affection, 
 and would return it — this was her child; 
 but that blessing, all that destiny had 
 left her, she was compelled to resign; 
 and for what ? to drag through a cheer- 
 less existence in hateful solitude, with a 
 father whom, at this moment,' she con- 
 
 VOL. I. G sidered
 
 122.. ■ JESSY. 
 
 sidered every way unwortliy tlie sacri- 
 iice slie had made. 
 
 While she had fondly anticipated that 
 her presence at Dunwarden Castle would 
 have contributed to that father's com- 
 fort — would, by giving him a companion 
 so affectionately interested in his fate as 
 herself, have contributed aught to his 
 cheerililness, and by so doing softened 
 the natural asperity of his manners, evi- 
 dently increased by the life of seclusion 
 he led, she had felt no other pang from 
 that sacrifice than what naturally arose 
 from parting with a child so dear to her, 
 w^iose merits she had ever rated with 
 extravagant partiality, but to whose nu- 
 merous imperfections and glaring faults 
 she was more than blind. Too late, how- 
 ever, she had found her utmost efibrts, 
 either to contribute to lord Malcolm's 
 happiness, or change his inflexible dis- 
 position in favour of her exiled brother, 
 were alike useless : the dreadful denun- 
 ciation
 
 JESSY. 123 
 
 ciation of protracted wrath still vibrated 
 on her ear, and she now believed Al- 
 phonso's fate inevitable. To his real situa- 
 tion she was utterly a stranger, but her 
 timid nature convinced her prosperity 
 and happiness must be alike unknown 
 to those who existed under such curses 
 as she had herself heard lord ]Malcolm 
 heap on his devoted child. His misfor- 
 tunes, more than even fraternal affection, 
 had endeared him to her, for the very 
 few years they had spent together ad- 
 mitted not of that reciprocal love which 
 forms the endearing bond between those 
 children whose infant years have never 
 known a separation. For his own sake, 
 and that of the charming woman to 
 whom she understood he was united, 
 she would have rejoiced m his restora- 
 tion to lord Malcolm's favour — to ha^e 
 seen xhim in possession of his natural 
 rights; but nov;, how essential to her 
 peace of mind was his presence, and how 
 keenly did she feel the cruel deprivation ! 
 G 2 Her
 
 124? JEssr. 
 
 Her residence at the castle had fully 
 convinced her of the truth of Leopold's 
 observation, that he was become essen- 
 tial to his lord's comforts ; she had seen 
 him soothe the irritable disposition of 
 her father into composure, when no 
 other of the domestics dared to stem it. 
 Mary had repeatedly told her, that but 
 for Leopold lord Malcolm must live alone, 
 for nobody but Leopold could manage 
 him, and that though the servants dis- 
 liked his being such a favourite of their 
 lord's, they owned how much they were 
 indebted to him for his many good of- 
 fices in the entire management of the 
 household. Often she had heard her fa- 
 ther himself assert, that to his faithful 
 domestic he was indebted for a life 
 which, but for his unwearied attention, 
 must have sunk beneath the pressure of 
 his aggravated woes. Under lord Mal- 
 colm's roof no one had been more uni- 
 ibrmly respectful to herself, and no two 
 beings stood higher in her esteem than 
 
 did
 
 JESSY. 125 
 
 did Leopold and the good old steward* 
 Vi'liose silver hairs had so often excited 
 lier admiration as a cliild, and wlio was 
 now calmly descending the vale of years, 
 firm in the conscious . integrity which, 
 from youth to manhood, had stamped 
 his deserving character, and enabled him 
 proudly to vaunt he liad been a faithful 
 steward to that family in whose service 
 he had spent his best days, and in which 
 he expected to die. Yet no base sus- 
 picion lurked in his liberal mind, tliat 
 tlie preference given to Leopold by his 
 lord, in many instances, tended in tlie 
 least to reduce his own consequence in 
 tiie family, or made him less important 
 to his lordship's interest : on the con- 
 trary, he rejoiced that his youth and 
 alacrity enabled him so much better to 
 fulfil the thousand little offices that his 
 more advanced age unfitted him for. 
 
 These concurrent circams'.ances left 
 
 her still more at a loss liow to act in her 
 
 present situation. To acquaint lord Mal- 
 
 G 3 colm
 
 1S6 JESSY. 
 
 colm with an incident which had added 
 poignancy to every other trouble she 
 bad to sustain, w^as perhaps to renew the 
 phrenzied violence which had already 
 terrified her into insensibility; for the 
 offender had solemnly vowed, the mo- 
 ment which revealed his presumption 
 should be his last, and this awe of the 
 consequence might deter him from ever 
 daring to repeat the degrading avowal 
 he had m.ade, though it could never 
 erase the insult from her remembrance. 
 Yet lenity in the present instance w^ould 
 perliaps effect more than resentment, 
 and she felt, that little as lord Malcolm 
 regarded her peace of mind, he would 
 most deeply resent such an insult to the 
 honour of his house, even though tlie au- 
 thor of it was a favourite, whose claims on 
 his indulgence stood unrivalled. Again 
 contrasting every former instance of 
 Leopold's conduct with the last few 
 hours, she ventured to believe he must 
 have been in a state of inebriety, or was 
 
 probably
 
 JESSY. 127 
 
 probably under the sudden influence of 
 insanity ; in either case it were most lau- 
 dable not to notice what had passed ; and, 
 after various resolutions, in a fatal mo- 
 ment she determined to bury the mor- 
 tifying occurrence in oblivion, at least 
 until a repetition of the offence obliged 
 her to alter that determination. But even 
 this arrangement could not restore the 
 tranquillity of which her mind stood so 
 much in need : her agitated nerves liad 
 received a shock too violent to be easily 
 restored, and in vain she anticipated that 
 repose which, by spreading a temporary 
 forgetfulness over the past, might en- 
 able her to encounter, on the ensuing 
 morning, not only the stem brow of 
 lord Malcolm, but that of his not less 
 dreaded servant, whose expression of 
 countenance, if presuming on the events 
 of that night, would be far more in- 
 supportable, and not less embarrassing, 
 should its marked humiliation silently 
 implore her pity. 
 
 G 4 Among
 
 1^8 JESSY. 
 
 Among the various subjects that en- 
 grossed her sleepless liours, one occurred, 
 which, though it partly led to the pain- 
 ful one which had succeeded it, had, in 
 those more important events, been till 
 then nearly forgotten. This was the 
 mention of Mrs. Duncannon's name, and 
 the singular manner in which her father 
 had forbidden her forming any acquaint- 
 ance with a person whom he neverthe- 
 less appeared to think a desirable com- 
 panion for her. This lady liad then a 
 son, — •* Happy mother!" she mentally 
 exclaimed; "no unjust father has ob- 
 liged thee to relinquish thy child's so- 
 ciety, while the wretclied Madeline, torn 
 from hers, will be in time forgotten, even 
 by her idolized Frederick, to whom she 
 can communicate no other testimony of 
 her unbounded affection than by heart- 
 less letters, which are at best inadequate 
 to express the love I bear him, and al- 
 ways irksome to an age like his. I will 
 at least," she added, " make some in* 
 
 quiry
 
 JESSY. 129 
 
 quiry relative to this proscribed visitor, 
 to a further intimacy with whom some 
 unforeseen event may lead ;" for the ne- 
 cessity of a female companion suited to 
 lier rank daily became more requisite. 
 Her widowed habihments, bad spirits, 
 and lord Malcolm's love of seclusion, 
 iiad hitherto rendered her indifferent as 
 to the neighbours by whom they Avere 
 suiTounded; but the mention of one 
 whose society might enliven in some 
 decree the monotony of her present Hfe 
 promised a dawn of comfort ; and though 
 that comfort was but in embryo, she suf- 
 fered her sick mind to rest with a de- 
 gree of pleasure even on the scheme she 
 would adopt for realizing it. 
 
 ^Morning at length dawned on her yet 
 wear}'- eyelids ; but while it summoned in- 
 dustiy to its daily task, rosy health to the 
 joyous field, and the happy totheir various ' 
 pursuits, ^Madeline was listless — for to nei- 
 ther of these classes she owned affinity. 
 A destroying fever preyed upon that 
 G 5 cheek
 
 130 JESSY. 
 
 cheek where health had given added 
 charms to her native beauty, and sorrow- 
 had dimmed the eye in which happiness 
 once beamed triumphant; nor was it 
 until the expiration of many days she 
 felt sufficiently strong toT;ake her ac- 
 customed seat at lord Malcolm's table, 
 and even then the effort was made more 
 to oblige him, than from any desire to 
 leave her own room. 
 
 During her indisposition he had been 
 uniform inhis inquiries after her, and had 
 more than once expressed a wish for 
 her having medical advice, but this she 
 strongly opposed, from a conviction that 
 they could not * administer to a mind dis- 
 eased ;' and as lord Malcolm partly judged 
 her indisposition to have arisen from his 
 too unguarded warmth, he did not urge 
 the point, though he determined' to be 
 more circumspect in future ; but in this 
 he depended more upon her prudence 
 in avoiding the subject most likely to 
 iwritate him, than on his own versatility 
 
 of
 
 JESSY. 131 
 
 of temper. There was another pomt 
 still more hn port ant to his daughter's 
 comfort, on which he had ruminated 
 seriously, and at last, by the interposi- 
 tion of his unerring counsellor Leo- 
 pold, he had decided in her favour: 
 this was no other tlian consenting to 
 an interview bet\\'een Madeline and. 
 Mrs. Duncannon, whenever the former's 
 health should render it practicable. 
 
 As soon, therefore, as he had seated 
 himself by her in the drawing-room, and 
 wdth more than usual kindness inquired 
 after her health, without reverting to 
 the cause which had injured it, he sekcted 
 from various cards Vvhich lay upon the 
 table, one on which w^as elegantly writ- 
 ten the name of IVIrs. Duncannon, and 
 which he presented her, remarking at 
 the same time, that though no title 
 graced the writer, he v/as led to believe, 
 from his own observation, that Mrs. 
 Duncannon was nevertheless a woman 
 of fashion. *' Her present mode of life," 
 G 6 he
 
 1S2 JESSY. 
 
 he added, " does not exactly correspond 
 with this assertion ; but she has doubtless 
 cogent reasons for the seclusion in which 
 she lives, and whatever those motives 
 may be, I feel persuaded they will not 
 prove her unworthy any attention you 
 may think proper to shew her ; and some 
 return is due for the civilities of her in- 
 quiries after your health." 
 
 " You know Mrs. Duncannon, then, 
 sir?" said the delighted Madeline, who 
 impatiently listened to every word her 
 father uttered ; ** and she has been at 
 the castle during my indisposition ?" 
 
 ** Neither," he replied, " is exactly the 
 case. The very short interview I once 
 had with that lady (and which he re- 
 lated), allows me only the privilege of 
 saying she is personally known to me; 
 but it sufficed to convince me she is no 
 ordinary character. Her card was left 
 by the servant who was the bearer of 
 her inquiries yesterday morning — a de- 
 licacy of conduct which has raised her 
 
 still
 
 JESSY. 13S 
 
 still higher m my estimation. She doubt- 
 less felt the distinction, or at least that 
 which apparently subsists between us; 
 but we must convince her that the house 
 of Malcolm, raised as it is by birth and 
 fortune above the plebeian race, can never- 
 theless discern merit, even in humble 
 life : you must, therefore, personally re- 
 turn her inquiries. It may be that she is 
 not less in want of female society than 
 yourself, for Leopold tells me she is a 
 perfect recluse : should pecuniary cir- 
 cumstances contribute to render her such, 
 my ample power may not be found un- 
 usefiil." 
 
 How little, in this proud display of 
 premeditated kindness to Mrs. Duncan- 
 non, and which was wholly the result 
 of mean cvuiosity to learn her history, 
 w^as lord Malcolm aware, that even the 
 pompous harangue would have for ever 
 closed every avenue to the intimacy he 
 was desirous to establish between her 
 and his daughter — that possessing a gen- 
 teel
 
 lS4s JESSY. 
 
 teel competency for herself and Seymonr, 
 she would have resented, with a spirit 
 no less proud than his own, his offers of 
 assistance — that allied to blood, ennobled 
 by deeds, not titles, she could have de- 
 rived no consequence from his rank, and 
 would have smiled her contempt of that 
 power, ample as it was vaunted to be^ 
 which could contribute nothing to her 
 comfort ! There were moments when 
 the kindly friendship of a mind conge- 
 nial with her own might, by occasionally 
 -stealing on her seclusion, have left n>e- 
 mory less opportunity of reverting to 
 the past events of her early life ; but as 
 it was a resource she had never antici- 
 pated in her present residence, no sigb 
 of regret — no disappointment followed. 
 
 Years had passed over the date of those 
 sorrows which had given so material a 
 change to her destiny; and there are 
 few sorrows, few trials incident to man, 
 lOver which time, the all-powerful hand 
 of time, has not a sovereign influence. 
 
 Are
 
 JESSY. 135 
 
 Are we blest with kindred ties — the 
 beloved parent, the fond husband, a 
 dutiful child, and deserving friend — en- 
 dearing circle! how cherished in the heart 
 alive to every social virtue ! — they ani- 
 mate our pursuits in life — our very exist- 
 ance appears to depend upon their preser- 
 vation, and affection whispers, life, de- 
 prived of them, must become a senseless 
 void — happiness a blank. Yet the aw- 
 ful mandate, which ultimately includes 
 every tie, goes forth, and to its minister, 
 death, one by one we resign those be- 
 loved objects ; the silent grave closes 
 upon the parent to whom we owe our 
 being — secludes, for ever, the husband 
 of our affections, and conceals from our 
 enraptured eyes the child in whom we 
 lived again. Lastly, ingratitude, still more 
 relentless than the cold dark grave, de- 
 prives us of the long-valued friend : still 
 we live— time performs its evolutions, 
 and by degrees we return to the duties 
 of life ; the sick and lacerated heart feels, 
 
 in
 
 136 JE.^SY. 
 
 in the tiying hour of affliction, the balrti 
 which mercy never yet witliheld from 
 the bruised reed ; slowly it siiakes off the 
 sombre shade which despair had gathered 
 round it, quickens the broken spirit, 
 and instinctively raises the soul to Him 
 from whom the consolation comes — the 
 friend who, surviving time and space^ 
 knows no change — the God too seldom 
 sought, too little known, in the untried 
 hour of prosperity- 
 
 Trials such as these had marked Mrs* 
 Duncannon's destiny : she had survived 
 every relative tie, save the fraternal one 
 which should have centered in a brother ; 
 but he had been the base destroyer of 
 her domestic happiness — the enemy 
 of her peace. This brother still lived, 
 while those whose existence would have 
 strewn her path through life with flow- 
 ers mouldered in the grave; but the 
 former she had long since forgiven — the 
 latter remembered only with that de- 
 lightful emotion which is the result of 
 
 sincere
 
 JESSY. 137 
 
 sincere resignation. The fortitude which 
 ever marks the Christian character had 
 supported her through every trial; and 
 new duties had been given her, to sup- 
 ply, in part, those she was formed to have 
 excelled in. 
 
 Seymour was at present the principal 
 object of her affection, and might be said 
 to constitute her chief happiness ; but 
 that happiness was not unalloyed : his 
 future prospects were as yet undecided — 
 lie was advancing towards an age when 
 it would be requisite to adopt some plan 
 for his establishment in life. Should he 
 survive her, she had no relative to whose 
 care she could resign him ; and of the 
 various designs which engrossed her con- 
 templative mind, she had as yet deter- 
 mined on none ; but her solicitude on his 
 account did not so entirely occupy every 
 thought as to leave her immindful of 
 the fellow-creatures by whom she was 
 encompassed, and to whose comforts she 
 could contribute so much. 
 
 Among
 
 138 JESSY. 
 
 Among these, the interesting Jessy 
 was a leading character : her sylph-hke 
 form, and beautiful countenance, had 
 first attracted her notice ; the unfoldin*?- 
 beauties of her mind, and sweetness of 
 disposition, had secured the esteem 
 which followed; but to these motives 
 were now added another, and still more 
 powerful, claim to the interest she had 
 ever felt in her welfare ; it redoubled the 
 energy with which she studied to im- 
 prove her natural abilities — it was all^ 
 that the ambiguity of that motive allowed 
 her to do at present; yet she anxiously 
 looked forward to a period which might 
 justify the hopes she entertained, of see- 
 ing her favourite all that her humane 
 and friendly mind anticipated. 
 
 With the interest of two such child- 
 ren at heart, and feeling her own con- 
 sequence among her indigent neighbours, 
 Mrs. Duncannon's leisure was too much 
 occupied to leave her (though decidedly 
 a recluse), either in want of that society 
 
 or
 
 JESSY. 139 
 
 or pecuniary assistance which lord Mal- 
 cohn, of liis ostentatious munificence, was 
 become so solicitous to offer her. The 
 vciy little mysteiy attached to her life 
 w^ould have ill repaid his curiosity, for it 
 fell far short of that which interested 
 her, and which originated in his taking 
 possession of the long-deserted mansion, 
 Dunwarden Castle. 
 
 CHAPTEPl VII, 
 
 ***■*■***■* **^* A 
 
 Gilbert's intimacy with tlie servants 
 of lord jMalcclm's household was the 
 medium through which lady JMadeline's 
 indisposition had reached her knowledge ; 
 and with the same disinterested motive 
 which would have actuated her towards 
 the poorest peasant near her dwelling, 
 
 that
 
 140 JESSY. 
 
 that of innate goodness of heart, she liad 
 acted — but with this difference : her ser- 
 vant was dispatched with a card of in- 
 quiry to the castle, while the inmate of 
 a wretched hovel would have lieard her 
 sootliing voice, and from her own hand 
 have received the nourishment she had 
 herself prepared. 
 
 Satisfied ^vith having performed her 
 duty as a neighbour, and more gratified 
 by the message received in return, Avhich 
 was an assurance of lady J^Iadeline's 
 improved health, slie thought no more 
 of tlie subject, and still less of the ar- 
 ran freemen ts resultino- from the circum- 
 stance of her inquiries, until the splen- 
 did equipage of lord Malcolm, many 
 days afterwards, evidently approaching 
 her humble mansion, attracted the no- 
 tice of Seymour, who was seated at his 
 usual studies, in a small apartment, whose 
 principal decorations were the perform- 
 ance of its elegant owner, who, alike de- 
 void of embarrassment or humble pride, 
 
 needed
 
 JLSSV. 141 
 
 needed no preparation to receive, with 
 even courtly jrrace, her titled visitor. 
 
 This Gilbert kne'>v, and proudly an- 
 swered the domestic, whose loud knock 
 echoed through their little dwelling, 
 thnt his mistress was at home, without 
 the fashionable ceremony oi flying first 
 to her sitting-room, to a.sk the question 
 from herself; and as proudly "^r^o^di^A 
 lady Madeline to the presence of Mrs. 
 Duncannon, where he announced her 
 name and rank with all the consequence 
 he felt due to her high birth, in a man- 
 ner hifrhlv amusiuf^, both to his mistress 
 and the fair convalescent, whose pallid 
 features still bore testimony to her late 
 indisposition ; but her extreme solicitude 
 to behold the interesting Mrs. Duncan- 
 non, and her recent conviction of lord 
 Malcolm's mutability, which she ever)' 
 hour dreaded might induce him to re- 
 voke the promised indulgence allowed 
 her in the moment of relenting harsh- 
 ness,
 
 142 JESSY. 
 
 ness, determined her to lose no time in - 
 setting out for the bourn side. 
 
 No sooner, therefore, had returning 
 strength enabled her to enjoy the air, 
 than she sought the residence of her 
 kind neighbour, whose polite address 
 and easy manners made her an instan- 
 taneous convert to her father's opinion, 
 that Mrs. Duncannon was decidedly a 
 woman of fashion. 
 
 Remarks on the weather, with a few 
 comments on the surrounding scenery 
 of the retired cottage, w^ere, as usual 
 upon such occasions, the first topics of 
 conversation, and to these the subject of 
 Seymour's studies succeeded ; for, with a 
 lieart tremblingly alive to all the feelings 
 of a mother, Madeline gazed with admi- 
 ration on the fine expressive features of the 
 lovely boy, w horn her father had named 
 with such vehemence on the miserable 
 night which had led to the present inter- 
 view with himself and mother. Had lord 
 
 Malcolm
 
 JESSY. 143 
 
 colm seen liim at that moment, she 
 thought, how sincerely she could have 
 pitied his feelings — how easily have par- 
 doned him for wish in cc to avoid his^ 
 presence ! for never had she seen so near 
 a resemblance of the youthful Alphonso : 
 at that age he had been most her com- 
 panion — succeeding years had rendered 
 them strangers to each other; it was 
 therefore the boyish likeness that was 
 more strongly impressed upon her re- 
 collection, as no picture of him had, by 
 th^ express commands of lord Malcolm, 
 " been visible to mortal ken," since his 
 fatal act of disobedience. 
 
 A deep-drawn sigh, her constant tri- 
 bute to the memory of this unhappy 
 brother, followed the mental obseiwation, 
 as she inquired Seymour's age, the simi- 
 litude of which to Frederick Sinclair 
 gave a second pain to her affectionate 
 heart. 
 
 " I also have a beloved son, Mrs. 
 Duncannon," she said, " but am not, like 
 
 you.
 
 144 JESSY. 
 
 you, happy in his society: my father, 
 unfortunately, is not partial to children 
 at any age, and the natural pursuits of 
 a boy at Frederick's woidd annoy him 
 too much in his present state of health, 
 which is very far from being good ; I am 
 therefore compelled, how reluctantly you 
 as a mother will readily believe, to forego 
 his affectionate attentions, and the de- 
 light of witnessing his progress in edu- 
 cation, for perhaps some years to come — 
 a circumstance I shall regret more than 
 ever, since, with such a companion as 
 your son, that improvement might have 
 been accelerated ; as it is, your sweet boy 
 must allow me to cultivate his acquaint- 
 ance for Frederick's sake, and I must 
 teach them to esteem each other before 
 they meet, for I yet trust they will do 
 so." 
 
 Mrs. Duncarmon replied — "A suitable 
 companion to Seymour's years and un- 
 derstanding was among the very few 
 occurrences that could augment the com- 
 forts
 
 JESSY, 145 
 
 forts of her retired life, as he. was now at 
 an age to render such a companion de- 
 sirable, but it was an indulgence he had 
 as yet never known. Perhaps," she added, 
 " your ladyship will smile, when I tell 
 you, the deficiency has hitherto been 
 supplied by the society of a little peasant 
 girl, whose own merits, and the worth 
 of her humble parents, have made such 
 a favourite, that it is only when Jessy is 
 absent from us we are sensible of a soli- 
 tude, which I believe many of our neigh- 
 bours find almost msupportable." 
 
 Lady IMadeline had heard of the jDret- 
 ty rustic, by her usual appellation, and 
 expressed her wish to see this acknow- 
 ledged favourite ; but Jessy was then at 
 Donald's cottage; and lady Madeline 
 having finished her visit, after a promise 
 that it should be very shortly returned, 
 re-entered her father's mansion, with a 
 heart more buoyant than she had left 
 it. Naturally sanguine, she already an- 
 ticipated, with romantic ardour, a reme- 
 
 VOL. I. H dy
 
 146 JESSY, 
 
 dy for all her trials, in the fascinating 
 society of such a woman as Mrs. Dun- 
 cannon, occasional visits to whose cottage 
 would render Dunwarden Castle less irk- 
 some on her return to it, and whose con- 
 versation would, she felt persuaded, di- 
 vest lord Malcolm's temper of half its 
 austerity during her visits to them ; for 
 she continued to believe, that after what 
 she had said I'elative to the exclusion of 
 her own son from his grandfather's re- 
 sidence, Mrs. Duncannon would scarcely 
 think of intruding Seymour at the cas- 
 tle — a conjecture in which she was right, 
 since motives of delicacy would have pre- 
 vented her doing so, from what she had 
 learnt of lord Malcolm's situation before 
 the interview with his daughter. 
 
 She had promised lady Madeline to 
 return her visit soon, and politeness 
 demanded she should do so; but she 
 felt little or no desire to leave her hum- 
 ble abode for the magnificent residence 
 of her lordly neighbour, whose character 
 
 she
 
 JESSY. 14T 
 
 she disliked. Yet lady Madeline had 
 interested her: too ingenuous for disguise, 
 the lovely widow had, even in her first 
 visit, shewn IMrs. Duncannon a mind 
 less cultivated than her own; but for 
 every defect, her generous heart dis- 
 covered a virtue that might more than 
 compensate. Her extreme youth, the 
 early loss of her mother, and unsuitable 
 marriage with Mr. Sinclair, had, she be- 
 lieved, contributed every thing to the 
 deprivation of those advantages which 
 her birth entitled her to receive; and 
 while she most sincerely commiserated 
 the daughter, silently condemned the fa- 
 ther, who could thus palpably have neg- 
 lected the cultivation of such a mind as 
 she evidently possessed. 
 
 On the other liand, the qualifica- 
 tions which too eminently distinguish- 
 ed herself to pass unobserved in a 
 first interview, could not escape the 
 quick discernment of her lovely guest, 
 ^eady prepossessed in her favour ; and, 
 H 2 delighted
 
 I4S JESSY. 
 
 delighted with the valuable acquisition 
 of such an acquaintance, she no longer 
 dreaded lord Malcolm's severity, or felt 
 apprehensive of future persecution from 
 Leopold's presumptuous declarations, sa- 
 tisfied that, were even her own com- 
 mands insufficient to restrain him from 
 a repetition of the degrading avowal, he 
 would stand in awe of JMrs. Duncannon's 
 being made acquainted with the situation 
 in which she was placed. 
 
 Armed, therefore, with this shield, 
 which, to her artless mind, possessed no 
 common power, she met lord Malcolm 
 with the sweet smile expressive of the 
 self-satisfaction she enjoyed, and with the 
 conscious dignity of her superior rank 
 gave her hand to Leopold, as he respect- 
 fully attended to assist her in alighting 
 from the carriage. But Leopold was no 
 longer the rash unguarded being who, in 
 the moment of distraction, had forfeited 
 the esteem of those to whom he was de- 
 voted; he had for ever fallen in the high 
 
 estimation
 
 JESSY. 149 
 
 estimation of lady Madeline Sinclair, and 
 to recover that step was already become 
 the business of his life : his looks neither 
 assumed the language of complaint nor 
 the confidence of hope ; the same un- 
 assuming demeanour — the same prompt 
 obedience — the wish to please, alone ap- 
 peared to actuate every movement ; no 
 one suspected he had ever, even in 
 thought, deviated from the rectitude of 
 conduct that had ever characterized him 
 as a faithful servant, and even lady 
 Madeline lost the keen remembrance of 
 his past offence. 
 
 Mrs. Duncannon had returned her 
 visit, and that visit was again repeated, 
 before lord Malcolm had found resolu- 
 tion to be present during her stay ; but 
 Leopold had heard lady Madeline, in 
 conversation with his lord, express her 
 wish that she might be allowed to intro- 
 duce that lady to him on her next visit- 
 ing the castle, and it was only for her to 
 express a wish in his hearing. 
 
 H 3 Lord
 
 150 JESSY. 
 
 Lord Malcolm coolly replied — " His 
 society could add little to the enjoyment 
 they might derive from each other's com- 
 pany, and that as Mrs. Duncannon's 
 visits were to her, his presence could be 
 dispensed with." 
 
 Lady Madeline was silent ; but scarce* 
 iy had Mrs. Duncannon passed the com- 
 pliments of the morning in their next 
 interview, than his lordship entered the 
 room, evidently with the purpose of 
 bidding her welcome to Dunwarden Cas- 
 tle. 
 
 The salutations were returned with 
 her usual ease, and the conversation be- 
 coming general, lord Malcolm heard, 
 with increasing admiration, sentiments 
 which did honour to the heart and imder- 
 standing of his new acquaintance; and 
 whether it was that his long estrange- 
 ment from the fair sex had contributed 
 to place her mental abilities in a more 
 conspicuous point of view, or that the 
 dulcet tones of her sweet voice had pre- 
 vailed
 
 JESSY. 151 
 
 vailed even over his gloomy mind, around 
 which despair had forged its iron fetters, 
 yet never had he so much wished to 
 arrest the progress of time, as when Mrs. 
 Duncannon arose to take her leave, and 
 smiling named the hour, w^hich proved 
 the length of her visit. 
 
 But if time sped on rosy wings dur- 
 ing her stay at the castle, he moved in 
 tardy state through the period which 
 must of necessity elapse before lady 
 Madeline could find a plausible pretext 
 for again breaking in upon the retire- 
 ment of Mrs. Duncannon. Yet thither 
 additional inducement now led her — she 
 had seen the lovely Rose of Donald's 
 Cottage, and had become no less attached 
 to her than her kind patroness and the 
 noble-minded Seymour; in short, the 
 interesting trio formed at present her 
 little world of happiness, and it was only 
 the few hours spent with them, of which 
 she might be said to have any real en- 
 H 4 joy men t.
 
 152 JESSY. 
 
 joyment, and these she ever anticipated, 
 the more so as her father's avowed admira- 
 tion of Mrs. Duncannon led her to beheve 
 a more intimate knowledge of her worth 
 and excellence would, by making her 
 company more desirable and still more 
 essential to them, reconcile lord Mal- 
 colm to the occasional presence of her 
 son also, as he already knew she was too 
 much devoted to him to enjoy any vo- 
 luntary separation beyond that of a 
 morning visit. Nor was it here the affec- 
 tionate mind of lady Madeline rested — 
 she had already transformed the pleasing 
 acquaintance of a day into the zealous 
 friend, whose soul-inspiring language was 
 to soften the harsh asperity of lord Mal- 
 colm's manners — before whose mild in- 
 fluence she had determined, in her own 
 mind, that his austere frown was to re- 
 lax, and who, having beguiled him of 
 his treasured grief, would, unconsciously 
 to himself, reconcile him to society, and,' 
 
 perhaps.
 
 JESSY. 153 
 
 perhaps, having harmonized his distem- 
 pered feelings, open an avenue to return- 
 ing affection. 
 
 At such a happy moment, could he 
 look upon Seymour Duncannon, and 
 his hitherto obdurate and inflexible heart 
 not yearn to embrace the disinterested 
 Alphonso, whose resemblance appeared 
 to strengthen daily in the hneaments of 
 her young friend ? Pleased with the 
 airy dreams her imagination had formed 
 so consonant to her own wishes, she 
 would have reluctantly believed that, 
 like many she had before raised upon a 
 similar foundation, they would prove 
 evanescent — that already the little sun 
 which had so unexpectedly gilded the 
 rude battlements of Dunwarden was 
 again retiring in murky state behind the 
 dense clouds which had so long veiled its 
 dilapidated tuiTets, even to the seclusion 
 of hope. 
 
 Rendered happy by lord Malcolm's 
 
 high commendation of Mrs. Duncannon, 
 
 n 5 and
 
 and busied in preparing a present for 
 Jessy, which was designed to purchase 
 her love, time wore away, until his lord- 
 ship'ii hint, and her own prompt inclina- 
 tion, saw her again at the bourn side, 
 where a scene for which she was but 
 little prepared presented itself. Sey- 
 mour's looks spoke unutterable things — 
 it was the silent eloquence that speaks 
 to the heart; Jessy's azure eyes were 
 dim wijbh tears; while a shade of melan- 
 choly passed over the intelligent coun- 
 tenance of Mrs. Duncannon. 
 
 Madeline'^s sympathizing heart hover- 
 ed on her trembling lip as she surveyed 
 the group ; but she was too great a fa- 
 vourite with them to be long kept in 
 suspense as to the evident change which 
 had taken place since they last parted. 
 
 " You find me employed in a painful 
 task, lady Madeline," said Mrs. Dun- 
 cannon, when the usual compliments of 
 the day had been exchanged; " busi- 
 ness of some importance obliges me to 
 
 visit
 
 JESSY. 155 
 
 visit England for a short time, but it 
 requires more rhetoric than I am mis- 
 tress of to persuade Jessy that our sepa- 
 ration will not, at most, exceed a few 
 months. INIeasuring both the time and 
 distance of our journey by her affection 
 for us, she has magnified both to an ex- 
 tent which she cannot contemplate with 
 any degree of fortitude ; and I am al- 
 most inclmed to reprove her for giving 
 Vv'ay to a susceptibihty v/hich I have 
 taken so much pains to correct, w^ell 
 knowing it is too often the source of 
 endless misery in young and inexpe- 
 rienced minds, and as such should be 
 early eradicated. Perhaps you will tell 
 me — the most effectual method was to 
 have left her mind uncultivated ; but 
 that in me would have been unpardon- 
 able : nature had given her endowments 
 that rarely grace a peasant's offspring; 
 I found her a lovely flower placed in an 
 humble bed, but it would be my ambi 
 tion to transplant her into a richer soiL 
 H 6 Powerful
 
 156 JESSY. V 
 
 Powerful reasons," she added, " prevent 
 my taking her with me, but the warm 
 interest I have in her welfare will 
 materially hasten my return to Scot- 
 land '' 
 
 " Tell me," said lady Madeline, im- 
 patiently interrupting her, " will you 
 delegate the care of her to me during 
 your absence? 'tis the only compensa- 
 tion I can have for a separation I shall 
 ieel scarcely less than your lovely p7V' 
 tegee. I cannot supply your place, but 
 I will cherish her with a mother's fond- 
 ness ; she shall be my constant compa- 
 nion — we will talk of you, anticipate 
 your return, and together count the days 
 which will restoi*e you to us. — Tell me^ 
 Jessy," she continued, " will you live 
 with me until Mrs. Duncarmon returns 
 to Scotland?" 
 
 It was, for cogent reasons, though of 
 all things least expected, what Mrs. 
 Duncannon most ardently desired ; tak- 
 ing, therefore, the still weeping girl by 
 
 the
 
 JESSY. 157 
 
 the hand, she said — " You have, Jessy, 
 no longer an excuse for grief, which 
 would be highly blamable. We have 
 yet to learn how far the good Donald will 
 consent to part with you altogether for 
 such a time; but the promised kind- 
 ness of lady Madeline Sinclair demands 
 that return which your grateful heart 
 will, I am well assured, know how to 
 make ; and I shall leave you, fully satis- 
 fied that you cannot fail to be happy 
 during my short stay in England." 
 
 '•' I will at least endeavour, madam, 
 to be so," she rephed ; " but that is. in- 
 deed all I can promise, except that I 
 ti-ust your ladyship will find I am 
 grateful for the honour you have tlone 
 me." 
 
 The delighted eyes of Seymour told 
 how well pleased he was with the ar- 
 rangement ; and lady Madeline drawing 
 Jessy to her, kissed off the truant tear 
 that still, in defiance of every effort, con- 
 tinued to fall from the long and silken 
 
 lashes
 
 158 JESSY. 
 
 lashes which concealed her downcast 
 eyes. 
 
 Her ladyship learnt, with increasing 
 regret, that only a day or two would be 
 given to the preparations for this (to her 
 vinw^lcome) journey ; and she returned 
 to the castle, not less disconcerted than 
 she had left the little group at the 
 bourn side, whom she was to see again 
 previous to the departure of Mrs. Dun- 
 cannon, and who in return promised to 
 obtain from Donald the desired per 
 mission for Jessy's visit at Dunwarden 
 Castle. 
 
 CHAP-
 
 JESSY. 159 
 
 CHAPTER VIIL 
 
 LoED IMalcolm heard, with evident 
 vexation, that they were about to lose 
 so desirable a neighbour, at the mo- 
 ment they were beginning to appreciate 
 her value, but raised no objections to the 
 humble substitute Madeline had chosen, 
 and coolly said — "If she could derive 
 amusement from the societv of so voun^ 
 a companion, she w^as easily pleased," 
 without recollecting that his own ca- 
 pricious temper totally debarred her 
 from those more suitable to her years. 
 
 With her usual placidity she replied — 
 " That Mrs. Duncannon's instructions 
 had rendered the little Jessy a desirable 
 companion, even at her early age ; and 
 
 that
 
 160 JESSV. 
 
 tliat she regretted the improvement she 
 had acquired, and the talents she pos- 
 sessed, shoidd, from the temporary ab- 
 sence of her kind friend, be again lost in 
 the obscurity of Donald's abode; for 
 which reason she had promised to be- 
 come her avowed patroness till the re- 
 turn of Mrs. Duncannon to Scotland, 
 which, she was happy to say, would be 
 in a few months." 
 
 " That," said lord Malcolm, when she 
 had ceased speaking, " is one among 
 the many instances of that lady's eccen- 
 tric character, that she should draw from 
 obscurity a rude child of nature, enlarge 
 her mind, refine her manners, and by so 
 doing teach her to despise her natural 
 parents — for such will be the result — for 
 the want of that knowledge she pos- 
 sesses, and which will ultimately be her 
 ruin, only because she is beautiful. Mis- 
 guided woman ! let her beware, lest this 
 rustic favourite, in gratitude for her mis- 
 taken kindness, should seduce her son. 
 
 To
 
 JESSY. 161 
 
 To me it avails nought that she is lovely 
 as Leopold represents her ; for I cherish 
 no fond idol, whom she can immolate at 
 beauty's detested shrine — no victim to 
 fall by her seductive smiles. But re- 
 member in your lessons, Madeline, to 
 teach humility; and do not suffer her to 
 forget, that although fortuitous circum- 
 stances have rendered her the inmate of 
 a castle, she is nevertheless destined to 
 remain the inhabitant of a cottage." 
 
 Happy to have so easily obtained her 
 father's sanction to the admission of her 
 young fiiend into the family, lady Ma- 
 deline promised, that no ill-timed indul- 
 gence, on her part, should contribute to 
 render Jessy unmindful of the duty she 
 owed her humble parents, and still less 
 forgetful of her own lov/ly • situation : 
 the same promise was exacted from her 
 by Mrs. Duncannon, when having an- 
 nounced the entire submission of the 
 good Donald and ]\Iargretta to her lady- 
 ship's wishes, she consigned the heart- 
 broken
 
 1621 JESSY. 
 
 broken Jessy to her future care, entreat- 
 ing her to make every allowance for 
 the affection, which neither her years nor 
 strength of understanding could restrain 
 at such a moment. For this lady Ma- 
 deline was prepared, conscious that her- 
 self, though by comparison only the ac- 
 quaintance of a day, was little less affect- 
 ed by the kind farewell of Mrs. Dun- 
 cannon and her sweet boy, who having 
 most affectionately pressed her hand as 
 he assisted her into the carriage, and 
 looked the adieu his iips refused to give 
 Jessy, re-entered the house, where he 
 had passed so many happy hours in her 
 beloved society, and from which, in a 
 few short minutes, he was to depart for 
 a strange country, where, though a thou- 
 sand new and unknown pleasures might 
 await him, Jessy at least could never 
 greet his welcome sight. 
 
 The engagement which lady Made- 
 line had entered into with Mrs. Duncan- 
 non, previous to their parting, was every 
 
 way
 
 JESSY. 165 
 
 way calculated to fill up the aching void, 
 which she would otherwise have felt in 
 the absence of this her new friend, since, 
 independent of the charge of Jessy, she 
 had voluntarily promised to supply her 
 place among the indigent peasantry^ 
 whom she considered as her dependants : 
 occasional inquiries were to be made re- 
 lative to their several situations, and, in 
 cases of necessity, their little w^ants sup- 
 plied ; for she had learnt, in her benevo- 
 lent experience, to know how little will 
 suffice to comfort those to whom no 
 artificial wants are known : in short, 
 lady JNIadeline began to feel a degree of 
 importance from this her new office, to 
 w^hich she had hitherto been an entire 
 stranger. With a heart kindly disposed 
 towards every creature in existence, 
 as a child she had never been suffered 
 to witness the various degrees of WTetch- 
 edness attached to the sons of poverty ; 
 as a wife, her povrer was much too limit- 
 ed to feed the hungry or clothe the 
 
 naked :
 
 164 JESSY. 
 
 naked: knowing this, she carefully 
 avoided the abode of misery, and her 
 short residence atDunwarden Castle had 
 hitherto afforded no opportunity of prov- 
 ing that her will to do good kept pace 
 with her increased power to exercise it. 
 Now her days passed lightly on, cheered 
 by the unwearied assiduity of her young 
 companion, whom time had reconciled 
 to her loss, and in occasional visits to the 
 poor cottagers, among whom Donald 
 and Margretta claimed a large share of 
 her attentions : Mrs. Duncannon had 
 strongly recommended them to her par- 
 ticular notice — they were the friends of 
 Jessy ; and though she frequently rumi- 
 nated on the s'ngular event of so lovely 
 a fiov/er blooming in the rude soil of 
 such a hamlet, the more so as Edward, 
 though a ruddy handsome boy, was still 
 a rustic, not unlike his sister, their 
 honest fame had gained her respect, and 
 many were the donations conveyed in 
 her morning calls, to increase the com- 
 forts
 
 JESSY. 165 
 
 forts wliich were procured by the inde- 
 fiitigable labour of the industrious Do- 
 nald. 
 
 Lord Malcolm had frequently seen 
 Jessy, in passing to and fro in the house ; 
 but as her time was chiefly spent in lady 
 ^Madeline's own room, those interviews 
 were merely casual, and liis mind much 
 too abstracted to regard the lovel}" coun- 
 tenance that made every beholder her 
 friend, almost at first sight. His lord- 
 ship's appearance liad, however, a far 
 different efiect upon her youthful mind ; 
 his stern brow land haughty aspect, ill 
 according with her own gentle manners, 
 had «o many terrors^ that she would have 
 thought no distance too great, that might 
 give her a chance of evading his imme- 
 diate presence; yet when they did meet, 
 her respectful attention to his lordship 
 was always return.ed with a formal in- 
 clination of the head ; and though her 
 trembling knees almost refused to sus- 
 tain her through the ceremony of pay- 
 ing
 
 165 JESSY, 
 
 ing her obeisance, she would involun- 
 tarily stop after he had passed, and con- 
 tinue to follow him with her eyes as 
 long as it was possible she could observe 
 him. 
 
 More than once lady Madeline had 
 siirprised her, contemplating with ex- 
 treme earnestness a portrait of lord 
 Malcolm, which hung in her dressing- 
 room. 
 
 " Of what are you thinking, Jessy ?" 
 said her ladyship, on one of those occa- 
 sions ; " are you comparing his lord- 
 ship's picture with his present counte- 
 nance ? If so, it will be to his disadvant- 
 age, fijr sorrow has contributed still more 
 than age to the visible alteration." 
 
 " Oh, then," she replied, " I have been 
 very ungrateful; for Mrs. Duncannon 
 taught me to love and venerate every 
 one whom sorrow had oppressed ; but I 
 feel I have never loved his lordship, yet 
 I could always look at his picture, and 
 iove to do so, not because I think it is 
 
 much
 
 JESSY. IS7 
 
 much handsomer than lord Malcolm, 
 but " 
 
 '' But what, Jessy ?" asked her lady- 
 ship, seeing she had stopped in evident 
 confusion, as if regretting she had said so 
 much. 
 
 " Because," she replied, blushing still 
 deeper, " the eyes are so like master 
 Seymour's, that I frequently forget there 
 are any other features, and imagine he is 
 looking as he used to do, when I have 
 been repeating my lessons to him." 
 
 This was an observation entirely new 
 to lady jMadeline. She had noticed on 
 her first visit at the bourn side the 
 strong resemblance of Seymour to Al- 
 phonso, but now for the first time ob- 
 sen^ed a similitude which evidently ex- 
 isted in the expression of the eyes,which 
 had so forcibly struck her young charge 
 — " I hope this likeness to your early 
 friend will make you more partial to my 
 father," she said, " as, though somewhat 
 distant in iiis manners, he is not less dis- 
 posed
 
 ^^, JESSY, 
 
 posed to serve yoii, and time will recon-. 
 cile you to his singularities." 
 
 J^ssy would gladly have defined her 
 own sentiments of lord Malcolm, but 
 they were inexplicable to herself: she 
 knew he was less happy than his fellow- 
 ereatures, and felt more than common 
 pity for him; it was a sentiment that led 
 her frequently to wish she could sooth 
 his troubled mind, and never failed to 
 interest her most warmly in his welfare. 
 She was grateful for his allowing her to 
 enjoy the protection of lady Madeline, 
 to whom she became daily more attach- 
 ed; but her dread of his lordship in- 
 creased with every succeeding interview, 
 nor could she ever account for the ex- 
 treme emotion she felt whenever he per- 
 sonally addressed her. Anxious,however, 
 to convince his amiable daughter that 
 no voluntary prejudice had made her 
 unmindful of what she owed his lord- 
 ship, she assured her— ^ It should, in 
 future, be considered a part of her duty, 
 
 not
 
 JESSY. 1^9 
 
 not only to esteem lord IMalcolm for her 
 sake, but his own also." 
 
 ** You are a good girl/* returned her 
 ladyship ; *•' and I only regret that my 
 father is not as well acquainted with 
 your worth as I am ; but we must leave 
 all to time." 
 
 At that inoment Leopold entered the 
 room with a letter — Jessy's beautiful co- 
 lour, and animated eyes, plainly indi- 
 cated that she at least hoped it was from 
 ftlrs. Duncannon ; but the anxious coun- 
 tenance of lady Madeline, as she con- 
 tinued to read, awakened a thousand 
 anxieties in her affectionate mind. Still, 
 too respectful to venture an inquiry, she 
 endm-ed the painful suspense, till her 
 ladyship mournfully folding up the let- 
 ter, and raising her ey^s, suffused in 
 tears, in part relieved her Vv'orst appre- 
 hensions by saying — " Jessy, my poor 
 boy has been ill, and still requires the 
 affectionate attention of his fond mother, 
 but it is denied him." 
 
 VOL. I. I « Surelv,"
 
 170 JESSY. 
 
 ** Surely," replied tlie kind girl, " lord 
 Malcolm will allow you to go to him 
 instantly ; or perhaps it would be better 
 to bring him to the castle, for there we 
 could all nurse him." 
 
 Her ladyship had reason to believe 
 that neither w^ould be permitted; nor 
 did she know in what manner to name 
 her son's indisposition, as her father had 
 not once mentioned him since her ar- 
 rival at Dun warden, when the old steward 
 had received orders to make the proper 
 remittances for his education. 
 
 After consulting, therefore, with this 
 venerable domestic, it was thought most 
 expedient to leave the affair to Leo- 
 pold's management, who, it was most 
 probable, w^ould have his lordship's com- 
 mands to visit him in person, and by so 
 doing ascei'tain the real necessity for her 
 ladyship s undertaking so long a jour- 
 ney. There were objections to this plan 
 in lady IMadeline's mind, which delicate- 
 ly shrunk even from the idea of giving 
 
 Leopold
 
 t JESSY. I7l 
 
 Leopold a plea for rendering her a ser- 
 Tice, and she was now about to invest 
 him with one in which 5he was most 
 tenderly inte;:ested ; she would have a 
 thousand endearing messages to trans- 
 mit this beloved child — a still greater 
 number of inquiries to make on the re- 
 turn of her messenger; for hitherto all 
 communication with Frederick had been 
 by letters, and his were filled with in- 
 cessant complaints, not only of his school 
 confinement, but what he termed the 
 unjust banishment from his mother; 
 and there were times when lie did not 
 spare the most bitter invectives on his 
 unfeeling grandfather, who had thus se- 
 parated them. His last letter had been 
 v/ritten in all the languor of ill health, 
 but expressed the same regret at their 
 tjeparation, in language still more dis- 
 tressing to his anxious mother^ who had 
 no resource but to entreat his patient 
 adherence to his lordship's will, harsh as 
 it appeared, or for ever to forfeit her fa- 
 I 2 vour.
 
 172^ JESSY. 
 
 vour, by openly avowing her son\s dis- 
 content at the separation, so ranch 
 against his wishes. In man}'^ instances 
 Leopold was better calculated than any 
 other person to explain tlie necessity of 
 forbearance, and reconcile Frederick to 
 his grandfather's humour; yet she felt an 
 insurmountable objection to delegate 
 the office to liim ; but as the faithful 
 Sanford saw no obstacle to the counsel he 
 had given, and lady Madeline could not 
 state hers, I^eopold was deputed in her 
 name, by the good old steward, to ac- 
 quaint his lord with the indisposition of 
 Frederick Sinclair, and to entreat he 
 might be permitted to visit him. 
 
 Struck with the delicate attention of 
 his daughter, at a time when her mater- 
 nal feelings might have so severely 
 wounded his own, by expressing what 
 she must have felt, he commended her 
 fortitude in the highest terms, at the 
 same time desiring his servant punctu- 
 ally ta obey lady Madehne's commands, 
 
 in
 
 JESSY. 173 
 
 in whatever could most contribute to 
 her satisfaction, and hastily changed the 
 subject. 
 
 No sooner, therefore, had tlie devoted 
 Leopold received her ladyship's instruc- 
 tions, than he set out on the ill-fated 
 journey, from which lady Madeline an- 
 ticipated that degree of comfort arising 
 from conversing with the person who 
 has really seen the object so dear to us, 
 little supposing that interview was to 
 lay the foundation of succeeding misery 
 — that the early and habitual propensity 
 to evil in Frederick's mind, now ad- 
 vancing to manhood, wanted only a fit 
 instrument to set those propensities into 
 action — and that Leopold's integrity, no 
 longer supported upon the firm basis 
 which had once rendered it invulnerable, 
 might be easily contaminated, when his 
 seducer wore the form of lady Madeline 
 Sinclair's son. 
 
 I 3 CHAP:^
 
 174 n^s^T. 
 
 eHAPTER rx: 
 
 Scarcely had the lonely habitation of 
 Margretta borne testimony to the inde- 
 fatigable cleanliness of its now solitary 
 inhabitant, who having arranged its 
 humble but useful furniture, placed her 
 wheel in readiness for its daily task, tied 
 on her clean checked apron, adjusted 
 the neat border of her coarse but snow- 
 white cap, and seated herself at the little 
 table, on which lay the sacred volume^; 
 where she daily read a portion of scrip- 
 ture, than her attention was arrested by 
 the unusual sound of a carriage stopping 
 immediately before the wicket, and as 
 such a sight was long since become un- 
 usual, she continued to gaze with sur- 
 prise
 
 JESST. 175 
 
 prise from the broken easement, until 
 the lady, who had first descended, en- 
 tered the neglected walk, which had once 
 led through a flourishing little garden 
 to the humble mansion : her apparent 
 knowledge of the place, the air and 
 figure, no longer left a doubt upon the 
 eager mind of MargTetta but that her 
 anxious eyes were once more permitted 
 to behold her long-lamented friend and 
 benefactress, Mrs. Duncannon. Eagedy 
 throwing open the door to receive her 
 welcome guest, she replied, wuth uplift- 
 ed hands — " Then my trust has not 
 been in vain ! Blessed lady, you are in- 
 deed come at last to comfort the wretch- 
 ed Margretta; deserted and forsaken, 
 never, never did she so much need youc 
 goodness." 
 
 A second visitor had by this time 
 made his appearance at the cottage doory 
 with whom her sight was less familiar; 
 drawing back, therefore, to a respectful 
 distance, she begged the gentleman 
 I 4 * would
 
 176 JESSY. 
 
 would be pleased to walk in, if he could; 
 condescend to enter so poor a habitation 
 as liers. 
 
 Mrs. Duncannon, who had hitherto 
 kept silence, to enjoy Margretta's sur- 
 prise, with her accustomed smile of be- 
 nevolence said — ** That gentleman has 
 been too often your visitor to need an 
 invitation now : is it possible you do 
 not know Seymour Duncannon ?" 
 
 Bewildered %vith joy at the unexpect- 
 ed appearance of his mother, and re- 
 membering Seymour only as a lovely 
 boy of fifteen, it was not very surprising' 
 that Margretta should, at that moment 
 forgetting the lapse of time, scarcely, in 
 a tall elegant young man, recognize the 
 boyish companion of Jessy ; but an in- 
 ;stant sufficed to recall the well-known 
 features, which three years had ripened 
 into manly beauty. 
 
 For even that space of time had 
 passed over the events connected with 
 our unyarni&hed tale, not because they 
 
 were
 
 JEssr. 177 
 
 were altogether devoid of interest, or 
 that we might take advantage of the 
 ccJat with which an inimitable author 
 dehglUed the imagination of her readers, 
 by the novelty of her idea in leading 
 them to a retrospeH of the interesting 
 incidents they were oiily anticipating 
 fn tlie perusal of her admirable though 
 simple &to7nj, for those events must still 
 be related to> complete the work ; and the 
 author, writing only for the amusement 
 of friends, kindly interested in the pro- 
 duction of her pen, may be allowed iof^ 
 say, that her admiration of the ele- 
 gant wiiter to whom she has alludetl 
 can only be exceeded by the humility 
 which would restrain her from even the 
 shadow of plagiarism. But as a detail of 
 the real motives will only serve to 
 lengthen a digression, for which slie 
 may even now be censured, she will, 
 with pennission, return to Donald's de- 
 sei-ted cottage. 
 
 Not to dwell longer upon the astonish- 
 I 5 merit
 
 178 JESSY. 
 
 liient of Margretta at the alteration she^ 
 beheld in Seymour, for it was already 
 obliterated in the more powerful emo- 
 tion of gratitude, which, for the mo- 
 ment, rendered her unmindful of her 
 own altered condition, and the mourn- 
 ful story she had to explain, but for 
 which Mrs. Duncannon was in part pre^ 
 pared, by the visible change she per- 
 ceived in all around her. Unwilling to 
 damp the tide of joy which their arrival 
 had created,, she suffered the delighted 
 creature to ask a thousand questions, 
 before she ventured one in return, till^. 
 unable longer to suppress her anxiety 
 for Donald's welfare, she asked — " Was 
 he not yet returned from his morning 
 labour?" 
 
 Margretta, raising her eyes filled with, 
 tears, and, as if for the first time recoU 
 lecting that Mrs. Duncannon had not, 
 even in a distant country, heard her 
 cause for sorrow, exclaimed, in a voice 
 choked by convulsive sobs — " Ah> 
 
 dearest
 
 jessy: I7& 
 
 dearest madam ! are you indeed a stran- 
 ger to my heavy loss ?" 
 
 Taking her hand, in the kindest ac- 
 cents of benevolence she replied — " I 
 had certainly hoped, my good friend, to 
 have found you, and the worthy Do- 
 Rald, happy as T left you — for many 
 reasons I ardently wi^ it could have 
 been so ; but we are not to dispute the 
 will of Ileaven ; and the use you make 
 of that book," pointing to the still open- 
 ed Bible, *• convinces me you at least 
 endeavour to bear its dispensations vritb. 
 fortitude." 
 
 " Oh ! if it had been Heaven's will — 
 if I had mourned him dead," she return^ 
 ed, interrupting her, " I w^ould indeed 
 have submitted without a murmur; I 
 would have trusted that the same grave 
 would soon have received us both, and 
 could have patiently a war. ted. my ap- 
 pointed hour; but to leave me, madam,, 
 without a cause — to forsake the aged 
 wife, who liad followed him by sea and 
 I 6 land^
 
 ISO JESSY- 
 
 land, who would have died for him !— 
 Did your ladyship believe Donald would 
 have done this? Yet he has foi-saken 
 me, and you find your poor JNIargretta 
 without a friend, husband, or child." 
 
 It was now Mrs. Dimcannon's turn to 
 become an astonislied listener to a nar- 
 rative, for which she was altogether un- 
 prepared, and in that astonishment Sey- 
 mour was a deeply interested partaker. 
 " What can you mean?" said the for- 
 mer; " but anxious as I am to learn 
 what has befallen you, I must see you 
 more composed before I can allow you 
 to proceed^' 
 
 " I will not distress you, madam," re- 
 plied the honest creature, wiping her 
 eyes ; " for indeed I weep so often, that 
 it is always now a relief to me to do so-; 
 but I must tell you my sad story." 
 
 *' First," said Mrs. Duncannon, wisk- 
 ing to relieve, in some degree, the pain- 
 ful suspense of Seymour, " tell me how 
 is the family at Dunwardeii Castle ?" 
 
 « Tis
 
 JESSY. 181 
 
 " Tis some days, madam," she re- 
 turned, *' since I have seen any of them ; 
 but when lady Stewart last condescend- 
 ed to stop and ask me how 1 was, she 
 was looking quite as ill as ever." 
 
 " Lady Stewart !" exclaimed Seymour, 
 unable longer to suppress his impatience r 
 " has lord Malcolm, then, left the cas- 
 tle? and what has becozne of the svv'eet 
 Jessy?" 
 
 Mrs. Duncan non, too much agitated^ 
 
 to speak, remained silent, while Mar- 
 
 gretta, interrupted in her owm narrative,- 
 
 replied — " It is now, sir, nearly a year 
 
 and a half since lor^ Malcolm gave up 
 
 the castle to the rightful owners, who 
 
 came, it is said, from a foreign country to 
 
 take possession of it ; but it should seem 
 
 nobody can be happy wha come to live 
 
 in that great house; for though lord 
 
 Stewart is a very good man — quite un^ 
 
 like the last lord who owmed it, and her 
 
 ladyship beloved by every body, and 
 
 that they have besides a very fine young 
 
 lady
 
 18=2 JESSY. 
 
 lady living with them, still they have^ 
 their troubles." 
 
 " But Jessy f' said Seymour, impa- 
 tiently interrupting that part of the re- 
 cital, in which he felt no interest ; " why 
 did Jessy go with the family, and leave 
 you in distress?" 
 
 " Heaven bless her !" said the grateftil 
 Margretta, " she would have willingly 
 staid with me, and shared my sorry fare ; 
 but lady Madeline entreated her witli 
 tears to go with her, and my dear un- 
 kind husband persuaded me it was ouf 
 duty to ]^t her stay in lord Malcolm's 
 fixmily, seeing that it was madam Dan- 
 cannon's express desire, and that your 
 ladyship v/ould never forgive us, if we- 
 took her home; but I am still apt to- 
 think she would have been more happ3r 
 with old Margretta, though she is not 
 her mother, as your ladyship knows." 
 
 Sevmour s astonishment had now reach- 
 ed its climax : rising from his chair with 
 increased agitation, and at that instant 
 
 forgetting;
 
 JESSY. 18^ 
 
 forgetting there was any person in the 
 room privileged to ask questions besides 
 himself, he was proceeding to continue 
 his, when ]Mrs. Duncannon, anxious to 
 turn his attention from words whiOse 
 exact purport she did not wish him to 
 understand, but with which she was 
 well acquainted, hastily inquired — 
 " Why she supposed Jessy was not 
 quite happy m the protection of lady 
 Madeline Sinclair ?" at the same time ex- 
 pressing her approbation of Donald's 
 conduct, in adhering to her advice at: 
 parting with him. 
 
 " Oh, it was all for the best, no- 
 doubt," replied JSIargretta ; ** and bu^ 
 for that bad., young man, lady Made- 
 line's son, my sweet child might have 
 been as happy as the day was long, and 
 with great good reason; for her lady- 
 ship, whom she loved next to yourself, 
 madam, was one of the kindest, best 
 creatures that ever Hved. In that chair 
 she would sit to talk of you and master^ 
 
 Seymour
 
 184 JESSY. 
 
 Seymour by the hour together, and frt 
 that seat too I have seen her shed 
 many a bitter tear after Mr. Sinclair 
 earne to oiu- cottage." 
 
 Again Seymours blood mounted to 
 his manly cheek, and his expressive eyes 
 bespoke the strong emotions of his soul*^; 
 while Mrs. Duncannon, perceiving that 
 Margretta's story grew more inexplica*- 
 ble, and that, if thus interrupted by the 
 numerous questions they Vvcre eacli 
 prompted to ask, she could never keep 
 pace with their increasing suspense, or 
 arriv^e at the sequel of what they were 
 so desirous of hearing, wiih her accus- 
 tomed presence of mind said — " Sey- 
 mour, my love, as the good ^largretta 
 l)as so much infoniiation for us, it were 
 better for the postillion to go forward, 
 and refresh his horses, after which he 
 may return to us for orders. In the mean 
 time, she must be allowed to communi- 
 cate all that has passed since we left the 
 north, in her own way, and we will pro^ 
 
 mise
 
 JESSY. 185 
 
 mise not to break in upon 'the thread of 
 her storv." 
 
 " Thank you, madam,'' she returned, 
 " and I will endeavour to tell you ev^y 
 thing as it passed, as exact as I can, but 
 I am apt to be tedious, I know ; and I 
 have so many different things to think 
 of, that when you or master Seymour,, 
 bless his sweet face I speak to me, I for- 
 get whereabouts I am, and I dare say 
 tire your patience sadly." 
 
 Seymour, eager to hear this neverthe- 
 less dreaded story, flew instantly to exe- 
 cute ]Mrs. Duncannon's commands re- 
 specting the horses, and shortly returned, 
 though not before, taking advantage of 
 his temporary absence, she had entreat- 
 ed Margretta on no accoimt to repeat, in 
 his hearing, what, till then, he had never 
 suspected — that she was iK)t tlie mother 
 of Jessy — " For I have," she continuee?, 
 " many inquiries to make, before he is 
 made acquainted with her little history, 
 and must regret the inadvertency that 
 
 led
 
 1^ JESSY. 
 
 led you to name it, since in the present 
 instance it can only give him pain." 
 
 Margretta expressed her sorrow at 
 having, as she said, made such a blun- 
 der, and which she did not intend to do;, 
 and then prepared to satisfy her deeply 
 interested auditors, by resuming her nar- 
 rative — " When you first left us, ma- 
 dam," she said, "my poor Donald was 
 very unhappy for several weeks— never 
 returned from his work cheerful as he 
 was wont to do, but sat silent and mop- 
 ing in his arm-chair, as if he had really 
 known what afterwards happened — that 
 you was not to return so soon as we all 
 hoped and expected ; but when he saw 
 Jessy begin to smile again, and found 
 that lady Madeline was not above bring- 
 ing her to our poor hut, he got better^ and 
 things went on very well for some time, 
 when her ladyship heard that Mr. Sin- 
 clair, her son, was taken very ill at school ; 
 and as she could not go so far to see him 
 herself, Mr. Leopold was sent off, and 
 
 did
 
 j:esst. 187 
 
 did not return for some weeks, when he 
 left the young gentleman quite well. 
 Some time after this, Mr. Leopold called 
 at our place in a great hurry, and asked 
 for Donald,, who was not returned fi-om 
 work; but as he said he must see 
 him directly, I told him where it was 
 likely he would find my husband ; and I 
 saw him no more until Donald came 
 home, and bade me prepare the little 
 room where the children used to sleep, 
 for a new lodger, a friend of Mr. Leo- 
 pold's, who was coming to stop a short 
 time with us, as he did not wish to take 
 him to the castle, on lord IMaicolm's ac- 
 count. And very late in the evening 
 Mr. Leopold brought the stranger,whom 
 he called his cousin, and begged I would 
 make him as comfortable as I could — 
 that his stay would be very uncertain^ 
 but as he wanted to live very private,, 
 not being in good health, he did not 
 wish me to say who he was to any 
 neighbour who might drop in. This I 
 
 promised^
 
 188 JESSY. 
 
 promised, bat asked — * What I was t6 
 say when lady jMadeline called ?' wbicli 
 he knew she frequently did. * I will 
 settle that,' he said, * before she comes 
 again.' This answer satisfied me. He 
 then took his leave of the young man, 
 promising to be vAth him early the next 
 morning. He was scarcely gone when 
 his cousin, as we supposed him to be, 
 began asking a thousand questions of 
 Donald, about the family at the castle, 
 and if lord Malcolm was not a queer old 
 hunks ? the name he always called him 
 by, even before we found out that he 
 was his lordship's grandson, instead of 
 Leopold's cousin, which we soon did» 
 from the trouble he gave his good 
 mother, whose heart be will certainly 
 break." 
 
 ** And this man,'^ exclaimed Seymour, 
 rising with emotion 
 
 " Seymour," said JMrs. Duncannon, 
 ** remember our promise — I am not less 
 interested than yourself in JMargretta's 
 
 recital,.
 
 JESSY, 1 89 
 
 recital, but she must not be inter- 
 rupted." 
 
 Seymour resumed bis seat in mourn- 
 ful silence, and Margr-etta proceeded — 
 " Both Donald and myself took so great 
 a dislike to him, for the rude manner in 
 which he treated my poor Edward, and 
 rndeed at times ourselves, that but for 
 offending her ladyship we would have 
 entreated him to go elsewhere, but for 
 her sake we dared not nan-je it, when 
 your letter amved, and Jessy read it to 
 us, by desire of lady ^Madeline. I shall 
 never forget the pleasure our trouble 
 seemed to give him, for he was in the 
 room when she read it ; and the thought 
 of not seeing you again for so long a time 
 nearly killed us with grief Donald was 
 quite miserable, and said he had lost his 
 best — his only real friend, for he should 
 never, never see you again, madam. — 
 * Cheer up, old fellow,' a-ied the unfeel- 
 ing creature, ' and never mind it : if you 
 have lost one friend, you have found an- 
 other
 
 190 JKSSY. 
 
 other — I will be your friend, and son 
 too, if you will give me Jessy." 
 
 Seymour clenched his hand against 
 his forehead, and Mrs. Duncannon, in 
 pity to him, said — " This young gentle- 
 adian does not appear to be worthy our 
 notice, and is altogether a stranger to 
 «s, Margretta — we will hear more of him 
 another time; for the present, we will 
 thank you to speak only of those with 
 whom we are better acquainted — I am 
 impatient to hear more of Jessy and 
 Edward." 
 
 " Ah, I told you, madam," she re- 
 plied, ^' I should forget myself, and ram- 
 hle out of the way ; but, as your lady- 
 ship says, that worthless creature ought 
 not to be thouglit of; and yet how can 
 I ever forget him? Would I had never 
 known him ! and then though Donald 
 has left me, Edward would have re- 
 mained to comfort me — now he is at sea, 
 vand may never, never come back to his 
 aiHicted mother." 
 
 Again
 
 JESSY. 191 
 
 Again she burst into teai-s ; and INIrs. 
 Diincannon, finding it was too great a 
 task, even for her patience to wait Mar- 
 gretta's time for the elucidation of 
 •events, which became still more and 
 more mysteiious, dianged her plan, and 
 inquired — " If Donald had left his cot- 
 tage before lord JMalcolm gave up the 
 castle, and if she knew what part of 
 Scotland his lordship had removed to? 
 as, although she had written several let- 
 ters to lady Madeline during her resi- 
 dence abroad, no answers had ever 
 reached her, and that she was becoming 
 very impatient to know more of her old 
 friends." 
 
 " Indeed, madam," she returned, " my 
 troubles followed hard upon each other, 
 as I told you : my poor boy fled from us 
 to prevent his being sent to gaol for a 
 <irime of which he was innocent — but I 
 will tell your ladyship tiie particulars 
 another time. This happened just after 
 the gentleman came to settle your busi- 
 ness,
 
 19^ JESSY. 
 
 ness, and give up the house, which was 
 afterwards taken by lord Stewart^ who 
 came, as I before told you, to own the 
 castle, but he staid at the bourn side till 
 every thing was got ready for him, after 
 lord Malcolm liad given it up ; but I for- 
 got to tell yoUjbefore they set out forTan- 
 tallan Castle, where they live now, the 
 old steward died very suddenly, which, 
 they said, gave his lordship much un- 
 easiness." 
 
 ** Indeed I am very sorry to hear of 
 Sanford's death," said Mrs. Duncannon, 
 musing intently as she spoke. ' 
 
 *• But Donald — Ah, madam, then 
 came my heavy trouble — my great loss i 
 it w^as enough that my poor boy was 
 gone — lost to me, but I must be sepa- 
 rated from Jessy also ! In a very short 
 time after this I perceived Donald more 
 restless than ever : he would look at me 
 till his poor eyes filled with tears, and 
 then say — *Margretta, how lonesome we 
 are become ! I have no longer any plea- 
 sure
 
 JESSY. 193 
 
 sure in our little garden ; for Edward is 
 no longer present to help me to work in it, 
 or Jessy to pick the flowers ; and Mrs. 
 Duncannon, master Seymour — all gone!* 
 * But they will come back again,' I said, 
 eager to comfort him, though my own 
 heart ached as I said it ; ^ madam will 
 come to Scotland when her business is 
 settled, and you are sure she will be 
 pleased to find Jessy is with lady Made- 
 line.' — ' But we are getting old, Mar- 
 gretta,' he returned, * and may not live 
 to see that time ; however, I have done 
 as she desired me, and I hope it is all 
 for the best.' — * TJien v/hy be so un- 
 happy?' I replied; 'we are dull, to be 
 sure, and cannot help feeling the loss of 
 such friends, but we must now try to 
 comfort each other as much as possible ; 
 'tis but for a time, and we shall hear of 
 them all from lady Madeline, for she pro^ 
 mised we should ; and we may get an- 
 other letter from Edward ;' for one of his 
 messmates had been kind enough to 
 VOL. I. K write
 
 194 JESSY. 
 
 write just before this, madam, and 
 said they were going on a cruize, 
 but expected it would be a very short 
 one, when we should hear from them 
 again ; ' and in that letter the kind boy 
 sent a part of his wages, as you know, 
 Donald,' I said; * he begged us to be 
 happy for his sake, and above all things 
 to believe him innocent.' — * Yes,' said 
 Donald, ' hut if he is not V Vexed that 
 he should for a moment think so hardly 
 of him, and satisfied myself that Mr. 
 Sinclair was the father of Iklary's child ; 
 for— Oh, madam, indeed I must tell you 
 all about it: my poor Edward was 
 wrongfully accused of basely betraying 
 a neighbour's child, whom he loved 
 dearer than himself; you, madam, knew 
 Mary Koss when she was a virtuous 
 good girl — My. Sinclair surely ruined 
 her, and then more shamefully prevail- 
 ed on her to assure her father that Ed- 
 ward was the villain. Unable to bear 
 such bitter ref^roaches, and still loving 
 
 her
 
 JESSY. 195 
 
 her to distraction, he lefl us in the dead 
 of night, and his flight was considered 
 certain proof of his guilt, even to those 
 who at first believed him innocent. I 
 know him to be so, and until now Do- 
 nald had never doubted him ; but when 
 I would have reproached him for doing 
 so, his lips trembled, and he looked so 
 pale, I dared not say a word more. He 
 soon afterwards went to his bed, and left 
 it again, as usual, at break of day, from 
 which time these eyes have never beheld 
 him." 
 
 "Strange!" said Mrs. Duncannon, 
 with much agitation ; " he must have 
 met with some accident." 
 
 " Oh no, madam," she returned, with 
 renewed grief; " he had some motive for 
 going, as you will see by this scrap of 
 paper, which I found on the table," tak- 
 ing from her pocket a piece of leather, in 
 w^iich the relic was carefully wrapped. 
 Satisfied it must throw some light on 
 the strange incident, Mrs. Duncannon 
 K 2 hastily
 
 196 JESSY. 
 
 hastily perused the few (and to her dis- 
 appointment unintelligible) lines, over 
 which Seymour also glanced his eager 
 eyes; the imperfect contents, rendered 
 almost illegible by Margretta's tears, 
 were merely these : 
 
 " I must leave you, Mar- 
 gretta, for a few days; be comforted, 
 then, until I get back, and take no 
 notice whatever of my absence, as the 
 business which takes me away from you 
 concerns no one but ourselves, nor must 
 I tell even you, until we meet again. 
 
 '' Donald." 
 
 More than ever bewildered, she re- 
 placed the mutilated paper in its en- 
 velope, and again turned her attention 
 to the sequel of Margretta's story. 
 
 ** For many days," she said, " I wait- 
 ed ^patiently for his return, but as the 
 
 time
 
 JESSY. 197 
 
 time passed on, my fears increased ; the 
 inquiries of my neighbours, and the 
 strange remarks they made on my hus- 
 band's going away, distracted me, and 
 at last I fell sick — but no Donald re- 
 turned to comfort me, as he had pro- 
 mised to do. During the time I lay ill, 
 lady Stewart sent her housekeeper with 
 nourishment for me, and to ask the par- 
 ticulars from myself, but I could tell 
 her no more than her ladyship had heard 
 from others, ' that I was a distressed 
 w^oman, whom her husband had left 
 without a cause ;' but added, ' if lord 
 Malcolm had remained at the castle, I 
 should have had a kind benefactress in 
 lady Madeline Sinclair, with whom one 
 of my children was living.' Her ladyship 
 kindly promised to write to lady iNIade- 
 line, and acquaint her with my situation, 
 as she knew where to direct to her ; and 
 I had shortly a message from her lady- 
 ship, begging me to keep up my spirits, 
 as she had no doubt but that Donakl 
 K 3 would
 
 198 JESSY. 
 
 would 3^et return in safety; that in the 
 meantime she had settled an allowance 
 OR me, which would help me for the 
 present, and which lady Stewart would 
 allow her housekeeper to pay me regu- 
 larly, till I should hear of my husband; 
 and concluded by assuring me that Jessy 
 was in perfect health, but that, for fear 
 of distressing her too much, she had not 
 named Donald's departure, till it could 
 be kept no longer irom her. But I am 
 still living a solitary forlorn creature, 
 for Donald will never come back; Ed- 
 ward has never written since his father 
 left me ; and it is now many months 
 since lady Stewart heard from lady Ma- 
 deline; but she continues to pay my lit- 
 tle stipend, which, together with my 
 spinning, brings in more than I have 
 occasion for, and I began to think it was 
 not long I should v/ant any thing ; but 
 since your ladyship and Mr. Seymour 
 have really come back, who knows but 
 I may live to see Jessy once more, and 
 
 then
 
 JESSY. 199 
 
 then I care not how soon I follov; my 
 poor Donald, for he must be dead, or 
 nothing could keep him so long from 
 me." 
 
 So thought Mrs. Duncannon, but ^\^ll- 
 ing to divert the attention of his de- 
 serted wife, slie said — " A short time 
 has wrought many changes, my good 
 Margretta, and it may yet do much for 
 your future comfort; at all events, it shall 
 be my care to contribute any thing in 
 my power towards it, and at least you 
 shall be no longer a solitary being, if 
 you prefer residing with me to remain- 
 ing in the cottage. Your old friend, 
 Gilbert, will be happy to see you, for he 
 is still living, and will be no less con- 
 cerned than myself at your misfortunes ; 
 but you find they are common to every 
 state in life, for I think you told me 
 lady Stewart was neither in health nor 
 happy?" 
 
 " Neither, madam," she returned; 
 
 " the young lady who is living with her 
 
 K 4 is
 
 5500 JESST. 
 
 is not, I understand, her own ; but she 
 had a fine little boy, that they lost when 
 quite a child, at the time of some dread- 
 ful battle in the town where they then 
 lived." 
 
 " What do you mean?" said Mrs. 
 Duncannon, with an emotion she vainly 
 endeavoured to conceal from Seymour; 
 " and where did it happen ?" 
 
 " I never heard the name of the town, 
 madam," returned JMargretta, *' but it 
 was somewhere abroad, where the peo- 
 ple all talk as most of her servants do. 
 Now I think of it — I remember w^hen 
 they first came into this part, hearing 
 Donald say, *He wished master Sey- 
 mour was at the bourn side, for he 
 would understand all they said, because 
 he could talk as they did." 
 
 More than ever agitated, Mrs. Dun- 
 cannon replied — " Then they are French 
 — is lady Stewart a foreigner too ?" 
 
 JMargretta said — " She talked English, 
 but she did not look like an English 
 
 lady ;
 
 JESSY. 201 
 
 lady ; that she was in very ill health, 
 and she did not think she would live 
 many years, as it was not likely she 
 v/ould ever hear of her son now, and his 
 loss was the cause of her extreme sor- 
 row, as the servant who had charge of 
 him was killed in the great confusion, 
 and no one could give any account of 
 the child ; for I am told, madam, they 
 were all obliged to leav^e their houses at 
 dead of night, and go into the fields, and 
 'tis most likely the poor little boy was 
 killed too; but lady Stewart will not 
 believe it, because his body was not 
 found with his nurse's the next day ; 
 but if he had been alive they must have 
 found him." 
 
 The faintness which had seized Mrs. 
 Duncannon now deprived her of the 
 power to hear more, and leaning on Sey- 
 mour's arm, she entreated him to lead 
 her to the open air. Conjecturing that 
 the same anxiety which oppressed him 
 for the fate of Jessy had been too power- 
 K 5 ful
 
 202 JESSY. 
 
 ful for her more delicate feelings, he 
 had no idea that she had taken even a 
 stronger interest in the latter part of 
 Margretta's story, to which, wholly 
 engrossed by the first, he had scarcely 
 attended. Margretta, terrified by the 
 sudden indisposition, pained her by a 
 thousand apologies for having fatigued 
 her by talking so much ; but Mrs. Dun- 
 cannon kindly assured her it was far 
 from being the case, and that finding 
 herself much better, as the postillion was 
 already in waiting, she should take leave 
 of her until the following day, when she 
 purposed being with her at an early 
 hour, as she had still many inquiries to 
 make. 
 
 Parting with friends she valued was 
 become so serious a matter with Mar- 
 gretta, that the anxious look she gave 
 Mrs. Dun cannon seemed to imply a 
 doubt, whether some unforeseen event 
 might not deprive her of the promised 
 comfort, even in so short a separation ; 
 
 and
 
 JESSY. 20S 
 
 and her kind benefactress, reading in the 
 tearful eye what passed in her thoughts, 
 assured her, that she designed this should 
 be their last separation, as it was her in- 
 tention to adjust matters in such a way, 
 that she might leave the cottage, if she 
 thought fit, on the following day ; and 
 having once more bid her a kind adieu-, 
 Vv^hieh was seconded by the now thought- 
 ful Seymour, ascended the carriage, and 
 Margretta returned to her little man- 
 sion, gratefully invoking Heaven for 
 added blessings on her more than 
 friend. 
 
 Throwing hers-elf into the chair in 
 which Donald had so often rested his 
 wearied limbs after he returned from 
 work, she endeavoured to com.pose lie 
 Gv/n thoughts, which the last two or 
 three houi-s had totally bevvildered. That 
 ]Mrs. Duncannon had actually been with 
 her, that she had seen master Se}Tnour, 
 and seen him so altered, appeared al- 
 together a di-eam; that she was in future 
 K 6 to
 
 W4i JESSY. 
 
 to live witli liim, delightful ; if she was 
 sick, her best of friends would be nigh 
 to comfort her — when she died, would 
 perhaps close her eyes, and at last her 
 presence v^ould smooth the bed of 
 death. 
 
 At that moment her eyes rested on 
 the rude chimney-piece, over which, in 
 proud pre-eminence, above the cups and 
 saucers, so placed as to conceal how 
 often they had been indebted to IMar- 
 gretta's skill in joining them, suspended 
 by a piece of plaid ribbon, hung the 
 plate which had decorated Donald's cap, 
 when, in '•' martial trim tight," he had 
 as a soldier few competitors in cleanli- 
 ness or courage ; in an instant she be- 
 held him, in imagination, pale, in w^ant, 
 and. sickness, creeping to the cottage, in 
 expectation of the well-known welcome 
 he should meet — refused admittance by 
 those who might inhabit it when she 
 was gone, and who could not even tell 
 him where to find her ; in agony of soul 
 
 she
 
 JESSY. 205 
 
 she exclaimed — " Ungrateful creature 
 that I am, to think of going ! No, Do- 
 nald, though you have so unkindly for- 
 saken me, here I will stay : it may be, 
 that I shall never bid you welcome 
 home, but some kind neighbour will 
 shew you where I am to be found, and 
 tell you too, as you are looking on her 
 cold grave, how sincerely she mourned 
 for you." Relieved by the tears which 
 followed this apostrophe, and which were 
 so necessary to her full-fraught heart, 
 she determined to thank Mrs. Duncan- 
 non for her kind offer, but to name also 
 the reasons which prevented her from 
 accepting it, and which she felt assured 
 slie would approve. 
 
 She now discovered, for the first time, 
 what had before never occurred, that 
 she was too old to travel about, could 
 be of very little use to her benefactress, 
 and never, she thought, should be happy 
 "vvhen she had lost sight of the cottage, 
 where she had passed so many years with 
 
 her
 
 2!06 JESSY. 
 
 her once faithful Donald— ' wlia may 
 even yet return to it,' whimpered the siren 
 hope, that delusive phantom, who, link- 
 ed with our existence, confined neither 
 to age, rank, or abilities, invigorates 
 youth, animates our pursuits through life, 
 with some untasted, yet some promised 
 blessing, yet unpossessed, and which, 
 buoyant even in the care-worn breast, 
 rescues the victim from the ruthless' 
 harpy despair. Margretta felt its be- 
 nign influence, and the heart, become 
 sick with expectation from hope de- 
 ferred, again anticipated, again trusted i 
 she knew that nothing was impossible to 
 Him v/ho orders all things, and once 
 more she dared to believe, even Donald's 
 return was probable. 
 
 CHAP-
 
 JESSY. 207 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 The distance from Donald's cottage to 
 the inn where Mrs. Duncannon meant 
 to remain during her intended stay in 
 the north was short; but had it been 
 much longer, it is more than probable 
 neither she nor Seymour would have in- 
 terrupted the profound silence which 
 each preserved, until the carriage stop- 
 ping in the inn-yard announced the end 
 of their journey, so deeply were they 
 engaged by their own thoughts of JMar- 
 gretta's long and interesting story. Sey- 
 mour remembered no more than that 
 Jessy was unhappy, and that unhappi- 
 ness occasioned by a man of whose cha- 
 racter he had heard sufficient to feel con- 
 vinced
 
 S08 JESSY. 
 
 vinced he must be a villain, from whose 
 power, perhaps, neither the protection of 
 lady Madelhie, nor the authority of lord 
 Malcolm, might secure her ; there was 
 distraction in the idea; and in one mo- 
 ment the prompt ardour of nineteen had 
 suggested many plans for her safety 
 which required only the wisdom of ma- 
 turer years to regulate, or the powder of 
 possibility to perform. 
 
 Jessy, not less dear to the benevolent 
 heart of Mrs. Duncannon, had been the 
 first object of her solicitude, when she 
 heard of her unexpected removal from 
 the castle, where she had hoped to have 
 still found her, and it was more on her 
 account than any other she had taken 
 her present journey ; but Margretta had 
 opened a new scene, in which a painful 
 part was reserved for her to perform, in the 
 contemplation of which she forgot every 
 being but the one dearest to her in ex- 
 istence — the child whom she had reared 
 with a mother's fondness, a Mentor's 
 
 prudence
 
 JESSY. ^09 
 
 prudence — the child whose infantine ca- 
 resses had given him a thousand claims 
 upon her affection, whose society had 
 divested solitude of every gloom, and 
 whose rare qualities of mind and under- 
 standing had hitherto repaid, v>'ith so 
 large an interest, her attentions to him — 
 Seymour, the beloved boy from whom 
 even a temporary separation was pain- 
 ful, she must now prepare to leave her, 
 since she firmly believed the hand v> hich 
 brings mighty things to pass had al- 
 ready laid the foundation of a discovery 
 that must finally separate them. ISTo 
 sooner, therefore, had they taken some 
 refreshment, and the servants retired, 
 than she led to the subject of their late 
 visit, and the strange events which had 
 taken place since they left the bourn 
 side. — " 'Tis unfortunate," said Sey- 
 mour. 
 
 " And yet T am satisfied," replied Mrs. 
 Duncannon, " that some important mo- 
 tive must have induced him to leave 
 
 that
 
 210 JTESSY. 
 
 that worthy creature, to whom, I know, 
 he was so fondly attached," supposing her 
 companion alhided to Donald's strange 
 disappearance. 
 
 " I was thinking of Jessy," returned 
 Seymour, perceiving her mistake, " and 
 was regretting that Mr. Sinclair did not 
 come into this part of the country be- 
 fore we left it, in which case I might 
 have prevented ^" 
 
 " What ?" said Mrs. Duncannon, in- 
 terrupting him ; " not his being a bad 
 character, or Jessy going with the fa- 
 mily, as you know I had urgent reasons 
 for wishing her to remain with them, 
 though there were also motives which 
 restrained me from making you ac« 
 quainted with my reasons ; but the pe- 
 riod is at hand, my dear boy, in which 
 I shall have to explain mysteries still 
 more important to yourself." 
 
 Seymour looked surprised, but an- 
 swered — " Of whatever nature they may 
 be, my dear madam, I am persuaded 
 
 they
 
 JESSY. 211 
 
 they can never render either you or my- 
 self less interested in the fate of that 
 amiable girl — Pardon me if I add, should 
 that be possible, I am satisfied still to 
 remain ignorant of them." 
 
 " But were I to suffer you to do so," 
 returned Mrs. Duncannon, ** I should 
 neither act up to my duty as a Christian 
 nor your friend, still less should I merit 
 the fihal affection that has for so many 
 years actuated your grateful heart to- 
 wards me. Hitherto you have been satis- 
 fied with the mode of life in which you 
 have been educated; I also have been 
 rendered happy from the conviction, that 
 a recent event has enabled me to place 
 your future lot in life beyond medio- 
 crity ; but tell me, Seymour, what 
 would you think of her who, thus pro- 
 fessing to be your friend, would calmly 
 suffer you to retain only a genteel com- 
 petency, when lawfully entitled both to 
 rank and fortune ?" 
 
 « What
 
 212 , JESSY, 
 
 " What do you mean, madam ?" said 
 the astonished Seymour, already shrink- 
 ing from an explanation that he foresaw 
 was to prepare him for some strange 
 event, and which, for the first time, 
 brought to his recollection the conver- 
 sation which had passed between Mr?. 
 Duncannon and Margretta respecting 
 lady Stewart. 
 
 " I mean," she replied, " that I have 
 every reason to believe the mystery at- 
 tached to your birth is about to be elu- 
 cidated- — that I who have so long watch- 
 ed over your growing virtues must now 
 resign you to her who has passed that 
 period in hopeless sorrow ; for too surely, 
 Seymour, lady Stewart is your maternal 
 mother. Perhaps at the early age in 
 which destiny consigned you to my 
 care, it would have been easy to deceive 
 you into a belief that your natural pa- 
 rents were no more ; but I was actuated 
 by no such selfish motive, and we have 
 
 often,
 
 JESSY. 213 
 
 often, you know, conversed upon the 
 singular event which has been produc- 
 tive of so much happiness to myself." 
 
 " Say not to yourself only, my more 
 than mother!" exclaimed the agitated 
 Seymour; " I also have been too happy, 
 in the possession of such a friend, to de- 
 sire a change ; I have no recollection of 
 another parent, nor can my imagination 
 picture a being who would so well have 
 supplied your place. You have told me 
 that the true value of riches is to be con- 
 tent with whatever Providence has be- 
 stowed. Ambition, beyond that of me- 
 riting the esteem of good men, was a 
 sentiment never fostered in Seymour's 
 heart; for him, therefore, a title has 
 no peculiar charm, and that wdiich is 
 to separate him from you must be pur- 
 chased at the sacrifice of his happiness. 
 Why then tell me of lady Stewart? 
 Time must have long since weakened 
 ever}' claim I had upon her maternal af» 
 
 factions,
 
 214 JESSY. 
 
 fections, while it daily cemented tliat 
 which will bind me to you for ever." 
 
 " There, at least, Seymour, you are un- 
 just," returned Mrs. Duncannon, before 
 he could proceed, " for had you been 
 as deeply interested in Margretta's ac- 
 count of lady Stewart as myself, you 
 would have discovered proofs that a ino- 
 iher cannot forget her child — that her 
 ladyship's health has been the severe 
 forfeit of your loss — and that, in addition 
 to this testimony of her maternal virtue, 
 she is said to be a character worthy of 
 esteem, of course entitled to more than 
 common affection from a son whom she 
 has never ceased to mourn as dead to 
 her. Shall I own, that from you I ex- 
 pected more noble sentiments? and while 
 I make every allowance for the strength 
 of affection which has, in the present 
 moment, carried you beyond yourself, 
 pardon me if I say you have not acted 
 with your usual firmness of mind." 
 
 Seymour
 
 JESSY. 215 
 
 Seymour felt the just reproof, kindly 
 as it was vvorded, and having aiFection- 
 ateiy pressed the hand extended to 
 him, replied — *•' I ought to have known 
 such hasty expressions would have been 
 condemned by your more correct judg- 
 ment ; they were not your sentiments ; 
 and the child whom you have reared 
 and educated, in whose mind you have 
 studied to inculcate the pure morals 
 which actuated your own, ought never 
 to breathe an expression derogatory to 
 such precepts. I am sensible of my error, 
 but henceforth I will prove to you that 
 the impetuosity of a moment may be 
 cancelled by the effect of reason, and 
 will dare to trust, that if put to the test, 
 I shall not be found less wanting in my 
 duty towards those whom nature has 
 given claims upon me, than I have 
 hitherto been in affection to her whose 
 gratitude was the tie. But tell me," he 
 continued, " dearest madam, why are 
 you so satisfied that I am really the son 
 
 of
 
 216 JESSY. 
 
 of lady Stewart ? and how do you pro- 
 pose ascertaining the painful truth ? for 
 I yet shrink from the eclaircissement. 
 Have you sufficient proofs to substan- 
 tiate my claims? Should lord Stewart 
 for a moment suppose me an impostor, 
 how could I support the humiliating 
 idea, even though it should still leave 
 nie the enviable distinction of being your 
 adopted son ! Would it not be better to 
 defer the mysterious explanation ?" 
 
 ** Decidedly not," returned Mrs. Dun- 
 cannon, with the promptitude that mark- 
 ed all her actions ; " delays, Seymour, are 
 at all times dangerous, and mine was 
 never a procrastinating spirit. In the pre- 
 sent instance, too much may be gained 
 to warrant my evading a conference with 
 lord and lady Stewart beyond that of a 
 few hours. If I can give health and hap- 
 piness, life's choicest blessings, to a fel- 
 low-creature — if I may be the means of 
 restoring you to parents worthy of such 
 a child, and see you, through my means, 
 
 in
 
 JESSY. 217 
 
 In possession of rank and affluence — tell 
 me, Seymour, shall I not have lived long 
 enough ?" 
 
 " No, my invaluable friend," he re- 
 turned, again clasping her hand in his, 
 " you must live to share with your de- 
 voted Seymour the blessings you appear 
 to estimate so highly ; you must do more — 
 you must give me also a right to share 
 5v\dth the second child of your affection 
 this expected abundance of wealth and 
 honours, which have no charm but as 
 they may contribute to the comfort of 
 those I love." 
 
 " Surely, Seymour," said Mrs. Dun- 
 cannon, gravely, " the events of this day 
 have laid open every avenue of your 
 heart to that romantic ardour too inci- 
 dent to your age, but which your ma- 
 turer reason has hitherto appeared to 
 liold in subjection ; remember this is the 
 first moment you have ever thought fit 
 to be so explanatory upon a subject I 
 was of all others the least prepared for ; 
 
 VOL. I. L I regret
 
 218 jEssr. 
 
 I regret your having introduced it at 
 all, but more so at a time when I had 
 hoped your mind wholly engrossed by 
 a circumstance of so much more im- 
 portance — that of regaining a father and 
 mother; but as you have been so ex- 
 plicit on your part, it is my duty to be 
 equally so in return. In the first place, 
 know then, that as the daughter of Do- 
 nald and Margretta, Jessy would never 
 he considered a suitable match for the 
 heir of lord Stewart — and that you are 
 so, concomitant circumstances leave me 
 no reason to doubt; nor has your pride 
 any cause for alarm, when I aver that I 
 am prepared for every scrutiny that may 
 be made relative to your pretensions on 
 that family; but supposing Jessy not 
 the child of those worthy cottagers, my 
 influence over her is past, nor would it 
 longer remain with me to dispose of 
 •iier hand, even should I hereafter sanc- 
 tion what I now term a mere boyish ab. 
 
 surdity
 
 JESSY. 210 
 
 surdity — pardon the expression, and let 
 the only confidence I am yet at liberty 
 to repose in you respecting that good 
 girl erase the remembrance, if it sound- 
 ed harshly. Jessy was consigned to the 
 care of Donald, was nursed at the breast 
 of Margretta, and she owes them gTati- 
 tude, but not her being ; shall I tell you, 
 I have my doubts if she is not even nobly 
 bom ; but the cloud wliich envelopes her 
 fate is almost impenetrable ; and yet I 
 have reason to beheve, that were it even 
 partially removed, more obstacles to your 
 present wishes might be presented than 
 already stand confessed in the supposed 
 offspring of the peasant Donald. If, 
 therefore, you value your own honour, 
 never let the avowal you have made me 
 reach the object of our mutual esteem : 
 it may, nay would, injure her peace of 
 mind, but could avail Httle towards your 
 own happiness. Leave to time what nei- 
 ther my friendship for either of you, 
 your own perseverance, nor the power of 
 L 2, lord
 
 220 JESSY. 
 
 lord Stewart, should he meditate it to 
 please you, could effect. I know my lan- 
 guage is ambiguous, and I would gladly 
 render it otherwise, but that at present 
 is impossible; let us therefore dismiss ^ 
 a subject whicii can only be unsatisfac- 
 tory to both, and return to that which 
 it is my intention to have finally ad- 
 justed in the course of to-morrow, at 
 least as far as relates to an interview 
 with lord and lady Stewart. As you 
 are already acquainted with the cir- 
 cumstances which first introduced to 
 my acquaintance a lovely boy, whose 
 lisping tongue, and not his judgment, 
 greeted me with the endearing appella- 
 tion of dear mamma, it remains only 
 then to say, I have carefully preserved 
 the dress you wore, and which will, no 
 doubt, forcibly occur to the recollection 
 of lady Stewart, who can need no other 
 conviction, added to the horrors of that 
 memorable night, which I can so well 
 describe, and which will ever remain 
 
 strongly
 
 JESSY. ^21 
 
 strongly impressed upon the memory of 
 every being connected with it. I shall 
 proudly resign my charge, so worthy of 
 their future care — but oh, my Seymour^ 
 with what rapture must a mother, a de- 
 lighted father, acknowledge such a child ! 
 A conviction of their joy should recon- 
 cile me to your loss, and I must learn 
 to bear the privation of your society 
 with becoming fortitude." 
 
 " But Jessy," said Seymour, mourn- 
 fully, " will supply my loss — on her you 
 will continue to bestow the endearing 
 attentions once divided between us — I 
 only shall be far away. Oh, my inesti- 
 mable friend! teach me, if indeed we 
 must part, in pity teach me to forget 
 the years of felicity gone past for ever." 
 
 " Time, my dear Seymour," she re- 
 turned, " will soften the remembrance 
 of them to a pleasing dream, to which 
 memory will sometimes revert, / trust, 
 with a gratifying pleasure ; for I should 
 unwillingly lose the affectionate interest 
 L 3 I hold
 
 222 JESSY. 
 
 I hold in your heart, and have studied 
 that heart too long, to believe it could 
 wish to erase the remembrance of a 
 friend so long loved. — But 'tis time to 
 recollect that, as travellers, some degree 
 of rest is requisite to the body, if our 
 minds have been too actively employed 
 to remind us that, by these unseason- 
 able hours, we are not only infringing 
 upon our own health, but also upon the 
 natural rest of our good host and his fa- 
 mily, who are, no doubt, quietly napping 
 by the fireside; we will therefore re- 
 tire, but remember it must be to sleep, 
 and not to ruminate on the events of 
 the day, if we would be prepared for the 
 business^ of to-morrow." 
 
 Seymour smiled his assent to the pro- 
 posal, but his lips refused to seal the pro- 
 mise she required ; he felt that the mul- 
 tiplicity of ideas, which at once crowd- 
 ed on his vivid imagination, could not 
 admit of his sleeping; yet he ardently 
 desired to seek his pillow, on which he 
 
 thought
 
 J«SSY. 22S 
 
 tliought it would be possible to arrange 
 them in some form, for now all was con- 
 fusion. When there, he endeavoured to 
 think only of the change in his own 
 destiny, because reason told him it was 
 a point of duty he owed to the sor- 
 rowing lady Stewart; but duty had a 
 powerful rival to contend with — the art- 
 less Jessy presented claims on his youth- 
 ful and ardent mind, prior to those of a 
 mother whom as yet he knew not; and 
 Jessy, unprotected, in the power of such 
 a man as Sinclair, her mysterious des- 
 tiny, his own future separation from her, 
 pressed foremost in his now harassed 
 mind — they were subjects not to be dis- 
 regarded ; and morning found him only 
 more anxiously interested for her, and 
 less mindful of his own fate. 
 
 Mrs. Dun cannon, on the contrary, 
 adoring the inscrutable ways of Provi- 
 dence, fully persuaded that she should, 
 live to see the beloved being, for whona- 
 she thought no station too exalted, the 
 L 4 avowed
 
 *2M * jEssr. 
 
 avowed acknowledged heir of a noble 
 liouse, and delighted to become the 
 happy instrument of restoring a long^ 
 lost child to a fond mother, had passed 
 some hours in that peaceful sleep known 
 only to the guileless, when Seymour, in 
 passing her door to the breakfast-room, 
 tapped gently, and inqviired if she was 
 not yet stirring? His summons was 
 quickly attended to ; but although his 
 languid look when they met bespoke 
 his disobedience of her commands, she 
 purposely avoided making the remark^ 
 assumed more than usual cheerfulness, 
 and gaily asked if he was ready to at- 
 tend her to Margretta's cottage, where 
 she purposed calling previous to her 
 visiting Dunwarden Castle? The name 
 brought a deeper tinge on his youthfid 
 countenance, and without waiting to 
 hear more, he said — " Surely, my dear 
 madam, you will not compel me to be 
 present at a meeting which is to decide 
 my future destiny? It will be sufficient 
 
 to
 
 JESSY. 225 
 
 to know I must go there when the die 
 is cast ; but indeed I cannot see lord and 
 lady Stewart until I have prepared my- 
 self to meet them as a son ought to meet 
 his natural parents." 
 
 " That shall be as you please," replied 
 ]Mrs. Duncannon, ** if such a preparation 
 is now requisite on your part ; I must 
 not, however, as I intended, leave you 
 with Margretta, as that good creature, in 
 the abundance of what she will still find 
 to communicate, will, I fear, leave you 
 but little leisure to prepare for this inter- 
 view, of which you are so apprehensive." 
 
 Seymour, delighted to have obtained 
 even a temporary reprieve, promised to 
 hold himself in readiness for any mes- 
 sage of which she might be the herald, 
 upon her return ; and Mrs. Duncannon, 
 having passed a short time only with 
 Margretta, set out alone for Dunwardea 
 Castle. 
 
 As the carriage drove up the ave- 
 nue, her heart palpitated alternately 
 L 5 with
 
 226 JESSY. 
 
 with hope and fear ; she was a stranger 
 to lord and lady Stewart — had no other 
 evidence of their child's existence than 
 her own conviction that Seymour must 
 be the same, and the clothes he wore, to 
 which no other ornament was attached 
 than the small gold "clasps in his shoes> 
 on which, elegantly engraved, were the 
 cyphers H.M.; these she constantly kept 
 with a few valuable trinkets that were 
 at this time in her travelling trunk ; the 
 clothes were left at lier late residence, 
 but she could minutely describe their 
 form and texture ; of the night too, on 
 which Seymour was found, she could 
 also give such a description, that did it 
 correspond with that on which lady 
 Stewart lost her son, no farther evidence 
 could be required to substantiate his 
 pretensions ; and, firm in the rectitude 
 of her own intentions, she prepared, with 
 a firm mind, having introduced herself^ 
 to explain the purport of her visit. 
 
 CHAP.
 
 JESSY. 227 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Although we have left little to antt- 
 cipate in the short history of ]Mrs. Dun- 
 cannon's life, by having more than once 
 avowed that no peculiar mystery was at- 
 tached to it, she has of necessity been 
 too long a leading character in the work, 
 not to have excited, in the minds of some 
 who may peruse it, a wish to be still bet- 
 ter acquainted with her. To the circum- 
 stance of her having fixed upon such a 
 residence as the bourn side, lord 
 Malcolm, misled by her polished man- 
 ners, and still mere elegant endowments 
 of mind, had attached more importance 
 than was actually the case; yet, as that 
 motive must be explained at some pe- 
 L 6 riod
 
 S28 JESSY. 
 
 riod of the tale, it will probably never 
 be more appropriate than in the present 
 instance. 
 
 From a mother, exemplary in every 
 point of duty which pertains to the wife 
 and Christian, Mrs. Duncannon derived 
 the mild virtues which adorned her own 
 character — the soul-inspiring wish of 
 doing good, the philanthropy that made 
 her a blessing to her fellow-creatures^ 
 the sympathy which dried the tear of 
 sorrow, the heart which, feeling so ex- 
 quisitely the lyoes of others, bore its own 
 without a murmur, and the meek for- 
 bearance that pardoned every injury. 
 But the strength of mind so uncommon 
 to her sex — that firmness of soul that 
 would have enabled her to bear with 
 even Spartan fortitude every trial — these 
 she inherited from a father wlio had 
 fought his country's battles upon the 
 trackless ocean — the faithless element 
 that, having so oftfen borne testimony to 
 his deeds of more than mortal valour^ 
 
 marked
 
 JESSY. 2^9 
 
 marked his triumphant flag proudljr 
 wave amidst the hostile fleet, and dashed 
 its foaming waves against his stately 
 vessel, could at last unrelenting gape its- 
 destructive jaws, and hurl to its bottom- 
 less abyss such a man, his gallant daunt- 
 less crew, and such a vessel, of which no 
 vestige told the fatal story — no brave foU 
 lower of the intrepid sailor escaped to 
 confirm the awful truth, that a star in 
 Britain's hemisphere had set in night — 
 a hero was for ever lost to his country — 
 a father, husband, friend, and patriot, 
 numbered with the dead; for of the 
 gallant Douglas there remained only the 
 laurel wreath that never dies, and the 
 offspring to whom his fame had given 
 consequence, his success ample wealth. 
 
 Over those children, Mrs. Duncan- 
 non and an only brother, his now wi- 
 dowed Helen watched with maternal 
 anxiety, and for their sakes only she 
 wished to live. But the dreadful cer- 
 tainty too soon completed what cruel 
 
 suspense
 
 230 JKS8Y. 
 
 suspense had begun ; days, weeks, and 
 months, heavily moving onv/ard, some- 
 times vv^hispered all things were possible, 
 but succeeding years destroyed the fond 
 delusion — Douglas returned no more; 
 and although the motlier would have 
 lived, there was in existence no charm 
 for the widowed xinfe; and her death 
 consigned the infant possessor of her 
 name and virtues to the joint care of a 
 guardian, who knew not how to appre- 
 ciate the value of his charge, and a bro- 
 ther still less worthy such a sister. The 
 former, when the brave Douglas had 
 deputed him the protector of his chil- 
 dren, in the event of his being taken 
 from them, was an industrious merchant, 
 in whom he judged honesty to be a lead- 
 ing characteristic ; his plain and simple 
 manners had always pleased him, while his 
 indefatigable perseverance in business in- 
 drced him to believe his children's pro- 
 perty would eventually benefit by fall- 
 ing into the hands of such a man^ whose 
 
 own
 
 JESSY. 231 
 
 own success in life left nothing to appre- 
 hend from his misusing the fortune com- 
 mitted to his care. But Moreland, de- 
 termincd on acquiring wealth, and tlie 
 wealthy Moreland, possessed of un- 
 bounded riches, were different ;?^^7^.• in- 
 dustry having completed its task, re- 
 signed the reins to ambition; many 
 were the merchants who could vie with 
 him in w^ealth, but a title would at all 
 times give him a proud pre-eminence 
 over those favoured sons of fortune. 
 
 Hitherto " no grants of royal do- 
 nors" had ennobled the blood of his an- 
 cestors, whom he had no desire of tracing 
 beyond his paternal gi-andfather ; but it 
 was yet in his power to purchase the 
 gilded pill, which would give to his 
 posterity the envied privilege of boast- 
 ing, that they at least v/ere the descend- 
 ants of a great man. The title obtained, 
 he would marry ; and both were accom- 
 plished in the same year which had 
 marked the inauspicious fate of his 
 
 friend^
 
 1232 JESSY. 
 
 friend, the worthy and lamented Doug- 
 las. A needy woman of fortune was 
 not long wanting to share the splendid 
 fortune and dignity of &h Arthur, whose 
 first step, having assumed his name, was 
 to reform his plebeian manners : dissipa- 
 tion was requisite to polish what she 
 had so charitably taken in hand — it would 
 give an easy freedom to his manners, im- 
 prove his conversation, and, above all, al- 
 low her ample scope for the vicious indul- 
 gences which custom had made habitual 
 to her. 
 
 Under such admirable tuition, sir 
 Arthur became daily more popular ; but 
 he could not always suppress a deep- 
 drawn sigh, when he ventured to exa- 
 mine the decHning state of his coffers^ 
 vipon which the gaming-table was no 
 inconsiderable drawback. To argue with 
 lady Moreland was impracticable ; she 
 despised meanness — every body knew 
 they w re monied people — she had al- 
 ways been accustomed to style, and pro- 
 
 fusipn
 
 JESSY. 23^ 
 
 fusion was absolutely requisite to sup- 
 port the consequence of a title to which 
 no pedigree was attached — " But our 
 children," he ventured to say, one even- 
 ing when she had been impoiluning 
 him for a sum of money which he de- 
 clared himself incapable of advancing? 
 " some provision ought to be made for 
 them." 
 
 " Certainly, sir Arthur," said his 
 thoughtless wife; " but as there will be 
 a long minority for that provision to ac- 
 cumulate when they are actually here, I 
 am of opinion that it will be quite time 
 enough to lay by that sum when they 
 make their appearance ; in the interim, 
 I have no idea of giving up our own 
 comfort for the anticipation of what is 
 at present a more than probable uncer- 
 tainty." 
 
 Sir Arthur silently bit his lips, and 
 lady Moreland, pettishly turning on her 
 heel, left him to his own reflections. 
 They were long since become even more 
 
 unpleasant
 
 234 JESSY. 
 
 unpleasant companions than her lady- 
 ship; and having no pre-engagement 
 that could save him from their intru- 
 sion, he proceeded to the gaming-house, 
 partly to avoid the silent monitor, who 
 became daily more importunate, and 
 still more, with a hope of realizing the 
 sum of ready money which the profli- 
 gate lady Moreland had insisted upon 
 having by the next night; but fortune, 
 who had so often smiled upon the in- 
 dustrious merchant, disregarded the anx- 
 ious look and trembling solicitude of the 
 needy gamester — she had once been 
 Moreland's good genius, but was now his 
 evil one, and in vain he implored her 
 favours, in vain invoked the benefits he 
 merited not ; and never had he returned 
 so dispirited, for never before had he, at 
 one time, lost so large a sum, or could 
 so ill dispense v/ith what he had lost. 
 
 Disappointment goaded him, but 
 still more he dreaded the angry re- 
 proaches of his incensed wife, from which 
 
 there
 
 JESSY. ^T 
 
 tliere was but one method of escape, and 
 from that resource he shrunk with hor- 
 ror, repelled the unjust idea with manly- 
 firmness, yet required strength of mind 
 to parry the deliberation which followed. 
 It yet wanted some months of the pe- 
 riod in which Archibald Douglas would 
 be authorized to claim his paternal for- 
 tune, and three years were also wanting 
 to complete the age in which the ami- 
 able Helen would be entitled to the same 
 privilege; in much less time he could 
 reimburse the sum, which vrould at that 
 moment be such an accommodation ; and 
 who could know he had borrowed it? 
 
 At that instant, the well-remembered 
 form of the just, the upnght Douglas, 
 darted on his yet irresolute mind — it was 
 a tacit reproach for his meditated breach 
 of trust; but he had deliberated too long — 
 necessity triumphed over rectitude — the 
 fatal sum was appropriated to the shame- 
 ful purposes of the worthless lady More- 
 land. Again her ladyship smiled with 
 
 ineffable
 
 ^S@ JESSY. 
 
 ineffable sweetness on her deluded part- 
 ner, and again, dragged through the briU 
 liant blaze of a crowded ball-room by his 
 fashionable and pretty wife, sir Arthur for 
 a time forgot that he had been an unjust 
 steward to the departed Douglas. 
 
 About this time Helen having 
 completed her education, was removed 
 to her guardian's house, to witness 
 scenes altogether new to her excels 
 lent understanding : disgusted wuth the 
 avowed levity of lady Moreland, and 
 more disappointed than she was willing 
 to acknowledge, even to herself, in the 
 man whom her revered father had se- 
 lected as worthy the trust reposed in 
 him, she could only wonder that Archi- 
 bald should see nothing in either to 
 condemn ; on the contrary, was a pro- 
 fessed admirer of her ladyship, whom 
 he could attend upon all occasions as the 
 ward of sir Arthur, without incurring 
 censure, and prided himself upon be- 
 lieving he knew perfectly well how to 
 
 manage
 
 JESSY. 23T ' 
 
 manage the old gentleman, who liberally 
 -entertained his conapanions, without in- 
 xjuiring into their respective merits, or 
 the propriety of their acquaintance for 
 Archibald, provided they were young 
 men of rank or fashion, '\vhich lady 
 Moreknd always determined; if there- 
 fore they passed her ordeal, they needed 
 no other passport. But of her brotlier's 
 many favourites, and lady IMoreland's 
 delightfid creatures, as she termed tliose 
 w^ho rated highest on her list of agree- 
 ables, Charles !Moncrief, a protegee of 
 her brave father, claimed the decided 
 preference v/ith Helen ; they load passed 
 the days of infantine fondness together, 
 and parted only when the loss of admi- 
 ral Douglas, and the education of his 
 ^children, had obliged them to do so. 
 
 Charles had left the academy, where 
 both had been placed, some years before 
 his friend Archibald, as it was requisite 
 he should enter the navy at an early 
 ^ge, an arrangement which best suited 
 
 the
 
 238 JESSY. 
 
 the small portion on which he was to be 
 educated. By the endearing appellation 
 of son, Helen remembered frequently to 
 have heard her gallant fatlier address 
 Charles; to become such to him, he had 
 aspired at a very early age ; and though 
 he had made some voyages since that 
 period, a few interviews served to con- 
 vince his lovely friend, that his heart 
 " untravelled, still returned to her." Nei- 
 ther did time or absence appear to have 
 aught diminished the friendship subsist- 
 ing between Archibald and himself: 
 every interval he could spare from duty 
 was spent in the society of his early 
 companions, and every day served but to 
 attach him more fondly to Helen, who 
 was, however, too fair, rich, and amiable, 
 not to leav^ him many competitors for 
 such a priz6; and of all their most fa- 
 voured visitors, Dorville appeared to be 
 most respected. The reputed heir 
 of a large estate, handsome in person, 
 and far more accomplished tlian many 
 
 of
 
 JESSY. 239 
 
 of the young men she was in the con- 
 stant habit of associating with, Helen 
 regarded his attentions with evident sa- 
 tisfaction, but that regard extended no 
 farther than what she believed due to 
 his merits : his superiority over Charles 
 Moncrief consisted only in the point of 
 fortune; but she had herself sufficient for 
 both, and hers she had already deter- 
 mined Charles should become the pos- 
 sessor of, whenever she was at liberty to 
 accompany the gift with her hand, which 
 he had ardently solicited, but which she 
 chose should never depend upon the ca- 
 <price of a guardian, who might raise ob- 
 stacles to her union, and would, she 
 had every reason to expect, object to the 
 jDOverty of Charles JNIoncrief. On his 
 faith she had a firm reliance ; her own 
 stability was no less to be depended oni 
 and the period of her minority would 
 «oon pass over, when she determined no- 
 thing should frustrate her intentions, or 
 retain her an eye-witness of the eternal 
 
 discord
 
 g40 JESSY. 
 
 discord that reigned in sir Arthur's house* 
 Sut when Dorville, flattered by Helen's 
 friendly manner towards him, and en- 
 couraged by her brother, who sought the 
 alliance with avidit}^ entreated her own 
 and guardian's permission to avow him- 
 self her declared admirer, she entreated 
 him never to renew a subject which 
 must be vm satisfactory to both ; that at 
 present she had no intention whatever of 
 changing her situation, still less of ac- 
 cepting him as a lover, whom she had 
 nevertheless highly esteemed as a friend, 
 and should still continue to do so, if his 
 future conduct did not oblige her to 
 change her sentiments, and which she 
 had too just a sense of his probity to 
 suppose could ever be the ease, 
 
 Dorville, thus rejected when he was 
 least prepared for a refusal, retired in all 
 the bitterness of disappointment, keenly 
 to reproach Archibald for having de- 
 ceived him into a belief that his sister's 
 affections were disengaged, since his own 
 
 vanity
 
 JESSV. 241 
 
 vanity sufficed to convince him only a 
 prior engagement could have induced 
 Miss Douglas to reject his overtures. 
 
 Archibald was no stranger to the' 
 mutual affection of Charles and Helerii 
 and there had been a time when He' 
 would have anticipated their future' 
 union v/itll heartfelt satisfaction, both' 
 from a knowledge of his friend's wortii, 
 and the respect his honoured father boi*e 
 him ; but he had himself raised a bar- 
 rier, which it was now necessary to his 
 honour to uphold — not that he esteemed 
 Charles less, but that his own extrava- 
 ^nce and inordinate love of play had 
 made him too considerable a debtor to 
 Dorville, not to oblige him openly to 
 espouse his cause : the hand of Heleni 
 was to cancel the debt of honour whicH 
 he had scarcely any other means of pay- 
 ing; for though the period of settlement^ 
 with sir Arthur was still procrastinated 
 from various causes, he well knevcr full 
 possession of his property was insufR- 
 VOL. I. M cient
 
 242 JESSY. 
 
 cient to satisfy the heavy demands he 
 had on it, without compeUing him to 
 retrench a style of Uving which was be- 
 come necessary to his comforts. The mo- 
 tives therefore which had induced him 
 to make a promise so requisite to the 
 happiness of Dorville was too ostensible 
 to be laid aside by the mere negative of 
 Helen; and new plans were had recourse 
 to, which could hardly fail of insuring 
 success. 
 
 A long and private interview with 
 sir Arthur so far arranged matters, that 
 Archibald flew to communicate the suc- 
 cess to Dorville, whose perseverance in 
 the cause was stimulated by the stab his 
 pride had sustained, and who eagerly 
 agreed to adopt any plan which might 
 enable him to subdue the cold unfeeling 
 Helen, who he determined should even^ 
 tually become his wife. Unconscious 
 that she had in the world an enemy ca- 
 pable of undermining her peace, still less 
 that her brother could be that demon, 
 
 and
 
 JESSY. 243 
 
 and too noble-minded to wound the 
 feelings of Charles by naming so power- 
 ful a rival as Dorville, she had never led 
 to the subject of his declaration, of v/hich 
 Moncrief had no suspicion, when called 
 upon to prepare for a voyage, the desti- 
 nation and length of which was at that 
 time uncertain* but the strength of 
 mind Helen ever evinced upon these 
 occasions strengthened his security in 
 her affections : he should probably re- 
 turn rich in fortune's favours — at all 
 events, might become her happy husband 
 before his country again demanded his 
 seiTices. 
 
 Previous to his embarkation, much 
 of their time was spent together, and 
 lady Moreland sometimes ventured to 
 accuse him of monopolizing too much 
 of Miss Douglas's company ; but as he 
 always parried her raillery with some 
 well-timed compliment, her ladyship 
 only regretted that so fine a fellow should 
 be so poor, and hoped her sweet Helen 
 M 2 would
 
 fi^ JESSY- 
 
 would not let his many accomplishments 
 render her unmindful that fortvme 
 should be the first consideration. 
 
 Helen, by no means disposed to 
 make a confident of such a character, 
 merely said — " In her acquaintance with 
 Mr. Moncrief, she regarded only the 
 -good qualities which had, at an early 
 age, secured him her father's unlimited 
 affection, and could not fail to insure a 
 continuance of his children's esteem." 
 
 .Only a few days previous to his sailing, 
 they had stopped, in a morning's ride, to 
 take frQUn a jeweller's in the city a mi- 
 niature of Moncrief, which had beeiii left 
 therefor the purpose of being set. 
 
 rCharles only alighted, had obtained 
 tjie picture, and was leaving the shop, 
 >vheu a woman of genteel appearance, 
 evidently in iU health, and carrying an 
 Hifant in ;her arms, passed the door, when 
 suddenly returning, she accosted him. 
 Helen, who from the carriage observed 
 tiie interview, but too distant for the 
 
 voice
 
 JESSY. 245 
 
 voice of either to reach her ear, was ne- 
 vertheless struck with the apparent em- 
 barrassment of Charles as he looked to- 
 Vv^ards her, while still in earnest conver- 
 sation with his companion, who at least 
 appeared no stranger to him. Having 
 given her a card on which he had pre- 
 viously written something in pencil, he 
 hastily re-entered the carriage, and apo- 
 logized for having detained her so long ; 
 but the face which had been turned as 
 he ascended the steps wore too expres- 
 sive marks of sorrow not to powerfully 
 interest the feelings of Helen ; and her 
 first question was, if the person who had 
 thus detained him was a stranger in dis- 
 tress ? 
 
 Evidently confused by the inquiry, 
 he answered — " It would be false, Helen, 
 to say I have not seen her before, but 
 she is unfortunately a character which 
 the purity of your heart must ever make 
 a stranger to you ; and yet she is entitled 
 to your warmest pity, for she was once 
 
 innocent
 
 246 JESSY. 
 
 innocent as you are. More it is not re- 
 quisite, my sweet fiicnd, you should 
 know." 
 
 Helen knew not suspicion, and 
 mean curiosity was a sensation still less 
 familiar to her; having therefore half 
 suppressed the truant sigh, which was 
 the sympathizing echo of that Charles 
 had unconsciously heaved as he ceased 
 speaking, she relieved him by asking 
 for the picture, which afforded conver-^ 
 sation until they reached home. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 Printed by J. Darling, Leadenhall-Street, London.
 
 
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