<A %A 
 
 wmm 
 
LI B RAR.Y 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF ILLINOIS 
 
 823 
 H764c 
 
 v.l 
 
 
CELIN A 5 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE WIDOWED BRIDE. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
CELINAi 
 
 OR, 
 
 THE WIDOWED BRIDE. 
 
 A NOVEL. 
 
 - FOUNDED ON FACTS. 
 
 BY SARAH ANN HOOK. 
 
 I'll mew thee friendfhip delicate as dear, 
 Of tender violation apt to die ; 
 Reserve will wound it, and distrust destroy. 
 Deliberate on all things with thy friend. 
 
 Young. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 PRINTED FOP. THE AUTHOR, AND SOLD NO. T^, 
 
 WARWICK COURT, HOLBORN. 
 
 A. PARIS, PRINTER, ROLLS' BUILDINGS. 
 
 1802. 
 
HUMBLY DEDICATED 
 
 TO THE PUBLIC. 
 
 r T^O a liberal and generous Publi c 
 do I, with* due deference and 
 humble submission, Dedicate this little 
 domestic Tale. That it will meet with 
 favour and support, equal to its claims,, 
 from those just patronisers of unasum- 
 ing merit, I rest assured. 
 
 The full conviction that public 
 praise is impartial, and paid only to 
 those whose works are worthy of it, 
 fills me with a degree of diffidence, 
 arising from a consciousness of mv 
 weak abilities, at the same time, 
 it raises an ambitious and emulous 
 desire to become a candidate for their 
 patronage. 
 
 A3 
 
VI DEDICATION. 
 
 Although these pages may boast of 
 but few beauties, those few the Author 
 humbly claims, as she has carefully 
 avoided plagiarism. She is fully sen- 
 sible there are many faults, but she 
 relies on an indulgent public ; many of 
 her interested Readers, may disapprove 
 of the disposal of some of the cha- 
 racters -, but she assures them it could 
 not be otherwise. 
 
 This little Tale is founded on facts, 
 and many of the incidents fell within 
 the Author's knowledge ; though she 
 may have taken the liberty of altering 
 the time and place of some of them. 
 
 She is convinced, that at the mo- 
 ment of perusing the Work, the Reader 
 would lay down the last Volume with 
 more satisfaction had she placed her 
 
DEDICATION. VJL 
 
 Heroine in a happier situation ; but 
 thai would have led it wide of the 
 facts from which it is wrote -, for the 
 widowed bride is actually now in a 
 dependent state, though the unkind rela- 
 tive of her lost husband (if he yet lives) 
 is rolling in riches he cannot enjoy. 
 
 To my Friends and Patrons, I think 
 it my duty thus to account for not 
 marrying my Heroine, and taking my 
 leave of her happily. It certainly is, 
 in every Author's power, when they 
 write from idea only, to bring about 
 wonderful events, and it is most de- 
 sirable to leave the Hero or Heroine 
 in an enviable situation, after dragg- 
 ing them through perils and dangers 
 unheard of. 
 
 If to bless his Celina, the wan- 
 derer should return, the Author will 
 
Vlll DEDICATION* 
 
 regime 1 e: peri, tnd give the Public 
 a faithful account of his adventures; 
 but that is an event, however it may 
 be wished, that can scarcely be hoped 
 for, when we confider the number of 
 years he has been an alien from his na- 
 tive country, which he would not have 
 been ■ from choice, while it was the 
 residence of the object of his affec- 
 tions. 
 
 Until fortune favours my Heroine, 
 and brings back the partner of her 
 heart, and gives me an opportunity 
 of writing another Dedication, 
 
 I remain 
 The Public's moft obliged 
 
 And moft Devoted 
 Humble Servant, 
 
 THE AUTHOR. 
 
AN 
 
 ADDRESS 
 
 TO THI 
 
 READER AND CRITIC. 
 
 I 
 
 F the first page of this little Do- 
 mestic Tale should happily attract 
 the Reader's eye, should it create a de- 
 sire to turn it over, and lead him through 
 the succeeding chapters, if, when at 
 the last, he takes out his watch and 
 repents not that he has given up a 
 few hours in perusing it, the Author's 
 highest ambition will be fully grati- 
 fied. She looks not for praise — that 
 there is nothing to condemn is all she 
 dare hope. 
 
 That the Reader may not fit down 
 in high expectation of a delicious re* 
 
X TO THE READER 
 
 past, he must recollect, that it is the 
 first fruits of a female pen ; and 
 the Author humbly entreats he will 
 receive it favourably, with all its 
 faults. 
 
 The Critic she tremblingly implores 
 not to open these little Volumes, un- 
 til he has divested himself of all the 
 dreaded acrimonious particles that 
 may be worked up in his composi- 
 tion. 
 
 The only antidote (within the Au- 
 thor's knowledge) against a severe 
 criticism on the works of female 
 writers, and which she humbly re- 
 commends to all critics, is, Take 
 the whole circle of your female 
 relatives and acquaintance, and place 
 them before your mind's eye ; ex- 
 amine well their personal beauties ; 
 
AND CRITIC. XI 
 
 look tenderly at the soft languishing 
 blue eye of one — observe the quick 
 piercing black eye of a second — see 
 how the loves dance in the dimpled 
 cheek of a third — behold the sweet 
 coral lips' of a fourth — mark the 
 graceful majestic air of a fifth — look 
 also at every beauty and virtue of 
 their minds, and draw a curtain over 
 all their little foibles : take notice 
 with what filial affection one supports 
 her aged parents — forget not how 
 another, by the profits arising from 
 her amiable pen, has supported and 
 brought up a fine family ; and re- 
 collect, that many others are laud- 
 ably employing their pens for the 
 benefit of their families, and the in- 
 nocent amusement of the public. 
 
 When your mind is thus encircled 
 with the various beauties, virtues, 
 
Xll TO THE READER 
 
 goodness, and painful perseverance 
 of the amiable female, and your 
 heart warmed, softened, and filled 
 with veneration, admiration, and love 
 for the sex, then begin your criticism 
 — then read with a favourable eye and 
 kind heart, the production of a w r eak 
 female pen, and generously own with 
 the Dramatist, " We had been brutes 
 without you." 
 
 Then, by your remarks, hold every 
 beautiful passage, every delicate mo- 
 ral sentiment to the public eye ; but 
 only hint, tenderly hint at our faults. 
 Bid us no more cc lay down the pen 
 and resume the distaff/ ' 
 
 You certainly will allow the female 
 who spins .a pretty tale for an even- 
 ing's amusement, and benefit of her 
 family, to have as just a claim to 
 
ADDRESS. XU 
 
 praise as her you call a good housewife , 
 who spins yarn and knits stockings ? 
 Be grateful that through our unceasing 
 exertions the laborious student has. the 
 salutary pleasure, in his hours of re- 
 laxation, of light agreeable reading, 
 which unbends the wearied mind as 
 effectually as a sofa rests the tired 
 body. 
 
 The mind, like the stomach, if 
 overloaded with heavy food, becomes 
 debilitated, and can neither digest 
 nor retain it : one substantial meal at 
 noon, and a light delicate supper, has 
 ever been esteemed healthful for both 
 body and mind. Such light food for 
 the mind be it ours to prepare, and 
 yours to approve. 
 
 Not for myself alone do r I ask of 
 the terrific critic a kind forbearance 
 
 Vol. 
 
 T 
 
X1T. ADDRESS. 
 
 and protection, but for all female 
 authors who now are employing, or 
 may hereafter employ their pens for 
 public favour. I trust my supplica- 
 tions will be heard, and in full hope 
 that they will be granted, 
 
 I remain 
 The Reader and Critic's 
 
 Devoted Humble Servant, 
 
 THE AUTHOR- 
 
LIST 
 
 OF 
 
 SUBSCRIBERS NAMES. 
 
 IVyTISS Ai nfworth, Bolton le Moor, Lancaftm* 
 
 ^ Mils Atkinfon, Furnefs Abbey, ditto 
 
 Rev. John Atkinfon, Over Kellet, ditto 
 
 Mr. Allfop, Ordfel Hall, ditto 
 
 Mr. Abbotfon, Bolton, Weftmorland 
 
 Mr. John Allfop, Nuttal, Lancafter 
 
 Mr. # # # # * *^ 15 copies 
 
 Mrs. Bifhop, Yealand, Lancafter 
 
 Mifs. Biihop, ditto, ditto 
 
 Mrs. Befl, Wimpole Street, London, Q, copies 
 
 Mifs Bailiff, Lancafter 
 
 Mifs Ball, Dolphin, ditto 
 
 Mifs Burrows, Arnitead Tower, ditto 
 
 a2 
 
XVI SUBSCRIBERS. 
 
 Mifs Blanchard, Grimfongh, Laneafter 
 
 Mrs. Bochin, ditto 
 
 Mrs. J. Batefon, Wray, ditto 
 
 Miss E. Berry, Brown Hill, ditto 
 
 Rev. Dr. Bathurft 
 
 Thomas Bell, Efq. Wim pole-it feet, London 
 
 Wm. Bifhop, Efq. Leighton Hall,, Laneafter 
 
 John Bifhop, Efq. ditto,, ditto 
 
 Giles Batefon, Efq. Park Houfs, ditto 
 
 Mr. Bainfbridge, Corforth, ditto 
 
 Captain Dade Seaty, Bombay 
 
 Mr. Blakeloek, London 
 
 Captain Brownfon, Earl EflTox 
 
 Mr. Bradley , Sline, Lancafhire 
 
 Mr. Blanchard, Prefton, Laneafter 
 
 Mr. Birdfworth, dito, ditto 
 %l r # # # # 
 
 Mrs. Campbell, Laneafter 
 
 Mifs Carr, Prefton, ditto 
 
 Mifs A. Chew, Billington, ditto 
 
 Mr. Carruthers, ditto 
 
 Mr. Clay, Cambridge 
 
 Mr. J. Cram, Worcefterfhire 
 
 Mr. Cummings, Mofide, Lancaster 
 
 Mr. Thomas Cook, Godaiming, Siurej 
 
SUBSCRIBERS. Xvil 
 
 Mrs. Dent, 3 copies 
 
 Mrs. Dixon, Hermitage, Yor* 
 
 Mifs Dixon, ditto, ditto 
 
 John Dent, Efq. M. P. 3 copies 
 
 Tho. Dent, Eiq. Kirby Lonfdale, Lancafter 
 
 John Dent, Efq. Stake Villa, Staffordlhire 
 
 Mr. T. Daniel, Hanley, ditto 
 
 Mr. William Dunn, Greenwich, Kent 
 
 Mr. H. Duke, Kirby-ftreet, Hatton Garde* 
 
 Mr. James Delaymar, Romford, Eflex 
 
 Mr. Ederfon, Romford, Eflex 
 
 Mr. Flanagan, P.M. ]6fch dragoons 
 Mrs. Frances, Bath 
 
 French, Efq. Lancafter 
 
 Mr. James Forlhaw, Prefton, Lancafter 
 Mr. Forfhaw, ditto, ditto 
 
 Mrs. Gibfon, Quermore Park, Lancafter,, 2 copies 
 
 Mrs. Griffin, Stone, Staffordfhire 
 
 Mifs Gibfon, Hepping Hall, Lancafter 
 
 Mrs. Gathorne, Kirby Lonfdale, ditto 
 
 Mrs. Gathorn, Whaton, ditto 
 
 Charles Gibfon, Efq. Quermore Park, ditto, 
 
 2 copies 
 Mr. Gibfon, Kellet, ditto 
 Mr. J. Groft, Prefton, ditto, 
 a 3 
 
er 
 
 xviii SUBSCRIBERS. 
 
 Mr. Gorft, ditto, ditto 
 Mr. Grape, ditto, ditto 
 Mr. Gillman, Barbican, London 
 Mr. Thomas Gale, Clifford's Inn 
 Mrs- Heath, Henley, Stafford (hi re 
 Mrs. Hornby, Winnicb, Lancafter 
 Mrs. Hilbert, St. John Street, Manchefh 
 Mifs Hawthornthwaite, Lower-Lee, Lancafler 
 ' Mifs SR Harrop, Sorfford, Manchefter 
 Rev. William Heath, M.A. F. S. A. Vicar of 
 
 Inkburgh, Worcester. 
 Rev. Mr. Hargreaves, Burnly 
 J. Heath, M. D. Norfolk 
 Rev. Job Hall 
 Mr. Robert Hall 
 
 Rev. Richard Harabin, Gotten, Lancaster 
 Robert Hefluth, Efq. 
 William Heft, Efq. Wharton 
 Mr. R. Hill, Green Hill, Staffordshire 
 Mr. G. Harrifon, Uiverfton 
 Mr. Haufman, Lancafter 
 Mr. E. Hill, Grofvenor Place, London 
 Mr'. Highmore, New Inn, ditto, 6 copies 
 Mr. Ha,rrifon, Prefton 
 
 Mifs Jenkinfon, Yealand, Lancafter 
 Mifs Johnfon, Bolton le Sands, ditto 
 Mifs. Jones, Tirltanerch, Monmouth 
 
SUBSCRIBERS. XIX 
 
 Mr. C. Johnfon, Manchefter 
 
 Mr. W. Jackfon, Silverdale, Lancafter 
 
 .Mifs. Kirkham, Sherton, Lancafter 
 Mifs Knott 
 
 Mr. J. Keeling, Harley, Stafrordftiire 
 Mr. Kilihevv,. Lancafter 
 
 Mrs. J. Leigh, Liverpool 
 
 Mrs. Lawfon, Bolton le Sands, Lancafter 
 
 Rev. Anthony Lifter, Horby Caftle, ditto 
 
 Mr. William Leach, Trinadad 
 
 Mr. H. Langhorn, Barbican, London 
 
 Mrs. E. Morris, Mitcham 
 
 Mrs. Murray, Wray, Lancafter 
 
 Rev. J. March, Robert Hall, ditto 
 
 John Marfden, Efa^ Hornby Caftle, ditto 
 
 Mr. J. Mafon, Bovv-ftreet, London 
 
 Mr. Macnamara 
 
 Mrs. Norris, Crefcent, Manchefter, 2 copies 
 
 Mifs Norris, ditto, ditto 
 
 Mifs. M. Norris, ditto, ditto 
 
 Mrs. Norris, Yealand, Lancafter 
 
 Mrs. North, Liverpool 
 
 Thomas North, Efq. Barton, Weftmoreland 
 
 William North, Efq. Lancafter 
 
xx SUBSCRIBERS, 
 
 Mrs. Phillips, TJalenhurft, Lancafter 
 
 Mrs. Parke, Hornby Hall, ditto 
 
 Mrs. Palmer, Romford, Effex . 
 
 Mrs. Paul, 'Mile-end Road, ditto 
 
 Mifs Padman, Hampftead 
 
 Mifs Poftiethwait,. Dalton, Lancafter 
 
 Rev. Mr. Pracker, Cornsfield, ditto 
 
 Timothy Parker, Efq. Hornby Hall, ditto 
 
 Mr. William Phillips, Manchefter 
 
 Mr. Patrick, Stone, Staffordfhire 
 
 Mr. Parking, Vauxhall 
 
 Mr. Palmer, Romford, EfTex 
 
 Mr. R. Palmer, Sutton-ftreet, London 
 
 Mr. Peal, Cornforth, Lancafter 
 
 Mr. A . Paris, Grenada 
 
 Mrs Remington, Milling, Lancafter 
 
 Mrs. Rippin? Lancafter 
 
 Mrs. Ridgway 
 
 Mifs Roberts, Cambridge 
 
 Mifs. E. Roberts, ditto 
 
 Mifs. Rigg, Cartmeal, Lancafter 
 
 Rev. Thomas Raws, Burnby, ditto 
 
 Thomas Rawlinfon, Efq. ditto, 3 copies 
 
 Mr. Robinfon, ditto 
 
 Mr. J, Ridgway 
 
SUBSCRIBERS XXI 
 
 Mrs. Spalton, Manchefter 
 
 Mrs. Sunderland, Longland, Lancafter 
 
 Mrs. Shorthofe, Henley, Staffordshire 
 
 Mils Shelley, Oulton Hall, Lancafter 
 
 Mifs Scholes, High Bank, Manchefter 
 
 Mifs Sidden, Ordfel Hill, Manchefter 
 
 Mifs Simpfon, Stone, Staffordshire 
 
 Mifs Sidgreave, Grimfough, Lancafter 
 
 Mifs Simpfon, Prefton, ditto 
 
 James Sawrey, Efq. Hornby, ditto 
 
 Mr. Sandal, Wyteh-itreet, ditto 
 
 Mr. Stent 
 
 Mr. Thomas Shorthofe, Henley, Stafford/hire, 
 
 % copies 
 Mr. R. Stevenfon, Cobridge Hall, ditto 
 Mr. Shorthofe, jan. Henley, ditto 
 Mr. Swainfoo, Prefton, Lancafhire 
 Mr. Stockdale, ditto, ditto 
 Mr. Startifaut, ditto, ditto 
 
 Mrs. Thornton, Berwick, Landafhire 
 Mifs Tow nl ey, ditto 
 
 Rev. Mr. Taylor, Bolton le Sands, ditto 
 Gordon Turnbull, Efq, Grenada 
 Mr. Tateham, Lancafter 
 
 Mrs. Vernen, Hilderfton Hall, Staffordshire 
 Mrs. Vincent 
 
XXU SUBSCRIBERS, 
 
 Hon. Mrs. Watfon 
 
 Lady Wright, Bath 
 
 Mrs. William, Manchefter 
 
 Mrs. Wilfon, Dellam Tower 
 
 Mifs Wilfon, ditto, ditto 
 
 Mifs Wafhington, Chefter 
 
 Mifs M. Warfwick, Lancafter 
 
 Mrs. Watfon, Colly arth 
 
 Sir. James Wright, Bart. Bath 
 
 George Wright, Efq. ditto 
 
 Rev. Thomas Warfwick, Lancafter 
 
 Rev. Michael Wharton, Yealand, ditto 
 
 Rev. Thomas Wafhington, Wharton, 2 copies 
 
 Robert White, Efq. Cambridge 
 
 George Wright, Efq. Hornby Caille 
 
 W. B. Whalley, Efq. Hornby 
 
 Mr. John Winftanley 
 
 Mr. Willin, Lancafter 
 
 Mr. Wrankmore 
 
 Mr. J. Wiglefworth, Grey's Inn, London 
 
 Mr. Wigley, Warwick-court, ditto 
 
 Mr. Whingiield, Holborn, ditto 
 
 Dr. Wild, Romford, EfTex 
 
 Mr. Charles Whitehead, Henley, StarTordfhire 
 
 Mr. Woodhoufe, Bath 
 
 Mr. Willoughby 
 
 Mrs. Yeats, Manchester. 
 
C E L I N A, &c 
 
 That like tne circle bounding earth and ikies, 
 
 Alarms from far, yet as I follow flies j 
 
 My fortune leads to traverfe realms alone, 
 
 And find no fport of all this world my own. Goldsmith. 
 
 CHAP. I. 
 
 HPHE fun rofe with uncommon fplendour, 
 ■*• but was fucceeded by a thick impenetra- 
 ble mift, which threw a dufky yellow over 
 every furrounding object. " This, my dear 
 Celina," faid Mary fat the fame time prefung 
 her hand which fhe held between her'sj, " this 
 difmal morning is, I fear, a type of our lives. 
 Our years of infancy and childhood have 
 been like the early part of this morning, bright 
 and unclouded, and like it, our maturer 
 years are fhaded with profpects dark and 
 gloomy ! this reparation, my dear Celina, is 
 the firft trouble my heart ever knew, and the 
 cruel forebodings of my mind tells me, it 
 will be fucceeded by many more." 
 
 il My dear prophetic friend," cried Celina, 
 (at the fame time returning the tender pref- 
 
 Vol. LB 
 
fure, as their hands ftill remained inclofed in 
 each others,) " you muil endeavour to look 
 on the bright fide of all things. I truft, 
 and hope, that your abfence will be ihorter 
 than we have reafon at this time to think it 
 will. 
 
 • If my dear Father could have been pre- 
 vailed upon to part with his idolized child, 
 I would have been the companion of your 
 journey : but my weak arguments failed ; 
 my tears, which involuntarily came to my 
 aid, when I was entreating him to let me 
 accompany you, had no effect. He, with a 
 terrific look, reproached me with entertain- 
 ing too great an attachment for my dear 
 Mary." After two or three hafly ftrides 
 acrofs the room, his countenance lbmewhat 
 relaxed; he relumed : " I fear, Celina, the 
 filial affection which is due to me, is much 
 weakened by this romantic friendfhip between 
 you and Mary ; befides, it is reprehenlible 
 in the extreme for a child to admit any at- 
 tachment to take place in her breaft, that 
 may interfere with, or caufe her to neglect, 
 that duty which is due to her parent. You, 
 my dear child, have ne parent or friend on 
 earth but me, that you have any claim on ; 
 we are, or mould be, all the world to each 
 other. Nor have I any but you to partake 
 : of my joys, or footh my forrows ! none but 
 
THE WIDOWED BRIDE. 3 
 
 my Celina to cheer the gloomy evening of 
 my declining years, 
 
 " Can you, my love, have a wHh to leave 
 your father, who is already reduced by grief 
 to the imbecility of old age? By a grief, 
 ftrengthened by time, and daily renewed by 
 the growing beauties of your perfon, and the 
 opening virtues of your mind ; you are at 
 once food for, and confokition to, my for- 
 rows! As I behold the only pledge of our 
 love grow up the very counterpart of her 
 dear fainted mother, who has long fi nee fled 
 to her native heaven !" He could fay no more ! 
 my dear Mary, tears ftopped his utterance. 
 
 Nor need I tell you what I fuffered 
 during this pathetic expoftulation. My 
 Friend, and her expected long abfence, fo 
 dreaded, were loft — forgot — buried in the 
 greater affliction of feeing my dear Father un- 
 happy ; and what was ftill more heart piercing, 
 rendered unhappy by me. It was too much, 
 I could not bear the idea of being fufpected 
 neglectful of my duty to the belt of fathers, 
 and of men. 
 
 " I fell on my knees and implored his for- 
 givennefs, alluring him, I felt it was impof- 
 fible for me to know any degree of felicity if 
 he was difpleafed, or unhappy 1 He railed, 
 and tenderly embracing me, and allured me 
 b2 
 
4 Celina; or, 
 
 of his pardon. I returned much happier to 
 my chamber than I had for many nights be- 
 fore; but this mornirig has brought its trou- 
 bles with it; troubles which we both mull con- 
 ceal for our dear parent's fake. — My father 
 will fufpedi; my duty and affection are not en- 
 tirely hi?. — Your's will be doubly afflicted by 
 feeing you depart reluctantly and depreffed. " 
 Thus were the afflicted friends engaged when 
 the chaife drove up to the door which was to 
 convey Mary from her Celina — from her pa- 
 rents — and from her native country. The 
 found of the wheels was as a paffmg bell to 
 the ears and hearts of the two friends ; their 
 heads reclined on each others moulder; their 
 arms tenderly embracing, while their bofoms 
 became the recipient of tears of genuine for- 
 row. The farewell was tender and affecting 
 on all fides! Celina attended her friend to the 
 chaife, and bid her adieu ! while the tear of 
 friendfhip rolled down her cheek, her eye 
 followed the carriage till the winding of the 
 ftreet hid it from her view. She then flew to 
 the chamber of her departed friend, and there 
 relieved her fwelling heart by ihedding a flood 
 of tears! and on her knees, offered up a fer- 
 vent ejaculation for Mary's fafety. Altho T 
 Celina knew it was neceffary for Mary's future 
 good that fhe fhould leave her paternal roof, 
 yet, in her prayers, (he could not exclude the 
 
THE WIDOWED ERIDE. 5 
 
 felfiih wifh that fpmething might happen to 
 accelerate her return. When the nrfterfufions 
 of her grief, on parting with fo dear a friend, 
 had fubfided, fhe went down to the parlour, 
 where fhe found Mr. and Mrs. Guraville tole- 
 rably compofed, ihe, after fitting a fhort time 
 chatting of the adventurous Mary, took her 
 leave in an affectionate manner, promifmg to 
 vifit often, and declaring (lie mould wait with- 
 the utmoft impatience for a letter, by which 
 fhe hoped to be informed of her pleafant. 
 journey, and warm reception from the fiiends 
 ihe was going to vifit. 
 
 B 3 
 
celina; or, 
 
 ** Along the cool fequeftred vale of Life, 
 
 He kept the noifelefs tenor of his way." Gray, 
 
 CHAP. II. 
 
 MR. Guraville was a gentleman poffefTed 
 of a large independent fortune, married 
 early in life to a lady naturally of an amiable 
 difpofition, but like many other daughters of 
 mifguided parents, her temper was fubverted 
 by over indulgence. In the nurfery ilie was 
 never contradicted, let her wayward fancy 
 lead her to afk for what it might; when un- 
 der the tuition of a governefs, fhe ruled, rather, 
 than was ruled ; when at a maturer age, fhe 
 was initiated in the punctilios of receiving 
 and making vifits, and was introduced to 
 the great world, fhe grew extravagant, 
 haughty, and impetuous; every wim muft be 
 gratified as foon as formed. It was not in 
 Mr. Guraville's power to check her expenfive 
 turn, naturally of a paffive difpofition, and 
 feeling the tendered affection for Mrs. Gura- 
 ville, he, till it was too late, was blinded by 
 blandifhments to which fhe would fometimes 
 ftoop, her faults appeared merits, or, at worft, 
 were only inattentions; nor would it have 
 
THE WIDOWED BRIDE. 7 
 
 teen poflible for any one perfon to have con- 
 vinced him of his weaknefs and folly. 
 
 Till his fteward's repeated declarations, that 
 his income was by no means adequate to the 
 expences of his family, awakened thefe fears 
 which were fome years before excited by the 
 delicate cautions of fome friends tenderly fo- 
 licitous for his happinefs, who, foon after his 
 marriage, difcovered that Mrs. Guraville's pre- 
 valent paflion was admiration — adulation — 
 pomp — mew — and extravagance, which they 
 forefaw was inimical to his domeftic peace, 
 and pecuniary concerns. He treated their 
 cautions as needless, and love, blinded love! 
 kid dormant thofe fears that his friends, with 
 a view to his good, had in fome degree 
 awakened. 
 
 The good fleward, with tears in his eyes, en- 
 treated him in the moll; tender and refpectful 
 manner to project fome method of retrenching 
 the family expences, though he knew it would 
 be a difficult and un pleating ta/k for his dear 
 m after to perform ; but fomething mult be 
 done; and who dare hint to his lady the ftate 
 of their affairs? who carry the dreadful news! 
 that me mult be deprived of many of thofe 
 fuperfluous and numerous luxuries fhe had 
 for fo long a time enjoyed ! 
 
 Even Mr. Guraville himfelf trembled at the 
 idea of being the unwelcome meffenger of 
 fuch cruel tidings. 
 
8 celina; or, 
 
 At length, roufed in fome degree from the 
 apathy he had for years indulged, he fixed 
 an early day for enquiring into the ftate of 
 his affairs, and denied Woodman to prepare 
 his accounts* 
 
 A few hours were fufficient for this good 
 man to produce them; he was fcrupulaufly 
 exact in his accounts; fo confcientioufly juil 
 in all his tranfaclions, that his receipts and 
 difemburfements were ever ready for infpec- 
 tion. The day arrived, and Mr. Guraville 
 would gladly have deferred the unpleafmg 
 hufmefs, but Woodman, anxious to have it 
 fettled, and fome plan of ceconomy finally 
 fixed on, carried his accounts into the ftiidy 
 previous to Mr. Guraville's hour of rifing. 
 On entering the fludy his heart funk at the- 
 fight of thofe papers he was about to infpecr, 
 and his folly flood glaringly before him. He 
 inveighed bitterly againfl himfelf for his im- 
 prudent and miftaken indulgence, for blindly 
 adhering to all his Myra's extravagance, and 
 now, not only his wife, but his dear, his be- 
 loved children, would feel the fatal effects of 
 his weaknefs, " they, fVeet innocents, they 
 are implicated in my ruin!" 
 
 Thus did he give eafe to an almofl hurfting 
 heart. In fuch like felf reproaches and bitter 
 reflections did he pafs the time, till the en- 
 trance of the fleward put an end to the pain-* 
 ful foliloquy; after a minute examination of 
 
THE WIDOWED BRIDE. 9 
 
 ail the accounts, he felt fatisfied with the 
 clearness and exactnefs of them, and was well 
 convinced of the honour and integrity of his 
 lie ward. 
 
 Mr. Guraville was inexpreffihly fhocked 
 when he faw, by the receipts, the tight rein 
 that had been kept over his tenants; none 
 had, for fome years paft, been iuffered to re- 
 main one quarter in arrears; and a bluih 
 dyed his cheek when the thought came acrofs 
 his mind, that he was fome years back in his 
 payment with his tradefmen. 
 
 After a long conference with Woodman, it 
 was judged neceffary and expedient to fell a 
 large eftate he had in Wiltfhire, and with the 
 money arifmg from the fale to pay all the juft 
 demands of his creditors. Lutherdale Hall, 
 the eftate on which he refided, was entailed on 
 his fon, the felling of that was out of the 
 queftion, tho' it was his wifh, in preference 
 to Blair Abby, as it was the fmalleft. 
 
 After coming to this refolution, he felt his 
 mind moje at eafe; he gave Woodman orders 
 to make the neceffary preparations for the fale ; 
 alfo, to inform his creditors, that their de- 
 mands would be ihortly fatisfied. He was no 
 fooner left alone, than the horrors of his fix- 
 ation ftruck him with full force ! the greater! 
 trial was yet to come. — A talk he felt him- 
 felf unequal to. 
 
10 celina; or, 
 
 Unfortunately Mr. Guraville was a man of 
 character ; a. falfe fear of difpleafmg made him 
 at all times diffident in fupporting his opinion, 
 both in public parties, and domeftie alterca- 
 tion. A dehre of pleating all is a mark of 
 weaknefs and mutability in? the belt difpon- 
 tion, tho' it generally procures its poileffor 
 the epithet of a good-natured man, and it 
 may be efteemed a delicate and amiable weak- 
 nefs, yet it mould in fome degree be over- 
 come, and a fteadinefs of conduct take place, 
 to form a manly ftrength of character. 
 
 Mr. Guraville knew and felt that his Myra 
 had full poueffion of his heart; — that he had 
 no will but hers, — that his arguments had no 
 weight when oppofed to her inclination ; he 
 knew alfo, that the lead hint at the necefnty 
 of contracting her expences, and giving up a 
 great pait of the pomp and fplendour me had 
 been fo long accuilomed to move in, would 
 caufe a tumult in her breaft almofl infup- 
 portable. It would be a blow at the leading 
 palTion of her foul. He feared left it ihoulrf 
 raife a diilraclion in her mind, and that lhe 
 would pour a torrent of invectives on his de- 
 voted head. It was fome time before he 
 could come* to any refolution; at laft, he 
 judged it bed to communicate the fad tidings 
 by letter. He was well aware of his own in- 
 ftability, and how foon all his refolves would- 
 
THE WIDOWED BRIDE. 11 
 
 raniih at her dhTenting voice — a look of dif- 
 content would alarm him — a few precious 
 drops from her fafcinating eyes would diifolve 
 liim at once to a tender compliance to her 
 will ; by letter only could he converfe with 
 her on this difagreeable fubjeft — by letter he 
 could reafon, nay, even infill: on a compli- 
 ance with her meafures, but dared not to 
 venture on a peribnal difcuffion of the 
 fubjecl. 
 
 He fat down, wrote, then blotted it out; 
 wrote again; it would not do. The perturba- 
 tion of his mind was too great; his foul too 
 much opprelfed to commit to paper the ft ate 
 of his affairs — the feelings of his heart, and 
 the ileps he was about to take, in fuch form 
 as would be bell to meet the eye, and leafi 
 hurt the feelings, or rather pride, of the 
 woman his heart doated on. 
 
 He deferred it till the next day, and took 
 a walk in the new plantation he was rearing 
 till the hour of dinner, to compofe his mind, 
 leaft the conflict in-his breaft mould be vifible 
 in his countenance. 
 
 Had he met none but his Myra at table the 
 precaution had been needlefs, as me was at 
 all times too much taken up in contemplating 
 her own beauties ever to obferve the marks of 
 joy or for row in her hulband. 
 
 At dinner, Mr. Guraville appeared with all 
 the cheerfulnefs it was in his power to affurae, 
 
12 celina; or, 
 
 while his heart felt the mod poignant diftrefs. 
 After the ceremony of taking their feats at 
 table, Mr. Guraville found himfelf feated 
 oppofite to all his heart held dear; his recent 
 ills were nearly forgotten. 
 
 Mrs. Guraville was in high good humour, 
 which added luftre to her fine eyes, and illu- 
 mined her countenance, while a beautiful 
 glow of health tinged her lovely cheek; one 
 dimple near her mouth, in which the loves 
 played whenever fhe fmiled, which me never 
 failed to do in the moll fafcinating manner on 
 all around when feated at the head of a fplen- 
 did table, furrounded by obfequious flatterers 
 of both fexes. 
 
 Mr. Guraville felt fome degree of happinefs 
 at feeing his Myra fo completely fo; it was 
 enough for him that fhe was happy, no mat- 
 ter from whence it flowed. 
 
 Yet he with difficulty fuppreffed the rifing 
 figh, when the painful thought obtruded on 
 his mind, that that pleafant livelinefs — that 
 enchanting gaiety of manners — that happinefs 
 would be damped — would foon and inevitably 
 receive a fhock — it was dreadful to think on, 
 and that fhock muft come from him ! Cruel 
 talk ! how mould he begin ? In what terms 
 couch the unpleafant tale? or convey to her 
 eye and ear that which muft give a mortal 
 ftab to her pride, and moft likely her peace ! 
 A woman of ftrong paflions, and governed 
 
THE WIDOWED BRIDE. 13 
 
 only by thole pafiions, it will be railing a 
 whirlwind in her bofom, which may carry 
 her on to a rage aim oft bordering- on mad- 
 nefs. Was ihe poii'elied of the leaft lhare of 
 fortitude — could fhe bear the ills of life with 
 any degree of temper — ills brought on by 
 her own extravagance and love of pleafure, 
 all might yet be well. 
 
 While thefe reflections were pafling in 
 his mind, he betrayed an abfence to the 
 company not very pleafing in the mailer of 
 the table. Luckily the party being fmall, 
 and moftly gentlemen, their attentions were 
 entirely engaged by the fafhionable fmall 
 talk which fell from the pretty liiping tongue 
 of the lady of the houfe, who was looked 
 up to as an oracle by all, in particular by 
 Mr. Wingrove, a young man of about five- 
 arid-twenty, only fon of a man of large 
 fortune, refident about fix miles from Lu- 
 therdale Hall. 
 
 Mr-' Wingrove had paffed the greateft 
 part of ids time in the kennel and liable— 
 the hours of improvement flew neglected and 
 unregarded; he had never made his bow 
 but twice a year at the affize bail, till he be- 
 came the favourite of Mrs. Guravilie, which 
 was at the laftaffize ball. He being the fin eft 
 looking young man in the room, lhe gave 
 him her hand for the night 
 
 Vol. I. C 
 
16 celina; or, 
 
 of reafon, or reflected one moment on the 
 
 truth or probability of fuch a report. 
 
 Lady Foible, he would fay, has difcre- 
 tionary powers, and I truft ihe will never 
 act againft the peace of our domeftic ftate — 
 nor would it lefien in the imalleft degree 
 her eftimation in the great world in which 
 flie moved— the little, but more confiieni'was 
 world, was too uijigiirjiccntt to render their 
 opinions of the leaft confequence ; her only 
 fear was, that it fhould reach the ears of a 
 prijdiih maiden aunt, who had made a Will 
 in her favour; hut Wwlti certainly crale her 
 name, fhould the leaft fufpicion of an im- 
 propriety of conducl in her niece be awak- 
 ened in her mind. The knowledge of fo 
 itrange and faftidious a humour in this 
 much dreaded maiden aunt, had a powerful 
 effect on his Lordihip, and obliged him 
 tacitly to fubm it to many little gallantries, 
 on the part of his lady, which he fecretly 
 wifhed to reprove. Often did the buz 
 of fcandal reach his ear, which he filenccd 
 by contemptuous difbelief. So pozve?fal 
 and irrcjiftible a fway did 4he lore of money 
 hold over the heart of this pufillanimous 
 wretch ! 
 
 If the poor fhivering mortal, who is fuf- 
 fering under the dreadful prefiure of want 
 and mifery, mould by any illegal means 
 make himielf matter of another's property, 
 
THE WIDOWED BRIDE. 17 
 
 lie is conden Criminal, and doomed 
 
 to-.: th! 
 
 The unprot .nude, on whofe in feu- 
 
 tine years fortune fmiled, who. in the dread- 
 fill earn : it her fole dependance — 
 lier tl d only proteclor ! and by an in - 
 fidioiLS friend is led on imperceptibly to the 
 ot vie e, there left friendtefs and alone ! 
 thus defolate — io alternative hut the paths 
 before her to gain fubfjftence for the prefent 
 hour, and at which her foul recoils with 
 horror and difgiif); ! 
 
 She, the- unfortunate. vi6fchaa of treachery 
 and feit- :■: :\ is fpurned from fo- 
 
 c y, and loaded with ignominy ! delpifed 
 re fortunate, tho! perhaps not: 
 u ore innately virtuous ofherfex, and pitied 
 only by the men ! 
 
 Yet t h i s venal Lord , a n d more vi t iated Lady , 
 are held in high efteem by the great world. . 
 St id this honourable fenator — this hireling, 
 who avows no principle:; in polities but facii 
 as fall from, the mouth of the miniftcr, who 
 has fold his conference for a fmecure, and 
 fruits his eyes to the gallantries of his wife, 
 with a view to enlarging his fortune-Ms re- 
 ceived in the fnftciia (hion — islooked 
 
 up to as a father and protector of that body 
 of people he repr* tnd as a joint u . 
 
 tor of our laws ; and guardian of ourlilx i 
 C3 
 
16 celina; or, 
 
 of reafon, or reflected one moment on the 
 
 truth or probability of fuch a report. 
 
 Lady Foible, he would fay, has discre- 
 tionary powers, and I truft ilie will never 
 act againft the peace of our domeftic fiate — 
 nor would it leffen in tlie imalleft degree 
 her eftimation in the great world in which 
 flie moved-— the little, but more eonfcientioUs 
 world, was too \nfignifieant to render their 
 opinions of the leaft confequence ; her only 
 fear was, that it fhould reach the ears of a 
 prudilh maiden aunt, who had made a will 
 m her favour; !>«i would ceitsisiy erafe her 
 name, fhould the leaft fufpicion of an im- 
 propriety of conduct in her niece be awak- 
 ened in her mind, The knowledge of fo 
 ftrange and faftidious a humour in this 
 much dreaded maiden aunt, had a powerful 
 effect on his Lord Hi I p, and obliged him 
 tacitly to fubm it to many little gallantries, 
 on the part of his lady, which he fecretly 
 wifhed to reprove. Often did the buz 
 of fcandal reach his ear, which he filenced 
 by contemptuous difbelief. So powerful 
 and irrefijiible a fway did 4 he lure of money 
 hold over the heart of this pujUlainmous 
 wretch ! 
 
 If the poor fhivering mortal, who is fuf- 
 fering under the dreadful prefilire of want 
 and mifery, fhould by any illegal means 
 make himfelf matter of another's property, 
 
THE WIDOWED BRIDE. 3? 
 
 he is condemned as Criminal, and doomed 
 to an igi tth! 
 
 r ] ne uii] rol female, on whofe infan- 
 
 tine years tort un< fmiled, who, in the dread- 
 ful car » igeoi w ir, loft her fole-dependaiuee — 
 her d d only protector! and by an in- 
 
 fid ions friend is led on imperceptibly to the 
 ot vice, there left friendlefs and alone ! 
 thus defolate — 10 alternative but the paths 
 before her to gain fubfjftence for the prefent: 
 hour, and at which her foul recoils with 
 horror and di%uf$ ! 
 
 She, the unfortunate .vi&hn of treachery 
 
 and feif- :■; • is fpurned from fo~ 
 
 c y, and loaded .with' ignominy ! defpifed 
 
 he more fortunate, tho! perhaps not: 
 
 innately virtuous ofherfex, and pitied 
 
 only by the men ! 
 
 Yet tli:s venal Lord, and more vitiated Lady, 
 are held in high efteem by the great world. . 
 Stiil this honourable fenator — this hireling, 
 who avows no principles in politics but fueli 
 as fall from, the mouth of the miniftcr, who 
 has- fold his confcier.ee for a fmecure, and 
 ihut^ his eyes to Llarntries of his wife, 
 
 with a view to enlarging his fortunes-is re- 
 ceived in the firffc circles of ikfliion — isloofced 
 up to as a father and protector of that body 
 of people lie reprc and as a joint u . 
 
 tor of our laws, and guardian of ourlilx . 
 C 3 
 
18 celtna; or, 
 
 Such then, Supreme Dilpofer of Events, 
 is thy permiffion. The neceilitous fmner is 
 puniihed to the end of his being, while the 
 tided villain ftruts and balks in thefunihine 
 of popularity, and riots in luxury, acquired 
 by his mean fervility, and proilitution of 
 his principles. Nor is his hand always ft aid 
 from deeper crimes, while his power can 
 itrangle juftice. 
 
 " A letter from my mailer, Madam," faid 
 the valet, as he delivered it." From your 
 Matter, Weldon 1 What can he write about?" 
 
 tl I had orders to wait for an anfwer, 
 Madam." "I {hall read it prefently, and 
 fend an anfwer by Williams." 
 
 When the matter in debate was fmiihedj 
 turban tried on — it was becoming ; the fea- 
 thers played delightfully. Full of the idea 
 how much it would be admired, ihe turned 
 carelefsly towards the letter, which had 
 been nearly forgotten hi the arduous and 
 more eifential bufmefs of the toilette, Mrs. 
 Guraville opened, and read as follows : 
 
 NEVER till this moment did I feel the 
 leaft reluctance to addrels you. Every 
 hour of my life that has been fpent with, 
 or in any employment for you, have ap- 
 peared to me the moil precious and de- 
 lightful: the fubject 021 which I am under 
 
THE W I DO"W EI) BRIDE, 19 
 
 the neceffity of addreflmg you, renders the 
 taik painful. Dreadful thought! that my 
 pen is doomed to mark and convey ftich 
 truths, as will both affect and iliock you in 
 the extreme; but I hope the heady firmnefs 
 that has hitherto marked your eliaracler will 
 not forfake you; you lave ever evinced a 
 wonderful ftrength of mind and ftrrhhefs of 
 refolution, and on many trying and tender 
 occurrences, you have fo difguifetl your 
 feelings, that the moil difecming eye could 
 not obferve your fenfibiiity airecred. 
 
 Now, my deareft Myra, is the hour of trial ; 
 now is the time that that ftrength of mind, 
 and firmhefs of refolution mull be expected. 
 Summon all the heroifm you are miftrefs of 
 to your aid, bear up again il the coming ilorm 
 with fortitude and resignation, 
 
 If we take a juil retrofpection of our paft 
 lives we cannot accirfe fortune — the fault is 
 in ourfelves; we knew our income, and that 
 fhould have bounded our expences. It is 
 paft — and all in our power now is to retrench 
 in our future expenditure. Our eftate at Blair 
 Abbey muft be fold to pay our too long ne- 
 glected creditors, and endeavour to recom- 
 pence the injury done our dear children by 
 an unremitted attention to their education. 
 
 It is our duty now to contract their idea 
 of extravagance, and teach them humility 
 and oeconomy, by praciifmg it ourfelves ! 
 
20 celixa; or, 
 
 I fear we fhail have little left from the fale 
 of our eft ate, when every bill is paid. 
 
 This eitate of Lutherdale our dear hoy 
 may claim when of age. It is necefiary 
 therefore for us, to lay down a plan for cur 
 future lives, that we may have fome little 
 independence for our fupport, when he (hall 
 demand this of us. 
 
 Alas! our dear girls! but no more. Read 
 this over, and endeavour to calm the per- 
 turbation it muft caufe in your mind: if in 
 a few hours you feel enough at eafe to talk 
 and confult with me over' the wreck of our 
 fortune, I wiii. attend you in your dreffmg 
 room, 
 
 I in all not pref ume to break in upon your, 
 privacy, but ihall anxiouily wait the coming 
 of your mandate. 
 
 Your afTi ^ionate Hufband, 
 
 HENRY GURAVILLE." 
 
 Thefe tender preparatory lines alarmed 
 Mrs. Guraville — her heart throbbed — a pain- 
 ful tremour pervaded every nerve- — her eyes 
 had fcarcely run over the contents, ere each 
 faculty feemed fufpended; her hands , 
 involuntarily on her lap, and me was loll to. 
 herfelf for fome moments. 
 
 Williams did not diilincily hear the mef- 
 fage when Wei don delivered the letter, and 
 feeing her lady in a lifeleis Hate, judged it 
 
THE WIDOWED ERIDE. 21 
 
 was ocoafioned by an unpleafant letter from 
 fome favoured gallant, and hoping to profit 
 by the difcoveiy; her firft care was to perufe 
 
 the paper that bad fallen from her niift refs's 
 hand. How great was her chagrin and dis- 
 appointment to. find that the canfe of her 
 fudden illneft was a derangement in their 
 pecuniary affairs. A dee]) and piercing groan 
 from her lady clitt uv bed this paragon of vir- 
 tue and humanity, from her leifiili reverie. 
 Refpiration returning, a copious ihower of 
 tears came to her relief. As foon as the Abi- 
 gail faw that her lady had recovered her 
 fenfes of hearing and feeing, fhe in a moil 
 obfequious manner enquired what was the 
 matter with her dear lady. That nafty, cruel 
 letter, mult contain horrid news. What 
 moniler could write it to give pain to fo 
 fweet a lady? how cruel! Here the loqua 
 cious Abigail was interrupted by — Cruel in- 
 deed Williams. Again fome hyfterical fymp- 
 toms appeared, and Williams had recourfe 
 to the hartmorn. After repeated ftruggles 
 of grief, rage, and iliame, Mrs. Guraviile 
 grew calmeF, and began to call reafon to 
 her aid. When Mrs. Williams thought her 
 lady was in a ftate to liften, flu moft 
 
 violently to imprecate the writer of the 
 letter. But here again the viper was foiled in 
 her arts. Her miftrefs ftopped her (hort in 
 the midli of her ipccch, and deiircd to he 
 
28 celina; or, 
 
 left alone, with more anger and fternnefs in 
 
 her manner than me had ever before fhewn. 
 
 Williams obeyed the command with no 
 fmall degree pf anger depicled ifl her coun- 
 tenance, which already wore ftrong and 
 evident marks of the daily libations (he 
 offered to the rofy god. Crofiing the gal- 
 lery which led to her own room, (he met 
 Mr. Guravilie, who had been anxioufly 
 pacing it ever fince Weldon delivered the 
 letter. 
 
 Struck with the fight of Williams, the 
 purple bloom of her countenance received a 
 higher glow from the irritated ft ate of her 
 mind. She refembed the fury Megeera rather 
 than the delicate attendant of a lady. 
 
 Mr. Guravilie flopped her with, "What is 
 the matter Williams?" "I know not, nor am 
 I by my miftrefs thought worthy of knowing 
 any thing; ihe Las treated me as if I was 
 the dim waflier of the family, inftead of her 
 woman. I am fure the laft dear lady I ferved, 
 that good angel Lady Foible, would not 
 have ufed me fo r " 
 
 " Ufed you how? What do you mean? 
 your miftrefs could not ufe you, or any of 
 her fervants ill." 
 
 Mrs. Williams's accommodating tears be- 
 gan to flow, and (he again blubbered forth, 
 " Oh! my dear lady Foible! would to God 
 I had never kit your fervice, I was her 
 
THE WIDOWED PRIDE. 23 
 
 confident — her friend; ufed for to carry all 
 her billy doits and letters, and kept ali her 
 fee rets.'' 
 
 4 'Ho! ho! Mrs; WilKams, very potfible, 
 but your prefent raittrefe has no iecrets for 
 her fervant's ear/' 
 
 " So }'ou may think Sir, but take my 
 word, and you'll one day or other be made 
 to know better." She then walked haftily 
 to her room, and efeaped the ievere reproof 
 fhe lb juftly merited. Unable any longer 
 to fuppcr fc that date of anxiety and fuf- 
 penee, and not chiding to fend the infulting* 
 Williams, he wrote a tender note, requefl- 
 ing to know how his dear Myra was, and 
 when fhe would permit him to wait on her; 
 fent it by Weldon, on whofe love and fide- 
 lity he could depend. 
 
 Mrs. Guravilie took the note, and defired 
 Weldon to come in half an hour for an 
 anfwer. 
 
 On the firft reading of the letter, the un- 
 expected, unwelcome contents harrowed up 
 her very foul— it (book every nerve, and 
 threw her mind in dreadful tumult, from 
 which fhe had much recovered* She then 
 read the letter over repeatedly, and found it 
 
 ►lete with tendernefs ; not one reproach 
 or accufation, which me fecretly felt fhe 
 defer ved; and in the debate with herfelf 
 owned that fhe had imprudently run into 
 
24 celina; or, 
 
 extravagances, which however wrong they 
 might appear to her huiband, his exceffive 
 fondnefs for her prevented him denying. 
 On a minute retrofpeclion of her paft lite, 
 fiiice her marriage with Mr. Guraville, flie 
 fa w and felt all her imprudencies. She alfo 
 felt with a painful gratitude the extreme ten- 
 dernefs and indulgence with which he had 
 always treated her. 
 
 " If you, my dear Henry, fighed flie, had 
 been lefs indulgent, we might have been more 
 happy, or atleaft more affluent. 
 
 " I have been to blame. I have ever been 
 violent in my attach men t to fliew — abiblute 
 and extravagant in my pleafures — fullen and 
 gloomy if disappointed in the lead trifle. 
 I will endeavour to fbften the turbulence of 
 my temper, and by my future conduct atone 
 for the paft." 
 
 She had thus far trail on Hi zed her mind, 
 and by ajuft reflect ion on the paft, taught 
 herfelf tills ufeful leiibn— of refignation and 
 humility. 
 
 When Weldon brought the note to which 
 ihe promifed an anfwer in half an hour, 
 Mrs* Guraville then wrote the following 
 note: 
 
 " Many thanks for your kind felicitation. 
 ■I am quite well, hope you will allow me to 
 take my dinner alone. 1 will prepare to 
 receive you at tea in my dreiiing rocm. Let 
 
THE WIDOWED BRIDE. 2j 
 
 ine beg of you to perform my duties in the 
 nurfery this morning in vifiting the dear 
 children — I cannot fupport the fight of 
 them — their innocent looks will reproach 
 me for my paft miiconduci; till I have ob- 
 tained the forgivennefs of their father. — 
 Write an excufe to Mr. Win grove, I am 
 engaged to dine there to-day." 
 
 Weldon was punctual ; at the expiration 
 of the half hour he received the note, 
 and conveyed it to his m after. Not with - 
 Handing the brevity of the note, the peru- 
 fal of it affected him fenfibly ; — the felf 
 conviction, — the indirect i application for 
 his pardon, and tender mention of their 
 children, overpowered him. Tears that are 
 laid to difgrace the cheek of an hero are 
 often amiable in the eyes of a hufband or 
 father!, relieved his aching heart — they 
 were delicious tears 1 — tears med at the 
 painful recollection of the agonizing ftrug- 
 gles in the bofom of his Myra ! and alio, 
 at the opening profpects of enjoying per- 
 manent domeftic happinefs — he cheeied 
 himfelf with the hope or pofleffing a greater 
 mare of her confidence, company, and 
 love ! — They were tears of fuiprife and joy 
 at the unexpected calmnefs and humility 
 with winch me anfwered his letter, from 
 which he was convinced that all her former 
 faults and imprudencies were not the ef- 
 fects of a bad heart, but a wrong* educa- 
 Yol. 1 D 
 
26 celina; or, 
 
 tion. He fincerely exulted that the tender 
 and gentle manner in which he had difco- 
 vered the ftate of their affairs to her, and 
 had not thrown the leaft ihadow of blame 
 on her ; — mould thefe have awakened her 
 fenfibility ! he faw ihe flood felf convicted, 
 and felt grateful that he had fpared her. 
 Thefe, and fuch-like reflections, together 
 with an hour fpent with the children, 
 filled up the time till the hour of tea. 
 
 He obeyed the fummons to Mrs. Gura- 
 ville's dreffmg room in an agitation not to 
 be defcribed nor imagined, but by thofe 
 who have tenderly loved, and have the 
 bitter reflection of having given pain, 
 however unavoidable, to the objects of 
 their tendereft affections ; fuch may paint 
 in glowing colours, the true picture of 
 Mr. Guraville's mind. 
 
 But thofe cold, frigid, unfeeling mor- 
 tals, who never felt the delicious fenti- 
 ments of friendfhip ! — The- tender chain 
 that unites fympatbetic fouls, — nor that 
 noble, generous, heaven-born paffion, 
 love ! — to fuch I defpair of giving any 
 idea of the exquifitely tender feelings of 
 this amiable man ! 
 
 Enviable mortal ! whofe bofom is filled 
 with that celeftial paffipn. It harmonizes the 
 foul, foftens the heart, enlarges the ideas, 
 gives a liberality to the fentiments, exalts 
 mankind, and afiim dates them to the Gods. 
 
THE WIDOWED EP.IDE. 27 
 
 CHAP III. 
 
 " Then farewell night of darknels now, 
 
 " Joy break?, fhines, triumphs in eternal day ; no more 
 
 " Shall that which rifes out of nought complain 
 
 ** Of a few evils paid with endlefs j ys." Youn G. 
 
 A/TR. Guraville entered the room with 
 *-** placid joy, his eyes beaming tender- 
 nefs and pity, heightened by hope and love. 
 Mrs. Guraville turned from the door as 
 fhe heard it open — covered her face with 
 her hand : he walked haitily towards her, 
 and gently prelled the other, which ine 
 held out to him, with evident agitation ; 
 She fcarcely articulated, " do not reproach 
 me," then fainted in his arms: — it was -a 
 painful fight to this truly good man. — 
 When Mrs. Guraville's thoughts reverted 
 to the great change that was unavoidably 
 and immediately to take place in her fa- 
 mily ; and that'ihe had for years paft bla- 
 zoned forth a bright meteor in the Weft, 
 her companions dancing round her mere 
 fatellites, and that (he now mull; fall into 
 obfeurity — her foul fickened — her heart 
 funk ; — a death-like coldnefs pervaded her 
 whole frame, which fent the purple ftreams 
 D 2 
 
28 celina; or, 
 
 to their fotirce, and left her a Tifelefs 
 ft atue. 
 
 The fainting fit at Mr. Guraville's ap- 
 pearance was not altogether the effect of 
 forrow and contrition ; difappointed pride 
 had fome fh are— yet Ihe was now to be held 
 in an amiable light. A woman high born, 
 of ftrong paffions, never accuftomed to re- 
 flect on the pail, or look forward to the 
 future, to whofe wifhes or pleafures no 
 bounds had ever been fet ; Ihe had but to 
 command and was obeyed. This high born, 
 milled woman was, by the tender admoni- 
 tions of a worthy huiband, taught to fee 
 her errors, and was willing to correct them ; 
 yet the tafk was hard, and required time 
 and refolution. Happily Mr. Guraville was 
 one of the few men in the world bed quali- 
 fied toaffiftthat refolution — his tendernefs, 
 and conftant good humour, kept her grati- 
 tude awake, and to her delicate mind was 
 a tender reproach. 
 
 As foon as Mrs. Guraville was perfectly 
 recovered, fo as to converfe with fome de- 
 gree of compofure, fhe drew the chair clofe 
 to her 'hufband, and in a tender manner, 
 but with a firmnefs in her tone, which 
 iliewed it was the prudent refolution of her 
 heart ; faid, 
 
 M Believe me, my dear Henry, the fhock 
 your letter gave me this morning exceeded 
 all I ever felt ; though, I muft own, it was • 
 
THE WIDOWED BRIDE. ££; 
 
 written in the tendered ftyle poflible. I 
 feel, and acknowledge, I have been the 
 great and principal cauie of the revolution 
 that mull now take place in our family; I 
 am willing to ufe every exertion, and do 
 all in my power to retrench and make fome 
 final I amends for my paft extravagance ; 
 and make the beft of the fmall remains of 
 a once fplendid fortune." Here tears and 
 jfighs {topped her utterance. 
 
 Mr. Guraville did not endeavour to pre- 
 vent them, judging they would relieve her; 
 he preiled her tenderly in his arms, declar- 
 ing, if his affection for her could admit of 
 any addition, it was now heightened to ad- 
 miration by this extreme fenfibility. — She 
 looked her thanks, and refumed, " When 
 the eftate is fold, and our affairs fettled, 
 you will, by an exacl caculation, know 
 what our yearly income will be ; then lay 
 down a plan of ceconomy for our future 
 expences, and I promife you I will accede 
 to it. You never were a niggard; and I 
 fhall reft allured that every pleafure in your 
 power will yet be mine. Our dear children's 
 future happinefs muft fir ft be thought of, 
 and my whims and pleafures hereafter be a 
 fecondary confideration." 
 
 " My dear Myra, to find you fo refigned 
 
 and tranquil is a proof of the greatnefs of 
 
 your mind, and the noblenefs of your fouL 
 
 . The eftate will be fold next week — Wood- 
 
SO celina; or, 
 
 man has orders about it, and fets off to- 
 morrow ; when that is over, and our cre- 
 ditors fatisfied, 1 fhall take no flep without 
 confulting you. " 
 
 Tea was brought, and they lipped it, if 
 not in perfect happinefs, in a calm ferenity, 
 unknown to them before, and a fort of hap- 
 pinefs they never till now felt : a happinefs 
 arifing from a confidence which, till then, 
 they never felt in each other. 
 
 After tea they ordered the children to be 
 brought ; with them they fpent the even- 
 ing in the garden and pleafure grounds till 
 the dew fell. Eliza, the youngeft, a charm- 
 ing little girl about five years old, was fent 
 to the nurfery to bed. Mary, a fine fenfible 
 girl, who had jufl attained her thirteenth 
 year, and Henry, the eldeft, were admitted 
 into theirmamma's dreffing-room to eatfome 
 fruit ; an indulgence they never before en- 
 joyed, which exhilirated their fpirits to fuch 
 a height, that they gave way to all their 
 native playfulnefs and fchool tricks, which 
 fo delighted their mamma, and fo drew her 
 out of herfelf, or rather into the mother, that 
 to play with them was irrefiftiblc — the good 
 father joined with double pleafure, feeing 
 that his Myra's heart fincerely partook in 
 their innocent romps. 
 
 After the children, highly gratified, had 
 received the parental kifs and blefnng, they 
 letired. for the night ; Mrs. Guraville de- 
 
THE WIDOWED BRTD2. 3't 
 
 blared fhe had never paft an evening with fa 
 much real pleafure and iatisfaolion. 
 
 The next morning Mrs. Guraville denied 
 to fee the fteward before he let out on his 
 journey, which fummons he obeyed, after 
 receiving his full credentials from his rnaf 
 ter ; from whom he heard with heartfelt 
 pleafure, with what calm reiignation his- 
 miftrefs bore this lad reverfe of fortune, and 
 with what ingenuoufnefs me owned herfelf 
 to be the caufe of that fad change. The 
 good old man, as he went along the gallery, 
 wiped away an involuntary tear that in- 
 truded in his eyes, but lie found it was only 
 to give place to more ; and he felt it im- 
 poffible to appear before his miftrefs till he 
 had yielded to the womaniih impulfe. 
 
 He loved his matter to a degree of en th li- 
 ft afm, having fpent his life in the family. — 
 His miftrefs he loved, becaufe his matter 
 loved her, and becaufe fhe was his miftrefs; 
 yet he had long feen her faults ; but forthe 
 children he felt more than a grandfire's af- 
 fection : at length he approached the dref- 
 fing room. 
 
 " How do you do, Woodman ? you. are 
 going on a melancholy commimon." 
 
 " Yes, Madam ; I am fori y to be fo em- 
 ployed." (Here the old man's- eyes again 
 betrayed the feelings of his heart, and he 
 again wiped them with a trembling hand.) 
 Seeing his fpirits thus depreiled did not con- 
 
•32 celina; or, 
 
 tribute to railing hm\ and his tears were 
 
 contagious. 
 
 
 " There are fome few things, Woodman, 
 at Blair Abby, I mould like to have packed 
 r up and fent here. 
 
 " The family pictures in the great hall, 
 which I had moved there when my father 
 died, my brother not earing much for them, 
 or any of the family, gave them to me." 
 
 " Yes, Madam ; I remember well I had 
 the removal of them. Oh, dear ! 'tis well 
 the worthy gentleman is not feniible of 
 the fad caufe of this removal." 
 
 " Say no more of that, Woodman, 1 
 hope no one will feel the cffe&s of that 
 courfe but myfelf." This Mrs. Guraviile 
 uttered, with a petulance unufual to her, 
 and a look unkind. 
 
 " My honoured Madam, I mean not to 
 offend. I beg you will forgive an old man's 
 garrulity ; — my heart, always prompts the 
 ipeech, and my honeft tongue fpeaks it, 
 before my old head corrects it." 
 
 " Enough, my good old man," anfwered 
 Mrs. Guraviile, in a kinder tone. " I 
 know you are a true friend to your mafter, 
 and I cannot take any thing wrong that 
 you fay ; I am perfectly fenfible of the 
 goodnefs of your heart." 
 
 " Ah, Madam ! why fay you that I am 
 my matter's friend fo pointedly ? Am I not 
 your friend alfo? God knows my heart, and 
 
THE WIDOWED BRIDE. 33 
 
 knows how fervently I love the name of 
 G uraville ! Your dear children! — charming 
 cherubs ! they are my only delight I 
 
 Thefe tender effufions, from the honeft 
 hearted Woodman, greatly affected Mrs. 
 G uraville ; fhe felt the weight and truth of 
 his words, allured him Hie had ever held 
 him in the light of an humble friend rather 
 than a dependent. — " We muft now, Wood- 
 man, endeavour to forget the paft, and 
 turn all our thoughts and care on the future, 
 Happinefs is dill within our reach. Here 
 is a lift of what I wifh to have fent here. 
 I hope you will have a fafe journey. Take 
 care of yourfeif. Do not, from an idea of 
 oeconomy, fatigue yourfeif, or injure your 
 health. But remember, that to be at this 
 time deprived of your advice and afiiftance 
 would be an irreparable lofs to us ; there- 
 fore, obferve what I fay, Woodman, and 
 be as great an axonomiil of your health as 
 you have ever been of our money." 
 
 The good man took his leave with a bow 
 of gratitude, highly delighted with the 
 condefeending manner in which his Lady 
 linifhed thedifcourfe, alluring her he would 
 well obferve her kind dire&ions, and im- 
 mediately left Lutherdale Hall, proceeding 
 with all poflible fpeed to Blair Abby. 
 
 In the abfence of the Steward, Mr. Gur- 
 aville and his Myra were chiefly employed 
 in forming plans for their future lives ; but 
 
34 celina; or, 
 
 nothing could -be fixt on until the return 
 of Woodman. 
 
 During this paufe of domeftic bufmefs 
 at Lutherdale Hall, their felicity feemed to 
 increafe, which added to the natural flow 
 of fpirits, and good temper of Mr. Gura- 
 ville ; he, with double ardour and affec- 
 tion, attended to every look and wifh of 
 his Myra, who at the fame time felt that 
 delightful, fubftantial happinefs in the 
 company of her hufband and her children, 
 Which fhe had hitherto hoped to find in the 
 difiipated circles of the great ; but (he now 
 was convinced, could no where be found 
 but in the bofom of her family — in the 
 fond attention of a worthy hufband, 
 and the playful innocent careffes of her 
 children. When (lie reflected on her pafl 
 mif-pent time and money, flie turned ap- 
 palfd from the retrofpection, and bleffed 
 the ftateof comparative indigence to which 
 fhe was reduced — it caught her from the 
 whirlpool of diffipation, in which fhe was 
 nearly finking — fct her failing down the 
 clear rippling brook of conjugal happinefs, 
 with a tender husband for a pilot, of whofe 
 value ihe was, till now, infenfible, and had 
 treated with indifference and neglect. 
 
 So forcibly did fhe feel the reproofs of 
 her conference, and fo ardently did fhe 
 wifh to make reftitution, that Ihe was in 
 danger of falling into the other extreme— 
 
THE WIDOWED ERIDE. 35 
 
 from a very refractory wife to a very obe- 
 dient one. Happily for her, Mr. Gfuraville 
 was a man who did not exadl abject fervili- 
 ty from a wife — he did not hold good that 
 part of the Alcoran, that places women on 
 a level with the dumb animals of the field — 
 he did not dare to fuppofe that the all-wife 
 Creator intended that the moll beautiful, 
 the moil angel-like part of his creation, 
 fhould be held in lefs eftimation than felf- 
 important man. No, no ; he would fay, 
 when he was enquiring the matter, he cer- 
 tainly placed them with man as his moni- 
 tors — his mirrors ! Has he not formed them 
 in the faireft mould ? Has he not given 
 them the majefty of gods, blended with 
 the foftnefs of angels? Has he not endow- 
 ed them with minds capacious and noble ; 
 ftrong intellects, clear perception, exten- 
 five and elegant ideas — and as an indubi- 
 table proof that they are many degrees 
 nearer perfection than man, do they not 
 bear misfortunes and ficknefs with the re- 
 fignation of faints ; and do they not love 
 with unihaken ccnftancy, and conftitute 
 our greater! felicity. You are more than 
 our co-equals — you are man's fuperiors. 
 Do not men feel a certain degree of abject - 
 nefs, an inexpreffible awe when in the pre- 
 lencc of virtuous women, till the dignified 
 fmile of fenfe and fnodefty warms the chili 
 that virtue and fuperiority cafts over them, 
 
36 celina; or, 
 
 and makes them feel (though they will not 
 at all times acknowledge it), that they live 
 but in the funlhine of their fmiles ! 
 
 Happy indeed was it for Mrs. Guraville 
 that fuch was his tenet — fuch his fyftem of 
 fith in women, or the, like many other un- 
 fortunate obedient wives, would have be- 
 come his (lave ; but he knew the true dig- 
 nity of woman, and none under his c«ue 
 could ever fall from it. 
 
 At the end of the third week Woodman 
 returned, having fokl the eftate and furni- 
 ture, except the few things his miftrefs de- 
 fired him to have referved. The morn in &• 
 after his arrival he attended his mafter in the 
 iludy, gave him a full account of the fale ; 
 alfo, that Lord Wilmington's lawyer would 
 wait on him in the courfe of the following 
 week to have a conveyance executed. Lord 
 Wilmington defired his compliments, that he 
 mould leave Wiltfhire in a few days to ipend 
 fome time in Devonshire, before he returned 
 to town, and would pay his refpecls at Lu- 
 therdale Hall. 
 
 Both Mr. and Mrs. Guraville would gladly 
 have difpenfed with his viiit, yet it was fome 
 confolation, that it was at leaft fome weeks 
 before his Lordlhp intended them that ho- 
 nour, and they hoped by that time their ar- 
 rangement would, be made, and they fhould 
 be able to receive and entertain, with fome 
 degree of complacency, a Nobleman whofe 
 
 
THE WIDOWED BRIDE. 37 
 
 affluence enabled him to purchafe and en- 
 joy that elegant houfe and eftate which 
 once were their's, but which their mifcon- 
 duel had obliged them to fell. 
 
 In a few days all the tradesmen's bills 
 were coliecled and arranged for payment. 
 The fum remaining from the fole of Blair 
 Abby was very fmall, and in a council held, 
 which confined of Mr. and Mrs. Guraville 
 and Woodman, it was agreed, that the 
 h mult be laid down, and all the horfes 
 difpofed of except three, one to run in the 
 e and two For faddle horfes ; three men 
 and two women fervants were alio to be dis- 
 charged. The next trial was, which of the 
 ints- mould go — they were all good, and 
 willing to undertake any other department 
 In the houfe rather than leave it ; but Mr. 
 Guraville, with his ufual goodnefs, fettled 
 the matter. He ordered the three men he 
 intended to part with to remain at Luther- 
 dale Hall until they got places, and paid 
 them half a year's wa^es in advance ; the 
 women fervants he left to his My r a t aft 
 as ihe thought fit. 
 
 When Mrs. Guraville retired to drefs, 
 after the confultation was concluded, Cnz 
 Williams the alteration that was taking 
 place in the family. She affected furprife, 
 tho' in fact lhe had, by peeping, pry- 
 ing, and liftening (qualifications extremely 
 recommendatory to a lady's waiting wo- 
 
 Vol. I. E 
 
38 celina; or, 
 
 man), made herfelf acquainted with every 
 change and circumftance that had, or was 
 likely to take place in the family. 
 
 " Indeed, Madam, I am extremely con- 
 cerned at' hearing this difmal news: and 
 can you, Madam, confcnt to live in this 
 "horrid houfe all the winter? — to he cooped 
 up all the long evenings by the fire fide : 
 and if you attempt to go out in that little 
 chair you will be froze to death. I am fure 
 it will be monfhous mocking !" 
 
 "Yes, Williams, I have confented. It 
 does not fuit us to keep a coach at prefent, 
 and I had rather fpend the winter here with- 
 out one than in town ; befides, I muft pay 
 more attention to my children than I have 
 hitherto done : it is my duty VI — " Duty ! 
 la, Ma'm ! — Well lam fure you are ftrangely 
 altered fince I fir ft had the honour of wait- 
 ing on you : befides, Ma'm, if you will go 
 to town for the winter, Mr. Wingrove's 
 carriage will be always at your fervice : for 
 he is a going to town to ftay all the winter, 
 and he intends to have his carriage there." 
 " Mr. Wingrove ! Williams, What do you 
 mean ?" 
 
 " Why, Mam, he told me fo himfelf." — 
 {"? Told you fo — my God !" 
 
 "Yes, indeed, Ma'm : he, by fome means 
 or other has heard of your misfortune, which 
 to be fure is a /hocking thing for fo fweet a 
 Jady to meet with—and fo he faid — and 
 
TII-E WIDOWED BRIDE. 
 
 faid, Mam, as how he loved you, and that 
 all his fortune was at your iervice ; that he 
 would lay it at your feet, and that all the 
 pleafures of London ihould be your's, fo that 
 he might but have the happinefs of attend- 
 ing you. And, M'am, he gave me this 
 letter todeliver to you ; but I never till now 
 found you in a humour to deliver it before.' 5 
 
 " Nor am I now. How dare you to meet 
 Mr. Win grove, or any man, and convcrfe 
 of me to them ? — and in whofe iervice did 
 you learn the fcandalous practice of receiving 
 and conveying letters privately to your niif- 
 trefs. I in lift upon it, that you ihftaritty 
 carry this back to the wretch that gave it 
 you : tell him, that although I have been 
 carelefs and prodigal of my huiband's for- 
 tune, yet his honour I have ever guarded 
 as a facred truft : — then prepare yourfelf to 
 leave this houfe." 
 
 The petrified Abigail was rivetted to the 
 fpot fhe ftood on : as foon as (lie had a little 
 recovered fiom her furprife, me laid do\vn : 
 the letter, faying, me did not care to take 
 back the letter ; but fhe would willingly 
 prepare to leave the houfe — quitted the 
 room. 
 
 Mrs. Guraville was aftonifhed at the im- 
 pudence and depravity of her woman — ihe 
 was frill more furprifed and uneafy to know 
 what of her paft conduct had evince ] that 
 levity of heart which a man mull believe a 
 E2 
 
40 celina; on, 
 
 woman to ponds before he dare offer her 
 fueh an infult. In this cafe, what could ihe 
 do ?— the letter lay before her — how ihouid 
 ihe fend it back, to give it to Mr. Gura- 
 ville ihe dared not think of, tho' naturally 
 of a pafiive difpolitipn, yet he was trem- 
 blingly alive co ihe leaft infult offered to his 
 honour. Propriety told her fhe ought not 
 to keep any ci renin fiance a fecret from him. 
 — Was he not her guardian and protector — 
 the champion of her honour and his own ? 
 Yet if ihe revealed this affair, a duel might 
 enfuc — The thought was dreadful It was 
 but a k'w days fmce fhe knew the full value 
 of that life which, if (he acted with that in- 
 gen-ioufnefs ihe ought to do, would be in 
 danger. In this cafe ihe thought fecrefy, 
 nay even duplicity, would be a virtue, and 
 detei mined to inclofe the letter in a 
 blank paper, direct it and fend it by the 
 groom. 
 
 This done, fhe rung the bell for the nur- 
 fery maid to affift her in arranging her 
 drefs, and having paid Williams her de- 
 mands, difmiffed her- — Rafter reafoning with 
 her, and painting in glowing colours the 
 impropriety of her conduct ; which was loft 
 on the depraved Williams, who had long- 
 been a net ufed by many an artful poacher 
 to catch unfufpecling innocence, and had 
 too often been fuccefsful; 
 
THE WIDOWED BRIDE. 41 
 
 C H A P. IV. 
 
 •• But if in fearciring round this world we find, 
 
 Some generous youth, the friend of all mankind; 
 
 Whofe anger, like the bolts of Jove, is fped 
 
 In terrors oJy to the guilty head; 
 
 Whofe love, like heaven's dew, refreshing fall, 
 
 In general love, and charity to all." Churc k i L l. 
 
 WHEN Mr. Win grove received the 
 letter, and knowing the fnperfcrip- 
 tion to be Mrs. Guraville's, his heart danc- 
 ed with extacy, and his vanity told him, 
 it was an anfwer favourable to his v ilhes. 
 Judge of his difappointment, when, on 
 breaking the feal, he found his letter re- 
 turned unopened, his pride and vanity re- 
 ceived a ftab — he raved, curfed, and ut- 
 tered the moil horrid imprecations, and 
 was a perfect madman, when, on reflecting 
 a. while, he felt fome confolation in know- 
 ing that the attempt he had made was un- 
 known to all his acquaintance, and to all 
 the world, except the lady and her woman ; 
 the one, he judged would not fpeak of it 
 from a motive of virtuous pride ; the other, 
 he knew, could be hlenced by a well-timed 
 bribe. To be bantered bv his newly ac- 
 E 3 
 
42 CELINA ; OR, 
 
 quired friends in London was not to be fiip- 
 poited, at having failed with a fcornful 
 beauty ! Had he fucceeded, his fame would 
 have been eftabliihed for ever with the 
 women, and he would have been the envy 
 of the men. He wiihed the world to ftip- 
 pofe, that his attractions were fuch that no 
 woman could refill; his importunities, and 
 that he was well with all he choofe to ad- 
 drefs. 
 
 Soon after Mr. Wingrove received the 
 letter, he heard from his valet that Mrs 
 Williams was djfeharged from Lutherdale 
 Hall, for what reaibn could not be gulled ; 
 it was fuppofed in difgrace, as all the other 
 fervants that were discharged, were ordered 
 to flay till they had provided themfelves 
 with places. 
 
 " Indeed, Summers ! Does me go this 
 evening?" — "Yes, Sir, fo the fervant told 
 me that brought your letter." 
 
 '/ Humph, fhe has offended her caprici- 
 ous Lady, I fuppofe." 
 
 M Why, really Sir, I have never heard 
 that Mrs. Guraville was whim heal or tearing 
 to her fervants j and that now fhe is better 
 than ever" 
 
 Mr. Wingrove put an end to his fervant's 
 information, with — " Tell the groom to 
 faddle my horfe. He need not go, I iliali 
 ride myfelf." 
 
 He took a Cow ride to Ailikcnton, the 
 
THE WIDOWED BRIDE. 43 
 
 next pod town, through which the ftage- 
 paired for London ; as he fat lipping' the 
 negus he had ordered by way of hiling up 
 the time, in came Mrs. Williams, bag and 
 baggage; (he dropt a curtcfey, with " I hope 
 you are well, Sir." — " Quite well, I thank 
 you, Mrs. Williams, what has brought you 
 lierer" — " Why, Sir, it is the letter you 
 wrote that has done all this ; if I had not 
 undertook to deliver that letter I fhould 
 have been in my place ; I am fure the poor 
 five guineas you gave me will not pay for 
 the lots of my place." 
 
 '* Is it poflible, Mrs. Williams, that your 
 mifirefs could be difpleafed with you ? 1 am 
 to blame — it is on me me iliould turn all her 
 
 anger." 
 
 " Ha, la ! Sir, ilie will never forgive 
 you : thefe virtuous ladies — thefe conftant 
 wives, as they would feem, with the fufs 
 they make about their duty and honour, 
 they are not worth living with. If a lady's 
 woman cannot make a few guineas by con- 
 veying a letter, or carrying on an intrigue, 
 it will not do, Sir : the wages they give 
 will not drefs a lady's gentlewoman as me 
 ought to be." — "I am forry, Mrs. Williams, 
 that things have taken fuch a turn, and as 
 I look upon myfelf as the caufe, I beg you 
 will accept of this ("putting a ten pound 
 note in her hand;. If ever you relate this 
 
44 C KLIN a ; OH, 
 
 i* ory do not mention my name\ Be fecret 
 
 and I will be generous." 
 
 " La ! Sir, you are very good : I hope 
 you do not think what I did was for the 
 lucre of gain ; no indeed, Sir ; for you I 
 would do any thing." 
 
 " No, Mrs. Williams, no ; fay no- 
 thing about it ; I ihall fee you in town next 
 winter." 
 
 At that moment the Plymouth ftage drove 
 to the door, Mrs. Williams took her leave 
 of Mr. Wingrove, highly flattered by his- 
 liberality ; and having faid farewell to the 
 good people of the Bear, took her feat in 
 the coach and was wheeled off in a minute. 
 - Mr. Wingrove mounted his horfe and 
 returned to Brookly Well, well pleafed at his 
 fuccefs in thus preventing the confcious 
 Abigail from indulging her loquacioufnefs . 
 at his expence, tho' it coft him much to tie 
 her tongue. 
 
 In the evening, when Mr. Guraville un- 
 derftood that Williams was gone, he was 
 not more furprifed than pleafed ; having 
 an unutterable averfion to her fince (he fo 
 artfully endeavoured to raife fufpicions in 
 his mind againft her miflrefs, during their 
 fhort converfation in the gallery, on the day 
 he fent that much dreaded letter, and for 
 which he trembled, leaft it ih ould go the 
 herald of future mifery ; but now he 
 
THE WIDOWED BRIDE. 4^> 
 
 efteemed it as the harbinger of perma- 
 nent happinefs and domeftie love. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Gurayille no v* enjoyed the 
 true blefiings and comforts of life. Her. 
 mornings were fpent in the moil pleafing 
 of all employments, that of inftruefing little 
 Eliza, and hearing Mary repeat thofe lerlbns 
 of French and Englifh fhe had learned at 
 fchool ; regulating her family, and endea- 
 vouring to make home the moil delightful 
 of all places io her worthy and indulgent 
 hufband. Mr. Guraville did not throw the 
 whole weight of this taik entirely on her : 
 he undertook the charge of Henry himfelf ; 
 aod gratefully did he avow the tendereft 
 pleafure in obferving ail her kind endea- 
 vours to make him happy. 
 
 Thus was a beautiful woman, born and 
 educated in the vortex of difiipation and 
 luxury, hurried down the ftream of folly 
 and fafhion, committing, and allured to 
 commit a thoufand reprehenfible things, 
 without thinking fhe had, or intended 
 to act, wrong, faved by the timely and 
 gentle interference of a fenfihle man. Her 
 heart pure and untainted took the alarm ; 
 feif conviction and fmcere repentance were 
 the remit . She is now a blefTing to her 
 children, an honour to her hufband, and a 
 monitor to her fex. 
 
 The time pad in pleafurable faoeeffion for 
 weeks, when a fuvant in a fmart livery 
 
46 celina; or, 
 
 brought a letter from Lord Wi-nnington, 
 faying, he would do himfelf the honour of 
 dining at Lwtherdale Kali the next day, 
 Mr. Guraville returned a polite and preffing 
 an-fwer. 
 
 At the time appointed his Lordfhip ar- 
 rived, and was received with great kindnefs 
 and cordiality by Mr. Guravilie, who, after 
 the firft introductory compliments were over, 
 found Lord Wilmington a pleafant, fenfible, 
 well informed young man, and fo very dif- 
 ferent from the young men of the prefent 
 day, that he could fcarcely believe he was 
 known to the great world. Pleafed with his 
 converfation, and wrapt in aftoniibment to 
 find that the hot bed of riches and luxury 
 could produce any thing fo perfectly ami- 
 able as this young nobleman appeared, there 
 was yet another riddle to folve, viz. How, or 
 why a young man, not quite eighteen, ibould 
 make fuch a purchafe as Blair Abby, who, 
 he fuppofed, was in poifefiion of the family 
 eftate. 
 
 The hour of dinner drew near, Mr. Gu- 
 raville wifhed to introduce his new friend 
 to his M.yra, for which purpofe he conduc- 
 ted him to the drawing-room (as he received 
 his Lordlhip in his itudy on his arrival) ; 
 Mrs. Guraville received him with an eafe 
 and politenefs peculiar to herfelf : me foot* 
 felt a prep^iieflion in favour of him whofe 
 name a tew hours ago was difagreeable t& 
 
THE WIDOWED BRIDE. 47 
 
 her ears, in whofe pcrfon flic had pictured 
 every thing ugly and difgufting ; in his 
 
 manners ihe expected he would arrogate a 
 preeminence which, in the eftimation of 
 little minds, riches gives to their poheiYor. 
 
 Haw wrong, and yet how common, in 
 man to form a premature opinion of another. 
 How often do we feel prejudiced againft a 
 perfon we never faw, merely from the light 
 and circumftances h\ which we tirft hear his 
 name : jtift fo was it with Mrs. Guraville ; 
 me had taught herfelf to look upon her pre- 
 fent fituation with a calm eye ; ihe knew 
 the fate of Blair Ahby was a circumftance 
 that mu ft take place, and it mattered not 
 who was the purchafer ; yet it was death to 
 convey it away, and the purchafer, whoever 
 he might be, became an object of envy. In 
 this temper of mind fhchrft heard the name of 
 Lord Wilmington, and heard him named 
 a> the purchafer of Blair Abby ; from that 
 moment the felt a prejudice againft him. — 
 They partook of a (mail but elegant dinner, 
 after which the glais moved flow, but plea- 
 santly : genuine anecdotes, fhrewd remarks, 
 and juft observations beguiled the time — ■ 
 Mrs. Guraville finding that (he had fat longer 
 than (he ufually did, retired. The gentle- 
 men converted on politics and various fub- 
 jects, in fome of which they agreed, in others 
 they differed ; but in all his lordfhip fup- 
 
48 celina; or, 
 
 ported his opinion with manly flrmncfs and 
 calm lefpeci. 
 
 A fummons to tea, which they obeyed, 
 put an end to their converfation. In the 
 drawing room they found Mrs. Guraviile 
 and her three children ; Mary had been 
 taking a lefTon on the piano forte ; Henry 
 repeated his Latin to make himfelf more 
 perfect for his father's ear. and the charming 
 Eliza careffed her dolls. His Lordfhip paid 
 much attention to the children, and was 
 much pleafed with Henry and Mary. After 
 tea a walk in the pleafure grounds was pro- 
 pofed, and as they turned the gallery to go 
 down itairs, Mr. Guraviile politely aiked his 
 Lordfhip if he would do him the honour to 
 take a view of the iew rooms that fmall 
 houfe contained, to which his Lordfhip 
 consented, " It is all my folly has left me," 
 faid he with an heartfelt fio-h ! at which a 
 painful blufh fuffufed the cheek of Lord 
 YVinnington ; it was the firft time the idea 
 of being . icher than his friend gave him an 
 uneafy thought. 
 
 " Why did I come ?" thought he, ^per- 
 haps my vifit gives pain, it may be looked 
 on as a vifit of triumph ; but it is not fo : I 
 never felt more interefted for a family in my 
 lite." He was difrurbed from this mental 
 converfation by Mr, Guraville's obferviug, 
 il pretty rich, but confined profpecf." — 
 After palling through two or three rooms, 
 
THE WIDOWED BRIDE. 49 
 
 all neat, and elegantly furnifhed, they en- 
 tered the beft bed-room, with a dreffing- 
 room attached to it, fitted up with the 
 greatefl taite : the bed curtains were of di- 
 mity, lined wkh blue farfnet; the valance 
 trimmed with blue filk fringe, window cur- 
 tains of the fame; beautiful painted cor- 
 nices, paper, carpet, and chairs to fuit. 
 His lordfhip admired the ftile of the houfe, 
 particularly thefe rooms. 
 
 " This bed, my Lord, was prepared for 
 you, and I truft your Lordfhip will not 
 deny us the pleafure of your company for a 
 ^c\v days." 
 
 It was impoffible to refufe an invitation 
 fo politely made, befides he felt a reluctance 
 to leave Lutherdalc Hall fo foon : lie thanked 
 Mr. Guraville for his kind invitation. 
 
 " I have, Sir, ordered beds at the inn 
 where I llept iait night, and where I pro - 
 pofe to wait the return of Mr. Hill, the 
 gentleman under whofe care I have paft my 
 childhood ; nor am I yet, Sir, out of lead- 
 ing ftrings." 
 
 (i With your lordfhip's permiffion, I will 
 order that matter : my fervant fhall go and 
 inform the people of the houfe that you will 
 not deep there ; and leave an invitation for 
 Mr. Hill to join your Lordfhip here." 
 
 Lord AYinnington found Mrs. Guraville 
 in the garden with the children ; he alter- 
 nated converfed with one and played with 
 Vol. I. F 
 
50 celina; or, 
 
 the other fcill the hour of i upper, which 
 palled in pleafant chat. The trio parted for 
 the night at an early hour, highly pleafed 
 with each other. 
 
 In the morning Lord Winnington joined 
 Mr. Guraville and Henry in the fludy ; he 
 found Henry, tho' only fifteen years old, a 
 pleafant converfant companion. After the 
 hour of ftudy they walked till dinner, and 
 before they returned they were fworn 
 friends, at lealt his Lordfhip felt inclined 
 to prove himfelf Henry's friend, and Henry 
 was defnous to obtain his Lordfhip. 
 
 There was a manlinefs in Henry that 
 fpoke him above his years, and a boldnefs 
 in his manners which he acquired at Har- 
 row fchool ; though fomewhat rough at his 
 rirft returning home, he had, from the fofter 
 manners of his mother, received a polifh 
 which rendered him agreeable. 
 
 In the evening Mr. Hill arrived, which 
 was a pleafant addition to the party. 
 
 This gentleman was one of thofe good 
 and great characters who alone are worthy 
 to be intruded with the care and education 
 of youth — and that he was in full poileffion 
 of his pupil's heart might be feen by the 
 joy w r hich brightened up in his Lordfhip's 
 eyes when Mr. Hill entered the room. 
 
 After the ufual ceremony of introduction 
 was over, Lord Winnington, with a tender 
 
 
THE WIDOWED BRIDE. 51 
 
 regard enquired how he had bore the jolting 
 of the rough roads of Cornwall, and the 
 north of Devon, hoped he had found all 
 his friends well ; to all which Mr. Hill an- 
 fwered with the kind affection of a father. 
 During f upper Mr. Guraville found many 
 opportunities of paying fome handfome 
 compliments to Mr. Hill, in commending 
 the manly accompliihments he obferved in 
 his Lordfhip, who was in earn eft converfa- 
 tion with Henry ; for, at the requeft of his 
 Lordmip, he was permitted to lit up to {up- 
 per on condition that he ihouid retire 
 foon after, which was duly obferved by 
 Henry. 
 
 Mr. Hill was a man of great knowledge, 
 deep penetration, and found erudition ; he 
 had ipent more time in ftudying man than 
 books, and from thence drew his opinions 
 and made his obfervations : was grave at 
 times, but not auftere ; he would relax fre- 
 quently, and join in the amufements of his 
 pupil, lb that even in the hour of paflime 
 he received inftruCtion. He had fiich a pe- 
 culiar method of drawing his fcholar to his 
 fcudies, that they at all times appeared ra- 
 ther amufement than a taik. He faid, that 
 whenever a youth was intruded to his care, 
 his firft grand point was to gain the child's 
 heart, which might be done by kind fathe 
 treatment, not by fooliih indulgence ; that 
 F2 
 
once gained, you may bend the mind to 
 your will ; but if the fcholar does not feel 
 an affection for the teacher, he will make 
 but a fmall progrefs in his learning : after 
 conning his leifon for hours, he approaches 
 him with fear— fear debilitates the memory, 
 and the child cannot retain what he learns. 
 
 There was a certain urbanity in the man- 
 ners of Mr. Hill that won the admiration of 
 all on a few hours acquaintance : no wonder 
 that iii lo many years fpent in the care and 
 education of Lord Wilmington, he fliould 
 pofTefs his whole heart and mind. 
 
 They had been three days at Lutherdale 
 Hall, and Mr. Hill beheld with pleafure the 
 mutual friendfhip growing between Henry 
 and Lord William, as lie was extremely 
 pleafed with the new friend. his pupil had 
 acquired. Ke found from Mr. Guraville's 
 converfetion, that he was ftill ignorant of 
 the family of his gueft, the knowledge of 
 which friendfhip demanded ; and he, with 
 fatisfacHon perceived it was a mutual at- 
 tachment, founded on each other's admired 
 viitues, and ftrengthened on the part of 
 Mr. Guraville, by the vifible growing par- 
 tiality between the young friends! 
 
THE WIDOWED BRIDE 
 
 C II A P. V. 
 
 The Slider's moll attenuated thread, 
 
 It. card — is cable, to man s tender lie, 
 •) i earthly blifs it breaks at every breeze. 
 
 Yoi 
 
 OX the fourth day after dinner, Mr. 
 Hill, (his Lordlhip having left the 
 table to play over fonie new mufic with, 
 Mary and Henry) in i\\c courfe of con- 
 verfation briefly related the hiftory of Loi;c} 
 William Winnington. 
 
 " His Lordfhir/s grand-father was an 
 admiral, high in public efteem, and for 
 feme very lingular fei vices was created a 
 peer. He then being advanced iii years, 
 withdrew himfelf from the naval lev vices : 
 but government ftill had need of his active 
 fpirit ; he was as good a politician as he 
 was a failor, and the minifter prevailed on 
 him to accept a place of great trull a- 
 broad, in which iituation he acted with 
 his ufual integrity. He never loft fight of 
 the interefts of the King, his mallei- ; and 
 was equally folicitous for the rights and 
 F 3 
 
54 celina; or, 
 
 welfare of the people, over whofe public 
 good he was placed as guardian. He took 
 his eldeft ion with him, who, on his death, 
 fucceeded hini in title and place. Soon 
 after this government, ordered him to Eng- 
 land, which he obeyed, leaving a deputy 
 to acl; in his abfence : he remained in Eng- 
 land two years, during which time he mar- 
 ried a young lady of fortune and family; 
 foon after their return to his fttuation a* 
 broad, Lord Winnington was feized with 
 a local fever, whieji deprived him of life, 
 and an amiable woman of a tender and 
 worthy hufband ; never was man more true 
 Jy lamented : in fact, his death was felt 
 by government and the whole country. 
 His death nearly proved fatal to his lovely 
 widow, and her friends feared a premature 
 birth ; but the Almighty, who is ever 
 watchful over his creatures, raifed her from 
 the bed of ficknefs, and in about two 
 months this dear boy was born. As foon 
 as Lady Winnington was able to under- 
 take the voyage, ihe came with her poft- 
 humous child to England, where fhe took 
 a houfe near Richmond, on a very retired 
 fpot ; there fne fpent her days quietly, but 
 not happily ; Hie never mixed with the gay 
 world, and but feldom faw any of her re- 
 lations. Her whole time was fpent in ten- 
 der regret for her irreparable lofs ? and in 
 
THE WIDOWED BRIDE. 55 
 
 nulling the young Lord William, in whofe 
 face and form fhe could daily trace .the 
 opening beauties of her dead Lord. 
 
 iC I occupied a houfe, the grounds of 
 which joined thole of Lady Wilmington ; 
 and about that time I had the dreadful 
 misfortune to bury Mrs. I J ill. Here the 
 lucid tear trembled in his eye, and told the 
 feelings of his heart ! at the recollection 
 of cruel events 1 long fmce paft, but never 
 to be forgot ! 
 
 " The dear fainted woman clofed her 
 eyes in this world, three hours after fhe 
 had given me a fon — and the dear babe 
 furvived its mother but three days — one 
 coffin held the precious remains of both !" 
 
 Mr. Hill flopped — took two or three 
 turns acrofs the room, to recover his firm 
 tone of voice, which was grown tremulous 
 and nearly inarticulate* from the agitation 
 of his feelings, while Mr. Guraville heaved 
 a companionate figh, and Mrs. Guraville 
 dropt a lympathctic tear. He refumed his 
 feat, and without offering an apology for 
 the interruption, feelings fo natural and 
 amiable, had occafioned, he continued : 
 
 " When time had blunted the edo-e of 
 grief. I endeavoured to collect my thouo-hts 
 and turn them on myfelf. I felt it was my 
 duty, as a man and a Chriftian, to bear 
 this fevereft of all trials, with resignation 
 
56 celina ; 0R> 
 
 It was deemed advifeable that I fhould 
 leave my room and take both air and exer- 
 cife. I knew what they advifed was right, 
 and unwilling to give my friends pain by 
 encouraging a defpondeney which I felt 
 had already injured my health, I ftrove 
 with all my resolution againft the tyrant 
 Grief. After repeated ftruggles between 
 reafon and inclination, I took a ride, the 
 moil falutary, near Richmond, accompa- 
 nied by my nephew, whom it has pleafed 
 God to take from me. I found myfelf 
 much better on my return. The next 
 morning I walked in my garden ; here every 
 flower awakened my recollection to part 
 fcenes of delight. I entered a Summer- 
 houfe at the end of the walk, on the table 
 lay Young's Night Thoughts, in which 
 my Eliza had been reading to me the even- 
 ing before me was taken ill ; the light of 
 the book, and the remembrance how fu- 
 premely happy I was the laft time I faw it, 
 and now how forlorn and miierable, nearly 
 overcame me, and I Tat motionlefs for 
 fometime, loft to all but my forrow, till the 
 entrance of my nephew roufed me from my 
 painful reverie. I daily vifited the garden 
 and Summer-houfe, and found no author 
 fo pleafmg as Young ; the fimiiarity of our 
 griefs endeared his memory to me, and his 
 plaintive, but pious complainings, were 
 
THE WIDOWED F.RIDE. 57 
 
 congenial to my foul. My friends were 
 continually calling on me, politenefs obliged 
 me to fee them fometimes, and their friend- 
 ihip drew me into fociety. From ibme of 
 my neighbours I heard a flight account, of 
 Lady Wilmington 's ftory : I willied to be 
 perfonally acquainted with her, and thought 
 we could truly fvmpathife with each other. 
 Yet I judged her Lady (hip the happieft of the 
 two ; (he had the dear pledge of their loves 
 left, while I was alone — bereft of all my foul 
 held dear ! Soon an opportunity offered 
 agreeable to my willies : In a large field into 
 which the back door of both our gardens 
 opened, fome cattle were feeding, the fer- 
 vant who had the care of Lord William, 
 was amufing him by running after a buter- 
 fly ; the little infect, after hovering over 
 them, then flying to elude their grafp, di- 
 rected its courfe towards the field : to pleafe 
 the child the maid followed it, while Lady 
 Winnington amuled herfelf with looking 
 at them through the Summer-houfe win- 
 dow, which flood in the fame direction as 
 mine, and commanded a full view of the 
 field. They had not been loim- in the 
 chace, when one of the cows ran furioufly 
 towards them bellowing hideoufly. Lady 
 Winnington feeing: the danger of her child 
 and maid, icreamed violently, which, to- 
 gether with the iinieks of the woman and 
 
58 gellna; or, 
 
 child, made the fields echo; luckily I was 
 in my Summer-houfe, reading my favourite 
 Young. 
 
 When, on hearing the noife, I lookcc 
 thro 1 the window, and feeing their danger, 
 dropt from it into the field. 
 
 li The wild animal had reached the maid ; 
 the wind gently blew out her gown, which 
 it caught with its horns ; it being of a weak 
 texture, gave way. At that in it ant I came 
 up, and with a thick piece of wood I had 
 picked up, ftruck the cow on the head ; it 
 ftunn'd it for a few minutes, during which 
 time we made our efcape into the garden, 
 where we found Lady Winnington in ftrong 
 hyfterics : with proper am* fiance me foon 
 recovered ; when after prefling the dear boy 
 in her arms, and offering up her thanks for 
 his prefer vat ion, fhe acknowledged her obli- 
 gations to me in the kinder! manner. I at- 
 tended her into the houfe ; (he begged me 
 to flay tea, which invitation I accepted, 
 and during that fhort vifit we made fuch a 
 progrefs in each other's good opinion, that 
 from that time we became intimate friends. 
 I rendered her all the brotherly offices in 
 my power, and (lie felt a fiflerly intereft in 
 all that concerned me. At the age of five 
 years Lord William was placed entirely un- 
 der my tuition. Our mornings were fpent 
 in my ftudy :; our afternoons in the mufic 
 
THE WIDOWED BIUDE. 5Q 
 
 room ; we always dined with her Lady (hip ; 
 in the evenings we walked. 
 
 " Thus did I live, and enjoyed as much 
 happind's as any mortal was capable of, 
 whole hopes were fled beyond the grave : 
 but this tranquillity did not laft long, Lady 
 Wilmington too much indulged in- private 
 her grief, but endeavoured to ailume a 
 calm ferenity in her face, and a pleafant 
 livelinefs in her countenance ; yet ihe kept 
 many vigils to the memory of her Lord; 
 and it may be truly raid, that fhe wept her 
 life away. 
 
 " My pupil had juft pad his feventh 
 year, when Lady Wilmington was confined 
 to her bed— ihe had the beft advice London 
 could afford — the phyficians gave not the 
 leaft hopes. On their firft vifit, me was 
 well aware that me could not live. On the 
 morning of the fifth day of her rllnefs ihe 
 fent for me : after fome friendly converfa- 
 tion, ihe, in the prefence of a female coufin, 
 the only relative ihe had, put her will into 
 my hand, faying, ihe had appointed me fole 
 acting executor'; that ihe lefther dear boy 
 under my protection ; hoped I would be 
 father to her dear William. Here her 
 pength failed. I gave her every alfurance 
 in my power of the unremitting care I would 
 take of the amiable charge. She faid, ihe 
 was well perfuaded Ihe had placed him un- 
 

 60 celina; o!.', 
 
 der the protection of a man whofe love and 
 efteem he already poiTeifed ; and me trutled 
 that the helplefs and unprotected ftate he 
 would foon be left in, would endear him the 
 more to me. She then caught my hand and 
 preft it to her lips : love my dear boy, ilie 
 cried, then funk exhaufted on her pillow. 
 1 contrived to fee her three or four times 
 a day. 
 
 " On the evening of the eleventh day 
 (he expired, and was, by her defire, bu- 
 ried at Richmond. The will was opened 
 in the prefence of the Co u fin, and other of 
 her Ladyihip's acquaintances that attend- 
 ed the funeral — to her Coufin fhe left one 
 thoufand pounds — to each of her fervants 
 twenty pounds and mourning — To me 
 three hundred a-year, and fix hundred a- 
 year for the fupport of Lord Wilmington 
 and his education, till he was of age, 
 when the bulk of her fortune, which lay 
 in the funds, amounting to upwards of 
 feven ty thoufand pounds, with the ac- 
 cumulating intereft, was to be put in his 
 povTeffion. The funis willed to Lord Win- 
 nington and myfelf are paid out of the in- 
 tereft of his fortune : we have always lived 
 within our income, and I may fay that his 
 Lordfhip is now worth at lean: an hundred 
 and forty thoufand pounds. He may now 
 live out and indulge his liberal fpirit -, as I 
 
THE WIDOWED BRTDE. &l 
 
 have been an economifl for him in his 
 childhood. After her Ladylhip's death I 
 took care of the plate, linen, and fnch of 
 the furniture as I thought he would like 
 when he was able to judge for himfelf ; the 
 reft were fold. 
 
 " Lord William and myielf retired to my 
 htcle cottage : I could not bear the idea of 
 quitting it, and to a child of feven years 
 old all places are alike. The following 
 fummer, and every one fince, we have fpent 
 at fome watering place or other. I now 
 have the pleafure and fatisfaciion to fee the 
 dear boy riling into manhood, bleifed with 
 every perfection and accompliihmcnt both 
 mental and perfonal. 
 
 ^Mr. (knaville exprelTcd his thanks to 
 Mr. Hill, for this lingular mark of his 
 efteem, in relating Lord William's ftory. 
 
 " And pray, Sir, does his Lordlhip in- 
 tend to refide wholly at Blair Abby." 
 
 " No, Sir ; that is a fubjeel I have wifheel 
 to fpeak to you on, but did not like to intro- 
 duce it. It is the firft purchafe his Lordlhip 
 ever made, and it is remarkable that fome 
 months ago we palled that way on a viiit in 
 the neighbourhood ; as we rode by, Lord 
 Winnington admired thepark, water, bridge, 
 and above all, the retired lituation of the 
 houfe. Mv dear Sir, faid he, if ever this 
 
 Vol. I." G 
 
feat is to be fold I fhoukl like to be the pur- 
 chafer. At breakfaft one morning, looking 
 over the newfpaper, he faw it advertifed, 
 and fet off for Wilton that day, poft ; the 
 next we went to view it ; he was fo delighted 
 with the whole that he remained on the 
 fpot till the day. of fa! e. He wifhes to make 
 fome alterations ; the road he means to 
 turn, and build a new ftable to correfpond 
 with the other. A fervant informed them 
 that tea waited ; they agreed to talk over 
 the bufinefs next morning in Mr. Gura- 
 ville's ftudy. 
 
 Lord William, Henry., and Mary had 
 made great proficiency in the overture they 
 had been playing ; while the company were 
 lipping their tea, they performed it to the 
 great delight of their partial auditors, Lord 
 William on the violin cello, Henry- on the 
 violin, and Mary on the piano-forte. The 
 young muficians continued to play till it 
 was time to take their evening's walk. 
 
 The next day at noon the vifitors took 
 their leave of the happy family at Luther- 
 dale Hall, with many declarations of efteem 
 and friendfhip. 
 
 About three months after this, Lord Win- 
 nington wrote a polite friendly letter to 
 Mr. Guraville, begging he would permit 
 Henry to fpend fometime with him ; that 
 Mr. Hill and he intended to fpend their 
 
THE WIDOWED ERIDE. 63 
 
 Chriftmas at Bath ; if he would indulge 
 him with Henry's company, he would fend 
 the carriage for him. 
 
 To give weight to this petition Mr. Hill 
 Avrote a poftfeript, alfuring Mr. Guraville if 
 lie would grant them this favour, that he 
 would guarantee him on the part of Henry's 
 ftudics ; in fact Lord Winning-ton has felt a 
 vacuum ever iince he left Lutherdale Hall, 
 and none but Henry can fill it. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Guraville rightly thought 
 that fuch a friend as Lord Wihnihgtou 
 might in future be of great fervice to 
 Henry, befides it was too defirable a con- 
 nection not to feel a wifh to cement it ftill 
 ftronger. Mr. Guraville informed Herirv 
 of the invitation, likewife that it was his 
 wiiii he ihould accept it. 
 
 iC Nothing, Sir, can give me greater 
 pleafure, faid Henry ; I feel a more tender 
 affection for Lord \V r iliiam than any man on 
 earth, yourfclf excepted." 
 - A polite anfwer was returned, faying, 
 Henry would be ready to leave Lutherdale 
 Hall on fuch a day. 
 
 At the time fixed the carriage arrived to 
 convey Henry to his young friend. 
 
 The day alter Henry reached Bath, he 
 wrote his father an account of his friends 
 and his jourrev, which was pleafing; but 
 G 2 
 
M CELINA ; OR, 
 
 lie did not enjoy it : his thoughts alter- 
 nately reverted to the dear friends he had 
 left, and thofe he was going to meet. In 
 vain did he endeavour to revocate them to 
 things prefent — in vain did he endeavour 
 to admire the beautiful landfcape around 
 h-m — the deep rich valley, and flili more 
 beautiful uplands — the fublime chain of 
 white rocks that bound the weftern ocean, 
 were objects which, had he been travelling 
 with any beloved friend, would have 
 awakened his admiration, and filled him 
 with delight. Nature fo diverfified, in the 
 deep dells, the herds of cattle cropping 
 the luxuriant grafs, while the fummits of 
 the higheft hills were robed in fnow, 
 would have warmed his glowing imagina- 
 tion, and his pencil have retraced the pic- 
 turefque fcene. 
 
 Thus it is with the lonely and unhappy 
 traveller. The rich cultivated lands, or the 
 barren wild are to him alike— the glorious 
 fcene around him he fees not : he looks, 'tis 
 I rue, but all is chafm, all is void — ahforbed 
 in the dark fcene within himfelf, he is dead 
 to all the charms of nature or art. 
 
 While the focial and lively peregrinator, 
 accompanied by the friend of his heart, be- 
 gins his journey in good humour with him- 
 felf' and all the world ; every thing he meets 
 with pleafes him; every thing he fees gives 
 
THE WIDOWED BRIDE. 6 f) 
 
 him delight : when on the elevated hill, lie 
 admires the painted ihady valley ; when 
 in the flowery dale,; he cxtolls with rapture 
 the fublimity of the towering roeks and 
 mountains ; and at night, in their ofterice, 
 over their pigeon fbup and cu/fia del vino, 
 they talk of the beautiful (never to be for- 
 gotten) fcenesof the pad day. 
 
 One morning Mr. Guraville was fur- 
 prifed at receiving a letter, informing him 
 he wa appointed to a lucrative place under 
 government, which, if he chofe to accept, 
 demanded his pretence in town immedi- 
 ately/ He was all aftonifhment who could 
 have interefted themfelves fo much about 
 him. 
 
 He flew to Mrs. Guraville in thenurfery, 
 — " Read this, my dear Myra, and help 
 me to folve the riddle, Who can this fecret 
 friend be ?" 
 
 " No other than Lord Wilmington, ge- 
 nerous noble minded young man ! it mult 
 be him. The delicate manner in which he 
 has conferred the obligation adds to the 
 value of it." 
 
 Mrs. Guraville urged the neceflity of his 
 immediately going to London, which he 
 allowed, and inftantly gave- orders for his. 
 journey. 
 
 On his arrival in town he waited, ac— 
 G 3 
 
66 celina; or, 
 
 cording to the directions in the letter, on 
 the gentleman who was to give him every* 
 information he required. This gentleman 
 received him with great civility, and told 
 him it was a mod deferable appointment ; 
 gave him an exaci account of the income. 
 He then figned and gave Mr. Guraville the 
 paper that in veiled him in his office. Mr. 
 Guraville begged to know to whom he was 
 obliged. 
 
 " That, Sir, I am not at liberty to lay ; 
 to-morrow evening, at nine, I will intro- 
 duce you to the minifter ; from him per- 
 haps you will hear all you wifh." Mr. 
 Guraville bowed. " There will be a feat 
 in my carriage at your fervice." Mr. Gu- 
 raville bowed again, and took his leave. 
 
 During his ride to the hotel where he 
 lodged, and all the evening, his mind was 
 occupied with the duties of his office, and 
 gratitude to his friend. 
 
THE WIDOWED EKIDE. 
 
 C H A P. VI. 
 
 67 
 
 Shall men of talents, lit to rule mankind, 
 Stoop to mean wiles that would difgrace a fool, 
 And lofe the thanks of thofe few friends they ferve ; 
 For v. ho can thank the man he cannot fee ; 
 Why fo much cover ? it defeats itfelf. 
 
 THE next evening Mr. Guraville was 
 punctual to the hour at Mr. Ether- 
 way's, whom he found furrounded by de- 
 pendants, which he diimided on Mr. 
 Guraville's entrance, and led the way to 
 his carriage. 
 
 They found the minifter alone in his 
 fludy ; a number of letters lay before him, 
 which his due attention on the Houfe of 
 Commons had prevented his reading be- 
 fore. 
 
 The Minifter received them with a gra- 
 vity unufual in fo young a man ; but on 
 converting with him, he found him qui:k, 
 keen, and penetrating ; a wonderful pre- 
 
6*8 celina; or, 
 
 cifion in all he laid, though his manners 
 were truly conciliating", and his powers, as 
 a minifter, were aftonilhmg. He gave Mr. 
 Guraville to underitand, the place he was 
 appointed to was merely a finccurc; that 
 Lord Wilmington, an amiable young 
 Nobleman, had intimated to him his wifh, 
 that the appointment mould be made out 
 in the name of Guraville, and concluded 
 his harangue by faying, if a borough of- 
 fered, he hoped he would have no objec- 
 tion to fill a feat in parliament. 
 
 Mr. Guraville laid, " No man can feel 
 a more fmcere regard for his King, or re- 
 fpecf for the government than myfelf ; yet, 
 I fear my political abilities are inadequate 
 to the talk. The reprefentative of a peo- 
 ple ought, in my opinion, to be well ac- 
 quainted with the laws of his country, 
 civil, military, and eeclefiaftical ; alfo its 
 commerce, and above all, its dependance 
 and general inter eft." 
 
 " No," (aid the Minifter, fmiling, " you 
 over-rate the duties and neceflary abilities 
 of a fenator. It is true, a man en n not be 
 too great and too good a politician, nor 
 can his knowledge be too e:- ten five, to be- 
 come a member of the Houle of Coin- 
 mons ; yet a man may be very refpectable, 
 and truly ufeful to the ftate with humble 
 
THE WIDOWED BRIDE. 6'9 
 
 abilities." The entrance of more com- 
 pany put an end to the converfation and 
 viiic. 
 
 On their return, Mr. Ether ways laid, 
 " I hope, if a borough offers, you will 
 oblige the Minifter by accepting it. Why*, 
 the Minifter; Sir, might have received an 
 handtbme prefent if he had made the ap- 
 pointment for a gentleman who, fome 
 weeks, applied for it ; but Lord Winning- 
 ton afked, and he is a great favourite. 
 His father and grandfather were ftrong in 
 the majority, and we hope the prefent 
 Lord will take his feat when he is of 
 
 age/' 
 
 I owe much, Sir, to the Minifter, 
 and more to my befc friend, Lord Win- 
 nington ; yet I hoped thev never would 
 have thought of placing me in public 
 life.'' 
 
 " Dear, Sir, that is nothing; a man 
 may reprefent; a borough twenty years and 
 be fcarcely known to his conftiiuents ; if 
 he is never inclined to fpeak in the Houfe, 
 why, no matter, if he always votes with 
 the Minifter, it is enough." 
 
 This fpeech brought them to Mr. Ether- 
 way's door. They took their leave of 
 each other. Mr. Guraviile was reftlefs 
 and uneafy all tire evening; that he fliould 
 become one day or other a fenator was a 
 
70 celi#a; OR, 
 
 weight on his mind; politics were his ab- 
 horrence ; beiides, would not the world, 
 knowing the late derangement of his af- 
 fairs, fay, that he was an hireling of the 
 Miniiler's ; no doubt of it. 
 
 In the morning he wrote a detail of all 
 that had paffed fince his arrival, to his 
 Myra, defiling her to fay in what part 
 of the town me ihould like to oafs the 
 winter ; that, although his prefence was 
 not abfolutely necefiary, yet he thought it 
 right to fpend the firfi winter in town ; 
 when he received her anfwer he would 
 engage a refidence, and be at Luthcrdale 
 Hall the following v/eek to conduct her to 
 town. 
 
 He then wrote a letter to Lord Winn 
 ington expreffive of his thanks. His Lord- 
 ihip was pleafed to find the Minifter had 
 been fo punctual to his prornife, but did 
 not dream that he had a unifier view in 
 obliging him. He knew his own heart, 
 and by it judged of others ; if he did a 
 kindnefs to any individual, it was for the 
 exprefs purpofe of benefitting them, and 
 no other motive on earth. 
 
 Mrs. Guraville, in her anfwer, congra- 
 tulated her husband on his late good for- 
 tune ; of the dread he felt fhe hoped he 
 would divert himfelf: fuch a thing might 
 never take place as his being elected a 
 
THE WIDOWED BRIDE. _ 71 
 
 member. She had no choice in refpec! tp 
 fituation ; a fmall ready f urn iflied houfe, 
 in any part of the town he liked, and fhe 
 would prepare the family for the journey 
 again ft the time fixed. 
 
 Mr Guraville engaged a houfe in Wim- 
 pole-ffreet ; placed a woman in it to air the 
 beds, and prepare for his Myra, and left 
 town immediately. 
 
 A few miles from Lutherdale lie met 
 Mr. Wingrove on his way to London, who 
 palfed him as if lie was a ftranger; Mr. 
 Guraville was about to move his hat, and 
 falute him familiarly as formerly, but ob- 
 ferving his averted look, rode on, con- 
 cluding this infolent behaviour proceeded 
 from that great diilike which many rich 
 men feel for one of reduced fortunes, 
 though they themfelves have partook of 
 his profuilons, and by the quantity of 
 French and other coftly wines they poured 
 down their throats, have greatly afliiled in 
 reducing him to that ftate in which, when 
 once fallen, they defpife and forget him. 
 
 Though, in fact, it was quite otherwife 
 with Mr. Wingrove ; he felt himfelf the 
 defpicable perfon — the object, of contempt. 
 He did not in the lead fufpecl that Mrs. 
 Guraville had expofed his villany to her 
 husband, yet conicious guilt abalhed him ; 
 
nor could he look a man in the face he -had 
 once attempted to injure. 
 
 Mr. Guraville found all his family well, 
 and on the tiptoe for the journey, parti- 
 cularly Mary; nor in fact was Mrs. Gu- 
 raville the leaf! pleafed with the profpecf 
 of her removal to town. She, for the lake 
 of her huiband and children, had taught 
 h erf elf to be content in that fituation their 
 follies had placed them. Yet when a re- 
 verfe of fortune took place, fhe received 
 and enjoyed it with gratitude ; nor did 
 fhe endeavour to hide the tell tale fmiles 
 that played on her face. 
 , After confiding the care of Lutherdale 
 Hall to worthy Woodman, the happy family 
 began their journey. 
 
 As they travelled with their own horfes 
 (Mr. Guraville having bought a pair to 
 run in town, and another pair for a friend, 
 horfes felling cheaper in Devon than Lon*- 
 don, it was an accommodation to both 
 parties to work them up), the days being 
 fliort and the roads heavy, they made but 
 fhort journies. The firft night they ilept 
 at Exeter, the next at Dorchefter, and on 
 the third at Salisbury. 
 
 The next morning being Sunday, Mary 
 begged her Mamma to indulge her with a 
 fig : ht of the cathedral. Mrs. Guraville ever 
 eager to fatisfy and encourage all defire of 
 
THE WIDOWED BRIDE. ) 3 
 
 knowledge, and thinking none more uie- 
 fui than the know ledge of oui -own country, 
 its cities, towns, cathedrals, churches, and 
 hofpitals, when, and by whom endowed; and 
 when the ear is attentive to any little hifto- 
 rical account, and the eye at the fame time 
 amufed with the object of that account, the 
 mind receives it with more pleafure, and re- 
 tains it much Ion o;er. 
 
 While the horfes were preparing, they 
 walked to the cathedral ; after viewing* 
 every part, and gaining every information, 
 they went, up the fteeple to fee the great 
 bell, which was a matter of aftoniflmrent 
 how any fo large could be rung. Hopping 
 down the fteps Mary's foot Hipped, and 
 fhe fell down the remaining ones. Weldon 
 took her in his arms, and carried her to the 
 inn. 
 
 The furgeon was lent for, and fhe com- 
 plained of great pain in her moulder. On 
 examination, it was found the moulder was 
 diflocatecl ; he replaced it, then ordered his 
 patient to bed, and adminiftered proper 
 draughts to prevent a fever. 
 
 This -accident detained them two days at 
 Saliihury; on the third Mr. Wilfon faid his 
 patient was able to travel to London by 
 fliort journies. Her arm was put in a 
 
 Vol. I. H 
 
74 ci lin a; or, 
 
 fling to prevent her moving it, and they 
 left Salifbury that morning. 
 
 On the third day from their leaving Sa- 
 lifbury, they took an early dinner at Bag- 
 fliot, during which Mary, as ihe could not 
 eat, begged to lay clown. After dinner, as 
 'the horfes were preparing, Mrs. Guraville 
 went to Mary, who ihe found in a fweet 
 fleep and profufe perfpiration ; to wake her 
 was a pity, and was Ihe awake it would be 
 wrong to leave the room, till Ihe was per- 
 fectly cool. 
 
 Thus argued Mrs. Guraville ; Ihe ihut 
 the door foftly and told Mr. Guraville the 
 (late fhe was in : he judicioufly ordered the 
 horfes into the liable till farther commands. 
 This detained them two hours longer than 
 they intended to have (laid. Mary awoke 
 much refreshed b}^ her fleep, and they left 
 the King's Arms with all pofuble fpeed. 
 
 It had been very fhowery, and fome 
 heavy rain fell, foon after they left Bag- 
 ihot ; the night ihut in quite dark before 
 they had travelled ten miles : the happy 
 family within the carriage had no cares or 
 fears, but what arofe from the men being 
 expofed to the wet and cold. When they 
 were within a few miles of Hounflow, Mr. 
 Guraville let down the glafs and calling 
 "Weldon, defired he would to flop at the 
 
THE WIDOWED BRIDE. 75 
 
 firft houfe and take a rummer of hot brandy 
 and water each to prevent cold. 
 
 " We will give them a warming, and 
 
 be d d to them ! if they do not flop," 
 
 cried a gruff voice. This alarmed Mr. 
 Guraville. When the horfcmen appeared, 
 one of them rode up to the head of the 
 leaders, and fwore he would knock the 
 poflilion off if he did not flop. 
 
 The boy was deaf with fright, and the 
 horfes being young and fpirited, on receiv- 
 ing a blow on their heads they kicked, plung- 
 ed, and reared up, then bringing down their 
 fore quarters to the ground, they came in 
 contact with the highwayman's horfe ; the 
 rider receiving a gentle tap from the feet 
 of the affrighted animals, was laid fprawling 
 on the ground ; his horfe, feeling himfelf 
 eafed of his burthen, took to his heels 
 acrofs the heath, the leaders, in their ref- 
 tivenefs broke the bearing rein, and feel- 
 ing fomething under their feet, bit and 
 trampled on the man, till, called by his 
 cries, one of his companions came to his 
 afhilance, while the other was engaged in 
 dole combat with Weldon. 
 
 The footman had been aimiino; the mat- 
 ter with the other with the thick end of 
 his whip, which argument his antagonifl 
 fupported with a fitmlar weapon, till finding 
 
 H 2 
 
76 celina; or, 
 
 he was not likely to gain the victory, he 
 flew to his companion,, whom he found on 
 the ground almoft trampled to death : he 
 laid him on the back of his horfe and led 
 him away. The other finding both his 
 comrades gone, clapt fpurs to his horfe and 
 rode off, with his head a little larger and a 
 little forer than when he flopped the tra- 
 vellers, who were well pleafed to find they 
 remained victorious in the field ; they re- 
 adjusted the harnefs, and drove on with all 
 fpeed. 
 
 During the battle, the ladies in the coach 
 were much alarmed ; Mr. Guraville at- 
 tempted to get out and affift his fervants, 
 but Mrs. Guraville, clinging round his 
 neck, fcreamed violently; Mary joined her 
 fhrill notes, and the maid, though in fact, 
 not much frightened, thought me could 
 not be wrong in pretending to the fame 
 fears as her lady, was therefore her echo. 
 Little Eliza, though not fenfible of their 
 danger, joined in the general cry. In vain 
 did Mr. Guraville endeavour to pacify the 
 women, they could not hear him, nor 
 ccu'd he dif engage himfelf from his Myra's 
 grafp. 
 
 ' For heaven's fake, my dear Myra, let 
 me go ! Can I fuller my fervants to refign 
 their lives for me and mine, and not afiiil: 
 them. I cannot fit ihut up in fafety 
 
THE WIDOWED BRIDE. 77 
 
 and fee the honeit fellows beat, perhaps 
 killed/' 
 
 While he was thus reafoning, victory ! 
 victory ! exclaimed the fervants, and Wel- 
 don, coming* to the carriage door, declared 
 they had beat them off. 
 
 They flopped at Hounilow. The land- 
 lady warned and applied plailers to the flight 
 wounds of Weldon and the footman, and 
 bathed their inhdes with a glafs of her heft 
 brandy. A comfortable hot fupper was 
 quickly ferved up, and fhortly after the 
 whole family went to bed to dream of rob- 
 bers, battle, and murder. 
 
 Mrs. Guraville felt inclined to fleep late 
 the next morning.. The footman was lent 
 on before to order dinner at four o'clock ; 
 at which time they all arrived fafe at Wim- 
 pole-ftreet. 
 
 Mrs. Guraville fent her cards to but few 
 of her acquaintance, as llie had been in- 
 formed, by an intimate female friend, that 
 many of them had laid ill-natured and un- 
 handfome things of her, when they heard 
 fhe was become poor — that was the phrafe 
 they chofe to ufe. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Guraville palled the win- 
 ter in a quiet domeftic way ; they received 
 but few vifits, and returned them but fel- 
 dom. 
 
 H3 
 
78 celina; or, 
 
 Towards the latter end of February Lord 
 Wilmington, Mr. Hill, and Henry returned 
 from Bath. Mr. Guraville having en- 
 gaged a lioufe within a few doors of his, 
 .which was prepared for their reception, 
 Lord Winnington defired that Henry might 
 flill be his gueft, fo as that he appeared 
 as a vifitor at his father's, which was very 
 frequent, there being a friendly intercourfe 
 kept up between the families. 
 
 On the approach of fpring they began to 
 turn their thoughts on the country. Mr. 
 Hill begged they would fpend a month at 
 his villa at Richmond, which Mr. Guraville 
 agreed to, on condition that he and Lord 
 ..Wilmington would return with them to 
 ""'Lutherdale. 
 
 Lord Winnington faid, that if Mr. Hill 
 had no objection, it mould be fo ; but the 
 trio muft leave the reft of the family at 
 Salifbury, and make a vifit to Blair Abby, 
 as he wiihed to fee what progrefs the work- 
 men had made in the alterations ; they 
 then would, in a few days, join them at 
 Luther dale. 
 
 The arrangement thus made, they left 
 town for Richmond. Mr. Hill's houfe was 
 a little elegant retreat, fitted up in an ex- 
 quifite ftile of tafte and neatnefs : the gar- 
 dens, to a fanciful mind, had the appear- 
 ance of fairy land, and the beautiful mea- 
 
THE WIDOWED BRIDE. 79 
 
 dows beyond it, whofe floping banks were 
 wafhed by the clear tranlparent Thames, 
 with the rich inclofures and diftant villas, 
 rendered the proi pedis truly plcafing. 
 
 "Here, my dear Madam, laid Mr. Hill, 
 taking Mrs. Guravilles' hand, here did my 
 dear Eliza delight to fit : in the fummer- 
 houfe has die whole hours amuied mc with 
 her melodious voice, and in that verdant 
 meadow, when it was inhabited only by 
 gentle fheep, did Ihe delight to walk ; and 
 I, her faithful friend, with pleafure con- 
 templated the reflection of her lovely form 
 in that placid river ! 
 
 Mr. Hill, to amufe his friends, formed 
 little dinner parties of the few feledr. ac- 
 quaintance he had in the neighbourhood. ; 
 
 On the third day after their arrival a 
 gentleman and his daughter were invited. 
 After the ceremonies of introduction were 
 performed by Mr. Hill, the converfation 
 became general, and before the cloth was 
 removed, the whole company felt an intereft 
 in each other. The young folks were not 
 without their partialities ; Mary felt de- 
 lighted in the company of Celina; Henry 
 thought her the moil charming young lady 
 he ever law ; Lord William regarded both 
 the young ladies ; Celina had been his 
 playfellow ever fi nee ihe could walk, and 
 he was very fond of her ; but for Mary he 
 
80 celina ; OR, 
 
 felt a friendfhip ibmewhat warmer, though 
 his eyes told him ihe was not fo handibme, 
 nor was ihe more amiable than Celina : 
 " It is," fays he, " becaufe me is the lifter 
 of Henry." 
 
 Mr. Morley was a merchant of great re- 
 fpectability, and refided a fhort mile from 
 Richmond. He, like Mr. Hill, loft his 
 wife the fecond year of his marriage ; me 
 left a lovely little girl, four months old, 
 which was his only care and delight. Soon 
 after the death of Mrs. Morley, he parted 
 with his houfe in town, and refided entirely 
 at Richmond for the benefit of his little 
 Celina, and engaged a refpeclable widow 
 lady to regulate his domeftic affairs, and 
 fuperintend the nuriing of his infant. The 
 child grew in the nurfe's arms, and by Mrs. 
 Goodalfs early inftructions, (he was ac- 
 quainted with her letters before me could 
 lifp them out, and by the help of a mufic, 
 dancing, and drawing mailer, ihe, at the 
 age of twelve years, was quite accom- 
 pliihed ; as Mrs. Goodall taught her fancy 
 and all ufeful and ornamental works. 
 
 This lady had received a liberal educa- 
 tion ; was the daughter of a very refpecV 
 able man, eldeft partner of a large whole- 
 fale houfe in the linen trade. She was 
 married at an early age to a young man, 
 
THE V/IDOWED BRIDE. 81 
 
 been initiated in the art of the 
 bufinds by her father. 
 
 Some years after, the houfe failed : the 
 weak health and fpirits of Mr. Coiraine could 
 not fuftain the Ihock. The death of her 
 father was foon followed by that of her huf- 
 band, who fell into a rapid decline, and 
 left Mrs. Goodali a widow 7 at the age of 
 thirty-live. 
 
 Mrs. Goodali was on terms of ftricceft 
 friendihip with Mr. Morley, and was left 
 a widow before the mother of Celina was 
 married. 
 
 The few hours Mr, Morley could fpare 
 from bufmeis were ipent at his little retreat 
 near Richmond, where he experienced a 
 calm felt but by few. With delight and 
 gratitude did he behold Ceiina improve 
 in perfonal beauty, and mental acquire- 
 ments. 
 
 Mr. Morley, at taking leave, defired to 
 have the pleafure of Mr. Hill and his 
 friends' company to dinner the following 
 day ; which was agreed to. 
 
 Mary looked forward with pleafure to 
 the hour of vifiting, and was dreiFed much 
 earlier than w r as abfolutcly neceffary ; and 
 Henry appeared as anxious to make an 
 early viiit as Mary. Lord William read 
 their willies in their looks, and ever ready 
 
82 celina; ok, 
 
 to promote the happinefs of his frieneTsy 
 proppfed to driv r e them in the phaeton. 
 
 " We can make an apology for (b early 
 a vifit, and amufe ourfelves with walking 
 and mufic till dinner." 
 
 " My Lord, laid Mr. Hill, are you not 
 afraid of being confidered an unfafhionable 
 man ; and fear you not it will be deemed 
 a breach of good breeding to make fo early 
 a dinner vilit ?"' 
 
 " No, my dear Sir ; not among friends : 
 fuch a man as Mr. Morley does not draw 
 liafty inferences ; lie fees the caufe that 
 actuates his friends, and by that judges 
 of their actions. Now, Sir, he will plain- 
 ly fee that an early vifit is on account 
 of the love we all have for Celina." 
 
 ic You judge right, my Lord, of the 
 real character of my good friend Morley - 9 
 he is indeed both fufceptible and worthy 
 of the tender intercourfe that unites man 
 to man. "" 
 
 Have you any objection, afked Lord 
 Winning-ton, (milling, and (lightly bowing 
 to Mrs. Guraville, then to the gentlemen), 
 to our making fo early a, vifit ? None in 
 the lead returned all. 
 
 " Go, faid Mrs. Guraville, returning 
 his Lordmip's fmile, go, let tyrannical 
 cuftom for once give place to inclination. — 
 I fee all vour hearts are with the amiable 
 
THE WIDOWED BRIDE- 83 
 
 Celina: if any find fault, tell them that, 
 for once, cuitom is facriliced to friend 
 fnip." 
 
 The phaeton was foon at the door — away 
 they drove with hearts at eafe. Celina was 
 as much delighted as ftirprifed at feeing her 
 yourig friends at {o early an hour ; nor 
 did the morning hang heavy on their 
 hands. A fhort time before dinner Mrs. 
 Guraville and the gentlemen arrived in the 
 coach. The day palled rapidly away, and 
 the hour of parting came too foon for 
 the young friends. 
 
 Mary, while walking in the garden, whif- 
 pered her mamma to aik for Celina's com- 
 pany for a iew days. Mrs. Guravile told 
 her, if they were at their own houfe me 
 mould be happy to oblige her ; but as they 
 were viiitors at Mr. Hill's, it would be hiffh* 
 ly improper to take fuch a liberty. 
 
 Lord Winning-ton watched Mary as fire 
 was fpeaking to her mamma, and faw by 
 her countenance that flie had been unfuc- 
 cefsful iu her foli citation. He was a ftran- 
 ger to her requeft, yet wiilied it could be 
 granted. 
 
 In a few minutes after he met her in 
 another walk, and aiked her what it was 
 me fo earneftly petitioned her mamma? — 
 " Nothing, my Lord," faid {lie, blufhing. 
 
84 celina; or, 
 
 " Oh ! indeed it was, Mary, and whatever 
 it was your mamma refufecl you 11 
 
 Mary, leaft he mould think it full more 
 improper than it really was, told him alfo, 
 that me was fati&fied, her mamma having 
 pointed out to her the impropriety ot 
 taking fuch a liberty. 
 
 His Lordlhip faid no more, Meeting 
 Mr. Hill, he related to him what had pafs'd 
 between Mary and her Mamma ; that if he 
 had no objection, he would aik-for Celina's 
 company. 
 
 Mr. Hill, faid it certainly met his appro- 
 bation, and he would join in the requeit. — 
 They were all aiTembled in the drawing 
 room, and the carriages ordered, when 
 Lord William prefented his petition to Mr. 
 Morley ; it was immediately feconded by 
 Mr. Hill : Mary faid nothing, but looked 
 a great deal. 
 
 Lord William aiked Mrs. Goodall to 
 hold up her hand in his caufe : (he anfwer- 
 ed, with a fmile, he certainly mould have 
 her voice. 
 
 " Say you fo, Mrs. Goodall," returned 
 Mr. Morley, " then I mud vote with the 
 majority." 
 
 Celina thanked her father joyfully, and 
 killing her dear Mrs. Goodall, away fhe 
 flew to prepare for her vifrt. 
 
THE WIDOWED ERIDE. 85 
 
 "Mr. Morley begged Celina would return 
 the next evening, as lie muft be in town all 
 the week, and Mrs. Goodall would want 
 company. " If that is the cafe, we will 
 take Mrs. Goodall with us," laid Mr. Hill. 
 It was then agreed that fhe iliould join them 
 the next day. 
 
 Henry took a feat in the coach, to give 
 his place in the phaeton to Celina. Never 
 were young friends fo truly happy : their 
 mornings were fpeiit in Mrs. Guraville's 
 dicrhng-room, in ftudy and needle work; 
 and the fame time was alio palled by the 
 srentlemeu in Mr. Hill's ftudv. 
 
 They then rode for two hours before 
 dinner ; fumetimes in parties, at other times 
 the ladies would honour the gentlemen 
 with their company. 
 
 After dinner the young ones retired to 
 the mufic room;:; Avh ere they were uilially 
 joined by Mrs. Guraville: nor was it un- 
 common for the gentlemen to take their 
 wine there. Thus pleafantly and inftruc- 
 tively did this happy group pafs their 
 time. 
 
 At the hour appointed, Mrs. Goodall ar- 
 rived. Celina was not the leaft pleafecl 
 with her company ; fhe loved her with 
 true filial affection. It is a certain mark 
 
 Vol. I. I 
 
$6 -celina; or, 
 
 of the amiablenefs of old age, when youth 
 is attached to : it. 
 
 To fee a young lively girl perfectly at 
 eafe, under no reltraint in the prefence of 
 the perfon under whom (he has received 
 lier education, and to whom me behaves 
 with affectionate refpccl, yet gives way to 
 all the playfulnefs of her temper, is a 
 proof with what fenfe, good humour, and 
 attractive mildneis her inftruclions were 
 
 given. 
 
 Nothing is more common than for youth 
 to inful t, deride, and ridicule old age ; it 
 is highly reprehenfible in them, and is gene* 
 rally marked as a want of fenfe ; yet it is 
 undoubtedly in a great meafure the fault of 
 old age itfelf. 
 
 Unfortunately it is too often the cafe 
 with both fexes, that when they are arrived 
 at certain years they think it a reflection 
 on their dignity to be feen in company 
 with youth, or if at any time chance brings 
 them together, they affume 'an aufteiity of 
 manners, a gravity of countenance, and a 
 difapproving look, which chills the natural 
 ardour of youth, freezes the fprings of lux- 
 uriant imagination, and makes them feel 
 abaihed in their company; conceiving an 
 implacable diflike to that age they ought 
 to revere. 
 
THE WIDOWED BRIDE. 87 
 
 Time flew on wings too rapidly with our 
 party. On the fixth day Mrs. Goodall re- 
 ceived a letter from Mr. Morley, faying he 
 mould return home that evening, when he 
 hoped to meet her and Celina. The letter 
 was communicated to the whole party ; it 
 had a viiible effect on the countenances of 
 the younger part of the company, and Mrs. 
 Guraville felt a reluctance to part with Mrs. 
 Goodall. 
 
 Mr. Hill propofed going in the carriage 
 to meet Mr. Morley, and bring him there ; 
 which was done ; and at fupper Mr. Mor- 
 ley added one to the party. 
 
 The next evening Mrs. Goodall and Mr. 
 Morley returned, but, by his leave, Ce- 
 lina was detained. 
 
 j The time at length arrived for their de- 
 parture into Devon, and a feparation took 
 place between Mary and Celina. The 
 evening before they left Richmond Mary 
 attended her friend home in the coach, as 
 did Lord Winnington and Henry. On 
 their way back Mary ihed many tears of 
 real for row at parting with her friend. 
 
 " Why, Mary," faid Henry, " if you 
 had taken your laft farewell of Celina you 
 could not flied more tears : nay, my dear 
 filter, you will fpoil your fine eyes, if you 
 crv foi; p'rav, mv dear, be comforted. 
 I 2 
 
88 CEL1NA ; OR, 
 
 " And who can lay, with certainty, itis 
 not the laft time we ihall lee each other, 
 bolides I had better fpoil my eyes by 
 /bedding tears, than yon fpoil your month 
 by grinning at my fenfibility. How many 
 tears would you thee! — bow yon would 
 fpoil your eyes, if yon were feparated 
 from Lord Winnington . ? but you are fe- 
 eure in his company, and you are ih felfffh, 
 that yon feel not for the little diitreffo 
 of oMftQr&tT 
 
 M Nay, Mary, do not fay f o ; I am not 
 felfiih or unfeeling ; I have at all times 
 iympathifed in yonr forrows, and rejoiced 
 in yonr pleafnres : nor did I now mean to 
 offend, but merely to amufe.*' 
 
 " Come, come," faid Lord Winnington, 
 taking Mary's hand "do not take in fo 
 ferious a light what was meant as a.,joke. 
 I thought my dear Mary's temper too ami- 
 able to be offended with her brother for 
 fnch a trifle, and her judgment too nice *to 
 miftake his' meaning." - 
 
 The idea of having raifed a doubt in 
 Lord William's mind concerning her judge 
 ment or temper, threw a deep furfufion over 
 her face ; her eyes fell on her lap 1 , from 
 which (lie dared not raife them, till her 
 brother, hurt at her confution, 'held out 
 his hand as a token of amity. , She inftant- 
 
1 B E W I D 0¥LD B RIDE. $9 
 
 ly laid hers in it, faying, " Henry, arc we 
 
 friends for ever." 
 
 Lord William, at the fame inflant, pref- 
 fed both their hands between his, faying, 
 " Peace to us for ever !' s 
 
 Mary fmiled ; but was fo impreffed with 
 the improprieties of her behaviour, that me 
 could not be cheerful. 
 
 As foon as they readied home, flie ran 
 into the garden, to reflecl. on the paft, and 
 make refolutions for the future. 
 
90 cei.ina; or, 
 
 C II A P. VII. 
 
 Or figh with pity at fome mournful tale, 
 Or prefs the baihful ftranger to his food, 
 And learn the luxury of doing good. 
 
 Goldsmith. 
 
 a 
 
 T an early hour the next morning they 
 left Ri elm ioikI ; the weather was un- 
 commonly fine, and they choie to travel 
 with their own horfes. 
 
 On the fecond day, between Stockbridge 
 and Saliibury, the mail coach driving quick 
 along the road, winding, and rather. narrow, 
 in palling a heavy road waggon the wheels 
 came in contact with each other in fo vio- 
 lent a manner, that the coach was thrown 
 on its tide: the outfide paffengers, from 
 the force of the fall, flew to a great dif- 
 tance on a common by the road fide, over- 
 grown with furze and heath. 
 
TIi£ WIDOWED BRIDE. 91 
 
 This accident ltopp°d our travellers and 
 called forth their humanity. The firft ob- 
 ject that prefented itfelf to their eyes and 
 cars was a iailor, lying with Ins face in a 
 hulh of furze, and ciying, " Yo, yo, avait, 
 lend a heaving hand here ; all the cats in 
 hell are clawing* out my eyes ! they will 
 darken my daylights by (i — d>." 
 
 The gentlemen lifted him up. " God 
 f|)eed ye, mefs-mates. What cheer ? Tin 
 now on keel ; but may I never reef a fail 
 again, if . my larboard wing is not fnap'd ! 
 I fay, mother (addrefTmg himfelf to a cot- 
 tager who itood by), have you no fplicer of 
 limbs nigh at hand." (i Ha, what fay un ?*' 
 " The doctor, I fuppofe, you mean : do, 
 my good woman, fend fome one for the 
 furgeon with all fpeed," faid Mr. Hill. 
 
 Mis. Guraville's attention was taken up 
 with a poor woman, wife to a foklier, who 
 had followed her hufbancl to Plymouth, and 
 was returning to London to lie in, as ihe 
 had fome relations there, and one child. — 
 Her right wrift was diilocated, 'and one knee 
 put out. 
 
 The coachman was very much bruifed ; 
 the guard efcaped ; the two infide palfen- 
 gers joftled heads and legs together a little, 
 to the no fmall difcomhture of an old vir- 
 gin, who had had fome doubts concerning 
 the propriety of travelling in a ftage-coach 
 
92 celina; or, 
 
 with a male companion, and a ftrangor 
 too. 
 
 On her firft leaving Exeter, (he obferved 
 a haughty filence, thinking that the heft 
 ihield againft any liberty her fellow traveller 
 might be inclined to take, which impreffed 
 him with no very favourable opinion of the 
 amiablenefs of her manners. He was an 
 elegant young man, at leaft twenty yeaiV 
 behind the fair virgin traveller. 
 
 They occupied oppofite corners of the 
 coach, with /their faces averted from each 
 other. She, blufhing, counted the mile- 
 ftones ; he curling, his hard fate to be ihut 
 up fo many hours with an old affected 
 prude. 
 
 That fide of the coach on which the 
 gentleman fat fell to the ground ; his a- 
 miable companion was thrown plump on 
 him : when her Ihrivell'd cheek preifed his, 
 he felt fenfations very different from thofe 
 ufually excited by the delicate touch of a 
 fair one's cheek. He flruggled to be re- 
 lieved from his lovely load, while me ^en- 
 circled him in her arms, and begged for 
 God's fake he would help her. 
 
 The poor woman, faiior, and coachman, 
 were feated on the grafs, waiting the ar- 
 rival of the iurgeon ; while the guard, with. 
 the amftance of Lord Wilmington's and 
 Mr. Guraville's fervants, were putting the 
 
 
THE WIDOWED BRIPE. fjS 
 
 coach in a condition to continue the jour- 
 ney. 
 
 •* What a d — — d good pilot yon mult 
 be: why. ye a"n't fit to have command, il 
 ye can't work the veiiel better. Why 
 ctm'dn't ye manage them there living fails 
 better, Ye ihonld have taken them in a 
 reef when ye found they made to much 
 way. Shiver my timbers if I don't — f' 
 
 " Say no more, lad, one of your tim- 
 bers, as you call them, is already lhiver- 
 cd," returned the coachman, " and here 
 is the furgeoti come to let. it" 
 
 The furgeon walked up to his group of 
 patients. The woman demanded his care 
 iirft. He laid it was neceflary to put her to 
 bed, as he iufpecled the fail would haftert 
 her delivery. 
 
 With fome difficulty, Mrs. Guraville pre- 
 vailed on the cottager to take her in, who 
 had a fpare bed ; ihe faid it was her fon\>, 
 but he was gone a foldiering. Another 
 bid was prepared in an adjoining cottage 
 for the iailor. 
 
 Xeeeifary applications were applied to 
 the coachman's elbow and lhouider ; and 
 as he wiflied to go to town, the furgeon 
 faid the journey would not hurt him, if he 
 could go in fide the coach, to which the 
 gentleman inftantly agreed, faying, he 
 hoped the lady had no objection. 
 
94 celina; or, 
 
 " Indeed, Sir," anfwered me " I 'can- 
 not think of admitting fuch company in 
 the fame coach with me." 
 
 (i I allow, Madam, it may not be per- 
 fectly agreeable; but humanity will oblige 
 us to wave that : the man muft go to town, 
 and death may be the confequence of his 
 going out fide." 
 
 " I owe him no humanity, Sir : what is 
 his death to me : he did not care for my 
 life when he overturned the coach." 
 
 " No matter, Madam, I injift on his 
 going into the coach;" at the fame time 
 helping him in. 
 
 The natural high colour of the lady's 
 face increafed to a deep fcarlet, and me 
 croaked out, as well as rage would permit, 
 
 " I that would never condefcend to give 
 an order to my father's coachman, am now 
 inful ted by being ihut up in the lame 
 vehicle with a common ftage driver." 
 
 " For mame, Madam, your fentiments 
 and behaviour would difgrace a favage. — 
 What monftrous depravity of mind does it 
 evince in a delicate female, who Jhould 
 poifefs feelings of tendernefs and humanity 
 for all mankind, to ac~i and fpeak as you 
 do. Look at that lady ; ihe is a woman 
 of quality, yet fhe does not refufe her af- 
 fiftance to the poor foldier's wife and 
 wounded failor.." 
 
THE WIDOWED BRIDE. £5 
 
 " All! God blefsthem," laid the coach- 
 man, " they have promiled to keep them 
 both while they are ill, and pay all ex- 
 pen ees ; I have reaibn to ipeak in their 
 praile, it would have been main hard for 
 me to have paid all that there money/' 
 
 (i More fhame for them ; it only en- 
 courages drivers to be carelefs with their 
 mifplaced charity ; they do it to get a good 
 name among the vulgar." 
 
 She continued to grumble fometime, 
 which the Gentleman did not think worth 
 his while to anfwer, and the pain the 
 Coachman was in prevented him from 
 hearing, fo that a total filence enfued. 
 
 Our good Samaritans, after feeing the 
 poor woman comfortably attended, and the 
 failors arm fet, left a depoiit in the hand 
 of the furgeon for their fupport, defiring 
 he would, when they were quite well, fend 
 his bill to Lutherdale Hall, and they would 
 lend a draft for the money — they then took 
 their leave. 
 
 The failor thanked them with heartfelt 
 gratitude, declaring, that in his Saturday 
 night's grog he would drink their healths, 
 next to his dear Poll's, as long as lie lived. 
 He followed them to the carriage door, and 
 as they drove off, gave them three cheers, 
 with long live the King, and Englifli cha- 
 rity. The poor woman was delivered of a 
 
9o celina; or, 
 
 dead child the next evening, and continu- 
 ed ill for fame weeks. The failor recovered 
 the ule of his arm within the ufiial time of 
 fractures becoming found. 
 
 At Salifbury, Lord Winning-ton, Mr. 
 Hill, and Henry, took their leave for Blair 
 Abby ; Mr. and Mrs. (jurraville, Alary 
 and Eliza, proceeded to Lutherdale Hal], 
 where they found Woodman in good 
 health, and ready to receive them ; and 
 the trio joined them in a few days. 
 
 While at Blair Abby, Lord Wilmington 
 determined to make itill more alterations, 
 and the front of the Abby was to be beau- 
 tified, all which certainly could not be 
 hniihed that Summer ; and as it had been 
 prcviouily* agreed, that Lord Winn ington 
 ihould make the grand tour before he e- 
 ftabliihed his houfe, Mr. Hill propofed 
 leaving England in the Autumn, to which 
 his Lordihip aifented. 
 
 " IJIwidd like,'' laid his Lordihip, hefi- 
 tating. 
 
 " VVhat mould you like?" interrupted 
 Mr. Hill, looking at him archly, " What 
 lhould you like." 
 
 " You will think me unreafonable. 
 Sir." 
 
 " No, my dear William, I hope not. I 
 never yet thought you lb." Lord William 
 bowed. 
 
THE WIDOWED LAIDE. ()7 
 
 " I dare fay I can guefs what you wifh ; 
 and if I guefs right, I approve your de- 
 fire, and Avill do all in my power to gra- 
 tify it" 
 
 " Dear Sir, Do you think Mr. and 
 Mrs. Guraville will confent, if I aik 
 them *'*- 
 
 " Nay, you have not told me w hatyou 
 really do with." 
 
 " I M'ifh that Henry may make the 
 tour with us; he will be an happy addi- 
 
 tion." 
 
 "So I thought; it is my wifh alfo. 
 Henry is a charming boy ; it will be of 
 infinite fervice to him ; and he is a pleafant 
 companion for you ; he poifeffes a firm 
 capacity, capable of learning all that can 
 be taught. It is one of my greater! plea- 
 sures to inftrucl; him ; he has a wonderful 
 comprehenfive genius. I think of late, he 
 is very fond of ltudying the art of war. I 
 have feveral times furprifed him reading 
 military treatifes." 
 
 " Yes, Sir ; he feems much attached to 
 military life. He has told me, that if a 
 war fliould break out between England 
 and any other power, he fliould like to 
 purchafe a cbittmiffidik* 
 
 " Indeed !" 
 Vol. L K 
 
9$ 
 
 "\e$, Sir; and when I laughed at his 
 warlike ideas, and told him he had better 
 remain quietly at home ; he turned round 
 on his heel, looked me full in the face, 
 and while an enquiring fmile illumined 
 his mafterly countenance, he faid, And 
 does your Lordfhip really think f o ? You 
 cannot furely wifh me to live here an in- 
 active life, when I might employ my time 
 in ferving my King and country : befides, 
 a poor Gentleman, indolent and inactive, 
 is, in my opinion, the moft contemptible 
 character on earth. 
 
 " Though an only fon, I rnuft take the 
 road that lays open to young ones ; and 
 cut out a fubiiftence with my fword ; for 
 while my parents live, I never fhall claim 
 LutherdaJe eftate ; with that, and the 
 place my father holds, he may poiTibiy 
 fave a little for my filters — they rnuft be 
 taken care of. 
 
 '* You are a good fon, and a worthy 
 brother, replied I, and I think your re- 
 folution deferves praife ; yet, I fear, your 
 mother would preier the church for 
 you. 
 
 " I hope, returned , Henry, ilie will 
 have no objection to the army. I cannot 
 think of the church; never mould I rife 
 to preferment. I could not bow to the 
 
THE WIDOWED BRIDE. 99 
 
 great man, — fay flattering things to his 
 lady — carry meffages to and from r' 
 nurfery — watch the fcrvaut.s, atid make 
 reports accordingly — tell little tales to 
 the children, and when a richer man thr 
 myieli is at table, fit lilent to ihew my 
 dependence. No, my Lord l I would 
 iboner follow the plough than live in inch 
 a fertile Hate*" 
 
 " Noble minded boy! we mult render 
 unneceflary his doing either the one, or the 
 other. 
 
 " You have, my dear Sir, fpoke my 
 fentiments. I would happily jhare my jar- 
 tune with him ; but the independent mind, 
 that fpurns the idea of lolling at eafe in a 
 good benefice, purchafed by fervility, will 
 alfo refufe to be a dependent on friendship.- 
 I have a defire to make him offers, yet 
 dread to hurt his feelings. 
 
 " It mutt," faid Mr. Hill,. u be ma- 
 naged with delicacy, when you are with 
 him, my Lord, by and by. I wifn you 
 would aik him, if he has any objection to 
 make the tour with us, and let me know 
 before dinner, and I will fpeak to Mr. 
 Guraville while we are chatting over our 
 wl n e." — T hey parted . 
 
 Lord Winnington to fmd Henry, and 
 Mr. Hill to the plantation, vh:re Mr. 
 
 k s 
 
100 celina; or, 
 
 Guraville paned fome part of every morn- 
 
 Lord William found Henry in his own 
 room, intent on hjs favourite (Indies ; he 
 laid down the book on his ■ Lord (hip's en- 
 tering. 
 
 " 1 am come, Henry, to coniult with 
 you. Mr. Hill thinks with me, that it is 
 time I made the tour of France and Italy, 
 and lias named September as the time of 
 our leaving England." 
 
 At this Henry turned pale — then a deep 
 fcarlet fuffufed- his cheek. 
 
 " I am forry I mall o foon lofe your 
 company, my Lord, but it is neceiiary 
 that you fhould go ; and I (hall anticipate 
 your return, and with the moil anxious 
 folicitude pray for your health and happi- 
 nefs. As he uttered thefe words, his fine 
 dark eyes fwam in the briny liquid, which, 
 to prevent its falling from the boundaries, 
 he doled ; and as he opened them again, 
 each beautiful long lain fufpended a brilli- 
 ant drop, which looks like the dew be- 
 fpangled down of the thiftle, and adds ad- 
 ditional luftre to his eyes. " I mall, in- 
 deed, my Lord, feel pain at the repara- 
 tion." 
 
 ic It is my wifh, Henry, that we mould 
 not be feparated ; if I dare hope that you 
 will con lent to go with me, and leave your 
 
THE WIDOWED ERIDE. 101 
 
 family, your company will give me great 
 pleafure ; and it is alio Mr. Hill's wifh that 
 you mould go, 
 
 " If I remain in England, my father 
 will fend me lbme where to frnim my 
 fhulies, and if I muft be from them, it 
 matters not whether I am two hundred, or 
 two thoufand miles diftance ; and I have 
 two powerful inducements to accept your 
 kind offer : Firft, I thai! live with, and re 
 ceive initruclions from the only two men 
 on earth I love, my father excepted. Se- 
 condly, The great advantage I ihall de- 
 rive from living fome time in the bofom 
 of the arts, and ftudying men and man- 
 ners in two of the ririr countries in the 
 w rid." 
 
 1 * Well, my dear Henry, as it is really 
 your wifh to go, I am happy ; leave the 
 reft to me and Mr. Hill ; he intends to 
 mention our projected tour to-day, and at 
 the fame time will ask for your com- 
 pany/' .He left Henry to acquaint 
 Mr. Hill with his deiire of going with 
 them. 
 
 Henry amufed himfelf with looking for- 
 ward to pkafure in perfpective. The fa- 
 mily met at the ufiial hour to dinner, 
 which pair, as all of them did, in pleafant- 
 nefs and good humour. When the cloth 
 K 3 
 
1 02 celina; or 
 
 was removed, Mr. Hill entered on the Tub 
 jecl of their intended journey. 
 
 " Indeed, Sir," laid Mrs. Guraville, 
 " I have wondered that Lord Wilmington 
 had not made the grand tour before ; and 
 concluded, that you did not approve it, or 
 thought it not necefiary to the fmiihirig of 
 a gentleman's education. . 
 
 " Nor do I, Madam, think it absolute- 
 ly necefYary ; yet a fenlible young man, 
 who has made himfelf acquainted with the 
 geography, hiftory, religion, laws and 
 cuftorns of his own country, may acquire 
 great knowledge and advantage in a tour 
 through France and Italy ; nay, I will not 
 leave out Germany, Switzerland, and Pruf- 
 fia, under the care of a proper preceptor, 
 or the father himfelf ; though I mould al- 
 ways give the preference to a preceptor, 
 if he be a. man of honour and discre- 
 tion. 
 
 A man who poffeffes enough of his 
 pupil's heart to be efteemed by him as his 
 friend* — A man who will enter into every 
 little amufement and innocent gaiety ; by 
 that means he becomes his confident, 
 knows all his fecrets, and holds an imper- 
 ceptible fway over his mind, and prevents 
 his entering* into improper connections and' 
 amufements, of which- there are too many 
 on the Continent. 
 
THE WIDOWED BRIDE. 103 
 
 Youth mult by no means be left to itfelf 
 in Paris, or in any of the large cities in 
 Italy ; but, if under the direction of a 
 judicious man, who will arrange the order 
 of amuiements and ftudies, in proper fuc- 
 ceilion, the mind will never feel languid 
 or opprelfed, but be led on from one object 
 to another in delightful refearches after 
 knowledge and information : a perfect ac- 
 quaintance with the matters and arts, may 
 be acquired, while your pupil only fup- 
 pofes he is pafTmg an idle hour. 
 
 Many young men of faihion leave Eng- 
 land in great ftile,- with a preceptor, valef, 
 footman, and groom. As ioon as he lets 
 his foot on the continent, lie gives his pre- 
 ceptor to underftand, it will be more to his 
 future advantage to be his ol fequious com- 
 panion than his mailer. Matters thus ad- 
 juiied between pupil and preceptor, they 
 eaeli follow their own purfuits, fee each 
 other once or twice a-week, and are very 
 good friends. 
 
 The young gentleman returns well ac- 
 quainted with the wine and women of each* 
 large 'town he pailes through ; buys a book 
 of antiquities at each place, from which lie 
 anfwers ail queftions that are aiked him of 
 buildings, paintings, and ftatues. He is 
 looked up to as a phenomenon in nature 
 by his doating parents, and his quondam, 
 
04 celina; or, 
 
 friend is rewarded with a good fnug vi- 
 carage for the great care he lock or'thir 
 fon. 
 
 Such, Madam, is the manner in ivhich 
 too many of our young men of fail j ion 
 fpend their time on the continent ; but far 
 other wife, I truft, will Lord Winnington 
 pafs his. We mall meet with but few 
 young men of this country, with whom I 
 mould like his Lordfhip to be intimate; 
 and yet it is neceiTary he ihould have a 
 companion to converfe with in the hours of 
 relaxation. 
 
 " I hope," faid Mr. Guraville, li you 
 may meet fome amiable young man ; his 
 Lord/hip is worthy of every comfort and 
 pleafure this life can afford." ■ 
 
 " I fhould like to take a young friend 
 with us, and not truft to chance for what 
 is fo rarely to be found. My dear Sir, you 
 have juft faid, and mo ft truly, that his 
 Lordiliip is deserving of every good — it is 
 in your power to give him that pleafure he 
 wiO i, an^ ^y him under an everlafting 
 obligation." 
 
 " Any thing in my power his Lordfhip 
 may command. Tell me; quid v, I befeech 
 you, what it is, that I may give him that 
 pleafure you fay is in my power/' 
 
 " To you, Madam, I alio apply — for 
 your concurrence is neceffary to confer this 
 
THE WIDOWED BRIDE. 105 
 
 favour on us. I fhall feel it an obligation, 
 believe me." 
 
 " By your preface, Sir, I Ihoukl think 
 that you was about to alk at lea ft half my 
 fortune, if I did not know that it would be 
 but little addition to yours. " 
 
 " Indeed, Mr. Guraville, I am going to 
 aik fur what I value more than all your for- 
 tune — I afk the company of your charming 
 fon during our flay on the continent." 
 
 " I feel the weight of your generous 
 offer ; I underftand well the delicate fo- 
 phiftry you have ufed to make me think 
 you would be the obliged perfon if I con- 
 sented. There are but few things I could 
 refufe you, or his Lordfhip ; yet in this I 
 fliall draw fuch a debt of gratitude on me 
 as I can never pay, and if I deny your re- 
 queft I (hall deprive Henry of fuch advan- 
 tages as, in the prefent ftate of my pecuni- 
 ary aft airs, I can never procure for him ; 
 and mould I be able fome years hence to 
 fend him to the continent, he will lofe 
 much in milling fo defireable an opportu- 
 nity of going with fuch vihi; hie friends. — 
 Excufe me, Sir, if I take a few hours to 
 reafon, and enquire if I ought to avail my- 
 felf of your gene us offer." 
 
 The next morning Mr. Guraville afked 
 his Myra if fhe felt, inclined to part with 
 Henry. 
 

 3 Oft celtna; or, 
 
 She faid, /lie fhoukl feel herfelf perfe&ly 
 fatisfied to have him under Mr. Hill's eare, 
 and it would be right, by all the means in 
 their power, to eemcnt the friendfhip now 
 fubfifting between them : that they ought 
 to facrifice their own feelings to the benefit 
 of their fon. 
 
 " I am happy, my dear Myra, that you 
 fee things in lb proper a light. I would 
 willingly have given my content yefterday, 
 but I wilhed to confult you, and found 
 Henry's inclinations." 
 
 Mr. Guraville immediately rang the bell, 
 and ordered Henry to attend in his 
 mother's drefimg-room. Kenry judged 
 the purport of this order, and was prepared 
 to anfwer any queftion that might be put 
 to him on that fubjecr. 
 
 He entered the room in his ufual elegant 
 and refpectful manner ; his mother thought 
 he never looked fo hancllome before. Mr. 
 Guraville viewed him with delight. His 
 fine manly figure — beautiful brown hair 
 curling luxuriantly round his face and neck 
 —large dark blue eyes — long lafhes — finely 
 arched eye-brows — a clear tranfparent fkin 
 which fet off to the greater!: advantage the 
 rofe coloured marks of health on his cheek ; 
 his teeth were regular and white — ihouhlers 
 well formed — legs of exact fymmetry -, i n deed 
 nature had been far more bountiful to him 
 
THE WIDOWED BRIDE. 107 
 
 than Mary. Her features, though regular, 
 ■were not beautiful — her eye-brows were 
 narrow and well arched — her form deli- 
 cate, and altogether ilie was an insterefting 
 figure. Eliza promifed to be the model of 
 her brother. 
 
 " My deai- Henry, I fuppofe you are ac- 
 quainted with Lord Winnington's intended 
 journey to France and Italy."' " Yes, Sir." 
 i{ Has he ever hinted that he mould like 
 to take you with him." 
 
 V Before he exprefied any fuch will), he 
 afked if I fhould like to go ; to which I 
 anfwered, If it met with your approba- 
 tion, nothing could give mc lb much plea- 
 fure." 
 
 " Then you feel a wiih to go? Confider 
 well my dear boy ; confult your inclina- 
 tions. Your mother and my (elf are equal- 
 ly anxious to promote your happinefs as 
 your intereft ; we are willing you fhould 
 gp if it meets your wifh, and think it a 
 deli ruble offer ; yet do not accept it if you 
 feel the lea ft re lu dance." 
 
 " My Jear child," faid Mrs. Guravillc, 
 '• ronfult, determine, and let us know; 
 we ilidll not difapprove, fo you pleaie your- 
 
 ft My dear mother," laid Henry, at the 
 fame moment inftin&ively drawing u<\iy 
 
108 cklina; or, 
 
 her, as flie fat on the fofa ; his hand 
 touched her's, which ilie took up and preff- 
 cd to her lips, looked tenderly in Ids face, 
 waiting his reply, itill holding his hand in 
 her's. The tender preffure conveyed fuch 
 filial feelings to his heart as made him 
 waver and hefitate, at length collecting 
 himfelf — 
 
 " My dear mother," repeated he, " there 
 was only your's and my dear father's opi- 
 nion wanting to determine this matter ; 
 and I am happy to find I did not judge 
 wrong when I thought Lord William's offer 
 ought not to be rejected." 
 
 " Then you really wifli to go ?" 
 " If you and my father approve." 
 i( We do approve. Go with your fa- 
 thers bl effing, and profit all you can." 
 
 Mrs. Guraville, during this little conver- 
 fation, reproached herfelf for having, by 
 her. extravagant follies, reduced this ami- 
 able boy to fo humiliating a It ate as to 
 travel for improvement on the courtefy of 
 Lord Wilmington ; though fhe knew 
 that noble minded Lord never faw the 
 kindnefs he did Henry in that light, yet 
 ihe felt it fo, and it colt her -many tears 
 and unhappy moments. 
 
 Perhaps the derangement in Mr. Gura- 
 ville's affairs was the moft fortunate thing 
 
 
THE WIDOWED BRIDE. \0§ 
 
 that could have happened for his domeftic 
 happinefs : it worked a moil deiirable and 
 unexpected change in Mrs. Guraville's 
 tapper. 
 
 She was till now looked on as an 
 haughty" ill-natured woman. Haughty flie 
 was, hut her bad temper Mas not natural — 
 only the effecte of pride, which laid reafon 
 ailecp. Misfortune came, puflicd back 
 pride, and awakened reafon : reafon brought 
 correction, and produced contrition, and 
 then fhc fhone forth in all her natural ami- 
 ablenefs. 
 
 At dinner Mr. Gurayille told Mr. Hill, 
 that he with pleafure committed Henry to 
 his care; that his confent was given yefter- 
 day, l)ut he wiihed to make himfelf ac- 
 quainted with his fon"s inclination before 
 he declared it. 
 
 " I am happy" faici Mr. Hill, c < to find 
 the wilhes of all coincide with each other. 
 I will with pleafure receive the confign- 
 ment, as I know it is an improveable ar- 
 ticle, and will produce cent, per cent/' 
 
 " Were my friend Mr. Morley here, he 
 would anfwer you in t ! term.;, I 
 
 ran only fay, that I efteem you as my belt 
 friend as well as my Henry's." 
 
 It being late in July, they began to 
 Vol. I. L 
 
1 10 celina; or, 
 
 range all things for their tour. Mrs. Gu- 
 raville regulated Henry's wardrobe, while 
 Mary hurried on with a task ihe had fet 
 herfelf, of netting a purfe for each of the 
 friends (he was going to lofe. 
 
 While the party was thus engaged, Mr, 
 Hill received a letter from Mr. Morley, ac- 
 quainting him he had left his houfe at 
 Richmond and taken one in Gower-ilreet. 
 The lofs of two fhips which he had freight- 
 ed was the caufe of this alteration ; but a 
 greater trouble yet, he feared, was awaiting 
 him and Celina: Mrs. Goodall had been 
 for fome time ill, phyficians gave but little 
 hopes of her recovery ; they allowed fhe 
 might live two or three months. 
 
 Mr. Hill felt for his old friend, and 
 would have immediately oifered him all the 
 afTiitance in his power ; but how to make 
 the offer he knew not. The delicate 
 mind foon takes the alarm, and fees an 
 infult where nothing but friendfhip is 
 meant. 
 
 At dinner Mr. Hill read the melancholy 
 contents of Mr. Morley *s letter. Mr. and 
 Mrs. Guraviile expreifed real concern. — 
 " Poor Celina, " faid Mary, 4( ihe has no 
 garden now to walk in ; no, nor many 
 com — com — $" comforts {he would have 
 
THE WIDOWED BRIDE. Ill 
 
 laid, but could not articulate the wviv'. 
 tears choaked her utterance. 
 
 " I wifli lhe was herewith Mary/' laid 
 Henry, while his line broad hicafl iVelled 
 with feelings eauer to conceive than de- 
 le ri be. 
 
 4t I Ihould be happy/' did Mrs. Gura- 
 ville, <k to have her here ; b:it it would 
 be highly improper to ask it as Airs. Good- 
 all is to ill ; our intended kindnefs to the 
 one would be cruelty to the other."' 
 
 " lkit, my dear Afyra, we can ask for 
 both Airs. Goodall and Celina, if (he is able 
 to undertake the journey ; the change of 
 air may be of fervice to her. " 
 
 Lord Wilmington fat filent all this time, 
 but his mind was not unemployed : he had 
 been revolving in his thoughts by what 
 means he could affift Mr. Morley, whom he 
 highly refpecteci, and for Celina he felt a 
 brother's affection. 
 
 " Can nothing be done for Air. Mor- 
 ley, Sir?" laid his Lordfhip. 
 
 M I don't know, my Lord,*' anfwered 
 Air. Hill ; " but I will write, and indi- 
 rectly ask the (jueftion. A\'ith luch men 
 as Air. Morley we mult be circumfpeel : if 
 our triendfhips obtrude abruptly, or are of- 
 fered in too grois a manner, inftead of 
 L2 
 
1 ) l 2 cfj.ixa ; OR, 
 
 proving confelithfy they will be i fall- 
 
 ing than tin* chaifrs of llavcry to a v\\n<[ of 
 'feniibility like his; it is the m tiftil 
 
 task in t^ie world to make an offer of p> •- 
 ■n'iary aiiifhance. He is-& n that p ■){[■.. 
 a delicate, diimterefted mind, acute feel- 
 ings, and a heart that f wells with grati- 
 tude for the moil trifling act of i'nend- 
 (hip/' 
 
 k ' No doubt, Sir," replied Mr. Gura- 
 viile, " yet thofe who are not fenfible of, 
 or have not gratitude enough to acknow- 
 ledge a favour done them, are not worthy of 
 a friend." 
 
 Lord Winning-ton and Mr. Hill retired 
 to confult how they ihould make their 
 wifhes known to Mr. Morley. After fome 
 converiktion his Lordfhip defired Mr. Hill 
 to write, and begged he would ufe his for- 
 tune as his own. 
 
 " My dear and only father, you have 
 nurfed my fortune, and raifed it to its pre- 
 fent ftrength ; it is my deiire you diminifh 
 it as you think proper." 
 
 " My noble boy ! rather than a worthy 
 man mould want, I would apply to you; 
 but I have ftill a lew hundreds for a 
 fricnd. ,, 
 
THE WIDOWTD BRIDE. . 113 
 
 Lord Winnington left him while he wrote 
 to Mr. Morley in the moil friendly and de- 
 licate manner, and in the moft preffing and 
 brotherly terms, begged he would conlidcr 
 him as his banker. 
 
 Air. Morley was more pleafed than fur- 
 prifed at the kind and friendly letter. He 
 immediately acknowledged the favour and 
 his kind offer, faying — 
 
 " I have enough, my dear Sir, for my 
 " Ceiina, if the little I have may be 
 " fpared, her views are not ambitious. I 
 *' have ever taught her to look on the 
 " riches of a merchant as precarious ; 
 " that though to-day he may be worth 
 il thoufands, to-morrow he may be re- 
 " duced to a ftate of indigence and beg- 
 " gary i that the ftorms of to-night may 
 c * wreck his little property, or the more 
 " fortunate enemy feize it to grace his tri- 
 " umph. 
 
 M Thus, my dear Sir, have I accuflom- 
 " ed her to fee the inftability of fortune 
 " and human grandeur, and by frequently 
 u painting to her, in lively colours, the 
 *.' fad reverfe of fortune every man is liable 
 " to, particularly the adventrous merchant 
 " and how doubly afflictive fuch change of 
 L3 
 
114 celina; ok, 
 
 " fortune muft be to thole who place all 
 " their happinefs in riches, and who. never 
 " for one moment allow tliemfelves to 
 " think it poflible they ihoulcl be deprived 
 " of them. Such people value tliemfelves 
 " only on the amount of the wealth they 
 " may poffefs, and fuppofe that the world 
 " in general forms its opinion by the fame 
 i( criterion. 
 
 11 By fuch reafoning I have taught Ce- 
 t{ Una to efteem riches only as they pro- 
 " vide us with the neceilaries and comforts 
 M of life ; that if poured into our lap, we 
 " fhoulcl receive them with gratitude, and 
 " diffufe them with a liberal but judi- 
 i < cious hand to thofe who are lefs fortu - 
 " nate. 
 
 \ ' She has fo profited by my weak, but 
 U well meant leilbns, that I am perfuaded 
 ." ilie could bear the feverell trials with 
 " equanimity." 
 
 This letter rilled Mr. Hill with admira- 
 tion and regret ; he admired the firm in- 
 dependent fpirit of Mr. Morley, yet re- 
 gretted that the delicacy of his feelings 
 inould fruftrate their intentions • thereby 
 depriving them of the delicious pleafure of 
 alleviating his prefent anxiety, for he could 
 
THE WIDOWED BRIDE. 1 1 J 
 
 *ee by the ftile of his writing- that he was 
 not quite at eafe. 
 
 But nothing more could be clone, leafl 
 in endeavouring to ferve his friend hcihoukl 
 lofe him. 
 
116 C'ELI'NA ; OR, 
 
 
 CHAP. VIIL 
 
 O bleft retirement, friend to life's decline/ 
 Retreats from care that never muft be mine : 
 How bleft is he who crowns in (hades like thefe, 
 A youth of labour with an age of eafej 
 Who quits a world where ftrong temptations try, 
 And mice 'tis hard to combat, learn to fly. 
 
 Goldsmith* 
 
 THE time arrived for the departure of 
 Lord Winnington, Mr. Hill, and 
 Henry. Mary, at taking leave, prefented 
 her little prefents to each ; but in Henry's 
 ihe put a five-pound note, the little favings 
 from her pocket money, which ihe thought 
 would be of ufe to her brother. 
 
 The carriage drove quickly off, attended 
 by a valet and fervant in livery, and foon 
 conveyed from the fight of the remaining 
 inhabitants of Lutherdale Hall, three of the 
 deareft objects exifting. 
 
THE WIDOWED BfclDE. 117 
 
 Mr. Guravilic took a walk in his planta- 
 tion to anuife his mind. Mrs. GuraVtlle 
 in going to her dreHing room met I 
 lovely Eliza, her little prattli 
 verted her mind from the painful feene that 
 had taken place, went to hei 
 
 unite fhady feat, in the gs and en- 
 
 deavoured to tranquilize her mind. 
 
 She had parted with ih-ive dear friends ; 
 one Ihe revered as a being of fnperior order, 
 and relt the fublimeft delight when liffieti-iife 
 to his infhncrive and amuiing converfa- 
 tion : for her brother ihe avowed the ten- 
 dered affection ; and when bufy fancy car- 
 ried her from day to day, that each meal 
 would pafs without Henry and his friends, 
 and that each evening would elofe unen- 
 joyed and unimproved, ihe felt exceedingly 
 diflreffed. 
 
 Lord Wilmington would no more inftrucl 
 her in the difficult leffons on the piano 
 forte, and teach her lingers to glide over 
 the keys with preciiion and delicacy ; no 
 more ihonld (lie profit by his directions, 
 nor acquire the mafterly ftile in which he 
 played. 
 
 Thus did Mary figh out her griefs in fo- 
 lk ndc ; Ihe applied herfelf clofely to her 
 ftudies — French, geography, mufic, am! 
 needle- work alternately idled her time. — 
 
1 18 CEMN/v ; OK, 
 
 The little Eliza became her companion in 
 thofe hours that were fpent in the gardens, 
 pleafure-grouiids, and woods ; and there, 
 as well as in her room, the thoughts of he 
 
 :r 
 
 abient friends intruded. 
 
 She induitriouily endeavoured to fill up 
 the vacuum they had left : ihe would often 
 figh out the name of Henry without know- 
 ing that me did fo — and as often that of 
 Lord William would follow. When that 
 name dwelt on her mind fhe felt a double 
 preffure at her heart, which (lie placed to 
 the accou n t of friend fh i p. 
 
 Thus the time patted with Mary trll the 
 period of returning to London arrived. — 
 This journey exhilirated the fpirits of Mary, 
 and turned the current of her thoughts on 
 Celina: " We will pafs the whole winter 
 together,," laid Mary to herfelf, when me 
 was anticipating the pleafures of the ap« 
 proach ing feafon . 
 
 Lord Wilmington, Mr. Hill, and Henry, 
 on the fir (I day of their journey were but 
 indifferent company to each other; a mu- 
 tual hlence was kept up the whole of the 
 day. 
 
 Mr. Hill had a variety of things turning 
 over in his mind, both his Lord (hip's af- 
 fairs at home, and to regulate their jour- 
 
THE "WIDOWED BRIDZ. DQ 
 
 nev ; but what rendered his mind moft uu- 
 eaiy was his friend Morley's too delicate 
 referve. 
 
 Lord Wilmington felt fomething like re- 
 gret at leaving his invaluable friends at Lu- 
 therdale Hall: For Celina he fighed, and 
 wifhed he had a brother's right to protect 
 her; but the friendfhip he felt for Mary 
 was very unlike what he owned for Celina ; 
 her idea was ever intruding on his mind — 
 he feized every opportunity of fpeaking of 
 her ; each morning when he awaked fhe 
 was the firft object that prefented itfelf to 
 his imagination, and at night ilie fluttered 
 among his airy dreams. 
 
 Henry, though young, povTefifed a ftrong 
 contemplative mind, which frequently led 
 him to a depth of thought uncommon in 
 youth. As the carriage moved from Lu- 
 therdale he fighed, nay, fhed tears. His 
 thoughts then reverted to himfelf : in what 
 light does, or will the world behold me — as 
 a fycophant, a fervile flutterer, basking in 
 the funfhine of a rich man's fmiles — an 
 idler, who would rather live on courtefy 
 than nobly feck to be dependant on himfelf. 
 I cannot bear the thought — would that I 
 had not accepted Lord Winning-ton's offer. 
 His name was as a thunderbolt on his dif- 
 
120 CEL1NA ; OR 
 
 cordant thoughts ; all his Lord ihip's virtues 
 flfrihedpn his mind, and brought a blufh 
 on his face. 
 
 Iia ! (ighed Henry to himfelf, will it not 
 rather reflect an honour on me to appear 
 the dependant favourite of lb good, lb great 
 a man ? Tke eyes of the .weak trifler, the 
 butterfly of the day, that judges of, all by 
 external appearances, may meet me with a 
 fmile of ridicule ; but fuch men are inca- 
 pable of difcovering the noblenefs of foul, 
 the fuperior virtues, the truth and fmcerity 
 of this young nobleman. 
 
 The ftinted faculties of thefe dip chicks 
 of faihion can form no idea, no concep- 
 tion of the true dimity of man : minds 
 rendered too weak and eifeminate by luxu- 
 ry and diffipation, to reach any degree 
 of elevation ; their vacant breafts indulge 
 an indolence that would difgrace a Laza- 
 roni. 
 
 And is it i fuch as. thefe I am afraid of? 
 Is it to thefe men I mould blufh to be 
 known a dependant on the amiable Lord 
 Wilmington? No, nor to any man. His 
 favours do me honour ; their feoffs will 
 make me refpected by the truly good 
 and great, who will weigh me by the 
 ftandard of my patron's virtues. 
 
THE WIDOWED BItTDE. 121 
 
 By thefe reflections did Henry clear and 
 difpel the cloud from his mind, and he law 
 himfelf an object or' envy rather than de- 
 riiion. 
 
 The carriage flopping to change horfes, 
 fouled the two from their reverie : it being 
 near dinner time, -they ordered the bill of 
 fare ; the dimes were quickly iixed on, 
 and ordered to be dreifed with all pofnble 
 difpatch. 
 
 As they loitered about the inn yard a 
 chaife drove up, and a gentleman and lady 
 alighted. The gentleman addrefied Mr* 
 Hill with the ufual introductory obfcrva- 
 tion-r-a hue day, Sir: which was anfwer- 
 ed, Yes, Sir. The)' ibon fell into general 
 convcrfation ; they were going to Eait- 
 Bourne, where, he faid, he expected to 
 meet with a Packet ready to fail the firft 
 fair wind for Dieppe, and that he was 
 going to place his daughter in a convent 
 for a t\-\v years. In what part of Trance ? 
 enquired Mr. Hill, as the gentleman was : 
 fo communicative, he thought he was juf 
 tilled in aiking the queftion. 
 
 " In the neighbourhood of Nemes, but 
 but ha has a cruel wiih to zee Paris, and 
 as I be going to (hut her' up for foaje 
 
 Vol. I. M 
 
I2g celina; or, 
 
 time es cannot refufe ; and who.- know* 
 if es fli alllive to vetch herback ; yood.now 
 es be cruel glad to zee her pleafecL" The 
 waiter announced to our party that dinner 
 was ready ; they bowed to the loquacious 
 traveller, and attended the fummons, who, 
 on hearing their dinner was ready, called 
 in a molt vociferous manner for his.. 
 
 At dinner our trio agreed to go to Eaft- 
 Bourne, as there was a Packet to be met 
 with there ; it would fhorten their journey; 
 .at firft they meant to go by Dover. That 
 Gentleman feems to be a character, faid 
 Henry. Yes, returned his Lordihip, we 
 may find Something to amufe, though not 
 to admire in him. 
 
 " There are few men, my dear young 
 friend," faid Mr. Hill, " from whom we 
 may not derive fome knowledge or advan- 
 tage ; if in their character we mark any 
 amiable or bright trait, it may give birth 
 to fome one in our own ; if on the con- 
 trary, we find him addicted to any vice, 
 we fee the deformity of it, and with vi- 
 gilance guard againft it ourfelves." 
 
 As they were going to their carriage, 
 they met their new friend, who moft af- 
 fiduoufly threw himfelf in their way. 
 t < Good now, Gentlemen, you have got 
 he ftart of ma." 
 
THE WIDOWED liRiDE. 12S 
 
 * Yes, Sir," laid Mr. Hill, " you would 
 call us tardy die- we arrived firft." 
 
 " Yes, yes, zoes, ye did zo. What road 
 do ye take may es alk ?" 
 
 il To Eaft-Boume, Sir." 
 
 li Why Eofe, do ye tell o,*' faicl Mr 
 Bean, at the fame time making Mr. HilFs 
 hand violently with great joy. " Shall es 
 have the happinefs of zceing ye to-night ? 
 do ye now take a tiff of punch with ma; 
 Do ee? Shall we fail in the fame Packet? 
 I zee, by your luggage, you are going 
 abroad." To all which Mr. Hill bowed. 
 It was in vain to attempt fpcaking till he 
 had ex ha lifted his breath. 
 
 " Sir," faid Mr. Hill, " we are flatter- 
 ed by your invitation. We propofe to ileep at 
 Dorchefter to-night; we can with eafe reach 
 Eaft-Bourne to-morrow." Mr. Bean pro- 
 foundly bowed, and the carriage moved off. 
 
 Mr. Bean arrived a fliort time after Mr. 
 Hill and ins friends ; he immediately in- 
 vited them to fup With him ; the gentle- 
 men would have declined it, and propofed 
 joining him ~o take their wine ; but he 
 would not hear of it, urged, that he had 
 ordered fupper, and begged them to per- 
 mit him to introduce his Emily — They fol- 
 lowed him. 
 
 M2 
 
124 celixa; or, 
 
 Mr. Bean prefer ted Emily to Mr. Hilt, 
 whole name he had causrht at the Inn 
 wh$ re they firft met ; he then afked Mr. 
 Hill to introduce himfelfand daughter to 
 the young Gentleman, which he readily 
 did ; when he pronounced Lord Winning- 
 ton, Mr. Bean turned pale — -Mils bluihed. 
 As foon as he recovered his furprife and 
 fpeech, he hammered out an apology for 
 the liberty he had taken with a man of 
 title ; hoped he would condefcend to fup 
 with him. His Lordfhip returned his bows 
 with as much gravity as he could affume ; 
 ,the furprife and admiration expreft on his 
 countenance diverted his Lordihip; he 
 iliook Mr. Bean by the hand, faid, he ad- 
 mired plain Engliih manners, and intend- 
 ed to eat a hearty fupper. 
 
 " Then I be happy. Why es zene and 
 zene this be the varft time es ever fpake to 
 a Lord." 
 
 Supper was ferved up, Mr. Bean feated 
 Lord Wilmington at his right-hand, and 
 paid the molt oppreflive attention to linn, 
 to the great amufement of Mr. Hill and 
 Henry. 
 
 Mils Bean was a fine girl about eighteen, 
 
 . and had palled the laft eight years of her 
 
 life at a boarding- fchool, near London, 
 
 where ilie had loft much of her provincial 
 
THE WIDOWED BRIDE. 125 
 
 dialect. Her father was born, ami bad 
 palled all Iiis day at the village of Brixham, 
 where be bad accumulated fome money as 
 a farmer, but more as a fmuggler. His 
 wire, be laid, was dead ; but he had a 
 ■filter who, ibme years ago, went to France 
 with a great lady ; there flie chafe to re- 
 main, and married a Frenchman ; after 
 his death the retired to a nunnery, from 
 whence the wrote for her Niece : he con- 
 eluded his account with obferving, " Why 
 zofe, I fuppofe me be cruel vilht, and. 
 wants my Emily vor a companion." 
 
 " To be fare," fafid Mr. Hill, " Mifs 
 
 lily v/il: be a defrable companion, yet 
 1 think the young* lady will not like a 
 juoiiaitic life." 
 
 •• God bleis ee zoe ; no, fhe be Beft to 
 fray at a year or two, till es has built a 
 houfe on a piece of ground es has bought 
 near Exeter." 
 
 Mifs Bean faid but little, yet often 
 bluthed for her rather. 
 
 The Gentleman took their leave at an 
 early hour, after having engaged Mr. and 
 Mils Bean to return their viiit next even- 
 ing ; they found they had made an ac- 
 quaintance in whofe company time had 
 leaden wings, and with whom they meant 
 to pals as little as poftible ; yet common 
 M 2 
 
\%6 CELINA ; OR, 
 
 civility, which is clue from one to another, 
 obliged them to give up fonte tiling to this 
 money made man. 
 
 At Eaft- Bourne they found a veffel wait- 
 ing only for a fair wind, in which Mr. Hill 
 fecured their paifage, and alfo deiired the 
 fteward to preferve cots for a gentleman 
 and his daughter ; of which Mr. Hill in 
 formed Mr. Bean, as foon as he arrived. 
 His thanks and bows were numberlefs ; his 
 vanity was highly gratiiied, and much 
 added to his confequence. 
 
 He was in hafte to {hew to the captain 
 the man for whom Lord Wilmington hi- 
 re refted himfelf ; he inftantly waddled to 
 the houfe appointed by the captain to treat 
 with his pail'engers. As foon as he entered 
 the houfe, he, in an elevated tone of voice, 
 demanded to fee the captain, who inftantly 
 made his appearance. 
 
 " Well, Sir, es be coined to zee the 
 beds that Lord Winnington befpoke vor 
 
 ma/' 
 
 ' ' Beds, Sir ! — Lord Winnington ! — I know 
 no fuch perfon." 
 
 " Good now ! What doee tello. W T hy 
 zofe he juft now befpoke three, beficies 
 ,fome for his fervants, and two vor ma." 
 
 " I am not the landlord of this houfe, 
 Sir, but will fend him:" faid the captain, 
 opening the door to withdraw. 
 
THE WIDOWED BRIDE. 127 
 
 i: You be in a cruel hurry ; zure this be 
 fome mi {take. I want the captain that be 
 going to Fiance, if you be he ?" 
 
 " I am, Sir, at your fervice.'' 
 
 " Good now, what do ee tello, you be 
 the captain and not know Lord Winning- 
 ton? he was here juft now with an elderly 
 gentleman and a young one. He be my 
 very good friend, and lpake vor paflage vor 
 ma and ma Emily." 
 
 " I beg your pardon, Sir, three gentle- 
 men were with me juft now, and agreed 
 for their paliage, and two fervants — they 
 take their carriages ; but I heard no name 
 but Hill, and I judged the young gentle- 
 men were his fons." 
 
 " No, no, one o' them be my very good 
 friend Lord Winning-ton ; lie be a man 
 ogreat confequence, and will be cruel 
 angry if you dont give ma and ma daugh- 
 ter two oyour beft beds." 
 
 " As you are the friend of fo great a 
 man you may depend on me ; I will take 
 care of that," faid the captain, with a bow 
 and a fmile, which (hewed in how contemp- 
 tible a light he held this filly arrogant 
 man. 
 
 He made the agreement with the cap- 
 tain, who did not let any opportunity flip 
 of making him pay for the very great re- 
 
228 Celina ; OR, 
 
 fpect he demanded, as the good friend oi 
 Lord Wilmington. He faw his weak fide, 
 and humoured it ; flattering him to the 
 door with repeated bows, declaring, lie 
 was happy in knowing he ihould have Rich 
 honourable Gentlemen fail with him. 
 
 " Yes, zure, you be very lucky in that. 
 We be all acceptable men zure, but do ee 
 mind, his Lordfhip will be cruel angry if 
 you do not treat ma well." 
 
 As he entered the Inn, the waiter told 
 ; him fupper waited. 
 
 " Nan,' ; faid Mr. Bean, not perfectly 
 un d er ft a n d in g hi m . 
 
 '" Supper has been waiting this half 
 hour," repeated- the man. 
 
 " Do ee fend it up. Good now, good 
 now, IVfe made his Lordfhip wait." 
 
 He entered the room wiping his face, 
 and adj lifting his wig. " My Lord, and 
 your honours, I be cruel forry you have 
 waited zure." 
 
 -" We have been- waiting/' faid Mr. 
 Hill, " a little while. I hope nothing dif- 
 agreeable has happened ?" 
 
 " No, Mr. Hill, nothing, only es has 
 been troubled to make the captain under- 
 •ftand what es wanted ; ofaid he did not 
 know his Lordfhip, when es afk vor two 
 ohis belt beds ; ofaid he had nine. Such 
 
THE WIDOWED BRIDE. 139 
 
 jumble never was, othought es wanted beds 
 at tha inn ; but es zettled it all vicllc." 
 
 " I am ibrry, father, you have had fo 
 much trouble about it." 
 
 " You muft be a good girl, and repay 
 your vather we duty ', and you niuft be 
 kind and humble to your aunt, and do all 
 lhe bids you ; and perhaps ihe may gee tha 
 good itub." 
 
 • The entrance of f upper was a lea Ton able 
 relief to poor Emily ; ihe faw by their 
 looks that fome of her father's difcourfe 
 was unintelligible to the Gentlemen, whieh 
 lhe would have explained, but it would 
 have colt her a blulh ; aud (lie felt happy 
 in their io'uorance of her father's laft icn- 
 
 timent. 
 
 .Soon after flipper they received a mef- 
 fage from the captain, informing them he 
 would fail in the morning; as the wind 
 began to veer, he hoped they would hold 
 themfelves in readineis, fo as to get on 
 board in half an hour after lie mould fend. 
 Mifs Dean immediately took her leave for 
 the night, as did Lord \Vinnington and 
 Henry, leaving Mr. Hill to fettle with the 
 landlord. They flept in the fame robm. 
 Mr. Hill in a (mailer one through their's. 
 As they entered, Henry turned carelelUy 
 on his heel; his eve glided round the room, 
 
ISO CELINA ; OB, 
 
 yet faw nothing ; at the fame moment did 
 his hand involuntarily drop i(ito his waift- 
 coat pocket on the purfe Mary gave him at 
 their depaiture : his thoughts that moment 
 ran poft to Lutherdale Hall- 
 He drew out the filken token of love and 
 fifterly affection from his pocket — " Ha, 
 my dear Mary !" putting his hand in the 
 purfe, " in every knot have you tied an 
 additional portion of my love ! Soft as this 
 filken texture is my affection for you ; 
 with this difference — time, which will 
 decay and bring to nothing this dear gift, 
 will only fire ngt hen my affection and 
 ftenciernefsv*' 
 
 Lord Winninoton had obferved Henrv, 
 and liftened attentively to his foliloquy ; 
 at lad interrupted him — 
 
 " Stay, my friend, I have fomething of 
 this nature to talk about ; here it is (hold- 
 ing* the purfe Mary- had given him between 
 his finger and thumb;.— Now let us begin ; 
 try which can be mod profufe in our decla- 
 rations of love and tendernefs, then we will 
 end in a warm panegyric on her virtues." 
 This little ftart threw Henry into a fit of 
 laughter, in which his Lordfhip joined, 
 
 At that moment Mr. Hill entered the 
 room, delighted at feeing his young friends 
 to merry ; enquired the caufe, of which 
 
THE VIOWED BRIDE- 131 
 
 Lord William informed him, and repeated 
 Henry's ibliloquy. 
 
 V Well, well, we will each write an 
 eulogium on (ilk purfes, the gift of friend- 
 fhip ; for I, young men, have as much 
 caufe." 
 
 " Hold, Sir," cried Henry, " I have, 
 more than either : fee there, fee what the 
 dear girl has put in mine ;" laying the 
 note on the table. 
 
 " Generous, provident creature," faid 
 his Lordihip. 
 
 " Indeed, my Lord," faid Henry, " I 
 mull fend it back, I cannot think of keep- 
 ing it ; the dear girl could but ill fpare 
 this from her trifling allowance of pocket 
 
 money." 
 
 " By no means," faid Mr. Hill, " a 
 prefent fo kind and delicately given miift 
 be accepted ; it would hurt Mary's feelings 
 too fenfibly. If I may advife, change the 
 note for calh ; when in France you may 
 give your gold to advantage for the coin 
 of the country, then lay it out on the 
 moft ufeful article you can buv for your 
 lifter." 
 
 Henry approved of Mr. Hill's propofal, 
 and the note was changed. They wiihed 
 each other good night, and were nearly in 
 bed, when a molt dreadful noife was heard 
 
132 celina; or, 
 
 in the kitchen, the door of which opened' 
 into the liable-yard, as did the window 
 of their bed-room. They pufhed up the 
 faih to liften to the outcry. The landlady' 
 ran fcreaming into the yard, the maids 
 following her, joining in the yell. — 
 Mr. Hill called to know what was the 
 matter. 
 
 " O Lord, Sir, two men are fighting; 
 one of them belongs to you, I believe. — 
 They are both outlandifh ; 1 do not under- 
 ftand a word they fey. They have been 
 fighting this hour." 
 
 Mr. Hill knew he had none but Englifh 
 fervants ; but as the noife grew louder, 
 he went down to the kitchen, LordWin- 
 nington and Henry followed. There they 
 faw Mr. Bean's fervant engaged in a def- 
 perate battle with another man. They had 
 ltruck each other with good will — the 
 blood running in various flreams down 
 their faces. 
 
 The buitle diilurbed Mr. Bean, who 
 entered the kitchen with his night cap tied 
 under his chin, a loofe-coat thrown over 
 his moulders, his fhoes in one hand, and 
 Emily in the other. Mr. Hill had been 
 endeavouring for fome time to part the 
 combatants to no purpofe. Mr. Bean, as 
 foon as he found his fervant was engaged' 
 
THE WIDOWED BRIDE. 133 
 
 in the tray, committed Emily to the care 
 of Lord William, and forced his way to the 
 difputants ; with one blow he knocked 
 down his fervant's adverfary, and with the 
 other hand he collared John. 
 
 " Lack ! lack ! good now, what he ee' 
 vigil ting vor Jan : 
 
 k * O! meafter! eh am glad you be a coined ; 
 there be Rabin es teld ee tin that took my 
 Darathy vram ma ; chare draihen en, an 
 drub es, he'll veel it vor wan while chill 
 warrandy." 
 
 " Hots thet tha zeart," replied his anta- 
 gonift, " noa, no a, Jan, that's a great 
 lee ; come out an es ell gei tha a whifter- 
 poop, as ell gee tha a welch in tha leu, an 
 than tha may groap about like a chick a 
 radar." 
 
 " Thee be a pretty vella fath, chill try 
 thafe, " returned John. 
 
 " Xo, no," laid Mr. Bean, who was 
 the only perfon prefent that undcrftood 
 them, " no, no, you (hall right no more ; 
 you muuNbe vriends ; but you be a bad 
 man, Rabin, to take Jan's Darathy vram 
 
 im." 
 
 " God blef> ee, zo fee it was no fault oV 
 mine; Jan left Parrycomb to live at Moul- 
 ton, zo zes Daratha to ma ; Jan be valie 
 
 Vol. I. N 
 
134 celtna; on, 
 
 hearted : thoa zes I weit ha ma as zoon 
 
 a tha weit zas (he ; and zo we went to tha 
 parfon, es vul not roily upon eny Kepen, 
 zoul ; nif he vul, es^ ell gei him ma hand, 
 an vul drink en be vriends," 
 
 " And I will pay for what you drink, 
 faid Loid Wilmington. 
 
 " You be mearty good, your honor. — 
 Hearkee, Jan, vul ee drink ? es werdant 
 ha tha, go in ill-will wee ma;, zure an* zure 
 do ee drink drink wee ma." 
 
 After fome perfuafions John forgave his 
 fortunate rival ; they drank together and 
 retired to bed. The landlady having firft 
 applied fome of her family plafter to the 
 wounds and fcratches on the faces of John 
 and Robin. 
 
 Mr. Bean informed the gentlemen, that 
 this was the firft time John had met Robin 
 fince he became the happy hufband of Do- 
 rothy ; he exulted in the victory, and 
 treated John as a vanquifhed enemy. The 
 honeft hearted John difdained the annoy- 
 ance of Robin, and returned back his in- 
 tuits with his knuckles, to the great difturb- 
 ance of the houfe. 
 
 Early in the morning the captain fent 
 to inform them he was ready to fail, only 
 waited their coming on board. As they 
 palled through the inn yard, Robin was 
 
 
THE WIDOWED BRIDE. 135 
 
 fuddling his mailer's luorfcj who was ft and- 
 ing by. Mr. Bean foon recognized the 
 lawyer of Mbultou ; a hearty how do you 
 do ? palled. 
 
 He was on his way from London, where 
 he had been on bufmefs, and as he feldom 
 took fo long a journey, he, for the fake or' 
 feeing all he eon id, and out of refpect to 
 his client's pocket, made a circuit of up- 
 wards of three hundred miles, inftead of 
 little more than two hundred. Thus was 
 the unexpected appearance of Robin ac- 
 counted for. 
 
 The weather being favourable, they had 
 a quick and pleafant paifage. The next 
 day they arrived at Dieppe. Mifs Emily 
 immediately went to bed ; the gentle- 
 men followed her example after an early 
 fupper. 
 
 In the morning, every neceffary prelimi- 
 nary being fettled, the poft horfes were 
 ordered, and the gentlemen took their 
 leave of Mr. and Mifs Bean, who intended to 
 ftay a day or two at Dieppe. Mr. Bean hav- 
 ing fome bufmefs to fettle with a merchant 
 of whom he frequently had made great pur- 
 chafes, as he had carried on, in a moil 
 extenfive manner, the illicit trade of 
 
 V o 
 
136 ckljna; or, 
 
 fmBggling, a practice fo injurious to the 
 revenue. 
 
 Our good, grave, confcientious fenators 
 clo well to make and enact laws and penal- 
 ties again it it ; but it would be better, 
 eo iild they make and enforce laws in their 
 own domeftie governments, to prevent 
 their wives and daughters from furniih- 
 ing their card -tables, tea-tables, and ward- 
 robes, from the warehouses of thefe illegal 
 traders. 
 
 Our happy travellers met with nothing 
 but agreeables. At Paris they fpent fix 
 months, not one in (hint of that time was 
 loft. In March they left that gay city, and 
 its gayer inhabitants, and proceeded to 
 the fouth of Fiance. At Beziers, they were 
 delighted with tlie canal, and rode three 
 miles from the town to fee a wonderful 
 refervoir of water, contained in a bafon 
 hewn out of a iblid rock, into which two 
 rivers empty themfelves, and from this re- 
 fervoir the canal is fupplied. Here the 
 beauties of the fouth broke in upon them : 
 their paths were ft re wed with aromatic herbs, 
 and their views often terminated by that 
 moft delightful of all leas, the Mediter- 
 ranean. 
 
 At Montpelier the Place de Pegiou ex- 
 cited their admiration ; the fublimity of 
 
THE WIOWED BRIDE. 137 
 
 the views filled their thinking moralizing 
 minds with juft views of the infinitude of 
 the great Creator. On one view the foft 
 bofom of the Pyranees, covered with mow, 
 dazzle the eye ; on the other tide, the darker 
 Alps lead it on till the object is loft in the 
 clouds, while the foft blue waters of the 
 Mediterranean finifh this grand and beauti- 
 ful fcene. 
 
 At Nifmes they propofed to ftay fome 
 days, as Henry had a letter given him b}' 
 his father to deliver to an aunt, who was 
 Lady Abbefs to a convent of Benedictine 
 nuns. At fupper, they learned from the 
 waiter that the convent was full two leagues 
 diitant ; that the road was pieafant, and 
 diverfified by many fine chatcaus. To this 
 place they determined to go the next morn- 
 ing ; " *md there," laid Mr. Hill, "■ 
 fhall be at liberty to go or ftay." 
 
 The carriage being ready at the hour 
 appointed, they fet forward, in high fpirits, 
 to vifit the venerable nuns. It being a 
 crofs road, they found it narrow, but ex- 
 tremely beautiful ; corn, wine, and oil 
 growing on all fides of them, was highly 
 gratifying to their fenfe of feeing ; but that 
 of fmelling was regaled in a much higher 
 degree by the quantity of thvme, lavender, 
 N-3 
 
and numberlefs other odoriferous herbs, 
 growing in great abundance in every hedge 
 and path, adding their balmy fweets to 
 the refrefhing gale which wantonly faiutes 
 the palling traveller. 
 
 At the convent gate, the porterefs at- 
 tending to their ring, they were told that 
 the lady abbefs was not well, and had not 
 been feen that day by any but Signora 
 Valena, her favourite novice, and Father 
 Quintine, her confeilbr. 
 
 " Be fo kind as to take that letter to 
 her ; we will wait for an anfwer," faid 
 Henry. 
 
 The porterefs quickly returned, faying, 
 the abbefs was too ill to read it ; but begged 
 to know from #hbm it came. 
 
 " From her nephew, Henry Guraville ; 
 I am his fon, and wim much to pay my 
 refpecls to her," replied Henry. 
 
 The lady abbefs received this meffage 
 with pleafure, faying, me would be happy 
 to embrace her dear nephew's fon as foon as 
 me was able to receive him, and begged 
 they would take fome refrefhment. 
 
 Mr. Hill vvifhed to decline .the offer, but 
 Lord Winnington and Henry both had a 
 great defire to fee the infide of a convent; 
 they looked their willies, and Mr. Hi lb 
 acquiefced. They were conducted to the 
 
THE WIDOWED ERIDE. 13$ 
 
 parlour, and in a few minutes, fome ham, 
 bread, Mine, and dried fruits, with fweet- 
 meats and confectionary, were placed on 
 the table. As they fat, feveral boarders 
 peeped through the grate and retired. 
 They turned again towards the grating, 
 on hearing a noife and ruffling, to theii* 
 great furprife they law Mils Bean. She 
 was overjoyed at feeing them, and eagerly 
 put her hand through the grate to take 
 their-. She was chid by her aunt, who 
 Mas Handing by. Mr. Hill bowing re- 
 fpeclfully, laid, it Mas the pleafure fuch 
 an unexpected meeting gave to Mils 
 Emily ; that they Mere travelling friends, 
 and hoped fhe Mould allow them the hap- 
 pinefs of converfing a ihort time. The 
 aunt curtfied confent ; ilie was perfectly, 
 acquainted with the three gentlemen as 
 foon as fhe faw them, having had an exr 
 acl defcription of their perfons from Emily, 
 and a minute account of their journey 
 from England. Mr. Hill converted fome 
 time with fi fterdandville, and from her 
 they heard a molt pleafmg account of the 
 lady abbefs. 
 
 The gentlemen took their leave, having 
 given their addrefs to Emily, highly de- 
 lighted with the accounts they had heard 
 of the abbefs. 
 
140 celina; or, 
 
 After the vifit, tliey amufed themfelves 
 with viewing the natural beauties and an- 
 cient ruins of Nifmes. The amphitheatre 
 for fome time engaged their attention ; 
 fuch a vail pile of building, all of ftone, 
 and the feats fo admiral)]} 7 canftructed as to 
 contain many thoufand people, that each 
 might pais and repafs without annoying 
 the other, may well arreft the eye of the 
 traveller. 
 
 The houfes built in the area, near two 
 thoufand in number, which fpoil and dif- 
 grace this beautiful ruin, greatly offended 
 them ; but they were informed that thefe 
 houfes were to be pulled down, and this 
 ancient and once magnificent building, be 
 preferved, as a monument to future ages* 
 of the grandeur and excellence of the 
 gothic architecture. The Mafon de Guavee, 
 built, fome fay, in honour of Marcus and 
 Lucius, fons of Agrippa, by Trajan, and 
 the delightful ruins of the Temple of Diana 
 they vifited. 
 
 They next went to the Roman Baths, 
 which gratified them beyond defcription— 
 " This, 57 cried Henry, " is fairy land;" 
 as they palled along the walks, fhaded 
 with trees, preffing with their feet, at every 
 ftep,. a profufion of odoriferous fv/eets. 
 
THE WIDOWED BRIDE. 141 
 
 '• Yes," returned his Lordfhip, " and there 
 are the fairies wadiing" 
 
 As the baths at the end of the walk 
 opened to their view, they perceived live 
 or fix women, their petticoats pinned above 
 their knees, wafhing their linen. At a 
 light lo new it was impoflible not to ftare 
 with wonder ; but on obferving the injury 
 it did to the beautiful white it one round 
 the baths, as well as to the verdure on the 
 banks, they could not but regret that a 
 people poiierfed of' inch luxuries, both of 
 nature and art, fhould make fo bad a ufe 
 of them. 
 
 On the fourth day, Henry received a 
 letter from the abbe is, faying, ihe , would 
 be happy to fee him and his friends the 
 next day, to dine with her. 
 
 The good nun received Henry with an 
 affectionate embrace ; to his friends ilie 
 behaved with that eafe and politenefs, 
 peculiar to women who have fpent their 
 youth at the court of France ; her con- 
 verfation was lively, animated, and in- 
 itructive, and truly entertaining to her 
 vifitors ; her remarks on men, manners, 
 and tilings in - eneral, were pertinent and 
 juft ; Hie polluted a wonderful ftore of 
 anecdote and (lory, all excellent and ge- 
 nuine; her fund ^as exhauftiefs. Mr. 
 
142 
 
 Hill found all equally worthy of notice. 
 The lady abbefs was equally charmed with. 
 her vifitors ; on taking leave, ilie begged 
 to be favoured with their company the nix>t 
 day. 
 
 They found the lady abbefs waiting their 
 arrival, though they reached the convent 
 at an early hour. She conducted them to 
 the gardens, which were extenfive, and 
 laid out with tafte and elegance. A great 
 profufion of roles and other flowery furred 
 walks ihaded with orange trees, whole fra- 
 grant bloffoms fcented the air ; and the 
 almond, peach, and neclarine added their 
 fweets ; the gardens were thickly heclgeid 
 round with the gloomy cyprefs. 
 
 They afterwards vifited the baths, and the 
 greater! part of the convent. In the ceils. 
 they found the niters varioufly employ- 
 ed, in reading, writing,, embroidery, and 
 lace making. As they palled through 
 the chapel fome of the nuns were" pre- 
 paring for prayers. 
 
 The lady abbefs introduced to her vifi- 
 tors a nun, named Lucea : ihe was organihV 
 and practihng a little voluntary, while Sig- 
 nora Valeria, a young Neapolitan, in the 
 fir ft year of her noviciate, was fitting by 
 her humming -a new hymn. 
 
'I AE WIDOWED BRIDE. 1-1-3 
 
 Sifter Lucca, at the requeft of the abbels, 
 played feveral hymns in a capital ftile, and 
 Signora Valeria fung with great taite and 
 judgment. 
 
 It was now the hour of high mafs, and 
 .the abbefs, with a fmile, laid, " You will 
 not pray with us, I fuppofe, gentlemen : 
 give me leave to fliew you 'to the parlour, 
 you will find both books and mulic to 
 am ule you.*' 
 
 " Will there be any impropriety in our 
 remaining in the chapel during high mafs ? 
 if not, it will be highly gratifying to us," 
 faid Mr. Hill. 
 
 " Not in the leaft," replied the abbefs, 
 " the fifterhood will feel themfelves hon- 
 oured by your pretence. Let me lead you 
 to a feat."" 
 
 There was a folemnity in the chapel, and 
 an indifcribable placid ferenity in the faces 
 and air of all the nuns, which had a won- 
 derful effect on the minds of the gentle- 
 men. For fome minutes before prayers 
 began a gloomy iilence reigned, which led 
 their minds to a ferious train of thought 
 and reflection. 
 
 When the organ ftrucr. up, they were elec- 
 trified. The mulic was grand and bold ; but 
 when the filters joined their voices, they 
 
144 CELINA ; OH, 
 
 were loft in extacy ; it was like the whole 
 choir of heaven gliding: on theirs. 
 
 Some of the nuns had molt enchanting 
 voices, and they all fung with tafte. — 
 High mafs heing ended, Father Quintin 
 delivered a fhort exhortation to the nuns, 
 and they retired. 
 
 . Lord Wilmington and Henry anmfed 
 themfelves with the piano forte which 
 flood in the parlour for the ufe of the 
 boarders. 
 
 Mr. Hill and Father Quintin walked 
 round the convent : on the fouth Avas a 
 hill of an amazing length, beautifully dref- 
 fed with firs and mountain alh, and car- 
 peted with mofs. 
 
 They climbed the hill to a certain 
 height, where was a feat fixed round a 
 tree, by order of the abbot, for the ac- 
 commodation of the brothers of the con - 
 vent to which Father Quintin belonged. 
 The view from this fpot was extenfive 
 and rich ; looking down on numbcrlefs 
 chateaux,' gardens, and vineyards, bound - 
 ed by the Pyrenees, Alps, and Mediter- 
 ranean. 
 
 At dinner, Mr. Hill gave his young 
 friends an account of his ramble. They 
 were delighted with the relation, and. en- 
 
THE WIDOWED B1UDE. 145 
 
 gaged Father Quintin to accompany them 
 the next clay to the charming fpot. 
 
 The lady abbefs enquired very minutely of 
 Henry concerning his mother and fillers, 
 and repeatedly expreffed a defire to fee 
 them. 
 
 Father Quintin conducted Lord Win- 
 ington and Henry to the hill, according to 
 his promife, and many other line views 
 within a few 7 miles of the convent. 
 
 In returning, he brought them to the 
 convent he was a brother of, and intro- 
 duced his young friends to the lord abbot, 
 who received them with great cordiality ; 
 
 .:, he hoped they would honour him with 
 their company at dinner. They thanked 
 the abbot tor his friendly invitation ; but 
 begged to be excufed, as they had pro- 
 mi led to dine at the Benedictine convent, 
 where they had left a friend. 
 
 Tire abbot then accepted their excufe, 
 on condition that they would dine with 
 him the next day, and bring their friend 
 with them ; which they pvomifed, and 
 took their leave, well pleafed with the 
 frank manners and jolly countenances of 
 the merry faced Carmelites. 
 
 Vol. I. O 
 
146 celtxa; or, 
 
 C H A P. IX. 
 
 She due obedience paid her ancient friend, 
 As on the bed of lingering death the lay ; 
 With pious care the nurfed her to her end, 
 With friendihip's tender flowers (he ftrew'd the way, 
 
 O 
 
 jN the family's arrival' in town, Alary 
 expecled to have found Celina waiting- 
 her coming, but was greatly difappointed, 
 as no one appeared but Mr. Morley and the 
 fervant. Mr. Guraville had commiihoired 
 Mr. Morley to engage a houfe for him, 
 which he did, and being informed of the 
 time of their coming to town, he went to 
 receive them. 
 
 As foon as Mary alighted from the car- 
 riage me enquired for Celina. Mr. Morley 
 iaid, that Mrs. Good all continued fo ex- 
 tremely ill, he did not like to leave her en- 
 tirely under die care of a nurfe ; " befides," 
 added he, " every moment that Celina is 
 
THE WIDOWED BRIDE. 147 
 
 from her, fhe is fo reftlefs and miferable 
 that. I cannot think of her leaving her." 
 
 " You will lofe me loon, my dear Ce- 
 lina/' ihe lays, " I muft leave you for 
 ever; give me as much of your company 
 as you poflfibly can, the little time I remain 
 here. You, my dear child, are all my care 
 — all my comfort and happinefs on this 
 fide the grave."' 
 
 " Thofe tender complainings and ardent 
 fupplications Celina cannot withftand, how 
 ever deiirous ihe might be to welcome you 
 to town. She knows not how, even for 
 one hour, to feparate herfelf from her dying 
 friend. She commifhoned me to fay every 
 thing for her, to her dear Mary, and her 
 valuable friends." 
 
 " Amiable girl," faid Mrs. Guraville, 
 li there needs no apology on her part; 1 
 fmcerely feel for her fituation. Mary and 
 I will fee her to-morrow ; perhaps a vifit 
 from us for a few minutes will cheer the 
 fpirits of Mrs. Goodall, and if Mary can 
 affift Celina in her melancholy tafk ilie will 
 be happy to do it." 
 
 Mr. Morley thanked Mrs. Guraville for 
 her kindnefs, and after fupper took his 
 leave. 
 
 O 2 
 
•348 
 
 The next morning Mrs. Guraville and 
 Mary drove to Gower-ftrect, where they 
 found poor Mrs. Goodall flittering under a 
 dreadful complaint on her liver. The phy- 
 iician was with her -when Mrs. Guraviiie 
 entered the room ; as he left his patient, 
 ilie followed to afk his opinion ; he faid, 
 nothing couid be done for her, and a few- 
 weeks will terminate her life. 
 
 * ; You, Madam, I perceive aie a friend 
 of Mrs. Goodall and Mifs Mor.ley's ; ike 
 is a moil attentive nurfe, and loves Mrs. 
 Goodall with the affect ion of a daughter. — 
 It is a mournful talk I would impofe, but 
 I truft you will in kindnefs — in friendlhip 
 to the lovely girl, prepare her for the worfl. 
 The death of Mrs. Goodall is inevitable, 
 and Mifs Morley mould be told fo." 
 J : Mrs. Guraville allured the pbyfician 
 ithat, however painful the tafk, me certainly 
 would undertake it ; with a hope that it 
 would leflen the feverity of the mock to 
 Celina. 
 
 Mrs. Goodall was much amufed and re- 
 vived by this kind vifit. While Mrs. Gu- 
 raville, was chatting with her, Mary and 
 Celina were entertaining each other by re- 
 citing every little occurrence that had 
 taken place fince their laft meeting. The 
 
THE WIDOWED BRIDE. 149 
 
 lovely Cclina had many melancholy fcenes 
 to difclofc. 
 
 '! The great lofs my father has met 
 with," laid (he, (i has deprived me of 
 many of the elegancies of life ; but none 
 of its comforts, except that of feeing my 
 father cheerful and happy. I have now 
 reaibn to fear that it loon will be followed 
 by a much greater and irreparable one, 
 which will be far more feveiely felt both 
 by my father and myfelf*- Here her tears 
 flowed and ftopped her utterance. 
 
 Mary attempted, by the powers of her 
 rhetoric, to calm her atllicled friend, but in 
 vain. So painfully did ihe anticipate 
 the approaching calamity that Ihe fobbed 
 aloud. 
 
 Mrs. Guraville entering the room at that 
 inftant, enquired Uie eaufe of her grief. — 
 Mary related all that had paffed, particu- 
 larly that part of their difcottrfe which had 
 fa fenlibiy affected Cclina. 
 
 Mrs. Guraville took this opportunity of 
 foothing her fpirits, and preparing her mind 
 for the melancholy change that, according 
 to the natural courfe of things, muft ihortly 
 take place ; and that ihe muft endeavour 
 to look forward to the feparation with 
 calmnefs and refignation ; and fmooth the 
 O 3 
 
150 celina; or, 
 
 pillow of her friend with filial care and 
 attention ; approach her bed with the calm 
 fmile of hope : do not difturb her with 
 your exceffive orief and unavailing for- 
 row. 
 
 The mind may, by the tender foothing 
 of a. friend, and thejuft religious reafoning 
 of a truly devout Chriftian, be brought to 
 fuch a degree of placid ferenity and firm- 
 nefs, as to liear the rnoft dreadful truths 
 unmoved. The foul may, indeed, feel the 
 fhock ; but the mind thus armed, will bear 
 up againfl the moft fatal blow that can be 
 ii ruck at its dearer! affections. 
 
 Celina had, by the kind and friendly 
 advice of Mrs. Guraville, acquired a consi- 
 derable degree of firm nefs and reiignation. 
 She heard from her lips the certainty of 
 Mrs. Goodail's approaching diifolution 
 with calm nefs, and uttered a pious eja- 
 culation for the foul of her fuffering 
 friend, and for the Omnipotent's ali- 
 fupporting arm to give her ftrength to 
 bear whatever it was his will to afflict her 
 with. 
 
 Mrs. Guravilie^felt herfelf more at eafe 
 when fhe had performed this duty to Celina, 
 and happy to find in her fo much good 
 fenfe and amiablenefs of difpofition. Mary 
 remained all day with Celina, and Mrs. 
 
THE WIDOWED ERIDE. Ui 
 
 Guraville lent the carriage for her in the 
 evening* 
 
 As Celina could not leave the chamber 
 of .Mrs. Goodall, Mary generally made her 
 a vifit once a day. The time fpent with her 
 was the only recreation Celina allowed her- 
 felf during Mrs. Goodalfs long and pain-, 
 ful iilnefs. 
 
 One morning, about fix weeks after their. 
 arrival in town, Mrs. Guraville received a 
 note from Mr. Morley, informing her that 
 Mrs. Goodall was no more. Her death 
 was as exemplary as her life. She was for 
 many days fenfibte of her approaching end, 
 and the met it with all that placid ferenity 
 which a life welt fpent infures to the dying 
 Chrirlian. . 
 
 After breakfaft, Mrs. Guraville ordered 
 the carriage, and, with Mary, drove to Mr, 
 Motley's, to offer their confolations and. 
 ferviees to Celina and her father. The 
 latter they found tranquil. Mr^ Guraville 
 affifted in ordering the funeral and mourn- 
 ing ; wiihed to take Celina home with her 
 till after the funeral, but fhe could not be 
 prevailed on to leave the body of her dear 
 departed friend. 
 
 «' No, my dear Madam, ''' faid Celina to 
 Mrs. Guraville, " there is nothing & ter- 
 
152 celina; or, 
 
 rihle in death as to induce me to fly from 
 the body of my clear Mrs. Goodail — my. 
 more than mother. It is true, I dreaded 
 death as he was making his approaches; 
 but he is come, the final blow is itruct, and 
 I have no mere to fear. My greater!: con- 
 solation now, is to viiit the clear remains of 
 her whofe memory will ever be held iacred 
 by me ; to contemplate thofe features I 
 have fo often beheld with delight, and. 
 prefs thofe dear lips from which fo many 
 excellent precepts have flowed. Suffer me, 
 my dear Madam, for the few days the body, 
 will remain in the houfe, thus to indulge 
 my grief; after that, I promife to be all 
 you wilh, and, by my father's leave, will' 
 fpencl a day or two with you." 
 
 Mrs. Guraville could urge nothing 
 againfl Celina's with that could have* 
 any weight, nor could fhe offer any ar- 
 guments againfl a refolution fo perfectly 
 confonant with the tender regard fhe ever 
 ftlt for Mrs. Goodail. 
 
 Mrs. Guraville could not but admire and 
 applaud Celina's pious care to her friend 
 after death : it had a fmcerity in it in- 
 difputable, and heightened her opinion of. 
 this incomparable girl". 
 
 u How mean," faid Mrs. Guraville,. 
 
 i 
 
THE WIDOWED BRIDE. !->.'> 
 
 " how weak and pnuTianimous, is 'the fa- 
 fhionable, but unnatural cuftom, of leaving 
 the body of a dear deceaied friend to the 
 care of unfeeling Grangers.'* 
 
 The remains of Mrs. Goodali were, ac- 
 cording to her defire, depofited by the Ude 
 of Mrs" Morley. 
 
 Celina became more tranquil, and turned 
 her thoughts upon her living friends ; tho' 
 frequently a ugh would efcape her when 
 bufy recollection brought her dear departed 
 friend to her mind — it would carry her back 
 to her years of infancy — then would lead 
 her on through thoughtlefs childhood to 
 the mature years of youth ; in all which 
 flages of life, fhe beheld Mrs. Goodali in 
 the different characters of mother, nurfe, 
 playmate, and inftruclrefs. Nor did me 
 lofe one grain of refpect for her memory 
 by the recollection of her condescending 
 thus to fall into all Celina's little pleafures, 
 as well as her inft ruction. 
 
 Celina fpent fome time with Mary ; 
 but Mr. Morley fo feniibly felt the lofs 
 of his loved daughter's amiable fociery, 
 that he could no longer difpenfe with 
 fuch a privation : the evenings were long, 
 and he felt himfelf unfit for any other 
 company. 
 
1.54 cklina ; or-, 
 
 At length it tvas agreed, that Celina 
 ihould fpend three evenings in each week 
 with Mary, and Mary as many with her 
 as fhe could fpare from her gayer ac- 
 quaintance. 
 
THE WIDOWED BIUDE. 15; 
 
 C H A P. X. 
 
 That tyrant Hope, mark how the domineers j 
 She bids us quit realities for dreams, 
 Safely and peace for hazard and alarm. 
 
 Young, 
 
 THE theatre was a place of amufement 
 which both Mr. Guraville and Mr. 
 Morley approved, and there Mary and 
 Celina frequently went, accompanied by 
 Mrs. Guraville : it was the only public 
 place that Celina frequented. 
 
 Mary, indeed, from her mother's con- 
 nexions, was introduced to balls, routs, 
 and many gay circles, but it never lef- 
 fened the natural attachment flic had to 
 tn evening* fpent round their focial do- 
 meitic fire fide : her favourite ipaniel 
 ftretched before it, the candles on the 
 table, and the quintetto round it, con- 
 futing of her father, mother, Mr. Morley, 
 Celina, and herfelf ; fometimes the lovely 
 
156 Ckiana; or, 
 
 Eliza would make a cufhion of her lap 
 for Chloe's bead, and twift her ears till flie 
 fqueaked, not quite in unifon with the 
 piano forte, which Mary and Celina al- 
 ternately fat down to, and gave celerity 
 to the hours. Thus innocently and 
 cheerfully palled their long winter even- 
 ings. 
 
 One morning Mr. Guraville, among 
 other letters, received one which, from 
 the poft-mark, he law came from France, 
 and judged it was from Henry, or his 
 friends. The iu peremption arretted his 
 eye, he knew not the hand-writing ; but 
 how great was his furprife when he read 
 the following letter from his aunt : 
 
 Ci MY DEAR NEPHEW, 
 
 " I am quite charmed with your en- 
 <c gaging fon. He and his accomplifhed 
 " iriends have fpent much time with me, 
 " and have done me the favour to pro- 
 ". tract their ftay at Nifmcs much beyond 
 <c the time hril fixed ; the facrihce is very 
 " flattering, for a facrifice it muft be to 
 u gay young men, giving up fo many 
 iC hours to an old reel ule tfcat might be 
 •'.fpent in the gayer circles of the too 
 " enchanting world. 
 
THK WIDOWED BR.IDL. 15/ 
 
 "■' I tear at times I fatigue your dear Hen- 
 f 1 ry with queftions refoe&ing my family, 
 " from which I have been an alien from 
 €i my infancy. — I have endeavoured, but 
 " in vain, to trace the lineaments of your 
 11 face in that of your fori. The worthy 
 cc Mr, Hill tells me he refembles his mo- 
 " tlier, who, from the exalted character 
 f* me bears as a wife, mother, and Chrif- 
 <c tian, my foul longs to embrace. 
 
 " Your eldeft daughter, I am informed 
 c ' D y your truly valuable friends, is ex- 
 " tremely like you in perfon, and poiTeffes 
 f* all her mother's bright virtues and fweet 
 " engaging manners. Can you, my dear 
 " nephew, trull this ineftimable girl to my 
 (i care for fome time. I am well aware 
 " how great the favour is I afk ; but, be- 
 <l fore you fay a word on the fubjecl, re- 
 cc collect that you have intrulted as great, 
 " as invaluable a treafure to the care of 
 <c Mr. Hill, and confider if I am lefs 
 " worthy and lefs capable to have fo dear 
 " a charge. 
 
 " You will pofllbly obje6l to granting 
 %t my requeft on account of the difference 
 u in our religious principles : of this you 
 " may reft aiuired, that I mall ftudioully 
 
 V 9L. I. P 
 
158 celina; or, 
 
 <{ avoid ever difcourfing with her on that 
 « fubjed. 
 
 " Although I have been for many years 
 (C a reclufe, and have lived in conftant 
 ** a&s of religious duty, and by unfeigned 
 " piety have gained the efteem of all my 
 •« fitter nuns, and have been judged worthy 
 li of being placed at the head of this fifter- 
 " hood, yet I am not a Have to bigotry - 9 
 " a name truly difgufting to the religious 
 « foul. 
 
 " No, my dear nephew ! I have not 
 •" forgot that the dear worthy parents who 
 u gave me life were Proteliants. It was 
 " my fate, when little more than three 
 " years old, to be left to the care of a 
 " good woman, who inculcated the prin- 
 u ciples of her religion in my youthful 
 (i mind. But they were good; they taught 
 <f me to refpec~b virtue wherever, and in. 
 " whomfoever I found it ; to afk of the 
 * e great Creator every good I wiilied for, 
 " and return him unfeigned thanks for 
 " every blemng received and enjoyed ; 
 " and to believe in his only fon, Jefus 
 " Chrift, as my bleffed Redeemer. 
 
 " When my parents returned from Spain, 
 " they found me married to a worthy man>j 
 11 of the fame perfuafion. They faw I was 
 " happy, and knew I could but be fo ; 
 
 
THE AVI DO WED BfllDE. \5$ 
 
 they left me to enjoy that faith I had 
 been taught to hold good, juftly be- 
 lieving that every good work, every iin- 
 eere and ardent prayer is acceptable to 
 God ; that the foul of every truly good 
 Chriftian will meet its promifed reward; 
 that the ear of the Almighty is open to 
 the fupplicant in whatever form he puts 
 forth his prayer. 
 
 " Since the death of my fon I have not 
 had refolution enough to fettle my affairs 
 with the world. My efrate at Auvignon, 
 which was my fon's, and which on his- 
 death devolved to me again, remains 
 un thought of: the rents are paid me 
 once a year, and lay by as ufelefs tram ; 
 as often as I fee the pernicious gold my 
 thoughts turn to you. There is a de- 
 gree of felfhnnefs attached to our natures 
 which we cannot make off; it purfues 
 us even to the dreary cells of a convent. 
 The mind is often too much engaged on 
 felf, whether it is in purfuit of brighter 
 worlds beyond the grave, or of greater 
 riches and pleafures in this. Whatever 
 be the purfuit, felf is the objcsft ; and lb 
 wholly is the mind engrofifed by it, that 
 we cannot fpare one moment to perform 
 
160 celina ; OR, 
 
 li tliofe duties we owe to our relations, 
 '• friends, and fellow-creatures. 
 
 " I am a proof of tins obfervation, and 
 u the appearance of your fon has awakened 
 " this truth in my mind. I felt a con- 
 il f. ions bluih overfpread my cheek at the 
 " recoiled ion of the injuiiice I did my 
 " family in neglecting theie worldly trifles. 
 "' I have bellowed liandfomely on this con- 
 " vent, and, by the time you receive this, 
 " I mail have made. my will in duQ form, 
 li and leave your eldeit daughter my Jo le 
 " legatee. 
 
 " I do not mention this by way of draw- 
 C( ing her to me : let me conjure you, if 
 Ci you love and refpe6fc me, not to part 
 li with her if you feel the « I call reluctance, 
 u and, on her part, her excufes will be 
 iC kindly received, ihould fire prefer fraying 
 61 in England. 
 
 " Make my love and prayers acceptable 
 ei to Mrs. Guraville, and efteem me, my 
 " dear nephew, 
 
 " Your affectionate Aunt, 
 
 " Maria du Saint." 
 
 This letter gave Mr. Guraville at once 
 both pain and pleafure ; he took it in- 
 llantly to his Myra, who was aftonifhed 
 at receiving a letter from Madam du 
 
THE WIDOWED BRIDE. l6l 
 
 Saint, never having been honoured with 
 her correspondence before. 
 
 They knew not what anfwer to return, 
 nor if Mary would willingly accept the 
 invitation. They agreed to make them- 
 felves acquainted with her inclinations be- 
 fore ihewing her the letter. 
 
 Both Mr. and Mrs. Guraville would 
 rather have kept Mary in England ; but 
 to accept of Madame du Saint's offer 
 would be much to her advantage : the 
 will might be made in her favour, but 
 who could anfwer for the caprice of an 
 old woman. 
 
 The day the letter was received Mary 
 was engaged to dine out. The next 
 morning a gentleman took his breakfaft 
 with them, which prevented the fubjed 
 being difcuifed. 
 
 Mrs. Guraville was anxious to know 
 Mary's inclination ; the matter interefted 
 her, it lay near her heart ; me would 
 have done any thing, and fuffered any 
 thing, to have infured Mary her aunt's 
 fortune. Life was uncertain, and if any 
 thing fhould happen to Mr. Guraville, 
 there was only an eftate of fix hundred 
 a vear. to fupport herfelf and children* 
 
162 CELINA ; OR 
 
 and that cftate Henry could claim when 
 
 he came of age. 
 
 Soon after breakfaft the fervant brought 
 Mary a letter. It was from Henry, and 
 contained an account of the venerable nun. 
 He fpoke of her in the highefl terms ; de- 
 fcrihed their feveral receptions at the Bene- 
 dictine convent, and his unexpected meet- 
 ing with Mils Bean, of whom he had 
 fpoken to his lifter in one of his former 
 letters. 
 
 He concluded with faying, he thought it 
 a great pity that fo charming, fo fenhble a 
 woman as Madam du Saint, ilioulcl be im 
 mured in a convent. When ihe quitted the 
 world her whole circle of acquaintance 
 mull have felt her lofs. He really thought 
 the lady abbefs and the whole fifterhood 
 deferved the title they took. There being 
 none of that aufterity of manners, and but 
 few who bore the cold fullen marks of dif- 
 tetit which he had read was too vihble in 
 the face of every nun. 
 
 As foon as Mary had perufed the letter 
 me ran with all ipeed to her mamma; 
 who, after reading it, fecretly exulted that 
 Henry had given fo pleafant an account 
 of Madam du Saint, as it might greatly in- 
 duce Mary to accept her invitation. 
 
THE WIDOWED BRIDE. 163 
 
 " Well, my dear Mary," laid Mrs- 
 Guraville, " what do you think of this 
 good lady abbefs your brother lias faicl 
 lb much about ? the party appears to be 
 
 unwilling to leave the Lively nuns." 
 
 " From his account, mamma, I think 
 fhe muft be a moft charming woman, and 
 1 mould like to fpend fome time with 
 her. If a mind fo enlarged as Mr. Hill's 
 can find pleafure and entertainment in 
 her company for a month or more, to me 
 her (lore of entertainment would be ex 
 hauftlefs ; for you know, mamma, little 
 minds are amufed with trifles." 
 
 " Should you really like to fpend a 
 year or two Abut up in- a convent?" 
 
 " Indeed I mould, mamma, if it was 
 pornble. I would take much pains to make 
 myl'elf perfect miftrefs of French ; and 
 nuns, I am told, are very clever at all 
 forts of fine needle work and embroidery. 
 Rom them I ihould like to receive in- 
 ftruelions ; for it Mas always my ambition 
 to excel in every fine fancy work." 
 
 " O! my dear! you feem to have been 
 confulting with yourfelf on this fubjecl ; 
 but do you confuler, that- when you are 
 tired of work, reading, and mufic, and 
 are looking for variety, it will be out of 
 your reach $ no theatres, no balls, no 
 
]&4> CELMFA ; OR, 
 
 walks,, but the gardens which you have 
 fauntered over 1b many times; that each 
 flower is familiar to your eye, and the 
 branches of the gloomy cypreis have been 
 numbered a- thoufand times in your va- 
 cant hours. 
 
 "■ Recollect, my dear, there are few* 
 things that will not tire and grow irk- 
 fome from repetition. The love of variety 
 is innate in; human nature, and thofe that 
 fubdue that defire are mod amiable ; 
 it argues a ftrength of mind, and a 
 proper knowiege of our dutv to our- 
 ielvesJ' 
 
 " No, indeed, mamma;, the thought: 
 never entered my head thl I received this, 
 letter from m}/ brother, nor do I enter-- 
 tain . the leaft hope of ever feeing this- 
 good lady ahbefs. Yet, I am fure, I 
 could be very happy there for fome time, J 
 and would make myfelf perfect miftrefsi 
 of French, which would he my delight and- 
 pride ; but it is only the thought of a mo- 
 ment which Henry's letter gave birth to,, 
 and will die as foon," 
 
 i( H you are really ferious, read thaj 
 letter, my dear, and then tell me if youj 
 continue in the fame mind." 
 
 As Mary read Madam du Saint's letter) 
 the colour in her. cheek heightened and re* 
 
THE WIDOWED BRIDE. 1().> 
 
 ceded two or three times. Having* perufed 
 the letter, (he returned it, laying, " In 
 deed, mamma, I feel a great inclination 
 to make a vifit to my aunt." 
 
 11 Ha, my dear ! have you an eye to the 
 eftate at Auvignon ?" 
 
 " I own.'" auiwered Mary, " it has 
 fome little weight, for which I hope you 
 will not blame me. It may be called felfiih 
 — I allow it is fo ; but had the eftate at 
 Auvignon been out of the queftion it would 
 ft ill be the fame. Nay, my wilh to go 
 before I knew my aunt had an inclination 
 to fee me, was a defire created by a felf- 
 iih motive — the motive of improving and 
 pleaiing myfelf ; but now I think the in- 
 clination I feel to oblige my aunt, will take 
 from me the odium of being altogether 
 
 " Well, my dear,' I declare you are an 
 excellent fophifi already. I think I may 
 venture to fay your father will be much 
 I ed"to find you have fo great an incli- 
 nation to ol ur aunt." 
 
 At dinner Mrs. Guraville related what 
 had palled l* . • hi:v and Alary. Mr. 
 (Mini. pleafure at finding 
 
 flic was ;ept of Madam du 
 
 Saints invitation, and hoped it would 
 prove much to her advantage ; adding " I 
 
166 celina; or, 
 
 will write to her to-morrow, and inform 
 her of your determination. When lhall 
 I fay {he may expect you r" 
 
 This queftion threw them into a fort of 
 dilemma. How (lie fhouict go became a 
 queftion of fome difficulty. There \yas no 
 other means than fending for Henry to 
 conduct her to Nifmes. 
 
 The next day Mr. Guraville wrote to his 
 aunt, acknowledging her favour, and that 
 Mary would with pleafure accept her offer. 
 This letter was accompanied with one for 
 Henry, concerning Mary's intended jour- 
 ney to Nifmes. 
 
 Mary flew to acquaint Celina with every 
 thing that was about to take place. As 
 foon as Hie got out of the carriage {he 
 ran up flairs to her quite out of bieath. 
 
 " My dear Celina, I have fuch news 
 to tell you — I am quite delighted!" 
 
 " That it is good I judge from your 
 countenance, and I am happy when you 
 are pleafed." 
 
 . " O ! it is charming ! delightful ! — I 
 am going to France for two or three 
 years, my dear girU' 
 
 " And is that fuch good news, my. 
 
 •xlear Mary ? to me it is fad indeed. For 
 
 two or three years, fay you 1 am I. then,. 
 
TKE WIDOWED BRIDE. 167 
 
 For fuch a cruel length of time, to be de- 
 prived of the greateft pleafure on earth ? 
 the only happinefs at prefent in my 
 power to enjoy. You know, my dear 
 Mary, you are the only friend I have, 
 my dear father excepted/' 
 
 " O, my dear Celina !° faid Mary, 
 throwing her arms around her neck, " I 
 never till now recollected, that by this 
 journey I fhould be deprived of your 
 company : it lb delighted me, I con- 
 fefs, that the idea of our being feparated 
 never once occurred to me ; but now I 
 feel my inclinations waver, and felf- 
 intereft yields to friendihip. " 
 
 Celina enquired the caufe of this fud- 
 den journey. Mary told her every cir- 
 cumflance, and gave her Madam du 
 Saint's letter to read. 
 
 Celina returned it, faying, " My dear 
 Mary, I can now reconcile myfelf to 
 your abfence, iince it is likely to be of 
 lb much benefit to you." 
 
 Mary was bufy preparing for her de- 
 parture. Celina fpent as much time 
 with her as me could fpare from her 
 father and the domeftic duties of his 
 houfe. 
 
16*8 celina ; OR, 
 
 Whenever ihe looked forward to her 
 friend's departure, fhe felt a ftrong pre- 
 fentiment that it would be long before 
 they iliould meet again : her fpirits 
 funk at the thought, and fhe knew not 
 why. 
 
THE WIDOWED ERIDE. l6<) 
 
 C H A P. XT. 
 
 L-YifciicHlnp's the wine of life ; but friendthip now 
 (Not fuch as his) is neither itrong nor pure. 
 O 1 for the bright complexion, cordial warmth, 
 it of a friend. 
 
 Young. 
 
 M 
 
 It. Hill, Loid Winington, and Henry, 
 
 ^-1- obeyed the lord abbot's invitation, 
 and they made as good a dinner, and 
 palled as convivial an hour afterwards 
 with the holy Carmelites, as they would 
 have done at a venifon feaft in Ens:- 
 land. 
 
 In their way back to their hotel, they 
 flopped at the Benedictine convent, to en- 
 quire after the health of the lady abbefs 
 and the ii fieri lood. They received for 
 anfwer, that they were all in good health, 
 and that the lady abbels mould expect 
 them to dinner the next day, 
 
 Vol. I. Q 
 
lfO €elina; or, 
 
 It was well they were not admitted 
 into the convent, as the good Carmelites' 
 wine began to operate, and their fpirits 
 were in too high a key to fnit the ibber 
 gravity of nuns. 
 
 The lady abbefs was well pleafed with 
 the account they gave of the entertain- 
 ment they met with at the convent of 
 Carmelites. She told Henry ihe had 
 written a long letter to his father, but 
 did not mention the purport. He faid, 
 his father would be much gratified, and 
 lamented fhe had never honoured them 
 with her correfpondence before ; that he 
 haicily knew he had fuch a relation till 
 a few" weeks before he left England. 
 
 " I believe, my dear Henry," faid Ma- 
 dam du Saint, " your father is not much 
 acquainted with the hiftory of my life; 
 if it will afford you any entertainment 
 I will relate it." 
 
 Mr. Hill exprelTed his clefire to be in- 
 formed of as much of her itory as fhe 
 chofe to relate ; Lord Winington and 
 Henry joining in the requeft, the good 
 lady proceeded as follows : — 
 
 Ci My dear friends, I fear you will be 
 but ill repaid for your time and attention 
 to my little tale ; but, by the ftrange vi- 
 cifiitudes of my life, you will fee the little 
 
THE WIDOWED BRIDE. 1ft 
 
 reliance that is to be placed oh the (labi- 
 lity of human happinefs, when the fource 
 of that happmefs arifes in frail mortals. 
 
 " My lather married a Mils Viponr, an 
 amiable young lady, whole friends were 
 French refugees* Soon after the birth 6f 
 their firft child, who was your grandfather, 
 they received letters from fome of Mrs. 
 GuravinVs relations, who were refident 
 at Auvignoii, intimating, that if me, with 
 her huioand, would come and refide with 
 them, they might, through their intereft, 
 recover a large eftate which once belonged 
 to her father. 
 
 " They left England immediately; but 
 mv Grandfather would not let them take 
 their infant fori. He infilled on having 
 the care of him till they returned, or 
 were permanently fixed in their eftate.-^— 
 My grandfather was very much difpleafed 
 at my father's marriage, as Mifs Vipont 
 had no fortune ; and my parents, who 
 were glad to find he felt fo much affection 
 for their child, did not hefitate to leave 
 him, hoping by that means to conciliate 
 their father's love, 
 
 " On their arrival at Auvignon, they 
 were received with great kindnefs by Mon- 
 fieur and Madam llenneau. 
 
J 72 celina ; OR, 
 
 " Monficiir Renneau was indefatigable 
 in my mother's intereft. Each morning 
 brought frefh hopes; but, before the even- 
 ing elofed, the fallacy of thofe appeared — 
 yet new ones kourly arofe. In this manner 
 they were led on from day to day. 
 
 " About eight months after their ar- 
 rival at Auvignon, my mother prelected 
 my father with a daughter. Madam Ren- 
 neau was delighted with this addition to 
 the family. They would not finTer them 
 to leave their houfe till (they laid) they 
 could take , poffeflfion of the eftatc they 
 were in purfuit of. 
 
 '■ A twelvemonth- more elapfed, and 
 they found themielv.es as far from the at- 
 tainment of their wiihes as at firft.- 
 
 " About that time a gentleman, a na- 
 tive of Spain, made a vifit there. He 
 was a diftant relation of Madam Renneau. 
 My father's manners were very pleafmg 
 to this Spaniard, and before they had 
 known each other a week they were on 
 terms of the ftri£teft intimacy. He ftaid 
 near three months, and in that time be- 
 came acquainted with mv father's affairs. 
 He then made him a very advantageous 
 offer of entering into partnership with 
 him ; which my father accepted, with 
 
THE WIDOWED BRIDE. 1 73 
 
 the concurrence of my mother and 
 co li fins. 
 
 " As Don Zebonia had fome affairs to 
 t ran fact in England, it was agreed that 
 he, with my father and mother, mould 
 leave Auyignon the next week for Eng- 
 land, and embark from thence to Spain. 
 Don Zebonia had come, by way of Gib- 
 raltar, by fea to Naples, then, after 
 {pending fome time at Naples and Rome, 
 croffed the Alps to Auvignon. 
 
 * After many in treaties and- perfuaMve 
 arguments, Madam Renneau prevailed on 
 my mother to leave m<e behind her.-*-, 
 She took an affectionate leave of me, and 
 felt happy in knowing that (he left me with 
 a relation who loved me with an affec- 
 tion equal to her own ■; and. as Madam 
 Renneau had no children, her whole 
 time and attention would be devoted to : 
 me. 
 
 " On my parents leaving England, my 
 grandfather again refufed to part with 
 my brother, and they went- childlefs to 
 Spain. 
 
 " A young family coming on very fail, 
 my brother and felf were foon nearly 
 forgotten. 
 
 " Four years had I been the little idol 
 of this worthy pair, when M. Renneau 
 

 174 celina; or, 
 
 died, after a Ihort but fevere illnefs. — 
 This was a ftroke too heavy for rny dear 
 mother (for at that time I knew no other) ; 
 fhc was inconfolable for her lois, and la- 
 mented his death unceafingly. 
 
 " A few months after, Madam Renneau 
 found her health decline. I was all her 
 care. She well knew that, being an Eng- 
 lifh woman, and a Protectant, notwithstand- 
 ing Monfieur Renneau was a native of 
 Auvignon, the officers of government, at 
 her death, would claim all her property, 
 and grudgingly fpare a fcanty fum to lay 
 her remains in the earth ! 
 
 " What then would become of me. She 
 had, indeed, held a correspondence with 
 my mother, who was happily fettled in a 
 diftant part of Spain j but feidom received 
 more than one letter in a year, and for 
 the laft two years no letter had palfcd 
 between them : as to my grandfather, who 
 had the care of my brother, ihe knew not 
 where Ihj lived. 
 
 (i She confulted with Father Clement, 
 a Carthufian friar, and in his hands de- 
 pofited a large fum of ready money for my 
 life. He was a worthy man, an ornament 
 of fociety, and fciupuloufly faithful to 
 the trull repofed in him. 
 
TffE wtdowed bribe. 175 
 
 Ci I became his only care and treafure 
 after the death of Madam Renneau, which 
 took place in about eight months after 
 that of her hufbancl. I ftiil remained under 
 the care of the nurfe who brought me up 
 from the time of my birth. 
 
 4C The good Father Clement placed us 
 in a little cottage, in the neighbourhood 
 of Aiivignon, and never tailed feeing me 
 once a day ; our little cottage flood but a 
 ihort mile from the convent. 
 
 " I was too young to be fenfibte of 
 the great lofs I fuftained in the death of 
 Madam Renneau : the tender care of my 
 nurfe, and the fatherly affectionate watch- 
 ful neis of the good friar, prevented me 
 from feeling any worldly want, and effec- 
 tually guarded me from every earthly 
 danger, as far as mortal power could 
 do it. 
 
 li The good Margaretta, my nurfe, felt 
 a ftrongtr attachment to me the longer 
 me attended me, and my forlorn unpro- 
 tected date added to the claims I already 
 had on her affections. 
 
 " It was her duty, fhe would fay, to 
 take care of my foul, and it was her 
 opinion that the Proteftants certainly were 
 not right in their belief on religious mat- 
 ters ; therefore fhe determined to fhew me 
 
l'JR> : gelina; or, 
 
 her road- to heaven, and took me con- 
 Jftantly to mafs. She difl not even give 
 Fatlier Clement an opportunity of putting 
 His negative on ft;- a tiling me never fail- 
 ed to do in every other refpect. 
 
 " She well knew how fcrupulouily ex- 
 acl lie was in performing every wifh of 
 my departed friend and mother, Madam 
 Henneau, and Hie alfo knew- it was her 
 great wifh and defire that I fhould be in- 
 ftructed in the Proteftant faith ; lb that my 
 going: to mafs, and receiving initruciions 
 from a favourite abby of hers, was in- 
 duflrioufly concealed from him, till one 
 day, in my innocent prattle, I difco- 
 vered it to him. I remember he was dif- 
 pleafed with my nurfe, but at that time 
 I knew not the caufe, Thus, did I live 
 till the age of twelve years. 
 
 " Father Clement one day took me 
 into our parlour, and, feating me befide 
 liim, took hold of my hand, faying, 
 \ My dear daughter, I believe you know 
 out little of your family, or. who your 
 parents are.' 
 
 " Are you not, then, my father? — 
 faid I. 
 
 ■" No, my deareft Maria,' faid the 
 good man, ' I am not. I have ever 
 watched vou with the tender, folicitude 
 
THE WIDOWED BRIDE. 1?7 
 
 of a parent, and till now have kept you 
 ignorant of your Family; but you are 
 now arrived at an age when you may, 
 in fome degree, judge for yourfelf, and 
 it- is right you ihould know what ex- 
 pectations you have, and confult your 
 inclinations as to your future life, 
 
 " Father Clement then related to me 
 all that he knew concerning my parents. 
 Fie alfo gave me an exact account of 
 all the money Madam llenneau left in 
 his hands. 
 
 " I was aftonifhed at the relation, and 
 mocked at the idea of having been fo long 
 neglected by my family. When I ex- 
 preifed my chagrin he forbid me to en- 
 tertain the leait thought or fuppohtion 
 that they acted wrong. ' Never doubt/ 
 faid he, ' their paternal affection and re- 
 gard till you have convincing proof of 
 their neglect. The diftance is great, and 
 you know not what may have happened. 
 Perhaps long ere this they ceafe to be, 
 and are fubmitting, as is right, to a 
 ftate of probation, by which they will be 
 rendered worthy, and capable of bearing 
 the great burft of light and glory that 
 will break forth on the great day of 
 judgment. 
 
173 cexina ; an 9 
 
 " There is a very weighty affair,- rpy 
 dear Maria, I would recommend to your 
 confideration : take time, and examine well 
 the queftion and the caufe.' 
 
 " My dear Father, laid I, what are 
 you going to fay? your preface terrifies 
 me. 
 
 < 6 My dear child/ anfwered lie, ' I wifn 
 to make you happy here, ami infure, as 
 far as is in my power, your happinefs 
 Iaereafter. Know, then, that your father,, 
 mother, and the worthy Madam Reu- 
 neau, were not of our church ; they were 
 of the eftabliihed church of England, 
 known by the name of Proteftants. You 
 were baptifed in that faith*, and taught 
 to- repeat their prayers, until the death of 
 Madam Henri cau, when your nurfe took 
 you to her houfe and taught you to repeat 
 ours. 
 
 " Now, my dear daughter, I would: 
 have you determine whether you will con- 
 tinue to embrace our religion or that of 
 your parents. If you decide on the for- 
 mer, I will place you in a, convent to 
 fmiih your education ; and then, if you 
 fhould chufe a rechnVs life, the money 
 you have will procure you a reception 
 in any convent ; but if you fhould wiilx 
 to return, to the world again, it will 
 
THE WIDOWED BRIDE. 179 
 
 fupport you, cr be >i ufe to any worthy 
 man y u yoiit life Avitlu 
 
 If yo* el a v ifl I the 1 rote- 
 
 iftant religion, becaufi il was the faith of 
 ■ our parents, do l'o. I wi\) endeavour to 
 : ;i grandfather, and fend you 
 to England, vith the property \ >u have, 
 v. < taim his protection.' 
 
 " I could fcarc* iy contain nvyfelf during 
 il harangue; but svhen he propoied to 
 fend me from him my tears would flow. — 
 ' Y\ ill you part with me fak! 1 ?' as welt as 
 I could, my fobs interrupting each word, 
 ' and lend me to a ftrange land and {hanger 
 people ; I never can go. Is not the man- 
 lier in which my nurfc has taught me 
 to addreis my God the fame as you ap- 
 prove ? — the faith me has inftrucled me in 
 the fame as you believe ? — and can you 
 believe in, or approve any thing that is 
 wrong ? No, impoiuble ! Let me (lay with 
 you, and my dear Margafetta, and I fhall 
 be happy and content.' 
 
 " My dear Maria,' laid Father Clement, 
 tenderly embracing nle, 8 compofe yourfelf, 
 dry up your tears, you (hall never leave 
 me; if you are content and happy, I {hall 
 be fo.' He then left me. 
 
 il I returned to the ioom in which my 
 nurfe was fitting. She faw I had been cry 
 
180 celina ; OR, 
 
 fog, and enquired the caufe. My mind 
 was all coi);!. lion. I could not 1 or fome 
 time collect myfelf fuiiiciently to tell her. 
 She was vexed at what Father Clement 
 bad done. When I afked her any questions 
 concerning my parents, flie appeared un- 
 willing to fatisfy me, and laid flie knew 
 nothing. 
 
 " A few weeks after this, Father Cle- 
 ment told me he had heen fpeaking to the 
 lady abbefs of a neighbouring convent, and 
 (he wifhed to receive me as a boarder, and 
 that the latter end of next week was fixed, 
 on for my removal. 
 
 il Margaretta could not bear the idea of 
 parting with me, and I was as unwilling to 
 leave her ; however, we foon prevailed on 
 Father Clement (who in facl had no will 
 but mine in things that concerned me) to 
 let her go with me. He at firft objected, 
 faying it would leiien my money too much 
 paying for her board; but ihe foon made 
 it appear to him, that ihe would fave me 
 more than her (ward by her fervices. The 
 dear man believed it, and we became in- 
 mates of the convent. 
 
 " Margaretta's hufband was in the army, 
 and his regiment then lay at Paris, and ihe 
 felt much happier with me than me mould 
 ave done in the little cottage. 
 h 
 
THE WIDOWED BRIDE. 181 
 
 c ? In this convent I paffed fix happy 
 years, daily dividing my time between the 
 nuns, who alternately received me in their 
 cell, the lady abbefs, and Margaretta. 
 
 " At the end of fix years Margaretta'* 
 hulband returned to Auvignon with one of 
 his officers, whofe father was commandant 
 of the town, and being taken ill he fent to 
 Verfai lies for his ion ; the regiment was at 
 that time doing duty there. 
 
 " Margaretta's hufband foon made a 
 vifit to the convent, and obtained leave 
 of the abbefs to take her to the cottage. — 
 Gervoife was delighted to find me fo much 
 grown and improved, and could talk of 
 nothing but me. 
 
 " The next morning, as he was attend- 
 ing his oificer, he was aiked fome queftions 
 refpecting his wife, which naturally brought 
 me the fubjeel of their difcourfe. Gervoife 
 related my little tale, and concluded by 
 giving fo flattering an account of my per- 
 fon, as excited in him a great defire to fee 
 me ; upon which Gervoife promifed that 
 in a few days he would bring him into my 
 company. 
 
 " At dinner Gervoife exprelTed a wifh 
 to Margaretta, that I would fpend a day 
 
 Vol, I. R 
 
i8i2 celina; or, 
 
 with them. Margaretta, eager to oblige 
 Gervoife m all things, flew to the convent. 
 ' Do, my dear child,' laid fhe, ' gratify 
 my old man.' The tears flood in her eyes 
 when me afked me. 
 
 " I told her nothing was wanting but 
 Father Clement's confent ; that I Ihould 
 always be happy to oblige Gervoife. 
 
 " In the evening, I afked Father Cle- 
 ment if he would allow of my vifit to the 
 cottage. He. faid Gervoife was a worthy 
 man and a good foldier ; that he muft be 
 indulged, and he would take me to the 
 cottage the next day himfelf. 
 
 " Every thing was ready for my recep- 
 tion ; Gervoife treated me with great affec- 
 tion, and Margaretta overpowered me with 
 kindnefs. 
 
 " After dinner, as we were fitting in the 
 arbour, a favourite feat of mine, eating 
 fome fruit, a fine handfome young man, in 
 undrefs regimentals, flopped at the gate. — 
 ' My officer, ' faid Gervoife. ' Indeed, faid 
 Margaretta, ' a la, I am fuch a figure;' 
 at the fame time pulling down the frill 
 of her jacket and adjufting her handker- 
 chief. 
 
 61 By this the officer walked up to the 
 arbour. He faluted me in a very polite 
 
THE WIDOWED BRTDE. 183 
 
 manner, then gave Gervoife a letter, de- 
 li red he would deliver it as directed, and 
 faid he would wait for an anfwer. 
 
 11 He loon began to couverie familiarly 
 with us, and I felt fo much pleafure in his 
 company, that I feeretly wilhed Geivoiie 
 might be Iom>- before he returned. 
 
 V My Willi: s were anfwered, for Father 
 Clement came to conduct me to my con- 
 vent before Gervoife returned. He was 
 furprifed at feeing the young foldier, which 
 Margaretta obferving, told him the caufc 
 of his viiit. 
 
 " His unfufpecting heart never doubted 
 the truth of it, and we all three believed 
 that to be the effect of chance which, in 
 facT, was the concerted plan of Gervoife 
 and his mailer. 
 
 " The young foldier paid great attention 
 to Father Clement, and foon ingratiated 
 himfelf in his favour. When Gervoife re- 
 turned, 1 took my leave of my nurfe. — 
 Our new friend begged leave to accom- 
 pany us, and ordered Gervoife to follow. 
 
 " My mind was filled with the idea of 
 this too charming young man. I faw him 
 in my vi lions of the night, and he v/as 
 constantly before my eves in the day: the 
 
184- CELIN'A ; OR 
 
 thoughts of him obtruded at all times, and 
 in my moil ferious moments he ftood be- 
 tween me and my duty. 
 
 " One day Father Clement fpoke of his 
 new friend in ilich ten;is as convinced me 
 that lie thought well of him ; and, after 
 ibme little preface, told me that Monfieur 
 du Saint had afked his permiilion to pay 
 his addreffes to me. 
 
 " This,' faid the good friar, ' I cannot 
 object to, if it meets your wifh. If this 
 young man be fueh as you approve, and 
 could pafs your life with ; if the profeflion 
 of a foldier has no terrors in it to you ; in 
 fhort, if you fhould choofe to give Monfieur 
 du Saint the right of protecting you, you 
 have my confent. But the term of your 
 courtfhip muft be fhort, as you, my dear 
 Maria, have no mother under whofe eye 
 his vifits can be received; and it is not 
 confident with the rules of this convent for 
 even boarders to receive male vifitors, par- 
 ticularly in the character of a lover. I 
 know no period of a woman's life fo dan- 
 gerous as the moments fhe paries with her 
 lover after fhe has avowed her tendernefs 
 for him, till the hour of becoming Ms 
 wife. ' 
 
 " You are no doubt furprifed to hear 
 
TflE WIDOWED BRIDE. 185 
 
 fuch fentiments and opinions from an old 
 reclufe, who had been flint up for years 
 within' the cold and dreary walls of a con- 
 vent; but his lii'e had been chequered- 
 misfortune had trod hard on his heels. In 
 the courfe of my hiftory 1 mud relate his ; 
 it being fo interwoven with mine, it* is im~ 
 poflible to avoid it. 
 
 " I frankly confeifed to Father Clement 
 that I felt a great prepofieffion in favour of 
 Captain du Saint ; that he certainly was 
 the only man I ever faw who had made the 
 leaft imprefllon on my heart ; and that my 
 mind had dwelt with delight on his idea 1 
 ever iince I faw him. 
 
 " lie praifed my candour, and faid he 
 was glad to find me rife above, the little 
 arts and falfe delicacy of my fex ; that it 
 was an honour to every woman, and a com- 
 pliment to her heart and underftanding, 
 candidly to own when fhe feels an attach- 
 ment for a worthy man. ' And fuch,.\ 
 added he, ' 1 truft Frederic du Saint is. — 
 I knew him when a boy, and loved him: 
 tenderly. The cemmandant fent him for 
 education to Paris, and it is now fifteen 
 years fince I faw him laft. 
 R3 
 
186 celina; or, 
 
 tf For family reafons,' continued he, 
 ' the commandant and I have dropped all 
 intercourfe with each other, although in 
 our youth we were infeparahle friends.' 
 
 11 Here the dear man ihed tears, and be- 
 came almoft inarticula f e. When he- reco- 
 vered himfelf a little, he exclaimed — 
 
 " O God ! accept of my contrition ! — 
 For many years have I endeavoured to ex- 
 piate my crime ! — I will atone for the in- 
 jury I have done the mother, by my at- 
 tention to the fon !' 
 
 " This ejaculation, and the vifible per-»- 
 turbation of his mind, excited my curioiity 
 to know what diftrerTed him. He evaded 
 my queftion, and I loon forgot the circum- 
 ftance in my own more momentous con- 
 cerns. 
 
 " When I was alone my mind was bufy 
 in retracing paft fcenes, and anticipating 
 the future. I already fancied mylelf the 
 happieft woman in the world. 
 
 " The next day Father Clement and 
 Frederic made me a vifit ; when the latter 
 was introduced to me as my future huf 
 band. 
 
 " Father Clement then left us together, 
 and went to inform the abbefs of my in- 
 
THE WIDOWED BRIDE. IS? 
 
 tended marriage. She difapproved of what 
 lie had done, and faid, he ought rather to 
 have weaned me from the world, and made 
 me a fitter of that convent, than marry 
 me to a foldier. She was forry he had 
 no more reipect for the church than to give 
 me up to the world. 
 
 1* The holy Father laid, his conference 
 acquitted him , he felt he had done right, 
 and that was enough. 
 
 Frederic did not let thefe moments pals un- 
 improved j and when Father Clement return- 
 ed, ' I was gone whole years in love,' if you 
 will allow me to ufe the exprcihon of one 
 of your Englilh authors. 
 
 " In three weeks after, Father Clement 
 gave my hand to the delighted Frederic. — - 
 F felt my happinefs fupreme, ana only wiih- 
 ed it might be permanent. 
 
 " I felt a little perplexed on account of 
 not being introduced fco Frederic's father ; 
 nor could I account for it. Yet I dreaded 
 to afk ! it was a riddle I feared to folve ; 
 but I made myfelf content, hoping all was 
 right, as Father Clement conduced the 
 whole. 
 
 " On the evening of my marriage day, 
 when he was about to give us his bleiiiug v 
 
I8S celina ; OR, 
 
 and take his leave, I told him we wanted 
 the bleiiing of another father to make our 
 happinefs complete, and declared my im- 
 eafinefs at not having been prefented to 
 him. 
 
 " Father Clement looked agitated, the 
 tears fwam in his eyes ; with a trembling- 
 hand he took mine and preffed it to his 
 heart, < My dear Maria,' faid he, in a 
 faltering voice, l . do not let that grieve 
 you : reft affined, that the father of Fre- 
 deric loves you as ardently as I do !' 
 
 ci He turned quickly out of the room, 
 repeating bis benediction: the diftrefs vi- 
 fible in his face affected me, but it was 
 quickly forgot in. the tender endearments 
 of my Frederic. 
 
 The time of abfence which my huiband 
 had obtained, from his colonel being ex- 
 pired, we were bufy in preparing for our 
 journey to Paris. Margaretta begged 
 to attend me, to which I had no objec- 
 tion ; but I felt the fevered pangs at 
 the thought of parting with Father Cle- 
 ment. 
 
 " Two days before we left Auvignon,- 
 Freckric received an affectionate note from 
 his father, inviting. us to fpend the remain- 
 
THE WIDOWED BRIDE. *$$ 
 
 tier of our time with him. Father Clement 
 was with us when the note was brought, 
 and it was agreed that he fhould meet us 
 on the morning that we left Auvignon, and 
 go with us to Xifmes. 
 
 " The e.-)!iiL'andant reeeived us with 
 great kisuLjcis, and we fpent two liappy 
 days at his home. 
 
 " On tiie iecond evening, after I had 
 retired to my room, my father-in-law 
 knocked at my chamber door, and delired 
 to be admitted. * I am come, my dear 
 child,' faid he, ' to take my leave of you ; 
 as you intend to begin your journey early, 
 you will exciue my not rifiug.' And after 
 laying numnerlels kind things to me, 
 begged I would make the duty of a wife 
 my hourly ftudy ; and added, that I was 
 united to one of the worthieft and moil 
 amiable men in the kingdom, who was de- 
 ierving of my kindeft attention, and that 
 his prayers mould be daily offered up for 
 our happinefs. 
 
 V He then prefented me with a hanci- 
 fome pocket-book, begging I would accept 
 it as a mark of his efteem, and bade me an. 
 affectionate adieu. 
 
 ci On opening the pocket-book I found 
 an order on his banker for five hundred 
 
190 celina ; OR, 
 
 louis. On the paper the order was wrapped 
 in was wrote, ' Dear Maria, this {mall fum 
 is for yon ; life it with discretion, and al- 
 ways confider me your banker.' This mark 
 of his father's kindnefs and generoiity, gave 
 Frederic the moil heartfelt pieafure. 
 
 " The next morning we began our jour- 
 ney at an early hour. I left" the houfe of 
 Monfieur du Saint with fome decree of re- 
 gret; but Frederic was in high fpirits, and 
 foon difpelled the weight which often op- 
 prefies the mind when the heart is over- 
 flowing with gru iude on leaving the houfe 
 of a friend from whom unexpected favours 
 have been received. 
 
 " At the place appointed we met Father 
 Clement : he took his feat in the carriage, 
 and heard with pleafure the kind reception 
 I met with from M. du Saint. 
 
 " This was the fiift time I had been fo 
 long in a carriage iince the death of 
 Madam Renneau. When 1 arrived at 
 Nifines I found myfelf much fatigued, 
 and prevailed on Frederic to ftay two 
 days. 
 
 " Although wearinefs was my only ex- 
 cufe, yet, in fact, the pain 1 felt at the 
 idea of bidding adieu to Father Clement for 
 years,, perhaps for ever, was the fole 
 
THE WIDOWED BRIDE. ]()1 
 
 caufe of my wiihing to prolong our ftay 
 at Nifmes* 
 
 " On the third morning we continued 
 our journey. The feparation from Father 
 Clement was more than I could well bear ■ 
 it was the {hit grief I ever felt. 
 
193 CELINA ; OR, 
 
 C H A P. XII. 
 
 Oh ! the foft commerce, O ! the tender ties ! 
 Clofe twitted with the fibres of the heart, 
 Which broken, break them, and drain off the foul 
 Of human joy, and make it pain to live. 
 And is it then to live ? when fuch friends part ; 
 "lis the furvivor dies. 
 
 Young. 
 
 " C\^ m y arrival at Paris, I was obliged 
 ^-J to apply to the milliner and tailor 
 before I could be feen. Frederic loft no time 
 in fixing me in a houfe, which he furniihed 
 with great tafte ; and in lefs than a month 
 I was introduced to all his friends. 
 
 ' ( Time flew imperceptibly away ; all was 
 love, harmony, and uninterrupted plea- 
 fure ; weeks, months, paffed on, and ap- 
 peared but days. I constantly correfponcled 
 with Father Clement, and was frequently 
 favoured with a letter from Monfieur du 
 Saint. 
 
 
THE WIDOWED BUIDE. !<)3 
 
 "In the fecond year of our marriage, I 
 prefented Frederic with a daughter ; but 
 had the misfortune to lofe her four months 
 after. 
 
 " In the third year, my hufband arrived 
 at the rank of colonel in the Guard du 
 Corps. It then became neceilary for me 
 to pay my refpecls at Court. The king 
 and queen received me graeiouily ; but 
 being far advanced with my fecond child, 
 on my third appearance I received permif- 
 fion to withdraw from court. 
 
 " In a fhort time after I prefented Fre- 
 deric with a fon, which gave him inexpref- 
 fible pleafure ; and he fent off an exprefs 
 to inform his father of it, as alio the good 
 Father Clement. 
 
 " Monfieur du Saint received the news 
 joyfully, and defired he might not be bap- 
 tized till his arrival at Paris, which would 
 be in a few days. We had a fplendid chrif- 
 tening, and before my father left Paris lie 
 gave me a handfome prefent for my young 
 Frederic. 
 
 " The day after my dear boy was bap- 
 tifed, while I was engaged with the com* 
 pany, a courier arrived with a letter for me. 
 On opening it, I found it came from my 
 mother ; judge of my furprife ! Evcrv line 
 Vol. I. S 
 
194- celixa; or, 
 
 breathed love and maternal affection. It 
 itated, that ilie and my father were over- 
 joyed at having traced and found a long 
 loft daughter, and that in lefs than two 
 hours they hoped to embrace me. 
 
 " I attempted to write, but could not ; 
 therefore ordered the courier into the room, 
 and gave him a verbal m eft age. He faw, 
 by the agitation I was in, that it was im- 
 poffible for me to fend any other. 
 
 " As fdon as he was gone, I fent a fer- 
 vant to the colonel, who was engaged with 
 his foldiers, defiling he would come to me 
 immediately. I knew fo tender an inter- 
 view would require his fupporting pre- 
 fence ; befides, I was defirous of -prefen ting- 
 to my parents the moft valuable treafure a 
 woman can pofTefs, a truly affectionate huf- 
 band, a good father, a warm and fmcere 
 friend, and a worthy pious Chriftian. Such 
 was my Frederic, and as fuch I wifhed my 
 parents to receive him. 
 
 " He inftantly returned with the {ef- 
 vant, and, on reading the letter which I 
 put into his hand, for I could not articu- 
 late a word, he expreffed much joy and 
 furprife, and tenderly congratulated me on 
 the profpect of fo great an addition to my 
 happine/s. 
 
V 
 
 THE WIDOWED ERIDE. 19$ 
 
 " In vain did I endeavour to compofe 
 iny agitated nerves ; my heart beat with 
 fuch redoubled quicknefs, as the time of 
 their viiit drew nigh, that the palpitation 
 became infupport ably painful. 
 
 lS At length the fervant announced their 
 arrival, Firderic flew to meet them, and 
 J had fearcely got half-way acrofs the room 
 When they entered. The meeting was ten- 
 der on both fides, and when the flirt effu- 
 iions of jay were over (which were vented 
 in outward figns of forrow) my mother de* 
 fired to hear a detail of my life. I minutely 
 related my ftory. They then expreifed a 
 great defire to fee and thank Father Cle- 
 ment for his great care of me. 
 
 " I knew nothing could induce him to 
 make a vifit to Paris, therefore it was agreed 
 that they fhould take Auvignon in their 
 way to Naples, at which place my father 
 had fome bufincis to tranfac~t. On Mar- 
 garetta my mother was lavi/h with her pre- 
 sents and thanks. 
 
 " What gave me the higheft iatisfaclion 
 was the attachment that appeared to take 
 place between my parents and Frederic. — • 
 They pafled near a month with us. On 4 
 taking leave my mother gave me live hun- 
 dred crowns, and my father fettled with 
 
 S.2 
 
IQ6 celista; or, 
 
 the colonel how he mould remit him three 
 thoufand crowns from Spain ; to which 
 place they returned in a few months. 
 
 The fon they left in England they found 
 alfo married, with a family of three chil 
 dreri, the eldeft of which, my dear Henry, 
 is your father. The fon was in polTeffion 
 of all Ills grandfathers^ eftate ; to him they 
 wrote while at Paris, informing him of their 
 having found me. 
 
 " About three years after the depar- 
 ture of rny parents, I was itirprifed by a 
 vift from my grandfather and his family. — 
 My brother had married a young lady, who, 
 tho' Englifh, was niece to Don Alvara, the 
 Spanifh ambaffador to the court of France. 
 My brother wifhed that Mrs. Guraville 
 fliould pay her refpecls to her uncle, and 
 that he fliould become perfonally known to 
 a filler that, till within a few years, he had 
 not heard of. 
 
 " They fpent three months- of uninter- 
 rupted pleafure at my chateau, near Ver 
 failles, to which place the court was re- 
 moved for the fummer. Your father, my 
 dear Henry, was near feven years old, his 
 fifters were younger ; they died foon after 
 their return. 
 
 " I accompanied my brother and filler 
 a few miles beyond Paris, on their retup-* 
 
THE WIDOWED BRTDE. VJ7 
 
 to England ; at parting- we promifed to 
 correfpond. I alio promifed to make a vint 
 
 to England, and lhould have kept my 
 word could Frederic have got leave of ab- 
 
 " My time was pleafantly divided be- 
 tween the court and my domeftic concerns ; 
 yet I muft own, that pleafure engrolfed by 
 far too much of my time. A brother fa 
 lately found, and fo little known, was fooft 
 forgot ; two letters were all that ever palled 
 between us. 
 
 " Twelve years rolled on in a routine of 
 pleafure and happinefs, till a moft alarm- 
 ing illnefs feized the father of my Frederic. 
 He obtained leave of abfence to attend his 
 dying parent. I determined to accompany 
 him, knowing that in fo trying an hour, he 
 would {land in need of comfort. 
 
 li We fet otf inltantly, with my little 
 boy and Margaretta. On our arrival at 
 Auvignon we found Monfieur du Saint 
 given over by his phyfrcians.; he lived but 
 
 three davs after. 
 
 %/ 
 
 " A few hours before he died, he called 
 for me, and defired the child to be brought 
 to him. lie killed the little Frederic, them 
 fent him out of the room. He held out 
 his hand, I laid mine in it, which he prelled 
 S 3 
 
198 celika; or, 
 
 gently to his lips, aiking God to blefs me, 
 and begged me to continue to love my 
 hufband and fon, then waved his hand for 
 me to leave the room. 
 
 " I was happy to obey, as I then could 
 give vent to my tears, for my feelings 
 grew painfully oppreflive, from repreffing 
 them in the prefence of the fuffering 
 worthy man. 
 
 " My Frederic remained fome time with 
 his father, converting and praying with 
 him. Monfieur du Saint took from behind 
 his pillow a large packet, tied and fealed. 
 6 In this, my dear fon,' faid he, ' is my 
 will and a letter for Father Clement. I 
 hope I have done what is juft and right ; 
 after my deceafe fend the letter as directed. 
 God blefs you ; be faithful to my memory. 
 Leave me, for I am inclined to fleep.' 
 
 " After a (lumber of about two hours, he 
 awaked placid and calm. He again fent 
 for Frederic, defired him to raife him up 
 on the pillow, in doing which he expired 
 in his arms. 
 
 " The letter was fent immediately, to 
 Father Clement, who came and rendered 
 us ail the affiftance in his power. 
 
 " By his will, Monfieur du Saint left 
 Frederic in full poifcflion of all his eftate 
 and ready money. The eftate was entailed 
 
THE WIDOWED BRIDE. 199 
 
 on my fon. Frederic found his prefence 
 would be necelTarv for the arrangement of 
 his affairs, which would require fome time ; 
 lie therefore wrote to his general, informing 
 hi m of his father's death, and, in an in- 
 direct manner, aiked to fucceed him in the 
 command of the town. 
 
 " The letter was fhown to the king*, and 
 in a ihort time he was fummoncd to town, 
 to refign his commiflion, and receive the 
 appointment of commandant of Auvignon. 
 
 " This news was received joyfully by 
 me. The beauties of Auvignon, its fhady 
 walks, woods, and hills, had more charms 
 in them, than all the pompous and fplen- 
 did, but fatiguing and infipid pleafures of 
 a court. Pleafures that fatiate and pall ; a 
 repetition of which debilitates the body, 
 and renders the mind vapid and fpiritlefs at 
 leafr, if it does not vitiate and corrupt. — 
 At the age of twenty-two I fought them 
 with avidity ; but at thirty I turned from 
 them with difguit. 
 
 ' * It is impoffible for me to defcribe, or you 
 to. imagine, happinefs fo fuprcmc as mine. 
 I was the adoration of the little world I 
 moved in, my own family ; it was all the 
 world I knew, and was comprifed in four 
 perfons, befidcs my domeftics. Margaretta 
 I always looked upon as a parent. 
 
£00 celina; or, 
 
 "Of the love and obedience they 
 paid me. I was as proud as ever a king 
 was when he received the homage of a 
 nation. 
 
 " Six years glided away in an uninter- 
 rupted feries of pleafure and content, till it 
 happened one morning that my hufoand, 
 together with young Frederic, left Auvig- 
 Bon to make a vifit to a gentleman for two 
 days, who lived about ten leagues off. 
 
 " They chofe to go on horfeback, at- 
 tended only by one iervant. Their road 
 lay through a foreft of great extent. When 
 they had rode into it about a league and. 
 a half, they heard a great ruftling among 
 the bullies, and in a few minutes five armed 
 men made their appearance. They were 
 part of a banditti that was known to infeft 
 a foreft fifteen leagues from this, but had 
 never committed any depredations fo near 
 Auvignon. 
 
 " The fervant, as foon as he faw them, 
 drew one of his piitols and fired at two that 
 were endeavouring to flop his horfe. One 
 he killed on the fpot, the other, from fur- 
 prife, reeled and fell over the body of his- 
 companion, which gave the fervant time to 
 life his other pifhoi to the fame effect. 
 
 " The other three were attempting to 
 flop the horfes of my hufband and ion.. 
 
THE WIDOW ED BRIDE. - £01 
 
 Frederic's- horfe, being an high fpirited 
 animal, would not furTer the robbers to 
 touch his bridle, but let off full fpeed with 
 his matter. During his horfe's flight, my 
 huiband had the misfortune to ftrike his 
 knee again ft a tree, which gave him ex- 
 treme pain ; nor could he rein in his horfe ; 
 all his endeavours were in vain. The 
 animal did not flop till I e reached the 
 gate of AuvFgnon. 
 
 " Frederic was diftra&ed to think that 
 liis ion and fervant were left to the mercy 
 of the robbers, and inftantly ordered a 
 party of foldiers to their affiftance. 
 
 " The fervant fought bravely, and de- 
 fended himfelf againft a third robber, while 
 the other two were dripping my fon. A 
 company of peafants coming "in fight, on 
 their way to a village fituated on the 
 fkirts of tire forefr, to partake of a feftive 
 dinner and dance, fuch as are often given 
 here at the clofe of the vintage ; on their 
 approach the villains fled, and in their 
 haite dropped a great part of my ion's 
 cloaths. 
 
 " The dear boy put on that part of 
 his drefs which they by accident had 
 left behind, mounted his horfe, and, in 
 that half naked ftate, rode home. The 
 peafants conducted them to the great road, 
 
£02 CELINA ; OR, 
 
 when they met the party of men who 
 were coming to their affiftance. 
 
 " When I law my lmfband return alone 
 I 'was very much alarmed ; but when I 
 heard the perilous fituation he iiad left my 
 child in, and the faithful Peter, a cold 
 fhivermg ran through my veins, a violent 
 tremor ihook my whole frame, and I funk 
 fenfelefs on the floor. 
 
 " When life returned, and I opened my 
 eyes, the hrft object I law was my fori 
 watching over me. The joy affected me 
 equal to the fright, and I fell into a 
 fecond fwoon. 
 
 t( On recovering again, I enquired for 
 Tny Frederic, and Avas informed he had 
 gone to reft, having received a blow on 
 the knee. 
 
 iC I flew to his chamber, and found him 
 in A 7 iolent pain. The furgeon foon re- 
 turned from yifitin-g Peter, who, he faid, 
 had received a dreadful contufion on the 
 head, and that already a violent fever had 
 taken place, which excluded all hope of his 
 recovery. 
 
 " I immediately fent for a nurfe to at- 
 tend him. My felt and Margaretta never 
 left my Frederic's room. 1 had a pal- 
 let brought in, on which we alternately 
 retted.. 
 
 
THE WIDOWED ERIDE. 203 
 
 " My dear Ton was no otherwife hurt 
 than from fright, of which he quite re- 
 covered the next morning ; but my Fre- 
 deric grew worfe every hour. 
 
 " On the third morning the faithful 
 Peter expired. The death of this invalu- 
 able fervant 1 felt feverely ; it would have 
 afflicled me much more, had not my 
 huiband's alarming ftate of health en- 
 groffed my whole foul. I had no thoughts 
 but of him. 
 
 " On their next vifit, the phyfieians 
 hinted their doubts of his recovery. No- 
 thing could equal the fhock this infor- 
 mation gave me. Still I did not render 
 myiclt ufelefs by yielding to extravagant 
 grief, but if poffible redoubled my atten- 
 tion. 
 
 " Now my dear friends," faid the lady 
 
 (wiping away a tear of tender re- 
 
 lle&ion), " I promifed to give you a little 
 
 count of Father Clement's life, and I 
 
 think it will be proper to introduce it at 
 
 this period of my own. The bell now 
 
 rings for vefpers, I muft attend. 
 
 /his account was written by himfelf. 
 He gave it to me the morning after the 
 phyfieians had pronounced my hufband in 
 damrer. 
 
2Q4 -CELI-NA ; on, 
 
 " Take this my dear Maria,' faid lie ' if 
 Frederic is able to attend, read the con- 
 tents of this paper to him ; but tell him 
 I beg he will ipare me !' At. the agitation 
 which fliook his whole frame I was ailo- 
 nifhed, and before I could aik one queftion 
 he left me. 
 
 " I haftened to the fick room, and 
 found my hufband much refrefhed by a 
 long ileep. I related to him what had 
 palled between Father Clement and me.— ^ 
 Then broke the feal of this paper and read 
 the contents." 
 
 The lady abhefs then left the gentlemen 
 to per life the fad ftory of Father Clement. — 
 Lord Wilmington undertook to read it. 
 
 u MY DEAR FREDERIC, 
 
 " This ihort account of my unhappy 
 *'* life, I have penned for your perufal.— 
 " I feel my health decaying hourly. I 
 ct cannot fupport the thoughts of quitting 
 " this world and leave you ignorant that 
 <l I Hand nearly related to you. I was 
 * e born near Bourdeaux, and coulin to the 
 " late worthy man who always avowed 
 " you as his fon. 
 
 " We were related by male line, there- 
 %i fore both bore the name of xln Saint.— 
 
THE WIDOWED BRIDE. 205 
 
 '<' As a drift intimacy and friendship fub- 
 " fitted between our friends, a reciprocal 
 " tendernefs animated the bofoms of 
 " their children ; foitie part of each day 
 " we always paifed together. Ifabella, his 
 i( fifter, frequently partook of our amufc- 
 6C ments. 
 
 " At the age of fixtcen I felt a tender 
 " attachment to my beautiful coufin, and 
 £l feized the firft opportunity of declaring 
 "it to her. She iiftened with pleafure, 
 " and, in the lion eft limplicity of her, 
 " heart, owned an equal paftion. Every 
 " hour that I could fpare from ftudy I 
 " paifed withmy lovely coufin, and her 
 " amiable brother. 
 
 " We had frequent Opportunities of in- 
 tc dulging in little tenaerneffes, perfectly 
 ci innocent in themfelves, but which, in 
 i: the courfe of time, were productive of 
 " the molt fatal confequenccs. 
 
 H Thus did time pais on. For two years 
 <• our loves increafed, and I thought it 
 " impoiiible to exift one day without fee- 
 " ing the too lovely Ifabella. Our parents 
 " discovered and approved our love. They 
 " fpoke with rapture of the happy profpect 
 " of our union, which was iixed bv our 
 
 Vol. I. T 
 
206 CELINA ; OR, 
 
 '? parents to take place the firft week in 
 iL the approach ing carnival. 
 
 " One evening; I went at the accuftomed 
 <c hour, and found her alone. Her father 
 " and brother were gone to a gala, to which 
 '< (he was invited, but pleaded indifpofi- 
 " tion. 
 
 " On your account, my dear coufm/ 
 cr faid Ihe, and looked unutterable things, 
 Ci did I form this excufe : in one hour 
 <( fpent with you I feel more delight than 
 " 1 could derive from the moft fplendid 
 Ci entertainments France can afford !' 
 
 Ci This new and tender proof of her love 
 il threw me into an ecftaiy. I prefled her 
 " ardently to my bofom, and ihe, in the 
 <i honed fervour of her innocent love, re- 
 iC turned the embrace. 
 
 " Here, my dear Frederic ! my fan ! let 
 " me pafs over that fatal night ! Suf- 
 i( fice it to fay, your birth was the cou- 
 
 fequence of our unpremeditated crime ! 
 
 In my cooler moments, I reflected on 
 
 the pail with horror. I daily faw the 
 
 lovely Ifabella ; but, though my love 
 *} was not lefs violent, my confidence was 
 (( greatly fhaken. 
 
 il Is it poffible, enquired I to myfelf, is 
 u it poffible that fuch an angel like form 
 " ihould be fo frail I — can 1 expect that 
 
Til K WIDOWED BRT3>E. £07 
 
 ; a woman fo regardlefs of her own hon- 
 * our, will refpect that of her huiband ? 
 
 " Jn fine, I yielded to the cruel, wretch- 
 :i ed fophiftry. I expected, in tender, 
 
 u fond, affectionate woman, more than 
 :; heroic hrmnefs and rci'iftance. My ideas 
 " of female virtue were carried to a ro- 
 u mantle height. I thought nothing could 
 " he advanced to palliate my Ifabella's 
 " fault, nor would I accufe my (elf of 
 ;i having that ihare in it which, to my 
 " fhame, fojuftiy attached to me. 
 
 " With a heart full of love, and ahead 
 <( full of falfe ideas of virtue and honour, 
 c ' to fupport which I was well ftored with 
 " fophiftical logic, I left the dear devoted 
 " Iiahella a prey to the bitterer!: anguiih. 
 <( Oh ! accurfed day ! and more accurfed 
 u wretch that I was ! 
 
 " I continued to rove from town to vil- 
 " lage. Each pleafure I partook of was 
 " in'iipid. My mind was reftlefs and mi- 
 Ci ferable ; the image of the injured Ifa- 
 ci hella conftantly purfucd me! me haunted 
 : ' mc in mv di earns in the moft ehanly 
 " forms and dreadful fittiationt ! Nothing 
 " could engage my attention for an inftant: 
 t: the recollection of her injuries haunted 
 
208 celtna; or, 
 
 " me, and lier lovely weeping form was 
 
 " ever prefent to my diffracted thoughts. 
 
 " Six months did I rove about a wretch- 
 u ed being, when I Mas feized with a vio- 
 li lent fever, the confequenee of the per- 
 i{ tmbed Hate of my mind. My life was 
 " despaired of. Tire good people, under 
 V whofe care I was, lent for a worthy 
 ci prieft to confefs me; to him I opened 
 \i the ft ate of my foul, and the caufe of my 
 " voluntary exile. 
 
 " From this worthy man I received every 
 ci comfort I could expect. He convinced 
 " me that Ifabellea fell an innocent viciini 
 i( to my unwarrantable pafiion, and that I 
 " had added much to my firft crime by 
 " meanly leaving her expofed to the re- 
 " fentment of her diftrefied, and perhaps 
 " enraged father. 
 
 " He entreated me, as I valued the 
 " health of my foul, to return as foon as 
 i( I was able, throw myfelf at her feet, 
 ?* and beg forgivenefs of her and her 
 " family, and inftantly make her my wife. 
 i< The frequent exhortations of this good 
 ** man greatly accelerated my recovery. I 
 << immediately returned, fought my uncle, 
 " entreated his forgivenefs, and promifed 
 " that every hour of my future life mould 
 «' be dtv.ted to the fuffering Ifabella. 
 
THE WIDOWED BRIDE. tlOQ 
 
 " He fpurned me from bim with indig- 
 nation. I entreated tier brother to mew 
 me to his filter. He behaved to me with 
 more kind mis, and told me his lifter had 
 difcovered her iituation to her father 
 fome months before, and at that moment 
 her life was defpaired of. 
 " This account drove me to a ftate of 
 defperation. In lefs than three weeks 
 after, you, my dear Frederic, fir ft faw 
 the light, and in a week after your an- 
 gelic mother refigned her angel fpirit!— 
 Oh! my fon ! can you endure me? — can 
 you look with complacence on the mur- 
 derer of your mother ? Yes, my Fre- 
 deric ! in me you behold your rather ! 
 and the deftroyer of your mother ! 
 64 The account of your birth and your 
 dear mother's death was conveyed to 
 me by your grandfather's means ; and, 
 to heighten the diftrefs which the melan- 
 choly event occafioned to me, her death 
 was painted in the higheft colours of re 
 fined mil cry human imagination could 
 invent, and I was branded with the 
 opprobrious titles of villain and mur- 
 derer 1 
 
 " My uncle did not long furvive his 
 " daughter, I urged my coufin to give 
 T 3 
 
£10 
 
 u you up to my care; but he fternly re- 
 w ' ; tilled, which eaufed an altercation be- 
 '" tween us, and we parted highly dif- 
 li pleafed with each other. 
 
 " My couft^n vowed, in his paffion, never 
 " to hold intercourse with me again, and 
 il fecretly removed to Auvignon, where the 
 i( melancholy ftory of his family was not 
 ei ^ n own ; and there he paffed for a young 
 u widower, and you his infant fon. *. 
 
 " The whole tenor of his life, and alio 
 his dying words, evinced the tender af- 
 fection he felt for you. I made many 
 attempts to fee you, but in vain : the 
 eagle-eyed vigilance with which you 
 if were watched could not be evaded. — 
 ie Your nurfe was proof againft all my 
 " entreaties and bribes. 
 
 " On my couhVs removal, I caufed him 
 Ci to be watched. ' In a few days my faith- 
 Ci ful fpies returned and informed me where 
 u he had fixed his refidence, probably for 
 u life. To which place I determined to 
 '• follow him, and never lofe fight of the 
 " habitation that flickered my dear infant ; 
 < c lor whom I felt a father's fondnefs, 
 
 " Soon after my arrival here, I met a 
 iC fervant grrl walking on the grand pro- 
 ' c menade with you in her arms. Although 
 u fhe was a ftranger to me, yeta fudden 
 
THE WIDOWED BRIDE. 214 
 
 prefentiment at piy heart told me tire 
 child which fhc held in her arms was- 
 my foil. 
 
 " I admired the babe, and, after kiffmg 
 it, enquired in a carcleis manner to whom 
 it belonged; ' Monheur du Saint, ' laid 
 flie, adding, that it was not her em- 
 ploy to attend him ; that his nurfe had 
 been ill, but was getting better. 
 " All the tender feelings of a father 
 thrilled through my veins, and redoubled 
 the palpitation of my heart. I preifed 
 you to my breail, and bedewed your 
 face with my tears. You i'miled"; I 
 felt it as a reproach. The itrong re- 
 femblance you bore to your mother itruck 
 me forcibly : all her injuries and fufrer- 
 irigs ruined on my mind, and harrowed 
 up my foul. 
 
 Ci The contortion of my features, and 
 the wild flare of my eyes, frightened the 
 girl. She fnatched you from my con- 
 vulfivc gralp, and left me precipitately. 
 " The next morning, and many follow- 
 ing ones, I fought in vain for the girl 
 and her infant charge, and regretted 
 fmcerely that I did not take you from 
 her when I had you in my arms. 
 " During the firft week of my folitudel 
 formed a refolution of becoming a mem- 
 
2 12 CEL1NA ; OR 
 
 - ber of the holy brotherhood of a Qarthu- 
 
 ' fian convent, and there expiate my fins, 
 
 < by devoting my life to heaven, and good 
 
 < works towards my fellow mortals. I 
 ' wrote to this effect to my parents, and 
 ' they approved of my dehgn, juftly ob- 
 ' ferving, that my . injuftice and cruelty to 
 ' the lovely Ifabella fully demanded fuch 
 ' a facrifice. 
 
 " They lent me a letter of recommenda- 
 
 < tion to the abbot, who received me with 
 ' every mark of refpech In the courfe 
 ' of my noviciate I proved m} fell worthy 
 ' of his friendfhip. I had frequently the 
 ' happinefs of feeing and fometimes play- 
 6 ing with you in my walks, for our order 
 ' does not infliel; feclufion. 
 
 " With pleafure I faw you grow up to 
 1 the age of five years, when you went for 
 f education to Paris, and I faw you no 
 ' more till that happy evening I met you 
 
 < in Margaretta's garden. The day that. 1 
 
 < joined your fate to that of the beloved 
 ' Maria was the only one of pure delight I 
 ' have ever tafted fmce I parted with your 
 ' dear mother. Little did I think when 
 
 < I was watching over the infant years 
 1 of Maria that I was guarding the future 
 
 < wife of my beloved Frederic. 
 
7'HE WIDOWED BRIDE. 21 3 
 
 K My dear fon ! pity the faults of your 
 father ! but do not defpjfe him. Thus 
 " much may be allowed to extenuate my 
 " crimes : in the firft inftance, I was 
 14 hurrietf on in the full tide of youth by 
 u the momentary impulfe of patlion ; in 
 '• the fecond, but molt accnrfed of all acts, 
 " I erred more from the head than the 
 " heart. 
 
 a 1 have but one requeft to make* grant 
 <; me that, and I Uiall die happy !' Receive 
 '' me — embrace me as your father i let me 
 " for onee enjoy the indescribable pleafure 
 " of hearing you. call me by that endearing 
 " name ; and let me die in the affurance of 
 " pofleffirig your filial love." 
 
 Lord Winington had not long con- 
 eluded this little narrative when the lady 
 abbefs returned, and after a few comments 
 on the unhappy life of Father Clement, ihe 
 relumed her flory. 
 
 " The furprife Which the contents of 
 that paper gave my Frederic was very, 
 great ; but it had no vifible effect on his 
 (iiforder. He defired me to fend for his 
 father. He came; hut the fcene was too 
 moving for me to behold, and I- left the 
 room. 
 
214 celixa; or, 
 
 r* Whew I returned I found a placid fe« 
 rene fmile pervade the countenance of both. 
 1 Come, my daughter/ laid the good old 
 man, holding out. his hand, ' lei me em- 
 brace you as the wife of my fon ! This is 
 the happy moment I have fo long whhed 
 for. Many anxious hours have I fpent, 
 painfully divided between hope and fear. — 
 Giten have I formed refolutiors, and as • 
 often have I broke them. ,1 knew, I felt I 
 was in full porTeffion of your efteem ; to 
 nfk the lofs of winch I was unwilling. I 
 was fenfihle the regard you felt for me ex- 
 ceeded common friendfhip, and feared the 
 very means I took to. heighten your en- 
 dearing affect ion would deprive me of thofe 
 favourable fentiments you then entertained 
 of me ; but I am grateful and happy to find 
 you ftill regard me beyond my hopes/ 
 
 " Frederic appeared fomewhat better all 
 that day, and we flattered ourfelves his dif- 
 order had taken a happy and an unexpected 
 turn ; but, alas ! all our hopes vaniihed in 
 the evening. His diforder returned with 
 redoubled violence ; the fever rofe to an 
 alarming height; it baffled the flail of the 
 phyficians, and on the third day my dear 
 huiband expired in the arms of his new 
 found father. 
 
TAE WIDOWED BRIDE. 215 
 
 k * This fevere flroke on my Jcareft, ten- 
 dereft affections, for a time deprived me 
 of my reafon, and nearly my exiftence. For 
 days I kept my chamber, fenfible to nothing 
 but my irreparable lofs ; nor could the 
 prefence of my fon, or the good Father Cle- 
 ment roufe me, or for a moment arrefl my 
 attention. I was for weeks totally abforpt 
 in grief. 
 
 v - The pious old man bowed with humble 
 lubmifhon to the Divine will. He felt the 
 full weight of his woes ; but murmured 
 not : he trifled the rod of affliction ! and 
 bleffed the hand that dealt the falutary cor- 
 rection. 
 
 " Had my Frederic lived, ' laid the for- 
 rowing old man, with a %h, ' my hap 
 pinefs would have been too perfect. Yet, 
 to what have I lived? J nit acknowledged 
 and received as a father by the belt of men, 
 who pitied the frailties of my youth, com- 
 m iterated my long fuffering, and vowed to 
 fmooth, with the tender hand of filial af- 
 fection, the rugged path of feeble age. — 
 Why did I live to enjoy the delectable mo- 
 ments of embracing my Frederic as my fon, 
 and yielding to all the tender raptures and 
 untie feelings of a father, and indulging 
 fbnd fancy in the fallacious hope that 
 
216 celina, or ; 
 
 each day, each future hour of my life, 
 would be rendered delightful by the en- 
 dearing -fociety of my children. But, alas! 
 how fragile is the bafis on 'which we mor- 
 tals build our hopes. O! Mother of God ! 
 O ! Holy Virgin ! teach me to bear my ibr- 
 rows like a father and a Chriftian.' 
 
 iC Thus did the good old man indulge 
 for the firft day of his trouble ; but he 
 fought the comforts of religion, and in that 
 found relief from all his griefs. He turned 
 all his thoughts on me and his dear grand- 
 ibn. After the fhft tumult of my un- 
 bounded -Ibrrow had fubfided, he begged 
 to fee me, and 1 found much comfort in his 
 converfation. 
 
 Hi As foon as the obfequies were paid to 
 the dear remains of my Frederic, I returned 
 my thanks to the whole circle of my ac- 
 quaintance for their kind enquiries, and 
 declined feeing any company. My time 
 was divided between my domeftic con- 
 cerns and the dear fociety of my father and 
 fun. 
 
 iC Father Clement continued his inftruc- 
 tions to Frederic till he was turned of nine- 
 teen. It then was thought neceflary for 
 him to extend his knowledge by travelling. 
 A proper tutor was fixed on to attend him, 
 
THE WIDOWED BRIDE. 217 
 
 his grandfather thought no expence too 
 much to render his travelling eafy and 
 pleafant. 
 
 '• As it was early in fpring, it was deter- 
 mined that he fhould crois France to Ger- 
 many, and pay his refpecls to the court of 
 Vienna, to which he had letters ; then pafs 
 the Tyrol, and fpend the winter in Italy. — 
 He left me in good health and fpirits ; nor 
 did I much give way to the feelings of the 
 mother till the chaife drove from the door : 
 the movement of the wheels was a (hock to 
 my foul, and as their noife died on my ears, 
 fo funk my fpirits, and I fainted in my 
 father's arms. 
 
 " Returning life was fucceeded by flrong 
 hyfterics, the confequence of difguifing and 
 fupprefling my feelings till they became too 
 ftrong for nature to oppofe, and broke forth 
 with redoubled violence on my mattered 
 frame. The perturbed ftate of my mind 
 was not to be calmed ; even the weighty 
 arguments of Father Clement nearly 
 failed. 
 
 u On the third morning after their de- 
 parture I received *a letter from Frederic, 
 one from Abby Longfrang, and two for 
 Father Clement. This was the only balm 
 for my mind. 
 
 Vol. L U 
 
218 celixa; or, 
 
 " His letter breathed nothing but 
 filial love and affection. All he had feen 
 was delightful, and he was full of gratitude 
 to pre and his grandfather (Jie always wrote 
 to him as fuch, though his confanguinity 
 to us was kept a fecret), for having fent him 
 on his travels, from which he hoped to de- 
 rive much knowledge and plealure. He 
 alfo fpoke in the higheft terms of the 
 Abbv Longfrang. He promifed to write 
 every pott. 
 
 " Father Clement was my only compa- 
 nion : he alwa3 T s dined and ipent the even- 
 ing with me till the hour of vefpers. Our 
 dear abfent boy Mas our con ft ant fubjec~l ; 
 nothing afforded us a moment's eonverfa- 
 tion but him. If at any time we were led 
 to difcufs the fubjeel of the day, we were 
 infenfibly led on till we found Frederic was 
 the end of our difcourfe, whatever was the 
 
 beginning. 
 
 64 Thus palled two years, when my hap- 
 piness was one morning deftroyed by the 
 following letter : 
 
 " MY DEAR MOTHER, 
 
 
 " By imprudently exploring the an- 
 " cient ruins of Peftom, night came ou 
 
THE WlDOVVETl BRIDE. 1219 
 
 unexpectedly, and we were obliged to 
 pais it in a hut, built to fhelter the poor 
 ibuls whofe fate it b to watch the buf- 
 falos. 
 
 " Knowing the danger of falling afleep ; 
 yet every endeavour to keep off the 
 ibmnolence I felt myfelf inclined to, was 
 in vain. I fiept, as did the worthy 
 Abbv Lonofian^*, and we now feel the 
 
 *■' O Or 
 
 bad e fleets of the mal-aria, fo fatal to the 
 
 natives. 
 
 " I am now, my dear mother, on my 
 
 way to you. The Abby Longfrang Hops 
 
 at Rome, as it is impofiible for him to 
 
 travel." 
 
 " I was in a Hate of the moft diftreffing 
 nneafmefs till he arrived, when the fight of 
 him alarmed me exceedingly. His funk 
 eye and pallid cheek ; his ikin had the ap- 
 pearance and feel of parchment ; a white 
 thick faliva worked out of the corners of 
 his mouth, which, with the rotundity of 
 his body, filled me at once with the idea of 
 madnefs and poifon. 
 
 " The fever, my dear friends, that is 
 caught by flceping, in what the natives 
 call the mal-aria, is of the intermitting 
 U2 
 
220 celina; or, 
 
 kind. It deceives and baffles the /kill of 
 
 the phyficians, like your Engliili ague, but 
 
 is far more dangerous and fatal in its 
 
 effects. 
 
 " Every phyiician within fifty miles of 
 Auvignon, with one from Paris, Mere called 
 in, and in the courfe of three months the 
 fever yielded to the medicines ; but its con- 
 comitant effects could not be remedied. A 
 rapid decline followed. 
 
 t( I attended him to Nice, but without 
 effect. Travelling fatigued him; he ap- 
 peared reftlefs and uneafy from his vene- 
 rable grandfather. . We returned home at 
 -"his earned defire. He grew worfe : the 
 good man and myfelf alternately watched 
 by him day and night. 
 
 " The third day of the feventh week, 
 after our return home, he took a mofl af- 
 fectionate leave of me and his grandfather, 
 then fell into a fweet fleep, from which he 
 only waked to fay, ' God blefs you !' Held 
 out a hand to each, and expired. 
 
 " You, no doubt, my dear young friends, 
 are furprifed at my defcribing, fo minutely, 
 afcene fo dreadfully melancholy, apparently 
 unmoved : believe me, the recollection 
 of the moft trifling action of his fets 
 
TIT E WIDOWElT CHIDE. 221 
 
 my feelings afloat ; and repeat but his name, 
 and you touch the grand key that opens a 
 fource of the keen eft anguilh, and brings 
 too forcibh to my mind the forlorn ftate of 
 the child lets widow, and the affecting fuffer- 
 ings of her only child. 
 
 ki Yet, long habituated to dwell on his 
 fad florv, I am at length become fo far 
 miurefs of my feelings as not to let them 
 be vifible in my countenance. This I en- 
 deavoured to effect in kindnefs to thofe 
 friends who indulged me with their atten- 
 tion, while I related the melancholy ac-> 
 count of my life ; it. is a kind nefsthat no one 
 would deny me, could they imagine the; 
 pleafure it affords me to repeat it ; it fooths 
 my fpirits, and leads my thoughts out of 
 themielvcs. 
 
 " Pardon this digreffion, and I will re- 
 fume my. tale of woe. 
 
 " This fecond blow to our happinefs was 
 more than Father Clement could bear. — 
 Scarce had the remains of my dear boy been 
 laid by his father's, which were, by the 
 defire of Father Clement, depofited in the 
 cemitery of his convent, when the good 
 man funk beneath this final ftroke to all his 
 earthly happinefs. 
 
 V 3 
 
222 
 
 " I faw with terror the inroads grief 
 was making on his health, and to bear him 
 up I aliumed a eheerfulnefs and tranqui- 
 lity I did not feel. I dreaded the mo- 
 ment — yet I faw it mufl come ; I faw that 
 death ! infatiable death ! was not fatif- 
 rled. I had another dear friend left, and 
 he too muft be torn from me. — Great God ! 
 I would fay, in my morning orifons, and 
 my evening prayeis, fpare me this dear — this 
 only — this invaluable friend ! My prayers 
 did not avail. He was taken from me. My 
 ciip of woe was full ! 
 
 " I faw myfelf alone in the world, a for- 
 lorn miferable being. When I was fuffi- 
 ciently recovered from this laft affliction to 
 think a moment on myfelf, I determined to 
 feek an afylum in fome happy fifterhood. 
 What convent to make choice of I knew 
 not ; none in, or near Auvignon, did I ap- 
 prove, 
 
 " While I was in this un fettled ftate, 
 Abby Longfrang arrived ; the fight of liim 
 renewed my forrows. Pie was ignorant of 
 the fate of his pupil, for, in my greater 
 griefs, the uneafinefs I mould have felt on 
 his account was loft ; nor did I once think 
 of writing to him. In the account of my 
 
THE WIDOWED BRIDE. 2$fr 
 
 ion's death, he faid, he read his own fen- 
 tence. 
 
 " Abby Longfrang entered into the 
 fettling of ray affairs with all- the avidity 
 his health would admit. I found him a,, 
 man of fenfe, honour and integrity ; he 
 appeared interefted in all that concerned 
 me, and I appointed him ray ft e ward, which 
 oiiice.be accepted with gratitude. IJe d\ 
 reeled me in my choice of a convent, and 
 I did not make ray vows till I had been 
 here two years. 
 
 " I felt much attached to the abbefs 
 and fitters in general. In their fociety I re- 
 gained that tranquility of mind, which in 
 the world would hourly have been difturbed 
 by objects familiar to the eye ; objects ad- 
 mired and enjoyed in happier days, when 
 bleifed with the fociety of the friends of 
 ray foul— friends on whofe memory I de 
 light to contemplate. 
 
 " To this folitudc I owe the power of 
 contemplating, to acquire that happy 
 compofure to which I am arrived, for 
 in the world it would have been impoffible ; 
 furrounded by a crowd of bufy envious 
 friends (for under that fpecious narae they 
 iill your chamber;, and, with an unfeeling 
 impertinence, talk over the caufe of your 
 
224 CELINA,; OR, 
 
 grief, tear open your wounds, and probe 
 them to the very fource, till the mind is 
 pained, and the already too^oppreifed heart 
 links from their harih and coarfe attempts 
 to enliven it. 
 
 " In this retreat my forrows were left to 
 fubfide of themfelves. . My time was di- 
 vided between my religious duties and the 
 fociety of the filters. The falutary effects 
 of their converfation I foon felt ; my mind 
 was reftored to its natural ftrength. I did 
 not forget the pall;, yet the recollection 
 diffufed a melancholy pleafure through my 
 foul, dilated my heart, and led my thoughts 
 to the blcft abodes of the dear departed 
 fpirits, whole lofs I filently lamented. 
 
 " The good Abby Longfrang faithfully 
 executed the truft repofed in him for five 
 years, during which timehe was daily finking: 
 under a flow hectic fever, which at laft ter- 
 minated in his death. 
 
 " The perfon in whofe hands he deposited 
 the papers of my eftate has continued to 
 manage it with equal honour and probity. 
 It is upwards of twenty years fince I made 
 this convent my refidence, and the happy 
 hours, my dear friends, I have pafled in 
 your company have, in fome degree, re- 
 called me to the world. 
 
THE WIDOWED BRIDE. £25 
 
 I have thought a little on my pecuniary 
 affairs, and have made my will. Although 
 I breathe happily the air of Nifmes, yet when 
 the great God of my falvation fees fit to call 
 me to a ftate of heavenly probation, it is 
 my wilh that my body ihould be laid in 
 the fame grave with my huiband, ion, and 
 father." 
 
 As the lady abbels concluded her hiftory, 
 fhe dropped a fecond tear to the memory of 
 her never to be forgotten friend?* The 
 magnanimity with \yhi ;h ihe fuftained her 
 forrov/s — die religious ferenity that per- 
 vaded her fine countenance, added fuch a 
 dignity to her perfon as to make her appear 
 a being of fuperior order, and impreffed the 
 hearts of all who converfed with her with. 
 devout refpecl. 
 
 Henry, whofe fine feelings were wrought 
 up to pity's foftefl tones, whofe fympathetic 
 foul melted at a tale of woe, caught the 
 tender infection, and in each eye trembled 
 the redundant cryftal fluid. His aunt held 
 out her hand in token of gratitude for his 
 fenfibihty. He took the offered hand, fell, 
 on his knee, and prelfed it tenderly to hi3 
 lips with refpectful warmth* 
 
 His youth, his fine form, and tender 
 prellttre, brough back her Frederic and for- 
 
$26 celtna; or, 
 
 mer happinefs too forcibly to her mind. — • 
 The contlicl; in her ureal! was great, and 
 notwithstanding her apparent religious fir.m- 
 nefs, her eyes too plainly evinced the cha- 
 racter and feelings of the mother were not 
 wholly fubdued. 
 
 Lord VVinnington raifed Henry from the 
 ground. Mr. Hill led Madam du Saint 
 from the parlour, and commited her to 
 the care of two nuns. 
 
 After waiting fome time in anxious ex- 
 pectation of her return, a lay fifter brought 
 a meffage, requeuing they would excuie 
 her returning for the night, and that flie 
 begged they would breakfaft with her next 
 morning. 
 
 END' OF VOLUME FIRST. 
 
,- .' .' V'V V ,' : .• ■' I' 
 
 ' V V V V / ■ - '■' V ,' 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS-URBANA 
 
 3 0112 047692428 
 
 , , , \ S v i s \ \ -. ' '* '■.