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 LI B R.ARY 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UNIVERSITY. 
 
 Of ILLINOIS 
 
 823 
 
 H76e 
 
LOVE AND PRIDE, 
 
 BY THE 
 
 AUTHOR OF " SAYINGS AND DOINGS," 
 
 ETC. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 PRINTED FOR WHITTAKER & Co. 
 
 AVE MARIA LANE. 
 
 1833. 
 
H1^ 
 
 THE WIDOW. 
 
It seems as if, without a word or two of 
 explanation, the reader would be puzzled, 
 and perhaps disappointed, when he opened 
 this volume, to find two stories instead of 
 one, neither of them bearing the title 
 which has been given to both united. 
 He might, perhaps, fancy that a wrong 
 title-page had been prefixed to the work, 
 or a wrong work tacked to the title-page, 
 and send to his bookseller for the right 
 one. 
 
 The truth is, that the author was re- 
 quested to write two stories ; and one 
 being illustrative of Love and the other 
 
VI 
 
 of Pride, it was considered better to use 
 the one generic title for both than the 
 names of the two'stories separately. This 
 is the history of the discrepancy which, 
 perhaps, after all is hardly worth men 
 tioning. 
 
 London f November, 1833. 
 
THE WIDOW. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 " At three to-morrow then," said Charles 
 Saville. 
 
 The assenting look of the beautiful girl to 
 whom these words were addressed in a whisper, 
 left no doubt upon Charles's mind of the punc- 
 tuality of her attention to the appointment 
 which he had jbst made to call in Harley-street, 
 and form one of a party, which was to visit that 
 most instructive and entertaining receptacle for 
 natural curiosities, the Zoological Garden iji 
 the Regent's Park. 
 
 The beautiful girl was speedily hurried away 
 
 VOL. I. B 
 
2 THE WIDOW. 
 
 from his side by her mother, and consigned to 
 the care of an elderly gentleman; and after re- 
 ceiving an injunction to wrap her shawl closely 
 about her, was by the same elderly gentleman 
 handed down the Opera House staircase, fol- 
 lowed by the said aifectionate mother, who had 
 accepted the arm of the aforesaid Charles 
 Saville. 
 
 They reached the carriage which " stopped 
 the way." The elderly gentleman deposited 
 his treasure within it, and then having placed 
 her mother by her side, bowed somewhat coldly 
 to Saville, and stepped into the chariot himself. 
 Flip, flap, flop, went the steps, bang went the 
 door, up went the glass, up jumped the servant, 
 at the word " Home," off dashed the horses, and 
 away went the carriage, leaving Saville (some- 
 what wounded by the abruptness of the parting,) 
 under the Haymarket Colonnade encircled by a 
 cloud of smoke rising from the surrounding links, 
 and enveloped in a still deeper cloud of thought 
 and mystification. 
 
 Saville had made his acquaintance with Mrs. 
 
THE WIDOW. 6 
 
 Franklin and her daughter Harriet, (the ladies 
 in the carriage,) early in the season which was 
 now drawing to a close ; to the latter he became 
 daily «and hourly more attached, and, truth to be 
 told, the development of her amiable character 
 and intellectual qualities, entirely justified the 
 opinion which he had formed of her on their first 
 introduction to each other. Mrs. Franklin liked 
 him, found him agreeable, good-natured, and 
 kind, and received him cordially and warmly at 
 her house, where for the last five or six weeks 
 he had been a very frequent visitor. 
 
 The intercourse however between the young 
 people, constant as it had been, gave rise to no sus- 
 picions in the mind of Harriet's mother, that any 
 thing of a tenderer nature than friendship, would 
 be its result ; and it is extremely probable that 
 she would have gone on in this blissful state of 
 security for months and years, had not her sus- 
 picions been awakened by her elderly and 
 worldly friend Mr. John Smith, who, on his 
 first visit in Harley-street, after his return to 
 London, saw at a glance the real state of the 
 B 2 
 
4 THE WIDOW. 
 
 casea, nd established in Ms own mind, the extent 
 to which the attachment between the lovers, as 
 he decided them to be, had already gone. 
 
 Mr. Smith, it must be mentioned, was not 
 wholly disinterested in the investigation of this 
 delicate matter. He had been a particularly 
 intimate friend of Miss Franklin's father, he 
 continued the particularly intimate friend of Miss 
 Franklin's mother, and this of itself, might be 
 considered quite sufficient reason for his anxiety 
 with regard to the welfare and prosperity of 
 Miss Franklin herself; but this was not all, — Mr. 
 Smith had formed the resolution of uniting his 
 fate with the Franklins, by a more tender and 
 permanent connexion, and had, since his return 
 from Italy, where he much rejoiced to pass his 
 winters, become as constant a visitor at the house 
 of his late friend, as Charles Saville; and it was in 
 consequence of thus frequently meeting him and 
 the young lady together, that he had come to the 
 conclusion, that it was quite right Mrs. Franklin 
 should be put upon her guard with respect to 
 the gentle Philander, whose fortune was purely 
 
THE WIDOW. 5 
 
 personal, and covered with his hat ; he had, in 
 fact, nothing but an allowance of three or four 
 hundred a year, and a dim and distant prospect 
 of success at the bar, towards which, at the period 
 we now refer to, he was easting his way, in Lin- 
 coln's Inn Hall. 
 
 In the eyes of Mr. Smith, who was immensely 
 rich, no sin was so crying, no shame so fatal, as 
 poverty. Having by industry and application 
 to mercantile pursuits, amassed a vast fortune, 
 he felt that in respecting wealth in others, he 
 was paying himself a tacit compliment ; and hav- 
 ing pretty well ascertained the amount of the 
 possessions and expectations of Charles Saville, 
 he thought the moment had arrived, when the 
 eyes of his excellent friend should be opened to 
 the dangerous position in which her lovely 
 daughter was placed, by the permission of such 
 an intimacy as evidently existed between her and 
 the ill-starred object of the old gentleman's 
 anger and suspicion. 
 
 It was rather unfortunate, by way of a coin- 
 cidence, that this most opulent and respectable 
 b3 
 
6 THE WIDOW. 
 
 gentleman, should have fixed one o'clock of the 
 following day for a conversation with Mrs. 
 Franklin, upon the subject of her daughter's 
 sentiments towards Mr. Saville, who, it will be 
 recollected, intended to do himself the honour of 
 calling in Harley-street at three. 
 
 The moment Harriet heard of the arrange- 
 ment, she felt a sort of intuitive certainty as to 
 what would be the subject of the elderly gentle- 
 man's observations ; in her confidence touching 
 which, she was greatly supported by the circum- 
 stance of his having, during the preceding even- 
 ing, thrown out one or two gentle hints of his 
 displeasure at the intimacy which he perceived 
 to exist between her and the young lawyer. That 
 she dreaded the consequences of his discussion 
 with her mother, is quite sufficient proof of the 
 justice of Mr. Smith's suspicions : a sleepless 
 night of anxious thoughts was the result of Mrs. 
 Franklin's announcement of his intention, and 
 when she came to breakfast, there was evidence 
 in Harriet's eyes that she had shed abundance 
 of tears. 
 
THE WIDOW. 7 
 
 The sound of the clock striking one, was fol- 
 lowed almost instantaneously by the arrival of 
 Mr. Smith, who, much to Harriet's relief, pre- 
 ferred her absence from the lecture he was about 
 to read, and beg-ged to be left tite-a-t^e with 
 her mamma. 
 
 One has heard of the proverb, which treats of 
 the dexterity of killing two birds with one stone : 
 the respectable Smith, at the moment to which 
 we are referring, afforded in his own person a 
 beautiful illustration of the venerable adage ; for 
 at the instant that his knock at the door in Harley- 
 street set Harriet's heart in a flutter of fear, it 
 put that of her mamma into a state of gentle 
 agitation with hope. 
 
 Mrs. Franklin had nothing to live upon but a 
 jointure which, at her death, reverted to the family 
 of her late iiusband, and Harriet had in all the 
 world but four or five thousand pounds. From 
 what had at different times escaped Mr. Smith's 
 white lips, she had for more than two years ex- 
 pected that, which she now felt certain was at 
 hand ; and although the respectable gentleman 
 13 4 
 
O THE WIDOW. 
 
 would be lier third husband, still it would be so 
 desirable a thing in point of money and comfort — 
 for a lone woman needs a protector — and of such 
 wonderful advantage to dear Harriet, that the 
 plump and buxom widow of fifty-five saw no 
 just let, hindrance, or impediment, to her accep- 
 tance of the " lean and sKppered" bosom friend 
 of her late husband, at the age of sixty-four. 
 
 Thus were two hearts nearly allied to each other 
 set beating, with very different passions, while 
 the respectable Smith proceeded to open his 
 mind to the senior lady of the two. We call him 
 respectable from his age and station ; but he had 
 a sobriquet : he was generally known in the 
 extensive circle of his own acquaintance, as 
 Twaddle Smith. Smith is a common name, and 
 it is absolutely necessary to prefix some distinc- 
 tive epithet to it in order to mark the " man." 
 The " Rejected Addresses" have signalized two 
 Smiths — Adam Smith is secured from the gene- 
 ral confusion by the peculiarity of his christian 
 name, (if Christian name Adam can be called,) 
 Sidney Smith, the revered leader of battles. 
 
THE WIDOW. y 
 
 and Sidney Smith, the reverend conductor 
 of reviews, are also well distinguished from 
 the common Smithfield herd ; and so, in order 
 to point the moral or adorn the tale, our 
 elderly friend, just mentioned, was always called 
 Twaddle Smith, for reasons, the value of which 
 the reader will probably best appreciate, after 
 having been permitted to hear the subject matter 
 of his dialogue with his fat, fair, and fifty-five 
 friend, Mrs. Franklin. 
 
 " Mrs.F." said Mr. Smith, — it was a way he had 
 of initializing-^-' ' I have long wished to speak to 
 you upon certain matters connected with the state 
 and arrangement of your family and establish- 
 ment, and I have been at length driven peremp- 
 torily to put my design into execution, by cir- 
 cumstances which appear to me to be extremely 
 likely to embarrass you if they continue in their 
 present state" 
 
 " I shall be ready and too happy," said the 
 expectant widow, " to adopt any suggestions 
 which you may throw out for the better regula- 
 tion of my little family affairs." 
 B 5 
 
10 THE WIDOW. 
 
 " I will be candid upon one point in the 
 outset," said Mr. Smith ; " I think that your 
 favourite, Mr. Saville, is here considerably more 
 than he should be. He is a beggar; smart and 
 pert I admit, and seeg, I dare say, a good deal of 
 what is called the world ; but I cannot endure that 
 flippant manner with which he speaks upon all 
 subjects, — a fellow of three hundred a year, 
 Ma'am, has no right to talk so." 
 
 " I never observed that sort of thing," said 
 Mrs. Franklin; " I think him pleasant and good 
 humoured" 
 
 " So' does Harriet," said Mr. Smith. " How- 
 ever, my dear Madam, if what I have more 
 particularly to propose for your consideration to- 
 day, should prove acceptable to you, all that^ will 
 be remedied by your removal, for some time, 
 from the metropolis." 
 
 " I am all attention," said Mrs. Franklin. 
 
 " There is a prejudice," said her elderly com- 
 panion, " which has very generally obtained, but 
 which I am sure is very ill founded, that a man 
 long accustomed to bachelor habits is ill calcu- 
 
THE WIDOW. 11 
 
 lated to understand the happiness of married life ; 
 I repeat, my dear Mrs. Franklin, that I am con- 
 vinced of the fallacy of this opinion, or, as I 
 before called it, prejudice.*' 
 
 " I really don't see," said Mrs. Franklin, 
 who thought that she already began to per- 
 ceive the drift of her most respectable friend's 
 observations, " I really don't see why a man who 
 has long lived single should be the less capable 
 of appreciating the advantages of matrimony." 
 
 " You agree with me then," said Mr. Smith, 
 " and I agree with you as to the advantages of 
 which you speak — and who so well ? as a lady who 
 has already twice entered the happy state. There 
 can be no testimony so favourable to matrimony 
 as a second marriage ; for who would return to a 
 course of life after having been released from it, 
 had it not been agreeable." 
 
 " I quite coincide with you there," said Mrs. 
 Franklin, who began to feel the blood mounting 
 into her cheeks, and her heart bumping not 
 very gently in her bosom ; "I am sure, Mr. 
 Smith, that as far as personal feelings go, a 
 B 6 
 
12 THE WIDOW. 
 
 second, or even a third marriage, is practically 
 the greatest compliment to those who are gone ; 
 for, as you have justly observed, who would con- 
 tract a second matrimonial engagement, if they 
 had not been happy in the first." 
 
 " Or who," said Mr. Smith, with an extremely 
 gallant smile, " would enter into a third, unless 
 she had been happy in the two former ones ?" 
 
 Mrs. Franklin smiled at the remark, which 
 was a perfect corroboration of all her best suspi- 
 cions. 
 
 Mr. Smith was old, but he was rich — he 
 was dull and prosy, but then he was good- 
 natured and kind. He had no family connexions, 
 although his namesakes^ were numerous ; and she 
 thought, considering the slender character of 
 her jointure, and the graceful smallness of her 
 daughter's fortune, that if, as she foresaw, he 
 intended to make her the oifer, she would " pluck 
 up a spirit," and take him as her third husband, 
 not less estimable in her eyes from having 
 been the intimate friend of her late much 
 lamented second. 
 
THE WIDOW. 13 
 
 " I confess, Mrs. F." said the exemplary 
 proser, " that having now retired from business 
 of every kind, I feel time hang heavy on my 
 hands. I don't see to read very well; I am 
 too old to learn. I have nothing to write about, 
 and although I belong to a most excellent and 
 convenient club at the bottom of St. James's- 
 street, I find few contemporaries, or indeed 
 companions there. 1 think I should like quiet, 
 and a fine climate, and if I could establish my- 
 self, return to Italy, the garden of the worM, 
 for which I contracted a feeling of devotion when 
 much younger, and to which I constantly look 
 back with a longing anxiety to return to it." 
 
 " What could be more delightful," said Mrs. 
 Franklin. 
 
 " Now, what is your opinion ?" said Mr. Smith. 
 " I am quite aware that I am a little farther 
 advanced in life than the general run of bride- 
 grooms ; but, do you think — ah ! I see you smile 
 — do you think I might find a being disposed to 
 join her fate to mine, and permit me to make her 
 the sole object of all my care and afi*ection ?" 
 
14 THE WIDOW. 
 
 " Dear Mr. Smith," said Mrs. Franklin, 
 " how very oddly you talk ; how should /know." 
 
 " And yetj" said Mr. Smith, " you are the 
 only person in the world whom I should desire 
 to consult upon the subject. Franklin, poor 
 fellow, was considerably your senior when you 
 were married ; and yet, pardon me for recurring 
 to what is lost to us for ever, you were as happy 
 as people could be." 
 
 " Very true," said the lady ; " and 1 am 
 quite sure that any people may live happily 
 and comfortably who, when they become, as in 
 time they must, acquainted and familiarised with 
 each other's tempers and dispositions, make up 
 their minds to concede a^ little now and then ; for 
 as I have ever found it, the subjects of disagree- 
 ment between men and their wives, are gene- 
 rally matters of very trivial importance in 
 themselves." 
 
 " I flatter myself that in the event of succeed- 
 ing in my object, I should be found quite ready 
 to adopt your ideas upon these points," said the 
 matured lover ; " and thus encouraged, I honestly 
 
THE WIDOW. 15 
 
 admit that I consider my hopes of future comfort 
 and enjoyment to be in your hands." 
 
 " My dear Sir !" said Mrs. Franklin. 
 
 " So it is," said the elderly gentleman. " I 
 think you must have observed the general tenor 
 of my conduct and conversation for the last few 
 days ; and I have no difficulty in throwing myself 
 upon your consideration. I never have seen a 
 being calculated to form my happiness until 
 now; and having made the admission, I shall 
 wait an answer with a patience proportioned to 
 my anxiety." 
 
 " Why, really," said Mrs. Franklin, " I— I 
 declare to you, you have taken me so completely 
 by surprise, that — " 
 
 " Did Harriet never mention any thing to you 
 of what I have said to her upon the subject?" 
 
 "Harriet," said Mrs. Franklin, "not she; 
 have you spoken to her f 
 
 " Not, perhaps, in direct terms," said Smith ; 
 " but I have thrown out such hints as I thought 
 she could not fail to understand." 
 
 " But why address lier in the first instance ?" 
 2 
 
16 THE WIDOW. 
 
 said Mrs. Franklin ; " I honestly confess that her 
 position as relative to mine, is one of the difficul- 
 ties I feel in listening to the proposition — what 
 would become of her ?" 
 
 " Of course," said Mr. Smith, " she would go 
 to Italy." 
 
 " But that might interfere with her pros- 
 pects," said the mother. 
 
 " Her prospects !" Said the old gentleman ; 
 " of course our prospects would be in common." 
 
 " Oh, I am quite sure of your honour and 
 generosity," said Mrs. Franklin; " but at her 
 time of life, she naturally expects attention and 
 beaux, or, as we used to call them in former 
 days, Mr. S., sweethearts." 
 
 " Why, to be sure," replied the lover, " and 
 naturally enough ; but not after she marries." 
 
 " Oh ! no," said the lady ; " but she is not 
 married yet." 
 
 " But," said Smith, " going to be, I hope." 
 
 " What, to Mr. Saville ?" said her mother ; 
 "how can you fancy such a thing — why, you say 
 yourself the man's a beggar." 
 
THE WIDOW. 17 
 
 '* I flattered myself, I had enlightened you 
 upon this subject," said the elderly gentleman. 
 "What I mean is that Harriet will not hesitate to 
 accept of any advantageous offer which you your- 
 self might approve ; she would not suffer any of 
 the common prejudices against what is called 
 a sad disparity of age, to interfere with her 
 comfortable and respectable estabKshment in 
 life." 
 
 " She has not," said Mrs. Franklin, " that I 
 know of, had any occasion to form a determina- 
 tion upon such a proposal." 
 
 " The time then has arrived," said the elderly 
 Smith, getting animated. " Surely I have al- 
 ready said sufficient with regard to my views, 
 intentions, hopes, and propositions." 
 
 " Aye," said Mrs. Franklin, " as far as you 
 and I are concerned, Mr. Smith ; but however 
 willing I might be to listen to your solicitations, 
 I suspect the effect produced upon her, by any 
 such arrangement, would not very materially 
 change her condition." 
 
 " My dear Mrs. Franklin," said Smith, who 
 
18 THE WIDOW. 
 
 found that his aim was mistaken, and his object 
 misunderstood, " I fear I have not been suffi- 
 ciently explicit in my conversation. You mis- 
 take me ; my proposition applies to Harriet ; her 
 hand I solicit ; and my present view is to interest 
 you in my behalf, and induce you not only to 
 sanction my offer, but support it with your in- 
 fluence and authority." 
 
 " My dear Sir," said Mrs. Franklin, opening 
 her eyes to their very greatest width, and elevat- 
 ing her eyebrows to their extreme altitude, 
 " you surprise me ! — Harriet — why she is a 
 mere child." 
 
 " I am quite aware, as I before mentioned," 
 said the matured swain, " that there exists a 
 ' disparity of age' between us ; but still I flatter 
 myself that her happiness will not be endangered 
 by our union; and I hope more especially for 
 your aid and assistance in obtaining her consent, 
 because, if I do not forget, your first marriage 
 was made under somewhat similar circumstances : 
 there was a 'disparity of age' in that case, and — " 
 
 " You are perfectly right," said Mrs. Frank- 
 
THE WIDOW. 19 
 
 lin, who, although greatly disappointed at the 
 moment, by her companion's announcement of 
 the real object of his affections, suddenly collected 
 herself sufficiently to run through a hasty calcula- 
 tion in her mind, the result of which was, that 
 Harriet would, if she married him, eventually 
 become the possessor of all the wealth of 
 the respectable Croesus before her; and that, 
 giving him the fair chances of an insurance 
 office annuity table, he must infallibly leave her 
 a yomig and blooming widow ; circumstances, of 
 the value and importance of which she was quite 
 aware, from having undergone a similar process 
 herself. So far, therefore, from checking the 
 ardour of the swain, she confined her present 
 exertions to concealing from him the mistake 
 into which she had at first fallen, by fancying 
 herself the goddess of his idolatry ; and concluded 
 a brief but interesting conversation, by sending 
 for Harriet herself ; and having given her counsel 
 for her conduct in accordance with her own views 
 of the merits of the case, led her, loth enough, 
 to the drawing-room, where the asjnrant to her 
 
20 THE WIDOW. 
 
 hand was waiting in breathless anxiety, and left 
 the ill-assorted pair to their own inventions. 
 
 It was by this time just three o'clock; and 
 scarcely had that hour arrived when the punctual 
 and devoted Saville's well-known knock was 
 sounded on the door. He was expected and ad- 
 mitted; and as the servants could know nothing 
 of what was passing in the higher circles of 
 the family, was ushered into the room where 
 Corydon and Phyllis were billing and cooing. 
 Any thing much more unlucky could not well 
 have happened. Saville in a moment felt him- 
 self de trop. Smith scarcely recognised him, 
 but there were tears in Harriet's eyes. Any 
 attempt to rally would^ have been vain ; and 
 Charles was only rescued from his painful dilem- 
 ma by a message from Mrs. Franklin, who 
 begged him to come to her in her boudoir. 
 
 The conversation which passed between the 
 parent and the pretender to Harriet's love was 
 brief and bitter. Anticipating considerable diffi- 
 culty in persuading her daughter into the very 
 advantageous match now proposed, she did not 
 
THE WIDOW. 21 
 
 think it wise, or just, or prudent, or proper, to 
 tell Saville distinctly or positively that she 
 was "' otherwise disposed of." She liked Saville 
 extremely, and did not desire to wound his feel- 
 ings more deeply than necessary ; indeed, a most 
 whimsical notion came into her head, to which, 
 as she never mentioned it except in strict con- 
 fidence, it may appear unfair to - allude, which 
 was neither more nor less than the faint possibi- 
 lity of inducing Saville to change the direction of 
 his affections in favour of herself ; for Saville had, 
 during his acquaintance with the Franklins acted 
 so sedulously upon the proverbial advice that 
 
 " He who would the daughter win, 
 Must with the mother first begin," 
 
 that Mrs. Franklin, who moreover thought it 
 might be w^ll to oifer her Harriet a practical 
 justification of unequal marriages, was not quite 
 sure that she might not be accepted by a young 
 man, although she had been overlooked by the 
 older one. Mrs. Franklin in making this calcu- 
 lation throwing into the favourable scale the fact. 
 
22 THE WIDOW. 
 
 that Saville was poor, and she was personally rich, 
 and an opinion which she entertained that the 
 lover's assiduities displayed to her daughter were 
 considerably stimulated by a belief in her wealth, 
 the histories about which were all without founda- 
 tion. At all events, Mrs. Franklin wished to make 
 Saville feel as easy as possible ; and therefore, 
 in a few hurried words, she endeavoured to ex- 
 plain that their party to the Zoological Gardens 
 was temporarily postponed, but that she would let 
 him know the moment it was re-arranged. 
 
 Having said this and rang the bell, she ad- 
 vanced so rapidly upon the astonished Saville, 
 that he was obliged to back out of the room in 
 double quick time, convinced in his own mind, 
 that whether he was destined or not ever to see 
 the Nyl-ghaus, Zebras, Emus, Bears, and Bisons 
 of the Regent's Park, it was a matter of infinitely 
 less probability that he should soon again behold 
 the gentle, amiable, and beautiful Harriet 
 Franklin. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 It must be confessed, that the sudden appear- 
 ance of Charles Saville in the drawing-room, 
 was anything but gratifying to the feelings of 
 Mr. Smith, and little calculated to further his 
 views with the young object of his affections. 
 He came like a reproaching spirit, and stood 
 before his love, and she acknowledged the re- 
 buke which he thus tacitly and unconsciously 
 gave ; for, whatever might be his misgivings with 
 regard to his own ultimate success, it had not 
 yet flashed into his mind that the silver-headed 
 Smith, he of the Twaddle, cased in a sable coat, 
 and black satin shorts, shining like sticking plais- 
 ter, was doomed to be his rival. 
 
 It is strange, and every hour we live the feel- 
 
•24 THE WIDOW. 
 
 ing grows, upon reflection, stronger still, that 
 the great and certain change which time inevi- 
 tably works on the human mincl and constitu- 
 tion, is, from its gradual and gentle course, im- 
 perceptible to the individual " worked upon," 
 unless some great and sudden accession of 
 disease falls upon him : the comparison between 
 what he was at twenty-four and fifty-five, is 
 never made by the subject himself; the only 
 comparison he makes, is between Monday last, 
 and Tuesday last, in which brief space no differ- 
 ence arises ; and thus it is, that if blest with 
 health — and if with health the animal spirits con- 
 tinue—a man from constant habitude, feeling no 
 change in himself from ^ day to day, goes on be- 
 lieving that others see no change in him ; and it is 
 rather to this natural imperceptibility of physical 
 alteration, than to senile childishness, or matured 
 vanity, that we find men advanced in life like 
 our present friend Smith, presenting themselves 
 to the favour of blooming girls, who were un- 
 born at the period from which these respectable 
 lovers date their perfection, and at which they 
 
THE WIDOW. 25 
 
 set up tlieir standard, and who seeing nothing 
 but what is placed before them, cannot compre- 
 hend how the corpulent Mr. Fussocks, or the 
 lanky Mr. Latham, can have the impertinence 
 or temerity to enter the lists of love or flirtation 
 at his time of life. 
 
 Smith, twaddler as he was, was, however, a 
 man of plain common sense ; he saw in Harriet 
 a being calculated, if she could divest her mind 
 of the very small quantity of romance which 
 it possessed, to make any man happy. He 
 put into the opposite scale to his advanced 
 age, the increased luxuries and comforts which 
 the advantage of his fortune would secure to 
 her; and considered from the gentleness and 
 steadiness of the young lady's character and 
 disposition, that she would consider the case 
 dispassionately, and eventually prefer the cer- 
 tainty of opulence through life, to the preca- 
 rious shiftings to which she might be exposed 
 if she imited herself to an idle student at law, 
 who possessed too much versatility of genius 
 to plod his way through the heavy road to the 
 
 VOL. I. C 
 
26 THE WIDOW. 
 
 high places of the profession, and who, if he 
 married, would in all probability devote himself 
 more assiduously to the silk gown of his wife, 
 than the stuff one of his profession. 
 
 But Smith, old and experienced as he was, 
 miscalculated; he fell into the commonly re- 
 ceived error of mistaking gentleness for weak- 
 ness, and diffidence for want of energy. Harriet 
 was unassuming and tender, and full of feeling ; 
 but she could resist oppression and withstand 
 injustice. To be sure the battle being in modern 
 times generally to the strong, the influence 
 of her mother, upon whom she depended for 
 every thing in the way of fortune she was to 
 possess, strengthened. and enforced by that of 
 Mr. Smith, the intimate and favoured friend of 
 her father, required no trifling exertion to coun- 
 teract its efi'ects. 
 
 Harriet listened calmly and patiently to the 
 elaborated lecture which Mr. Smith was pleased 
 to deliver upon the philosophy of love, and 
 the pre-eminent advantages of that peculiar 
 species of passion which is founded upon esteem. 
 
THE WIDOW. 27 
 
 and a long acquaintance with the merits and 
 virtues of the desired object, for nearly two 
 hours ; at the termination of which period, she 
 flattered herself that she had dexterously con- 
 trived a reprieve for herself, by telling her res- 
 ])ectable suitor that she must in the first instance 
 consult her mother, and that after referring the 
 whole subject to her consideration, she would, 
 in the course of the evening, pronounce her own 
 decision upon it. 
 
 This delay was by no means unpleasant to 
 either party. Smith was gratified by receiving 
 this sort of qualified attention to his proposal 
 instead of a plump denial, and Harriet delighted 
 in giving herself an opportunity of discussing 
 it with her mother, conscious as she was of a 
 preference for Charles Saville, and satisfied, 
 even putting that out of the question, that the 
 destruction of her happiness would be the inevit- 
 able consequence of her filial obedience. 
 
 Mr. Smith at this juncture of the campaign, 
 was not quite decided as to the next step he 
 c2 
 
28 THE WIDOW. 
 
 should take in the siege, which it appears he 
 was carrying on as systematically as the French 
 proceeded with that of Antwerp ; he felt himself 
 already in the third parallel, and was nearly as 
 much surprised as Gerard at the faint opposition 
 he had met with from the garrison ; but, like 
 that hero upon the occasion to which I refer, he 
 doubted the security of the calm which he was 
 suffered to enjoy, and attributed the facility with 
 which he had been permitted to make his ad- 
 vances, to a secret determination on the part 
 of the besieged to undermine and blow him up 
 the moment he attempted the storm. 
 
 If, thought he, I take my hat and go, at this 
 crisis, it may seem as if I. had been discouraged, 
 and were dissatisfied with my reception ; if 
 I hastily follow up what I believe to be a 
 blow, I shall violate the truce to which I have 
 agreed, and break in upon Harriet's design of 
 a conference with her mother, therefore will 
 I steer the middle course, and merely give 
 Mrs. Franklin the outline of my conversa- 
 
THE WIDOW. 29 
 
 tion with her daughter, and having thus " re- 
 ported progress," ask leave to " come again 
 to-morrow." 
 
 What his prudence and judgment suggested 
 in this behoof, the cautious Smith forthwith put 
 into practice ; and having found the much excited 
 parent just recovering from the exertion of 
 having ejected poor Charles Saville, imparted 
 to her the particulars of his dialogue with 
 Miss Franklin, and referring to the condition 
 which she had exacted, or which rather he liad 
 conceded to her suggestion, proposed a visit 
 the following day at two. 
 
 Harriet had a stormy evening before her — 
 with all her filial obedience and the partiality 
 which natural affection necessarily begets, she 
 could not blind herself to the feline feeling which 
 prompted her excellent parent to be the most 
 amiable of amiables while things went smoothly, 
 but which drove her into an excess of passion if 
 she were ruffled or thwarted ; yet she resolved to 
 make one effort for Charles Saville, who, although 
 constantly " fended off," as the sailors say, 
 c3 
 
30 , THE WIDOW. 
 
 never relaxed in his efforts to evince to her the 
 sincerity of his attachment. 
 
 It should, perhaps, be mentioned, that several 
 swains had been caught by Harriet's charms 
 before our young lawyer had " entered himself" 
 in the list of her suitors ; at present the house 
 was well rid of them. A white haired viscount, 
 and a red haired baronet, had been numbered 
 in her train, but they had trained off, upon 
 finding, much to their chagrin and disappoint- 
 ment, that Harriet's boasted fortune was vision- 
 ary; still, however, Mrs. Franklin talked of 
 Lord Pertwood and Sir Harry Fitch in such a 
 manner as to let Saville understand what sort of 
 lovers Harriet had discarded, and consequently 
 what sort of lovers she felt she had a right to ex- 
 pect. Saville, who knew from the earliest stage 
 of their acquaintance, the extent of Miss Frank- 
 lin's precarious expectations, rendered in his eye 
 more precarious still by the very matrimonial 
 disposition of her already twice married mother, 
 felt neither care nor anxiety upon the subject — 
 he talked of his profession, ardently anticipated 
 
THE WIDOW. 31 
 
 success, and in the very few Ute-a-Ute conversa- 
 tions which he had been lucky enough to enjoy 
 with his Dulcinea, perfectly convinced her that 
 he loved her for what she was, and not for what 
 she had; and that he had not an interested 
 thought or wish concerning her. 
 
 Dutiful as she was, grateful to Mr. Smith as 
 she might be, was it possible she should eternally 
 relinquish such a lover without a struggle ? Nor 
 was her embarrassment after the departure of her 
 new old lover, at all diminished by her anxiety 
 to know how poor Charles had departed ; whether 
 he had been so far enlightened upon the subject 
 of the tete-a-Ute which he had unintentionally 
 broken in upon, as to destroy all his hopes ; or 
 whether her mother, acting upon her usual pru- 
 dential system, had not committed herself upon 
 a point, where in fact, she was not yet perfectly 
 secure of success. Poor girl, she was dreadfully 
 agitated, and her tremor did by no means cease 
 when her maid Johnstone, who for the express 
 purpose of watching his departure, had craned 
 c4 
 
32 THE WIDOW. 
 
 her neck out of one of the windows of her young" 
 lady's dressing-room, pronounced Mr. Smith, 
 gone. 
 
 Saville's dismissal, as it turned out, had been 
 any thing but harsh or uncivil : it was neither 
 Mrs. Franklin's policy nor her disposition to be 
 either, to so amiable and accomplished a person, 
 and one for whom it has been gently hinted she 
 felt an especial regard. She wanted most parti- 
 cularly to get him away from the house at the 
 moment of his visit, because his presence at that 
 immediate juncture was extremely inopportune ; 
 and she charged upon him formidably, and he fell 
 back and retreated : but there was no explanation 
 of the real state of affairs, .no injunction not to 
 return, no " warning off," for the same smoul- 
 dering feeling in the matron's heart, which some- 
 times made her think she might change her name 
 again, induced her to recollect that if Harriet 
 sliould become the rich wife of old Mr. Smith, 
 there would exist fewer objections to her assum- 
 ing the character of helpmate to the young Mr. 
 
THE WIDOW. 33 
 
 Saville. This sounds odd as a matter of calcu- 
 lation and of narration — but we are all odd crea- 
 tures — and it is human nature. - 
 
 So trifling, however, had been the effect of Mrs 
 Franklin's ejection of her daughter's lover, upon 
 the lover himself, that he left the house without 
 any serious apprehension that he might never 
 enter it again. He was conscious of a strange 
 excitement in Mrs. Franklin's manner, and he 
 thought the breaking up of the party to the Zoo- 
 logical Gardens abrupt and strange ; and he saw 
 that there was an anxiety to get him away from 
 Harriet and Mr. Smith in the drawing-room, but 
 none of these things opened his eyes to the real 
 state of the case. Smith he hated, merely because 
 he appeared to be upon extremely familiar terms 
 with Harriet ; but he was not jealous of him, nor 
 did an idea of a rival in his person ever enter his 
 head. He was quite conscious that he was his 
 enemy in the tamily; but that he attributed 
 merely to the justifying cause of his own poverty, 
 and the tender care of Miss Franklin's interests, 
 which was taken by the white-headed gentleman 
 c5 
 
34 THE WIDOW. 
 
 in the court-plaister shorts, in the character 
 of friend of her late father, trustee of his pro- 
 perty, and executor of his will, — but for him- 
 self, the idea never struck him. And as he 
 walked along, just c'onscious of a disagreeable 
 sensation, — for to a lover, the slightest variation 
 of conduct in any body concerned or connected 
 with the object of his affection is instantaneously 
 felt, — a dread that the white-haired viscount 
 was " on again," and that Smith was talking 
 over financial measures with Harriet upon that 
 possibility, assailed him with a hideous probabi- 
 lity, just as he was turning down Hay Hill 
 into Berkeley-square. This horrid vision lasted 
 till he had passed the end of Bruton-street, and 
 there the " fetch" of the red-haired baronet, in 
 the very act of being accepted by his dearest 
 Harriet, appeared before him ; and thus by turns 
 all things which he fancied possible or probable 
 to happen to overturn his hopes, passed through 
 his mind ; while the only thing which seriously 
 threatened and truly endangered his happiness, 
 never once entered into his calculations. 
 
THE WIDOW. 35 
 
 It would be doing a serious injustice to the 
 maternal influence of Mrs. Franklin, and the 
 filial obedience of her fair daughter, were I to 
 attempt any description of the prolonged dis- 
 cussion which took place on the proposal of the 
 elderly gentleman, during the evening of the 
 day on which it was made. The arguments 
 adopted by the lady — the manner in which she 
 enforced them — the resolutions she expressed 
 with regard to the future interests of her child — 
 ^ her language — her action — the inducements she 
 held out — the threats she fulminated — all these 
 it would be painful to detail, because it would 
 exhibit such a scene of domestic discord and un- 
 happiness, as ought not to be submitted to the 
 public eye. How the wonder was worked, how 
 the great end was accomplished, therefore the 
 reader is not destined to know ; but this fact may 
 amply satisfy him — before eight o'clock, Harriet 
 ' Franklin was irrevocably doomed to become 
 Mrs. Smith ! 
 
 There are mysteries in all arts, professions, 
 and trades, which to the uninitiated, seem mira- 
 c6 
 
36 THE WIDOW. 
 
 cles ; what can appear more marvellous to those 
 who know nothmg about it, than that the ashes 
 of a water plant, a thistle, or bramble, or fern, 
 mixed up with sand and stone and flints, should 
 in combination, give us glass ? Or who that had 
 not considered the matter, would think that we 
 might derive a brilliant light from smoke ? Bult 
 glass or gas, or any other artificial product, would 
 fall far short in exciting astonishment in the un- 
 tutored mind, compared with the result of the 
 long and animated dialogue which passed on that 
 memorable evening between Mrs. Franklin and 
 her daughter. It is, to be sure, enough for 
 those who have no occasion to dive into primary- 
 causes, to " take the gogds the gods provide," 
 without labouring at inquiry and investigation ; 
 and so long as the light beams brightly, and the 
 glass shines clearly, what have the every-day 
 people of the world to do with the means by 
 which those comforts or conveniences are secured 
 to them ? So thought the anxious mother upon 
 the present occasion ; she had carried her point, 
 she had achieved her object, and little else re- 
 
THE WIDOW. 37 
 
 mained but to offer up the sacrifice on the shrine 
 of mammon, and proceed to deck her victim for 
 the altar. 
 
 Smith the respectable, was to be at Mrs. 
 Franklin's at two ; but as it happened that the 
 lady and her daughter had engaged themselves 
 to accompany Mrs. Thompson, a friend and 
 neighbour of theirs, to the Somerset House 
 exhibition at three, a slight discussion arose be- 
 tween the parent and child as to the delicacy or 
 possibility of a young lady accepting an elderly 
 gentleman's offer of marriage, and going to a 
 public exhibition two hours afterwards. Break- 
 ing the engagement with Mrs. T. would look 
 so odd — she might think something — and then 
 Harriet did not like to remain at home ; and 
 Mr. Smith, perhaps, would like to go with 
 them ; and then there was no room in the car- 
 riage ; and even if it could have been permitted 
 that he should upon an emergency share the 
 box with the coachman, his mounting was alto- 
 gether out of the question ; and so %t last it was 
 decided to leave this minor point to settle itself, 
 
38 THE WIDOW. 
 
 and at all events, suffer the Somerset House en- 
 gagement to rest as it was. 
 
 It would be more agreeable, and only just 
 to our poor dear Harriet, to let tlie reader into 
 some of the arguments, and statements, and 
 asseverations, by which Mrs. Franklin worked 
 upon her daughter's mind and feelings, until she 
 consented to forego the inclinations of her heart, 
 and accept as a husband, a man who would have 
 been considered old as her father; but it would be 
 a breach of confidence. However, it may be al- 
 lowable to say, that Mrs. Franklin asserted upon 
 what she called good authority, that Saville was 
 a gambler, that he was idle, dissipated, and ex- 
 travagant; the fact beipg,. that he was one of the 
 most economical young gentlemen about town, 
 never took a card or box in his hand, drank no 
 wine, and never was idle, except, if that could 
 be called idleness, when he was devoting to 
 Harriet herself, the time which at least she ought 
 not to have thought could be better spent. 
 
 In addition, however, to all these visionary vices 
 and imaginary failings, Mrs. Franklin hurled one 
 
THE WIDOW. 39 
 
 maternal thunderbolt at her daughter's devoted 
 head, which finally settled the business; "Were 
 he prudent, learned, amiable, and rich," said the 
 elder lady to the younger, " so long as / live 
 you should never marry Mr. Saville, at least with 
 my consent, and I think without it, you would 
 have little cause to rejoice in the felicity of your 
 choice." 
 
 Harriet's mind was admirably well regulated, 
 and the state of its discipline was more to be 
 wondered at, considering the hoity-toity fly-away 
 manner of her surviving parent ; yet during this 
 potent denunciation of her dear Charles, she 
 certainly did see before her eyes, a sort of phan- 
 tasmagoria of post-chaises and horses, and hy- 
 meneal blacksmiths, and other objects therewith 
 concomitant ; they, however, speedily faded ; 
 principle overcame predilection, and as we have 
 already said, she sank a devoted victim to her 
 mother's wishes. 
 
 The whole affair is an unpleasant one to think 
 of, but as it is a bad bit of road in the journey of 
 our narrative, let us pull down the blinds, and 
 
40 THE WIDOW. 
 
 jolt over it as fast as we can. The night passed 
 — a dreadful night for her — the morning came — 
 noon came — one o'clock came — Smith came — 
 and, let it suffice, before two o'clock came, he 
 was made certain of his happiness; — three came, 
 and with it the carriage. The exhibition question 
 was put to the respectable suitor, who thought it 
 wisest to make no alteration in the arrangement. 
 In fact, the matured lover was considerably 
 exhausted by the strength of his feelings, and 
 considered it wiser to separate himself from his 
 affianced bride until dinner time, — Soit fait 
 comme. il est desire — the respectable Corydon 
 retired to his house till seven o'clock, to rumi- 
 nate on his approachijig. happiness, while the 
 contented mother, and the bewildered daughter, 
 fulfilled their engagement with their friend, and 
 proceeded to Somerset House. 
 
 It may strike the reader (more especially if 
 the reader be a female,) as something strange 
 and unfeminine that Harriet should have con- 
 sented to this visit to the exhibition, but it must 
 be remembered, that Mr. Smith had not only 
 
THE WIDOW. 41 
 
 voluntarily but anxiously suggested a " respite," 
 and, that any expression of anxiety on the part of 
 Miss Franklin to remain at home, would have 
 been construed into a hope and wish of seeing 
 Charles Saville, in order to explain the circum- 
 stances which had led to her acceptance of his 
 rival, or perhaps to make such arrangements 
 as might most effectually frustrate the completion 
 of the contract. It was thus, and under these 
 circumstances, that the poor agitated girl was 
 hurried away from the most important " scene" 
 of her life, to a display, which, as illustrative of 
 the freaks of nature, fell far short in interest, of 
 that which she had been engaged to visit the 
 day before in the society of her dear Charles. 
 
 Forced thus unnaturally into a crowd, at a 
 moment when solitude would best have suited the 
 temper of her mind. Miss Franklin, with her 
 mother and her friend, began to mount the ex- 
 tremely inconvenient, wretchedly dark, filthy 
 dirty, and eminently disagreeable staircase of 
 the Royal Academy, slipping over scattered 
 orange-peels, covering their gloves with dust. 
 
42 . THE WIDOW. 
 
 if accidentally touching any part of the balusters 
 or walls, during the horrid ascent, the abomina- 
 tions of which, are scarcely recompensed by the 
 entertaining absurdity of beholding Hercules 
 with his apples in a brass wire bird-cage, at the 
 bottom of it. 
 
 Up they went, poor wearied travellers — Bun- 
 yan's Pilgrim was happy by comparison; they 
 passed that " Slough of Despond," the apart- 
 ment stored with the mad fancies of juvenile 
 modellers, or doting architects, quitted that 
 " Valley of Humiliation," the chamber of mon- 
 sters and miniatures, which adjoins it, and boldly 
 and resolutely, mounted the " Hill of Lucre," 
 the great room, " top of all," where the wealth 
 of thousands hangs round the walls, scattered at 
 their pleasure, and converted into ugly faces, and 
 ungainly figures, for the peculiar gratification and 
 satisfaction of themselves and friends. 
 
 Just about the period that the party had 
 reached the enviable summit, and were beginning 
 to examine the pictures, — No. 1. "portrait of 
 a gentleman," which could not be like, as repre- 
 
THE WIDOW. 43 
 
 senting that character, be the man whom he might, 
 No. 2. "Innocent Pastime," a chubby child, 
 playing with a pig — what does the reader ima- 
 gine was happening below in the street, the 
 Strand? why, there passing to or from cham- 
 bers, (the which mattereth little,) went or came 
 Mr. Charles Saville, who, with his eyes con- 
 stantly wandering in search of the well known 
 livery of the Franklins, was most suddenly at- 
 tracted by its appearance casing the body of her 
 favourite footman, just preparing to take up 
 his seat on the bench under the entrance to 
 Somerset House. An inquiry, scarcely neces- 
 sary under the circumstances, " whether the 
 ladies were there," was answered in the affirma- 
 tive ; and in one minute after, having purchased 
 his dark blue passport at one barrier, and depo- 
 sited it at the other, Charles Saville was to be 
 seen labouring on the tread-mill which his fair 
 friends had just conquered and quitted. 
 
 It was only for him to reach the summit and 
 enter the room, to see Harriet. What were the 
 glazed and glaring gorgons which were on all sides 
 
44 . THE WIDOW. 
 
 suspended, to liim, where lived and breathed the 
 one sole hope of his heart, the idol of his adora- 
 tion ! In an instant he discovered her ; the 
 pleasing viridity (as, the poet would have it) 
 of her mother's pomona pelisse indicated that 
 lady's presence, and with them was a stranger. 
 What then ! it was a female ; and emboldened by 
 this conviction, he squeezed, and pushed, and 
 elbowed his way, till he reached the trio, who 
 were, at the moment, deeply engaged in poring 
 over the minute beauties of a gem of Wilkie's. 
 
 The toil of the squirrel in his cage, is one of 
 the most provoking examples of "labour in 
 vain," that can be well imagined ; but perhaps 
 the very most provoking that has ever fallen under 
 the reader's notice, was this feat of Charles 
 Saville's. He encountered climbing, and a crowd, 
 and dust, and difficulty, and having reached the 
 ultima Thule of his hopes, was received by Mrs. 
 Franklin with a look which seemed to say — 
 only that ladies never swear, even with their 
 eyes — What the divil brought you here ? 
 " Oh ! Mr. Saville," said the mother ; the sound 
 
THE WIDOW. 45 
 
 caught the daughter's ears — mother, daughter, 
 and Saville, all shook hands — to be sure — why 
 not? the daughter's shaking, however, was not 
 local — she trembled from head to foot. 
 
 " What on earth brought you here?" said 
 Mrs. Franklin to Saville. 
 
 "You, Mrs. Franklin," said Saville. 
 
 "Me! come—" 
 
 " I saw the carriage at the door, and found 
 you were up stairs," said Charles ; " so of course 
 I flew to attend you." 
 
 Mrs. Franklin smiled and tossed her head, 
 but Harriet kept her face close to the pictures, 
 and the catalogue clasped in her hand. Mrs. 
 Thompson, who was boringly fond of portraits, 
 and liked to see " Lord Whiskin in the uniform 
 of the North Somerset Militia," and " Lady Mary 
 Fopsey, and child," in order that she might find 
 them out, when she next saw them at the Opera, 
 (for the Franklins were quite of that school,) 
 kept the maternal fair one in constant exercise in 
 looking up, and hunting down the pictures in the 
 catalogue. 
 
46 • THE WIDOW. 
 
 About her, Charles did not very much trouble 
 himself, but it was clear to him that something 
 very strange, something very decisive, had hap- 
 pened with regard to ,Harriet. He saw that her 
 eyes were fixed upon the pictures, but that she 
 looked not at them ; the evident indifference, not 
 to say distaste, with which she seemed to glance 
 over the beauties of our first artists, the clearness 
 of Calcott, the simplicity of Collins, the magic 
 attractions of Wilkie, and the incomprehensible 
 brilliancy of Turner, satisfied him that his sus- 
 picions were well founded ; and he determined to 
 take the only advantage a crowded room affords, 
 (except indeed to pickpockets,) to ascertain, if 
 possible, the grounds of the extraordinary 
 change of conduct in both ladies, from warm to 
 cold, and to discover what external influence had 
 been used upon their mercurial dispositions, 
 which in so very short a period of time as had 
 passed since his last interview, could have 
 suddenly tumbled their mental thermometers, 
 from blood heat to several degrees below freez- 
 ing. 
 
THE WIDOW. 47 
 
 The opportunity Charles sought soon arrived, 
 as opportunities inevitably will, if a man has but a 
 little patience; and while Mrs. Franklin, jammed 
 in amidst a bustling ring of half-a-dozen plump- 
 looking misses, and as many male plebeians as 
 were necessary to constitute a small mob, was 
 endeavouring to elucidate to Mrs. Thompson 
 some of the more delicate touches of a " prettj^ 
 bit," (perfectly satisfied in his own mind, 
 that a man and woman who were most uncere- 
 moniously riding her as she stooped to descant 
 upon the picture, were the two persons about 
 whom she was most anxious,) Saville hastily 
 inquired of Harriet in an under tone, " what on 
 earth was the matter?" 
 
 " For Heaven's sake," whispered the lovely 
 girl, " don't speak so loud," pointing most assi- 
 duously to a number in the catalogue, as if she 
 were in the highest degree interested about it. 
 
 " Have I offended you ?" said Charles. 
 
 " Oh, no — noj" said Harriet. 
 
 " Tell me, then"— 
 
 " Some other time — pray don't — not now — " 
 2 
 
48 . THE WIDOW. 
 
 "To-morrow?" — 
 
 " Perhaps," said Harriet, lier lips quivering, 
 "we may not see you to-morrow." 
 
 " Merciful Heaven !" exclaimed Saville — 
 " tell me— tell me"— 
 
 " Oh, nothing — nothing," answered she, mov- 
 ing one step nearer her mother, who was still 
 absorbed in the pictures. Saville took her hand, 
 which she gently withdrew, he, like an ardent 
 lover, forgetting everything but his devotion, 
 she, like a well-bred girl, remembering where 
 they were — what a tight-rope life it was they 
 led—" The truth is," said Harriet—" I—" 
 
 " My dear Harriet, are you there f said Mrs. 
 Franklin ; "I thought you and Mr. Saville were 
 behind us." 
 
 " No," said Saville, affecting jocularity ; " here 
 we are, quite safe." 
 
 Harriet was confused — not by the interruption 
 of her mother, but by the indiscretion of her 
 late lover. 
 
 " By Jove, that's capital !" said one man just 
 behind them to another next him, and who had 
 
THE WIDOW. 49 
 
 been watching the whole of the little scene in 
 progress between Charles and his beloved, to 
 whose eyes and thoughts during its performance, 
 the whole world had been lost, not excepting 
 Mrs. Franklin herself. 
 
 The old — a thousand pardons — the elder 
 lady, who had perhaps afforded the young 
 people an opportunity for a moment's conver- 
 sation, in order that Harriet might give Charles's 
 hopes the coup de grace, by telling him the 
 real state of the case, now became particularly 
 anxious to get away, and taking her daughter 
 under her arm — a most extraordinary and sig- 
 nificant precaution — she hurried the dear inter- 
 esting, near-sighted Mrs. Thompson along the 
 room and down the stairs, with a rapidity which 
 quite surprised and disconcerted the connois- 
 seur, who hc^d looked forward to a long day 
 of it. 
 
 They reached the sculpture-room, but even 
 that could not stay Mrs. Franklin's flight ; she 
 looked at her watch and declared it impossible ; 
 and thus simultaneously fidgetting onwards and 
 
 VOL. I. D 
 
50 THE WIDOW. 
 
 downwards, tliey found the carriage in readiness 
 — Mrs. Thompson stepped in first — then Har- 
 riet — then mamma. 
 
 " Good-day," said Mrs. Franklin to Saville. 
 
 " Good-bye," said Harriet. 
 
 " What do you do this evening, Mrs. Frank- 
 lin?" said Saville. 
 
 " We are engaged," replied she. 
 
 " Shall I see you to-morrow ?" 
 
 " To-morrow we shall be busy all day," said 
 Mrs. Franklin. 
 
 Busy ! thought Saville, about what, I wonder ; 
 and he cast his eyes toward Harriet — her eyes 
 met his — eyes will meet sometimes — she looked 
 as if she wished to know whether he believed 
 her mother's story : a sudden return of those 
 eyes to the downcast direction in which they 
 were before placed, served to render him some- 
 what sceptical. However, Mrs. Franklin had 
 said they were to be engaged, and it was not for 
 him to express a doubt about it. If she had 
 called over her own staircase that she was " not 
 at home," as he was ascending it, he must of 
 
THE WIDOW. 51 
 
 course have believed the statement. So, finding 
 the parley cease, he removed his white-gloved 
 hand from the sill of the carriage window, and 
 made way for the servant to take his mistress's 
 orders ; saying, as usual, " good-bye." 
 
 " Good morning," again said Mrs. Franklin ; 
 Mrs. Thompson said nothing — nor did Harriet 
 speak — but she bowed her head slowly, and 
 fixing her eyes expressively for a moment on 
 Saville, seemed to bid him farewell for ever — 
 perhaps she did. 
 
 d2 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 The character of Harriet's parting look must 
 have been strongly marked, for when the car- 
 riage drove off, something struck Charles Saville 
 that he had seen and separated from her for the 
 last time. But then, lovers are easily agitated, 
 and no chameleon in the world borrows colours 
 from surrounding objects so readily as the fancy 
 of one, 
 
 " who dotes, yet doubts, 
 
 Suspects, yet fondly loves." 
 
 As he walked along — a somewhat unromantic 
 street for a sighing swain — the Strand, he re- 
 volved in his mind a thousand different subjects, 
 in order, if possible, to hit upon the particular 
 
THE WIDOW. 53 
 
 circumstance or event, which had so decidedly 
 changed the manner of both mother and daughter 
 within four-and-twenty hours. At length he 
 began to think, that perhaps the time had arrived, 
 when Mrs. Franklin considered it proper that 
 he should either come forward and make a 
 declaration, or retire ; and he reflected, that 
 whatever reasons — and they were pretty cogent 
 — he might have for suspecting and hoping that 
 Harriet was favourably inclined towards him, 
 he had never come to any sort of explanation 
 with her; and that after all, their unrestrained 
 association — unrestrained, at least, till this very 
 morning — might be merely the result of esteem 
 for his character, or admiration of his talents and 
 accomplishments. Yet, there was something 
 ardent and soul-felt in their intercourse which 
 he never saw displayed in her conversation 
 with others ; at all events, the difference between 
 the earnestness of her manner towards him, and 
 her indifference towards every body else, seemed 
 fully to justify his opening his heart to her ; but 
 then he had in the world but four hundred 
 D 3 
 
54 THE WIDOW. 
 
 pounds a-year ; and was not within three years of 
 being called into the exercise of a profession, in 
 which twenty more might be laboriously passed, 
 before he should in any great degree increase 
 his income. But his thoughts were full of hope, 
 which " springs eternal in the human breast," 
 and always holds out flattering prospects to san- 
 guine lovers; and his heart was full of love, 
 who being blind, never troubles his silly head 
 about any prospects whatever. 
 
 It appeared to Saville, at all events, nothing 
 more than reasonable that he should make one 
 struggle for the sole object of his life, and although 
 nothing, that he knew of, had actually happened 
 to awaken his fears,* or endanger his security 
 still the very apprehension of losing her, perhaps 
 by his own lukewarmness or want of zeal, set 
 his brain in a whirl ; and when he recollected the 
 implied doubt conveyed by the lovely girl her- 
 self of their ever meeting again, threw him into 
 a perfect agony of desperation. 
 
 His first impulse was to set off directly for 
 Harley-street, and throw himself and his four 
 
THE WIDOW. 55 
 
 hundred pounds per annum at the dear girl's 
 feet ; and since he knew enough of the family 
 affairs — although in fact he knew very little about 
 them — to know that her fortune was of a very 
 elastic character, and depended entirely upon 
 the will and pleasure of her mother as to its 
 eventual extension or contraction, he thought at 
 all events, that no interested motives could be 
 attributed to his declaration ; and that if Harriet 
 felt but a twentieth part of the affection for him 
 which he entertained towards her^ she would not 
 hesitate to realise those scenes of rural felicity 
 of which they had so often talked, and locating 
 herself in some blest retreat of health and peace, 
 bid adieu to all the follies of " the flaunting 
 town," and settle herself with her loving spouse 
 in a sequestered cottage, until the much wished 
 for period should arrive, when their means might 
 afford them a better, yet perhaps not happier 
 residence. 
 
 How to make his proposal? That was the 
 next question. It seemed most likely, that as 
 Mrs. Franklin and her daughter had informed him 
 d4 
 
56 . THE WIDOW. 
 
 that they were to be busy the whole of the next 
 day, he might not be admitted if he called upon 
 them ; indeed the announcement of their occupa- 
 tion, seemed to him a sort of forewarning not to 
 come till the following day. He satisfied himself 
 upon this point the more easily, because it would 
 give him an additional twenty-four hours for 
 deliberation, although before the first six had 
 elapsed, he had resolved to convey his senti- 
 ments, his hopes, and wishes, to Harriet in a 
 letter. He should then be sure that his tale 
 would be told, without any danger of inter- 
 ruption from her mother's numerous morning- 
 visitors, who were perpetually dropping in and 
 popping out ; nay, without any fear of interrup- 
 tion from the mother herself : and thus, what- 
 ever Harriet's feelings might really be, she 
 would not have the power of checking him in 
 the outset of his declaration, or nipping it in the 
 bud with a rigid frown or a freezing look. The 
 moment she had broken the seal, he was per- 
 fectly sure that she would go through the whole 
 letter ; for, even if her off"ended delicacy should 
 
THE WIDOW. 37 
 
 prompt lier to return the epistle, he felt certain 
 that her excited curiosity would induce her to 
 read every line of it first. 
 
 For the purpose of arranging the affair, and 
 concocting this interesting address, Charles 
 absented himself from society for the day, and 
 having dined hastily and alone, devoted the 
 whole evening, manifestly to the prejudice of his 
 professional advancement, to the preparation of 
 his appeal to the feelings of his beloved Harriet. 
 He proceeded to make an ardent and unequi- 
 vocal declaration of his devoted attachment, and 
 unalterable esteem and affection, dwelling at the 
 same time with becoming diffidence upon the 
 unsatisfactory state of his own prospects in life, 
 and attributing to the narrowness of his circum- 
 stances, the tardiness of the avowal which he thus 
 ventured to make, but which, until the present 
 moment, he had not felt sufficiently bold even to 
 whisper. 
 
 The intervening day between writing and 
 despatching this most important missive, gave 
 D 5 
 
58 THE WIDOW. 
 
 him full and frequent opportunities of revising 
 and correcting it, and he 
 
 perusing the epistle 
 
 Believ'd he had brought her to his whistle, 
 
 And read it like a jocund lover, 
 
 With great applause to himself twice over," 
 
 at least; and after the second perusal, having 
 turned it and shaped it exactly to what he con- 
 sidered the standard of perfect letter-writing, 
 put it carefully by, so that it might be despatched 
 early on the following morning, which in due 
 time it was, and left at the door of his Dulcinea's 
 house in Harley-street, so, as he flattered himself, 
 to catch her just at the very moment she was 
 quitting her dressing-jroom to descend to break- 
 fast. 
 
 Those only who have been similarly circum- 
 stanced — and, thanks to the generous feelings and 
 social impulses of our nature, few there are who 
 have not — can duly appreciate the anxiety in 
 which the whole of that morning was passed. 
 Dinner-time came and went — the dusk of even- 
 
THE WIDOW. 59 
 
 ing, and the shades of night covered the face of 
 the earth ; no answer — that was painful — but the 
 letter had not been returned — that was cheering ; 
 — every now and then the door of his room opened 
 and his servant entered ; his heart fluttered — he 
 looked up through the dimness of the distance — 
 at one time the man brought a bill — at another a 
 billet — now a three-cornered note — now a square 
 card " to remind ;" and from each of these in- 
 trusions arose a separate and distinct disap- 
 pointment. He would not leave home lest the 
 answer should come — he could not bear to stay 
 at home lest it should not ; and thus hoping and 
 fearing, expecting and wishing, he lingered out 
 a long and dismal evening; and at last found 
 relief from his anxiety by reading a very highly 
 praised work of the day, which, luckily, secured 
 him, what laudanum had denied, and at half-past 
 twelve he retired to rest, with a hope of sleeping 
 which he had not previously entertained. 
 
 Short, however, and troubled, were his fitful 
 slumbers ; the little repose he got, served only 
 to give reality to a series of horrid dreams, the 
 d6 
 
60 THE WIDOW. 
 
 heroine of every one of them being of course 
 Miss Harriet Franklin. Sometimes he beheld her 
 with a full-grown pair of well-fledged pinions, 
 like one of Moore's angels, winging her way to 
 the skies, and beckoning him to follow. Then he 
 saw her like St. Pierre's Virginia, shipwrecked 
 on a coral reef and dashed amongst the billows ; 
 and fancying himself another Paul, half precipi- 
 tated himself out of bed in order to snatch her 
 from danger and death. Then he beheld her, 
 like another Andromeda, chained to the entrance 
 of a cavern, in which her exemplary parent sat 
 snarling in the shape of a green, scaly-tailed 
 dragon, attended by the white-haired viscount, 
 and the red-haired baronet, as attendant devil- 
 kins of an inferior class, with hoofs, horns, talons, 
 and tails ; fired at the sight, poor Charles, like 
 Perseus, tried to destroy the threatening monster, 
 but again awoke, conscious of no result, except 
 that of having overthrown the candlestick, which 
 stood on a table by the bed-side. 
 
 More horrible visions were never procured by 
 Fuseli himself under his raw-pork regimen. He 
 
THE WIDOW. 61 
 
 could not again settle himself — he listened — 
 looked — day never was so long in breaking — 
 clocks never were so slow in striking — yet, after 
 tossing and tumbling, not in the least degree after 
 the fashion of Gay's Polly, the morning dawned ; 
 the sun began to shed its influence through the 
 curtains of his chamber window, and very shortly 
 after, that is to say, about the time when sober 
 men are retiring to their homes and families from 
 Crockford's, and well regulated ladies are an- 
 nouncing to their daughters that " this must be 
 the last quadrille," he started from his sleepless 
 bed, and hastily dressing himself, left his lodg- 
 ings in Charles-street, to breathe the yet un- 
 smoked, unheated atmosphere of one of the 
 finest mornings that ever beamed from the 
 heavens. 
 
 Unconscious whither he strolled, and careless 
 where, instinct, our second nature, led him to 
 direct his steps to the rural regions of Harley- 
 street. His walk was for health — the fresh air of 
 that northern district suited the " present temper 
 of his mind ;" and there he could see the 
 
62 THE WIDOW. 
 
 casket that contained his jewel, and watch the 
 window within the which, slept Harriet. He 
 reached the accustomed street. It was just at 
 the period of the day when the sun condescends 
 to gild the chimney-tops on one of its length- 
 ened sides, that the lover arrived : all was calm 
 and serene — there was the dwelling — there the 
 window — his east — his sun-^the daughter of 
 Mrs. Franklin was there — the shutters were 
 closed — no sign of life about the house. 
 
 Ah ! thought he, there she slumbers — my loved 
 letter, perhaps, beneath her pillow — perhaps 
 even yet waking, and repeating to herself every 
 word it contains ; I shall have an answer by- 
 and-by ; she will yet. be kind, and I shall still 
 be blest ; all which rhapsodical suppositions and 
 expectations merely going to prove, as the 
 reader already knows, how prodigiously mistaken 
 the wisest amongst us may sometimes be. 
 
 In matters of love, Charles Saville was, to say 
 truth, wise enough; at least wise enough to 
 make a tolerable fair estimate of a young lady's 
 feelings by her looks; and as he himself said, 
 
THE WIDOW. 63 
 
 when summing up the pros and cons as regarded 
 the despatch of his formal proposal, he felt con- 
 scious that when he approached her, the spark- 
 ling animation which lighted up her handsome 
 and expressive countenance, was infinitely more 
 brilliant than any produced by similar addresses 
 from any other persons with whom she asso- 
 ciated. There was a provoking downcast look 
 of cold and distant diffidence which she could 
 assume ; or, perhaps it would be more just to 
 say, which she could not conceal, from those 
 in whom she felt no interest ; a resolute enve- 
 lopement of her bright eyes in the silken shade 
 of their long lashes, which, to a stranger, was 
 positively repulsive ; but which to those, who like 
 Charles, were accustomed to bask in the sunshine 
 of the brilliant orbs, and revel in all the intel- 
 lectual blaz-e of her mind, was almost comical; 
 but all her little arts were untinctured by 
 coquetry, and this very display of preference 
 was the result of ingenuousness, warm-hearted- 
 ness, and candour ; and yet — there was no letter 
 sent to Saville. 
 
64 ^ THE WIDOW. 
 
 Two days had elapsed — his patience worn to 
 a thread — himself proportionably attenuated — 
 his breakfast again over — no letter — one o'clock, 
 ditto — two, ditto. It ceased to be endurable 
 — the delay was torture — he had suffered the 
 pein forte quite long enough ; the certainty of 
 wretchedness was preferable to the agony of 
 suspense. At three he determined upon his 
 course of action, and proceeded with new reso- 
 lution in his mind, and fresh courage in his 
 heart, once more to Harley-street. He reached 
 the interesting spot; when, — who shall describe 
 his horror at finding the whole of the windows 
 closed. What could it be ? — had death been at 
 work ! He started back— -was it possible ! In a 
 few fleeting hours — however slow to him — some 
 dreadful event had occurred. Harriet was dead 
 — dead, perhaps, for love of him. His letter had 
 never been delivered, and she, in despair at his 
 apparent neglect, had swallowed poison ! Perhaps 
 Mrs. Franklin had been summoned hastily from 
 the world ! What other perhaps ? Another mo- 
 ment could not be lost, and flying rather than 
 
THE WIDOW. 65 
 
 running across the street, he vaulted up the steps, 
 and gave a gentle rap with the knocker, ringing 
 the bell at the same time with a corresponding 
 delicacy. 
 
 This double appeal was replied to by the ap- 
 pearance in the area below, of an elderly and 
 somewhat portly personage, habited in a blue 
 cotton gown illuminated with black dots; and 
 wearing a cap of no inconsiderable dimensions, 
 decorated with a bow of dirtyish blue riband ; 
 her shoes were down at heel, and she held a 
 broom in her hand. And lifting up a face, 
 broad but by no means beautiful, she inquired 
 in a shrill tone, " What the gentleman pleased 
 to want ?" 
 
 As much astounded by this appeal from below, 
 as Denmark's Prince was at the groan of old 
 Truepenny, (as his Highness most respectfully 
 calls his lamented sire,) "in the cellarage," 
 Charles Saville not considering it specially di- 
 rected to himself, repeated the operation of 
 knocking at the door, when a repetition of the 
 
bb THE WIDOW. 
 
 demand ascended in a more shrilly tone, and 
 with an emphasis which clearly proved, that if 
 the knocking visitor did not condescend to hold 
 parlance with the inquirer below, he was not 
 likely to obtain a satisfactory answer to his ques- 
 tions. 
 
 "Is Mrs. Franklin at home?" said the half 
 angry and quite indignant Saville. 
 
 " No, Sir," said the woman — " she's left." 
 
 Left ! What, thought Saville, does she mean 
 by left — " Have the goodness," said he, " to step 
 up for a moment." 
 
 " In a minute, Sir," said the woman ; and 
 shortly after he heard her unlocking and un- 
 bolting the street door, an operation not, how- 
 ever, very rapidly performed, but which when 
 concluded, presented to his view the well known 
 hall of his Harriet's home. 
 
 " Have you got a ticket. Sir?" said the 
 woman. 
 
 " A ticket for what ?" said Charles. 
 
 " To view the premises," was the reply. 
 
THE WIDOW. 67 
 
 " I don't want to view the premises — where 
 are Mrs. Franklin and her family ?" 
 
 " They went from here early yesterday morn- 
 ing, Sir," said the female. 
 
 " Gone ! — Wliere are they gone to ?" 
 
 " I can't exactly say, Sir — into the country 
 I believe." 
 
 " When do they return ?" — 
 
 " Not at all as I knows of," said Mrs Richards, 
 such was the individual's name. 
 
 " I think you do know," said Saville, just en- 
 tering the hall ; " come, recollect." 
 
 " Upon my word I don't," answered she. 
 
 Saville knew the power of gold, and although 
 he had never yet personally experienced the de- 
 light of seeing a certain number of guas. marked 
 on a brief of his own, he felt convinced, that 
 a fee could not be misinterpreted into a bribe ; 
 and accordingly slipped the four hundredth 
 part of his annual income, into the hard and 
 furrowed palm of his newly-made friend and 
 informant. 
 
68 THE WIDOW. 
 
 " Here," said he, « take this"— she did,—" I 
 am sure that something strange must have hap- 
 pened, to send Mrs. Franklin oiF in so great a 
 hurry ; but that I care little about : you can tell 
 me all I wish to know — where is Miss Harriet ?" 
 
 Mrs. Richards appeared all at once staggered 
 — whether by the sight of the sovereign, or by 
 some new light which had broken in upon her, 
 it is impossible to decide ; but the whole expres- 
 sion of her countenance changed in an instant 
 when she heard Saville's question. 
 
 " Why do you want to know ?" said she. 
 
 " No matter why — do you know me ?" 
 
 " No," replied Mrs. Richards, " I can't say 
 as I does." . ■ 
 
 " You have not been here long then?" 
 
 " No," said Mrs. Richards ; " nor must I let 
 you stay here long, or I shall get my head in my 
 hand, as the saying is. You are the gentleman, 
 I suppose, as has been a hankering after Miss 
 Harriet for some time past — I've heard of it." 
 
 " Hush, hush !" said Saville, dreading the no- 
 
THE WIDOW. 69 
 
 toriety of his attachment, which equally surprised 
 and alarmed him, and 
 
 " Trembling at the noise himself had made." 
 
 " I see you understand what I mean. Is Miss 
 Harriet gone out of town ?" 
 
 " Not a bit of it," said Mrs. Richards, " thaf s 
 all a fudge, a catfaddle of my old missuss's — but 
 I'll tell you plainly, there has been a regular 
 quandary, as I call it, about you." 
 
 " Well, well, never mind tliat^'' said Charles, 
 "don't enter into particulars now; where is 
 your young mistress ?" 
 
 " Mind what you are about," said Mrs. 
 Richards; "she is gone to stay in Carburton- 
 street, Fitzroy-square." 
 
 " Carburton-street," repeated Saville, " what 
 an odd place., What has taken her there ?" 
 
 " She was here this morning," said Mrs. 
 Richards, " and I do believe somehow expected 
 as you would call." 
 
 Confound it ! thought Saville, so then, after 
 all, I have lost her by my own neglect. Thank 
 
70 THE WIDOW. 
 
 Heaven she is alive, and yet within my reach. 
 " Why," said he, to Mrs. Richards, " did she 
 leave this — or why quit her mother ?" 
 
 " Because missus was in an unmerciful passion, 
 and forced her to go on a visit to her aunt Dow- 
 biggin," said Mrs. Richards. 
 
 Saville had never heard Mrs. Franklin men- 
 tion this relation, but considering the lady's 
 name and her place of abode, that did not so 
 very much surprise him — " And where is your 
 old mistress ?" 
 
 " Gone to Margate," said Mrs. Richards, 
 " about some business or other relating to Miss." 
 
 Margate was a strange place for a lady of 
 Mrs. Franklin's pride and pretension to visit, but 
 a faint recollection passed through Charles's mind 
 of having heard that the red-headed baronet had 
 taken a house at Broadstairs; and " putting that 
 and that together," he immediately conjured up 
 some new conspiracy against his happiness, which 
 rendered it more than ever important for him to 
 steal an interview with his beloved, and if things 
 came to the worst, to " steal her" herself from her 
 2 
 
THE WIDOW. 71 
 
 arbitrary mother. Indeed, to the suggestion of 
 an interview with the lovely girl, he was more 
 particularly induced, because he flattered himself, 
 that Harriet's evasion of the journey to Margate, 
 was a contrivance of her's, in order to bring about 
 such an event; and this view of the case was con- 
 siderably strengthened, by the fact of her having 
 visited the house in her mother's absence in the 
 hope, as his venerable communicant had more 
 than hinted, of meeting him, when he should 
 make what she evidently considered his expected 
 call, about their luncheon-time. How exciting ! 
 how encouraging ! how emboldening ! 
 
 "Would you," said Charles, "would you. 
 Ma'am," slipping another sovereign into her half- 
 open hand — " would you undertake to convey a 
 note for me to your young lady ? it shall be a 
 very small note and very short." 
 
 " Why," said Mrs. Richards, " I do think. Sir, 
 it is a shame to keep fond hearts apart, for as the 
 song says, what is gold compared with love ?" at 
 the same moment, dropping the second sovereign 
 into her long dark pocket, to mingle and jingle 
 
72 THE WIDOW. 
 
 witli its already deposited brother coin, a brass 
 thimble, a lump of bees-wax, seven halfpence, 
 the keyof her trunk, and a much used once red 
 leather housewife. 
 
 "Will you then?" 
 
 " Trust me," said the veteran ; " I shall go 
 from this about eight on some errands — bring 
 your letter to me before that, and it shall go as 
 sure as the post." 
 
 Amiable dragon, thought Saville. " I will 
 bring my letter here then." 
 
 " Yes, do. Sir," said the old body; " but don't 
 make it up like a letter — double it up square, and 
 I can give it Miss Harriet myself, as if it was 
 some parcel left ; an4, above all, don't direct it, 
 so that if anything should be found out, nobody 
 can fix it a-top of nobody." 
 
 Excellent contrivance, thought Saville. " I 
 will be back again shortly," said he, " I feel I 
 may trust in you — so you may confide in me." 
 
 So saying, the ardent lover bounded away, 
 and hurrying himself down to the extensive 
 Oriental caravansara in Vere-street, known as 
 
THE WIDOW. 73 
 
 Ibbotson's Hotel, which he selected as the near- 
 est convenient spot for such a purpose — he wrote 
 the following lines hastily? and in such a state of 
 trepidation, that even the waiters wondered at 
 his emotion, and warned each other to keep a 
 sharp look-out on the spoons and salt-cellars be- 
 longing to the CoiFee-room. 
 
 "You will perhaps blame my intemperance, 
 and be angry with my presumption, but I cannot 
 resist making this one appeal. The sudden de- 
 parture of your mother for Margate, your equally 
 sudden removal from home, at first, reduced me 
 to despair; but I found you were not gone — that 
 you were even to-day in Harley-street — how 
 provoking to have missed you. 
 
 " I have never been introduced to your aunt, 
 nor do I recollect having heard you mention her 
 name; but as you are with her, there can be no 
 earthly impropriety in my calling, nor in your 
 admitting me, while under her care and tutelage. 
 
 " I know that you will be angry with me for 
 writing; but recollect our position : circum- 
 
 VOL. I. K 
 
74 , THE WIDOW. 
 
 stanced as we are, some allowance may surely be 
 made. I have taken advantage of the good old 
 soul in Harley-streetj to convey this to you — the 
 same medium will bring me an answer — 
 '' Yours always aiFectionately, 
 " Charles Saville." 
 
 This despatch, so speedily scrawled, and so in- 
 cautiously signed, was nevertheless most caxe- 
 fully folded according to the suggestion of the 
 venerable spider-brusher, and in a very short 
 space of time delivered into her special care, and 
 by her received with the most ardent promises of 
 entire zeal and perfect secrecy, and moreover a 
 certainty, at least, a§ far as her ideas of things in 
 general, went, of an answer the next day. It was 
 clear that the old creature wished well to her 
 amiable and kind-hearted young mistress, but she 
 became flurried, and actually trembled with the 
 alarm of responsibility ; and when a large elderly 
 female falls into a state of flusteration, it is not in 
 a minute that she can be calmed. Like a three- 
 decker in a gale of wind, it is a long time before 
 
THE WIDOW. 75 
 
 she begins to pitch and roll, but when she does, it 
 takes an infinitely longer time to get her steady 
 again. Whether Mrs. Richards felt that Charles 
 might be disposed to heal the wound which her 
 present conduct in his behalf seemed to make in 
 her conscience by a fresh application of gold- 
 beater's skin, or whether like much more im- 
 portant official old women in blue ribands, she 
 began to tremble at the responsibility she felt she 
 had incurred, it is not for me even to guess ; but 
 certain it is, that her agitation prevented Charles 
 from making any of the inquiries he had intended 
 with regard to the disposition of the establishment, 
 and sundry other little matters in which he was 
 most deeply interested : however, amply satisfied 
 with the progress he had already made, he once 
 more left his ancient go-between, under a promise 
 to " call again to-morrow," for his answer. 
 
 How different were the feelings by which he 
 was animated to-day, from those which had for 
 the two preceding ones depressed him almost 
 to despair. He visited chambers, little in the 
 mind, it is true, to drudge through deeds, or pore 
 e2 
 
76 , THE WIDOW. 
 
 over precedents, but still with a heart firm of 
 purpose, and an assurance that if he were once 
 possessed of his Harriet, she, herself, would 
 be the most powerful stimulus to exertion ; and 
 at the moment abandoning all his former plans of 
 a cottage, a cow, and comfort in the country, he 
 felt himself with an ascending power, rising over 
 the heads and wigs of his more erudite and 
 learned brethren, to the highest pinnacle of pre- 
 ferment and pre-eminence. He went to his 
 club — it was not of the first class, but very con- 
 venient — and there having fallen in with one or 
 two of those free and easy good-natured crea- 
 tures who fancy their society always agreeable, 
 joined them, because they would not permit him 
 to enjoy one of the great luxuries of such com- 
 munities — a quiet dinner in a corner ; for who 
 goes to clubs to dine ? men go there when they 
 have nothing else to do, to " take their feed" and 
 have done with it — and there, accordingly, he 
 stayed in the highest possible spirits, until it 
 was quite time he should retire to rest, in order 
 to be ready for the events of the following day. 
 
THE WIDOW. 77 
 
 How diifereiitly was this night passed from 
 that, the dreams of which have already been 
 recorded. At once lulled and excited by the 
 copious libations which he had poured, he fan- 
 cied, as he slept, that his dear friend Mrs. Frank- 
 lin, was transformed into a Margate steam- 
 packet, with a chimney, paddles, and a safety- 
 valve ; while Harriet appeared to him as the genius 
 of Britain, chipping his name upon a chalky 
 cliff with a silver chisel. Butterflies, sylphs, 
 bunches of roses, showers of gold, spice-trees 
 all in full bearing, and honeysuckle bowers 
 in full bloom, danced before his eyes ; and in the 
 midst of all this tumultuous, confused happiness, 
 the ardent and enthusiastic lover slept until 
 ten o'clock the following morning. 
 
 e3 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Punctuality in love is neglect — to avoid the 
 imputation of wliicli, our anxious hero was at his 
 post in Harley-street, while yet the dial of Vere- 
 street chapel was announcing it to be half-past 
 eleven o'clock, and as if a certain sympathy had 
 operated upon the feelings of the venerable 
 duenna, he beheld her peeping and peering from 
 the well-known door, just as he caught a dis- 
 tant glimpse of it. The much-wished-for port in 
 view, he crowded sail, and speedily reached his 
 object; and much to his satisfaction, and not a 
 little to his surprise, received from her withered 
 hands the answer of his Love : such, however, 
 was the old body's alarm and trepidation, that 
 she would not allow him to stop in the house to 
 
THE WIDOW. 79 
 
 look at a line of it, and it was not until he reached 
 the square, that he was able to burst open the 
 seal, and read as follows : 
 
 " You are a shabby fellow — however, never 
 mind — we will settle that another time. I might 
 have been carried off against my will, for all 
 you have done to prevent it — never mind. My 
 aunt's temper has grown unbearable, she is a 
 perfect divil ; don't come here upon any account. 
 I will be walking down the sunny side of Port- 
 land-place to-day at two; if you happen to be 
 there, we may meet. 
 
 " Yours truly, 
 
 " Harriet." 
 
 This note, directed and secretly delivered to 
 Saville ; the language so extraordinary; the 
 hand so well disguised ; the point of assignation 
 so well selected ; Portland-place ! the only street 
 in London or its suburbs, in which ladies may 
 walk unattended by a servant; so much tact 
 displayed, and so much more energy and deci- 
 e4 
 
80 THE WIDOW. 
 
 sion than he had anticipated in his tender, gentle 
 Harriet, — could he believe his eyes, his senses ! 
 What wonderful creatures women are, thought 
 he ; to fancy that a girl all reserve, all diffi- 
 dence, all shrinking modesty, when in the pre- 
 sence of those who might be supposed to have a 
 controul over her, the moment she is released from 
 restraint, should give the rein to her feelings, and 
 commit to paper the outpourings of her heart 
 and mind, in language the most unequivocal, not 
 to say the most extraordinary. To be sure, the 
 word descriptive of her respected parent's proto- 
 type, was spelled divil, with an i instead of an e — 
 a circumstance which makes a considerable dif- 
 ference in the strength of the expression. But it 
 cannot be denied, that his surprise and pleasure 
 at the frankness and readiness with which she 
 met his views, were mingled with something very 
 like disappointment and regret at the sudden 
 abandonment of her general rule of conduct. 
 But those feelings speedily gave place to another, 
 which if not quite so well or reasonably founded, 
 was, at least, infinitely more consoling and grati- 
 
THE WIDOW. 81 
 
 fying. He Could not help admitting that her 
 precipitancy of action and freedom of expression, 
 bordered very closely upon something extremely 
 like indecorum ; but having placed it all to the 
 account of the strength and power of her affec- 
 tion for himself, he very shortly became reconciled 
 to this natural extravagance, and set down the 
 whole proceeding as one of remarkable energy 
 and peculiar independence of character. 
 
 Of one thing there could be no doubt ; namely, 
 that he should be at his post at the appointed 
 hour. He made his arrangements accordingly, 
 and turned the corner of Langham-place, exactly 
 as the clock of that beautiful and senselessly cen- 
 sured church, was striking the hour of two. It 
 was a remarkably fine day ; the broad pavement 
 of Portland-place was thickly studded with belles 
 of all ages, , sizes, professions, characters, and 
 descriptions ; their figures, various as their avo- 
 cations, were beautifully developed by the in- 
 fluence of a brisk southerly breeze, from which 
 they endeavoured, or seemed to endeavour, to 
 protect themselves, by divers and sundry evolu- 
 F. 5 
 
82 THE WIDOW. 
 
 tions and devices highly illustrative of female 
 ingenuity, and which, if they failed of their im- 
 plied purpose, afforded the more sheltered spec- 
 tator the opportunity of witnessing the multipli- 
 city and diversity of attitude, into which it is 
 possible to throw the human form. 
 
 The feelings of our hero, whose delicacy in 
 regard to the conduct of females, was propor- 
 tionate to his admiration of their charms and 
 virtues, had scarcely recovered their tone, or 
 rallied from the shock which they had received, 
 from the something so terribly like an assigna- 
 tion . which Harriet's note contained ; and it is 
 curious enough, but not more strange than true, 
 that although dying to see her, he almost hoped 
 she might not be there, and that he had miscon- 
 strued the real meaning of what, it must be con- 
 fessed, appeared a " palpable hinf' on the part 
 of the young lady. 
 
 Full of nervous apprehension, sickening 
 anxiety, and the mingled expectation and dread 
 of finding his hitherto timid and retiring Miss 
 Franklin, wending, or rather winding her way 
 
THE WIDOW. 83 
 
 down the Eolian parade, Saville proceeded on 
 his tour of inspection. He walked and gazed, 
 and gazed and walked — but no Harriet did he 
 see. Many a favourable glance was shot from the 
 bright eyes of sundry single damsels, who, from 
 their manner and the expression of their coun- 
 tenances, appeared to be upon something of the 
 same errand as himself, looking for companions ; 
 but to him, the beloved of whose heart is far away, 
 weak and impotent is the artillery of other eyes, 
 and he shrank from the bright weapons by which 
 he was assailed, and turned to seek the sweet 
 and mild expression of that countenance, which 
 was all the world to him. 
 
 Missing an appointment, or being discomfited 
 in one, is extremely disagreeable, more especially 
 when the venue is laid in some extremely well 
 frequented spot. The constant walk to the top of 
 the street, and the equally constant return to the 
 bottom of it, in time attract the eyes of the 
 groups who are taking healthful exercise without 
 a grain of sentiment in their souls ; and after 
 four or five rencontres, they find it difficult to 
 E 6 
 
84 THE WIDOW. 
 
 restrain, (that is, if tliey liave even the charity and 
 consideration to try to conceal,) the amusement 
 which they feel at the disappointment of the 
 wandering and forgotten walker, until at length 
 their barbarity drives him entirely away, almost 
 more angry than disappointed at the frustration 
 of his scheme. 
 
 Saville had been polishing the purbecks of 
 Portland-place, until' the clock, which had stricken 
 two when he arrived, had sounded four. Harriet, 
 the punctual, the well regulated Harriet — his 
 very encomiums sounded like watch-work — to 
 have so overstaid her time, if she meant that he 
 should come — or perhaps forgotten or neglected 
 it altogether — it was passing strange. Indeed, 
 as he was conscious from the steps which 
 had been taken, and the movements at head- 
 quarters, that matters did not look favour- 
 ably for him, he began to apprehend that his 
 darling Harriet had gotten involved in some 
 difficulty, or entangled in some embarrassment 
 with her aunt Dowbiggin on his account, and that 
 Mrs. Franklin had taken some measures unknown 
 
THE WIDOW. 85 
 
 to her daughter, in order eiFectually to prevent 
 any intercourse between her and himself. 
 
 All surmises were vain, all delays dangerous ; 
 Harriet did not appear, and Saville resolved 
 upon another trip to Harley-street, and another 
 letter to the young lady. Prudence, however, 
 which seldom interferes with the pursuits of 
 gentlemen suffering under Saville's complaint, 
 so far checked him in his proceedings, as to sug- 
 gest that as the old servant had exhibited strong 
 marks of repugnance and disinclination to con- 
 tinue the office of forwarding letters, he had 
 better send Harriet a verbal message, to say that 
 he had kept the appointment she had proposed, 
 and regretted to find her not equally punctual. 
 
 This he considered a masterly bit of policy. 
 It lessened the danger of discovery; it dimi- 
 nished the weight of responsibility ; and although 
 he did not carry on his affaire de cceur upon the 
 prudential system of " never writing a letter 
 and never destroying one ;" he had fancied Har- 
 riet's aunt into so formidable an enemy, that he 
 congratulated himself upon any contrivance which 
 
THE WIDOW. 
 
 was likely to keep him out of the range of he 
 malice. 
 
 He accordingly saw and confided to the old 
 woman in Harley-street the announcement of 
 his obedience to th& commands, or rather the 
 suggestions of his beloved, and of his unsuccess- 
 ful saunter at the appointed place ; but the satis- 
 faction which was afforded him by the readiness 
 of his venerable messenger to be the bearer of 
 this little history, was somewhat weakened by 
 an explanation which she thought proper to give 
 touching the real cause of the watchfulness 
 of Miss Harriet's aunt, and the consequent 
 difficulty of keeping open a literary correspon- 
 dence. 
 
 " I believe, Sir," said Mrs. Richards, " that 
 something happened at the last Epsom races, — 
 what I don't exactly know, but so we in the house 
 hear, — about some soldier officer, which makes 
 Mrs. Dowbiggin keep a sharp look out after him 
 and her; and I know sometimes, lately, when she 
 has been talking about you, Mrs. D. has snubbed 
 her, and bid her give up all such stuff, and turn 
 
THE WIDOW. 87 
 
 her thoughts to marrying as her ma wishes 
 her." 
 
 " What !" said Saville, wondering how a per- 
 son in the condition of Mrs. Richards, could 
 be so well informed in the secrets of the family, 
 " she meant Mr. Smith, I suppose ?" 
 
 " To be sure she did," said the woman ; " be- 
 cause you know it^s a great catch for miss, all 
 things considered; howsumdever I am quite 
 sure she'll be fit to break her heart to think of 
 not meeting you. I am certain she meant to go, 
 because just afore I came from her aunt's, she 
 was getting a bit of cold beefsteak-pie and some 
 pickled inions, and scarcely give herself time to 
 swallow a pint o' porter, so that she might get 
 to Portland-place in time." 
 
 " Onions and porter !" exclaimed Saville ; 
 " my good woman, what are you talking about ?" 
 
 " Oh, Sir," replied she, " you mus'n't fancy 
 that young ladies are always the prim stuck-up 
 things they seem afore company, when they turn 
 their eyes up at this thing, and throw them 
 down at the other thing, and look as if butter 
 
88 THE WIDOW. 
 
 would not melt in their mouths ; Miss Harriet's 
 as good as another at her knife and fork ; and as 
 for a wee drappie " 
 
 " You are mad !" interrupted Saville, "raving 
 mad." 
 
 " La, no, Sir," said Mrs. Richards ; " After 
 that affair with Lieutenant O'Rotherham, poor 
 Miss Harriet took on, and was as peeking as 
 peeking, and eat nothing for a whole fortnight ; 
 I'm sure we were all glad enough to see her take 
 to it again." 
 
 " Lieutenant O'Rotherham !" muttered Saville ; 
 " then there is an end of every thing in the 
 world; death and destruction stare me in the 
 face. This comes of rashly plunging into an at- 
 tachment, and blindly devoting one's self to an 
 object which, after all, proves unworthy ! Har- 
 riet is depraved, — abandoned; and I am the 
 dupe of her hypocrisy, — the victim of her du- 
 plicity !" 
 
 This was almost more than he could bear. 
 Such a blow tells doubly : it wounds the amour 
 propre of a man in two places ; it stabs him to 
 
THE WIDOW. 89 
 
 the heart to find that he has a favoured rival, 
 and it cuts him to the quick to think that he has 
 been deceived by her whom he thought so long 
 devoted to him ; his feelings and his pride are thus 
 equally martyred, and his mind is full of anger, 
 jealousy, and shame. 
 
 Saville, however, resolved upon pausing before 
 he wholly abandoned himself to misery, and his 
 once loved Harriet to the ignominy to which, it 
 appeared at the moment, she had so justly sub- 
 jected herself. The exaggerations of servants ; 
 their misconstructions and perversions of the 
 simplest circumstances; the position in the fa- 
 mily of this old woman ; her evident ignorance 
 upon many points of Mrs. Franklin's domestic 
 arrangements, all weighed with him as so many 
 reasons for receiving her hateful hints with cau- 
 tion. He was resolved to meet his death- 
 blow, if he were doomed to suffer, from Harriet 
 herself, — from herself to ascertain, if possible, 
 the reasons for her extraordinary conduct, and 
 learn from her own lips the motives of a double 
 falsehood, which could lead her to express a 
 
90 THE WIDOW. 
 
 wish to meet and maintain her acquaintance 
 with him, while, if her own messenger were to 
 be trusted, she had in some way, not extremely 
 intelligible, seriously committed herself in an- 
 other quarter. 
 
 " Make my compliments," said Saville, all 
 that has been written upon the subject of his 
 doubts and fears, having flashed through his 
 mind in a couple of seconds — " make my com- 
 pliments to your young mistress, and entreat 
 her, if possible, to let me hear from her to- 
 morrow, and however or wherever it may best 
 be accomplished, fix some time and place where 
 I may see her, if it be but for five minutes." 
 
 "La, Sir," said tjie . old woman, "she'll be 
 sure to do that — bless your eyes, she's dying to 
 see you. But don't stop now ; come to-morrow, 
 and you shall see her — perhaps here. You keep 
 up your spirits : even if she should marry old 
 Smith, to please her mother, she don't care the 
 value of a brass farthing for him ; but as I was a 
 saying, don't you stop here now ; come to-mor- 
 row about noon." 
 
THE WIDOW. 91 
 
 " I may rely ?" said Saville. 
 
 " You may, Sir," said Mrs. Richards, " you 
 may be sure o' me ; you are a gem'man, and be- 
 haves as sich, and you need not fear that I shall 
 play you foul. So good day, Sir ; now go along, 
 there's a good man." 
 
 Saying which she shut the door, and left 
 Saville overcome by a combination of feelings 
 which it would be difficult to describe. His 
 opinions of women were the most exalted. Of 
 all women he naturally fancied, being a lover, 
 that Harriet Franklin was the perfection ; and 
 yet, from what had dropped from her retainer, it 
 seemed as if the match with Smith had been 
 hurried on to conceal, or rather patch up some 
 indiscretion of which she had been guilty. So ! 
 the eyes which had beamed with the sweet expres- 
 sion of affection upon him, had shone with equal 
 warmth upon another; and the rosy lips over 
 which had flowed the purest sentiments of friend- 
 ship and esteem, had, perhaps, been pressed by 
 a half-pay Irish lieutenant at Epsom races. 
 
 This seemed in some degree to account for 
 
92 THE WIDOW. 
 
 the hawk-like activity with which Mrs. Franklin 
 had pounced upon the matured millionaire in 
 the sticking-plaister shorts. This solved the 
 mystery of placing her daughter under the 
 charge, almost in the custody, of an aunt, un- 
 heard of in their happier days ; and oh what a 
 pang did these reflections cost him ! to lose the 
 object of his devotion was surely enough, but 
 to know that such a being as Harriet Franklin 
 could have so committed herself was worse than 
 death. 
 
 To death, indeed, it seems extremely probable 
 that our much to be pitied young hero would 
 very shortly have consigned himself, had he not 
 been awakened from pne of his horrid reveries 
 in which he was indulging, as he almost uncon- 
 sciously paced the pavement of Albemarle-street, 
 on his way to his lodgings, by the astounding 
 appearance of one of the tall, leggy footmen be- 
 longing to the establishment of Mrs. Franklin, 
 whom he beheld dissipating his dignified leisure 
 by sucking the gold head of his long cane at the 
 door of a milliner's house, as he stood atten- 
 
THE WIDOW. 93 
 
 tively watcliing two small boys playing marbles 
 on the pavement. 
 
 Saville looked at tbe man, who saw him, and 
 capped accordingly. 
 
 " With whom are you living now?" said Saville 
 to the servant, struck with the similarity of the 
 livery to that of his once much-esteemed friend, 
 and thinking it rather odd that Isaac, — so was 
 this two yards and a quarter of humanity called, 
 — should have been so speedily enlisted into 
 another service, and so very rapidly equipped. 
 
 " With missus. Sir," said Isaac. 
 
 " What— Mrs. Franklin ?" said Saville. 
 
 " Yes, Sir," replied Isaac. 
 
 " When does she come back to town?" in- 
 quired Saville. 
 
 " She harn't left it yet," answered the foot- 
 man. 
 
 " Not gone !" exclaimed the lover. " Where 
 is she then ?" 
 
 " In here. Sir," said the man, " buying 
 things." 
 
 " Wbere is your young mistress ?" 
 
94 THE WIDOW. 
 
 " At her aunt's. Sir," said Isaac. 
 
 A thought — a notion — an idea flashed into 
 Saville's mind ; — it was desperation, but what of 
 that, violent diseases require violent remedies, — 
 why not strike the blow, and risk an effort 
 which should make or mar him at once. He 
 resolved upon the instant; one more appeal to 
 Mrs. Franklin should be made; her departure 
 seemed providentially delayed; should he? — 
 Yes — the yeas had it. 
 
 Having screwed his courage to the sticking 
 place, he accordingly knocked at the milliner's 
 door. A sweet pretty girl, with melting blue 
 eyes, mantling blushes, clustering curls, and a 
 pinafore, opened it;, she was dressed like a 
 pattern doll, and might have served as a sign 
 for her mistress's tireshop, and would at any 
 other time have attracted somewhat more of 
 Saville's attention than at this particular crisis 
 he felt disposed to pay her. He hastily 
 inquired for Mrs. Franklin, and the little por- 
 tress, almost without consideration, admitted 
 him. She was preceding him up stairs, when 
 
 2 
 
THE WIDOW. ' 95 
 
 she suddenly hesitated, as if she had too readily- 
 granted the gentleman's request; but then re- 
 collecting the age and standing of Mrs. F., 
 which to the eye and mind of a being in the 
 hey-day of sixteen, seemed infinitely more se- 
 rious than they really were, she felt assured in 
 the course she had adopted, and without much 
 apparent repugnance, threw open the door of the 
 front drawing-room, and in a moment the lover 
 stood in the presence of the person he most 
 dreaded upon earth. 
 
 If the trepidation of one of the performers in 
 this scene was great, the surprise of the other 
 even transcended it. Saville stammered, trem- 
 bled, and endeavoured to explain how he had 
 gotten there; Mrs. Franklin threw an expres- 
 sion of astonishment into her still handsome 
 countenance, and the fair portress, (whether 
 wishing to spare both parties the pain of having 
 a witness to their embarrassment, or because it 
 was the custom of the establishment, it is quite 
 impossible to say,) no sooner saw that the lady and 
 gentleman were known to each other, than she 
 
96 THE WIDOW. 
 
 quitted the room and shut the door ; a measure 
 which as Madame " Chose," the woman of the 
 house, was gone hunting for echantillons for Mrs. 
 Franklin's inspection, left them tete-a-Ute. 
 
 " My dear Mr. Saville," said Mrs. Franklin, 
 " why are you here ? Of all things in the world 
 it was my object to have spared you this. I 
 hoped to have left London without our meeting, 
 for I candidly admit I esteem you too much to 
 wish, or to be compelled to cause you needless 
 pain or uneasiness." 
 
 " I entirely appreciate your kindness and 
 consideration," said Saville, much relieved, yet 
 somewhat overcome by the conciliatory tone in 
 which he found himself addressed by his Har- 
 riet's mother. 
 
 " Your letter to Harriet, Mr, Saville," said 
 Mrs. Franklin, "I honestly confess 1 did not 
 deliver to her, nor does she even now know of 
 your having sent it. When you are aware of 
 my motives for this apparent neglect of your 
 wishes, I trust you will approve of them. I did 
 not intend to return it to you until 1 had actually 
 
THE WIDOW. 97 
 
 left town, in order, as I have just said, to avoid 
 an interview, which, without advantage to either 
 of us, could not fail to be painful to both." 
 
 " Miss Franklin," said Saville, " is " 
 
 " At her aunt's," replied Mrs. Franklin ; 
 " where she will remain for a short time ; indeed 
 until I leave town." 
 
 " I had heard you were already gone," said 
 Saville. 
 
 " I had intended to go earlier," replied the 
 lady, " but poor Harriet's health is extremely 
 delicate, and the flurry occasioned by the cir- 
 cumstances in which she is placed, has quite 
 upset her ; so that although I had given up 
 Harley-street, I could not let her leave me till 
 the day before yesterday. She is but a weak 
 plant, and requires great care ; and the loss of 
 appetite which I have observed in her during 
 the last week, has alarmed me considerably." 
 
 It was delightful to Saville to hear Harriet 
 thus spoken of, as yet his friend at least, and 
 one in whom they both had an interest ; the loss 
 of appetite he hoped might be only a maternal 
 
 VOL. I. F 
 
98 THE WIDOW. 
 
 fancy ; a hope considerably strengthened by the 
 anecdote of the " beefsteak pie and pickled 
 onions." 
 
 '* Under the circumstances," continued Mrs. 
 Franklin, who, apprehensive that she had suffered 
 the conversation to take a turn which Saville 
 might misconstrue into the " favourable," — " I 
 thought, knowing as I could not fail to do, the 
 subject of your letter to my child, and knowing 
 her fate to be irrevocably fixed, it would have 
 been barbarous to give her, what I felt convinced 
 was a declaration of your sentiments, which, 
 whether she ever felt a disposition to listen to 
 them, or not, would, at this juncture, have only 
 excited and agitated her, without any possible 
 advantage to either of you." 
 
 " Is it then quite decided ?" said Saville, trem- 
 blingly. 
 
 " Irrevocably settled," said Mrs. Franklin ; 
 '' \hQ trousseau is ready, and the day fixed." 
 
 " Is there no chance, then, of " 
 
 " Not a hope," said Mrs. Franklin ; " or 
 rather I should say, not a fear." 
 
THE WIDOW. 99 
 
 " And is Miss Franklin equally pleased with 
 the match with yourself?" said Saville; " pardon 
 my question; but next to enjoying happiness 
 with her, to know that she herself is happy, will 
 be some consolation." 
 
 " Indeed I believe so," said Mrs. Franklin. 
 
 " Are you quite sure ?" said Saville, who 
 grew energetic, in proportion to the calmness 
 and readiness to listen which Mrs. Franklin 
 evinced: — " Has there been no compulsion 
 used to force her into this union? Be candid, 
 my dear Madam, with one whose fate seems 
 linked with lier's. Has not the affair of Lieute- 
 nant O'Rotherham, — I see you start, — I am 
 aware of the circumstances, — has not this busi- 
 ness, which, after all, may be but a trifle, been 
 urged upon her as a reason for consenting to a 
 marriage with a man old enough to be her 
 grandfather." 
 
 " Lieutenant who ?" exclaimed Mrs. Franklin. 
 " O'Rotherham," replied Saville ; "I mean 
 the affair at Epsom races; the cause, as I am 
 f2 
 
100. THE WIDOW. 
 
 told, of your sending her to Mrs. Dowbiggin's 
 for safety sake." 
 
 " Mercy on us !" exclaimed Mrs. Franklin, 
 jumping from her seat and ringing the bell most 
 violently ; — " has your sorrow taken so serious 
 a turn as this ? What shall I do — what will be- 
 come of me — alone and " 
 
 At this moment several alarmed virgins of the 
 establishment rushed into the apartment. 
 
 " Save me!" continued the lady; "protect 
 me — I had no idea of the effects of misplaced 
 affection." 
 
 " Lor !" screamed the mistress of the house, 
 who followed her vestals into the drawing-room, 
 armed with a yard hieasure : — " Vat, has he 
 presume to be rude to madame ?" 
 
 " Rude !" screamed the matron ; " quite the 
 contrary. Ma'am; he's mad — mad as a March 
 hare !" 
 
 " Indeed, Mrs. Franklin," said Saville, " I 
 am as entirely in my senses as ever I was in my 
 life." 
 
THE WIDOW. 101 
 
 " Send for a porter or two to get him out," 
 muttered one of the misses to an assistant, who 
 glided forth to procure a couple of chairmen 
 from the corner of Stafford-street, in case of 
 necessity. 
 
 " All I have said, or repeated," continued 
 Saville, " I heard from a person who ought to 
 know — Mrs. Richards." 
 
 " And who may Mrs. Richards be ?" said 
 Mrs. Franklin, who was standing in the centre 
 of a circle of guardian nymphs : — " who are all 
 the people of whom you have been talking? 
 Really, Mr. Saville, you must be crazy." 
 
 '• Mr. Saville !" screamed one of the girls ; 
 " Oh, where is Mr. Saville ? — show him to me — 
 show him to me !" saying which she fell nearly 
 lifeless into the arms of a sister of the society. 
 
 At this most unexpected event, Saville was 
 infinitely more surprised than any body else of 
 the party, Mrs. Franklin began to think the 
 insanity was infectious, and looked as if she 
 expected to be bitten on the instant. 
 
 " Vat, in de name of all de saints, is de matter 
 f3 
 
102 THE WIDOW. 
 
 with you, Ma'mselle Harriet," exclaimed Ma- 
 dame « Chose.' 
 
 " Nothing, Ma'am — oh, nothing*," faltered out 
 the poor girl. 
 
 " And who," scrfeamed Mrs. Franklin, invo- 
 luntarily snatching the yard measure from the 
 lady abbess, " in the name of wonder, are Lieu- 
 tenant O'Rotherham and Mrs. Dowbiggin?" 
 
 " I'll tell you, Ma'am," sobbed the recover- 
 ing, yet still half-fainting girl; — " Lieutenant 
 O'Rotherham, Ma'am, is an Irish gentleman on 
 half-pay, to whom I was once attached; Mrs. 
 Dowbiggin is my aunt, and Mr. Smith is the 
 respectable individual to whom I am engaged to 
 be married." 
 
 This was a thunderstroke to Saville, who 
 never having seen the " young person" in the 
 whole course of his existence, was overwhelmed 
 at finding her so perfectly au fait as to Mrs. 
 Franklin's friends and connexions, a knowledge 
 of whom she had appeared so furiously resolved 
 to disavow ; but the reader will vainly attempt 
 to comprehend the nature of his feelings, when 
 
THE WIDOW. 103 
 
 Mrs. Franklin, turning upon him a look expres- 
 sive of mingled anger and contempt, ex- 
 claimed — 
 
 " So, Sir, your visit to this house, then, was 
 intended for this young lady, rather than for 
 me?" 
 
 " Indeed, indeed, no," said Saville ; " the 
 Fates, to call them nothing worse, seem to have 
 taken the management of this aifair into their 
 own hands. I do assure you I never saw this 
 young lady in my life, before this minute." 
 
 " Indeed !" said Mrs. Franklin, incredulously. 
 
 " Indeed, Ma'am," said the distressed damsel, 
 " the gentleman never did, nor did I ever see 
 him in the whole course of my existence till 
 now." 
 
 " What for you faint. Miss Harriet," said the 
 supreme head of the establishment, " if you no 
 know him ?" 
 
 " Because," said she, " in Mr. Saville I ex- 
 pected to see a person totally different from that 
 gentleman ; a person with whom I am slightly 
 acquainted, but whose name I did not know ; 
 f4 
 
104 THE WIDOW. 
 
 and who, from the description given me by one 
 of my father's servants, I concluded to be 
 Mr. S." 
 
 " And pray. Miss/' said Mrs. Franklin, who 
 could not bear to be imposed upon, and who did 
 not believe one syllable of the young person's 
 story, " who may your father happen to be ?" 
 
 " His name, like mine," replied Miss Harriet, 
 " is Hammerman ; he is the auctioneer and 
 house-agent of whom you hired your house in 
 Harley-street, and has now again the letting 
 of it." 
 
 " And then," said Saville, " Mrs. Richard's 
 is" 
 
 " One of my father's -servants, who is living 
 there in the day-time, to show it to any body 
 who wishes to see it." 
 
 " And your name is Harriet ?" 
 
 " Exactly so." 
 
 " And you wrote the " 
 
 " Yes, yes," anxiously interrupted the young 
 lady, not anxious that Madame should become 
 more than necessarily acquainted with all her 
 
THE WIDOW. 105 
 
 little amatory proceedings ; " and all this mis- 
 take may be attributed to tlie stupidity of that 
 old woman." 
 
 " Or," said Saville, " to my own blindness. — 
 Oh, Mrs. Franklin, what sufficient apology can 
 I make for having permitted myself for a moment 
 to believe that your daughter could have been 
 guilty of the indiscretion which I have attri- 
 buted to her, or imagine her capable of conduct 
 so incompatible with her station or feelings — how 
 can I atone" 
 
 " Well, I am sure. Sir," said Miss Hammer- 
 man : " you may as well keep a civil tongue in 
 your head, or perhaps some of these fine morn- 
 ings you may get yourself affronted. The gentle- 
 man I took for you would be preciously angry 
 with me if he knew who I had mistaken him for ; 
 and as for conduct, and compatibility, and all that, 
 my father is one of the churchwardens, and if 
 you offer to talk scandal about me, he'll 
 make no more ado than whip you up in a white 
 sheet, and force you to do penance in the parish 
 church." 
 
 f5 
 
106 THE WIDOW. 
 
 "Hoity-toity!" exclaimed the lady of the 
 house ; " vat all dis — put your tongue into your 
 teeths, Miss, and leave de room, incessament 
 — instantly — go out wid you. Miss Farrow, go 
 down and tell Miss Frowsty to send away the 
 chairmen." 
 
 Saville felt considerably relieved by the dis- 
 covery that he had been the victim of a blunder 
 only; and that the voluntary eclaircissement 
 afforded by Miss Hammerman was so admirably 
 apropos : it did, indeed, what few other things 
 could have done — cleared up a mystery in which 
 he had been most extraordinarily involved, and 
 which, in the outset of the adventure, appeared 
 likely so far to have incensed Mrs. Franklin 
 against him. as to induce her to forego the plea- 
 sure of ever hearing anything more about him. 
 
 Mrs. Franklin, as we have already seen, 
 was, like many thousand others, always ex- 
 tremely good humoured when she was pleased. 
 Recollecting what she had been extremely fond 
 of in her youthful days, and not indeed having 
 entirely abandoned, the practice of flirting. 
 
THE WIDOW. 107 
 
 whenever an opportunity offered, she was 
 always disposed to afford every facility to the 
 soft communings of lovers and their beloveds ; 
 and as we have ventured already to premise, she 
 liked Saville. She saw that Harriet liked him — 
 they found him extremely pleasant; and it is 
 extraordinary what rapid strides a man makes, 
 and what a firm hold he obtains in a house where 
 he is so fortunate as to please both mother and 
 daughter. If Mrs. Franklin had been asked 
 what would have been most agreeable in the 
 way of matrimony for her child, she would have 
 confessed a marriage with Saville ; but the ad- 
 mission which he had made of his inability to 
 " settle," or indeed to maintain the charges of 
 an establishment, joined to the extreme tenuity 
 of Harriet's fortune, and the overpowering in- 
 fluence of her father's friend, decided the ques- 
 tion, and so separated two fond hearts. 
 
 With these feelings, however, towards him, 
 
 Mrs. Franklin listened not only with tenderness, 
 
 but even anxiety to Saville's vindication of his 
 
 conduct, until she became at length satisfied, that 
 
 F 6 
 
103 THE WIDOW. 
 
 even Harriet herself could not have been offended 
 at what were proved to be his misfortunes only ; 
 unless indeed it were that he had intimated a 
 belief of her being the companion of a rakish 
 half-pay lieutenant in an excursion to Epsom, and 
 entertained a suspicion of her having committed 
 the infinitely greater atrocity of eating beef- 
 steak pie and " pickled inions," moistening her 
 ruby lips at the same time with a " swig," of 
 Whitbread's '« heavy wet." 
 
 Convinced, therefore, that as he had never 
 seen Miss Hammerman, and was perfectly 
 unknown to her, that he was perfectly exone- 
 rated upon the score of infidelity, Mrs. Franklin, 
 who admired constanoy to her very heart, dis- 
 armed herself of the yard measure and a roll of 
 gros de Naples, which, in the moment of alarm, 
 she had pressed into the service of her threatened 
 dignity and person, and kindly offered Saville a 
 seat in her carriage to the hotel in Jermyn-street, 
 whither she had shifted her quarters previous to 
 her departure for the country. 
 
 Miss Hammerman got severely lectured by 
 
THE WIDOW. 109 
 
 her principal for her numerous blunders, and 
 left the house, declaring she never would return 
 to it. In the sequel, she, like the young lady for 
 whom she had been mistaken, married her Mr. 
 Smith, to the popularity of whose name very 
 much of the mischief that has already occurred 
 to our hero may be attributed. 
 
 It is a common, although now, perhaps, some- 
 what formal expression, that such a one has been 
 " kind in his carriage" towards another; never 
 could it have been said with greater propriety or 
 a stricter regard to truth, than in the case of 
 Mrs. Franklin, who " in her carriage," on the 
 way to her hotel, expressed herself not only com- 
 pletely satisfied of the absurdity of the incident 
 from the effects of which Charles Saville had just 
 been extricated, but sorry that circumstances, 
 inevitable and imperious, should have induced 
 her to advocate a marriage for her daughter, not 
 only not in perfect accordance with her views or 
 principles, but which was practically in decided 
 opposition to the encouragement which he must 
 be conscious she had given him to visit, 
 
110 THE WIDOW. 
 
 and indeed, for a short period, almost domesti- 
 cate himself with her and her daughter. Yet 
 to Saville, what was kindness, what was civility 
 — it is true they conciliated and soothed; but a 
 murderer who smiles is still a murderer ; and in 
 the present case the murder of his happiness 
 was actually committed, and would soon out, for 
 it appeared that Harriet was at the present 
 moment staying with her aunt, somewhere in 
 the vicinity of London, where she was to remain 
 until her marriage, her respectable intended being 
 constantly associated with her, twaddling and 
 toddling after her, wherever she went. 
 
 " I have candidly told you the whole history," 
 said Mrs. Franklin ; ',' and I will now return 
 you the letter which you intended for my poor 
 child. All efforts to change her destiny would 
 now be unavailing ; and when I repeat that I am 
 sure the avowal of your affection for her would 
 have exceedingly distressed her, I trust you will 
 think me justified in what I have done ; and above 
 all, that in the present stage of our affairs, you 
 will not avail yourself of any information I may 
 
THE WIDOW. Ill 
 
 have given you, to attempt any plan for seeing 
 her clandestinely, or persuading her to any step 
 which could only terminate in the ruin of both 
 of you." 
 
 " I cannot so quietly admit the necessity of 
 ruin," said Saville, encouraged by the suavity of 
 Mrs. Franklin's manner, and his own belief 
 that women of her turn of character generally 
 desire men not to do any thing which they par- 
 ticidarly wish to have done ; " I have an inde- 
 pendence, small, I admit, but with Harriet's, 
 surely, if her opinion coincides with yours, a 
 cottage and true affection " 
 
 " Are beautiful things in a novel or a poem, 
 Mr. Saville," said the matron. " Nothing sounds 
 prettier in rhyme or melodious prose, than twin- 
 ing woodbine at the casement, and curling smoke 
 in the valley ; but in real life" — 
 
 " Oh, in real life, with a competence, however 
 small, we might surely be happy." 
 
 " Not with the anger of a parent, and the re- 
 collection of a broken promise hanging over her," 
 said Mrs. Franklin. " I have been a close ob- 
 
 2 
 
112 THE WIDOW. 
 
 server of life for many years, and I scarcely re- 
 collect in tlie whole course of my observation, to 
 have seen a runaway match turn out well. The 
 spirit which prompts rebellion to a parent, sub- 
 sequently may induce revolt against a husband ; 
 and those feverish dispositions, which taking fire 
 on the instant, excite a young woman to com- 
 mit imprudent actions while she is single, are 
 extremely likely to drive her to the perpetration 
 of vicious ones, when she is married." 
 
 Arguing to a lover is like preaching to the 
 wind, or whistling against thunder ; yet Saville 
 had so much method in his madness, as to admit 
 the improbability of Harriet's acceding to such 
 a proposition, and the , impropriety of his sug- 
 gesting it; and parted from her mother with 
 a conviction that she was a most amiable parent, 
 and shook hands with her when he left the hotel, 
 where she had re-delivered him his letter, in per- 
 fect friendship, and certainly more in sorrow 
 than in anger, at the course she had considered 
 it right to adopt. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 There are certain human acts which may 
 be considered unquestionably decisive : knocking 
 away the dog-shores of a ship just ready for 
 launching, cutting the last rope which holds a 
 balloon just ready for ascending, drawing the 
 bolt of the new drop when the culprits are ready 
 for execution-^such proceedings, brief and mo- 
 mentary as their continuance may be, are clearly 
 irrevocable. The last smile which Mrs. Frank- 
 lin bestowed upon Charles Saville, was not one 
 bit less conclusive than any one of those ; nor 
 was the bitterness of his lot at all qualified, by 
 the suddenness with which he had tumbled from 
 his regions of fancied happiness. It lost none 
 of its misery by its abruptness; and when he 
 
114 THE WIDOW. 
 
 turned away from the door of the hotel, al- 
 though Jermyn-street was as full of carriages 
 as usual, and he was jostled by the unsentimental 
 foot passengers, who "pushed on" to their dif- 
 ferent occupations' with the most inveterate 
 energy, he felt as if he were alone in all the wide 
 world. 
 
 To reflect upon what was past was worse than 
 death, and to look forward to what was to come, 
 was equally terrible. It seemed not only as if 
 he had in a moment been deprived of the stay 
 and comfort of his present existence, but as if 
 he had lost the point of sight in the perspective 
 of his future life. For whom was he now to toil 
 and labour ? who was to excite and encourage 
 his exertions ? who was to reward those exer- 
 tions ? — Harriet was another's — and such an 
 other's. The Viscount, or even the Baronet, 
 would have been better than this. Mrs. Smith — 
 plain Mrs. Smith — to be only that — one of a hun- 
 dred thousand Mrs. Smiths — and if distinguished 
 from the vast herd, to be recognised as Mrs. Twad- 
 dle Smith ; and then that " disparity of years," of 
 
THE WIDOW. 115 
 
 which the said Smith had twaddled, was it likely 
 that the idol of his heart could be happy under 
 such circiunstances ? surely not. Surely she did 
 not quite hate liim — Charles Saville ; he knew 
 she did not. Should he pursue his flying fair ? 
 should he snatch her from the arms of her re- 
 spectable intended, and in the teeth of all his 
 promises to himself, and his protestations to her 
 mother, force her into disobedience, and carry 
 her away to the pastoral scenes of which he had 
 spoken so rapturously and yet so unsuccessfully 
 to that amiable gentlewoman. 
 
 She was domiciliated with her aunt — not in- 
 deed in Carburton-street, Fitzroy- square, but in 
 the neighbourhood of Weybrldge. Various means 
 were canvassed, and sundry devices considered 
 by the wavering lover, coupled with a careful 
 inspection of the map of Surrey, in order to as- 
 certain the shortest cut from the retreat of his 
 fair one into the North-road, if so lengthened a 
 flight should be necessary. He had by no 
 means come to a resolutioi; upon this important 
 point; but he had, as it will be seen, admitted 
 
116 THE WIDOW. 
 
 tlie principle, and that was going a considerable 
 way into the matter. 
 
 A lover without a confidant, is like a watch 
 without a spring — a well without a bucket — or a 
 lady without a looking-glass; and accordingly 
 Charles Saville, like the rest of the fraternity, 
 forthwith provided himself with one. During the 
 prosperous days of his attachment, he did not dis- 
 cover the absolute necessity for such support, and 
 to his vain independence during that blissful 
 period, may be attributed much of the embarrass- 
 ment into which he had plunged ; but now that 
 he had to moan and complain, he felt how great 
 an alleviation it would be to his grief, if he could 
 find an ear wherein he might pour some of his 
 sorrow. This feeling, which was not very dis- 
 similar in principle, to that of the Irishman who 
 rejoiced in the notion, that a journey of eighteen 
 niiles performed by himself and friend, would be 
 divided into two portions of nine miles each, he 
 resolved to indulge ; and after a due and delicate 
 advance upon so nice a subject, he opened the 
 whole matter to a friend long known and often 
 
THE WIDOW. 117 
 
 tried in matters of worldly concern, but to whom 
 he had never yet confided the state of his heart, 
 as regarded Miss Harriet Franklin. 
 
 The name of this friend was Alvingham, and 
 although his Majesty still retains a confessor at 
 court, for the use of the royal household, it was 
 not because Mr. Alvingham was already in or- 
 ders, and an officiating minister in one of the 
 fashionable churches in the metropolis, that Sa- 
 ville selected him as the depository of his secrets : 
 oral confession formed no part of the lover's 
 creed, nor did he believe that having the cure of 
 souls, did in any way qualify his reverend friend 
 for the cure of hearts. His object in putting him 
 in possession of the state of his affairs with Har- 
 riet, was to receive from him such council as 
 might regulate his conduct, as it might aifect 
 the object of his love; for after all, he affords 
 the strongest proof of sincere affection towards 
 a woman, who, without one selfish feeling, con- 
 sents to give her up rather than injure her 
 worldly comfort, and thus abandons his own 
 happiness for the sake of securing her's. It was 
 
118 THE WIDOW. 
 
 this view which Mr. Alvingham took of the 
 subject under discussion. With a sober modera- 
 tion suited to his habit and calling, he repre- 
 sented to his more ardent friend the imprudence 
 of rashly violating*- his word, or at least his im- 
 plied promise to Mrs. Franklin, and incurring 
 the heavy responsibility of engaging a child in 
 a league against a parent. 
 
 " Ah, but," said'Saville, " I do really believe 
 by her manner that she would not be sorry if I 
 rescued her daughter from the fate that awaits 
 her." 
 
 " In that case," replied Alvingham, " she must 
 be doubly base and culpable. If she have suffi- 
 cient clearness of perception to anticipate un- 
 happiness for her daughter in the marriage to 
 which she has destined her, what can be 
 offered in extenuation of her concluding such 
 an alliance ?" 
 
 " The influence of her late husband's friend," 
 answered Saville ; " the executor of his will ; 
 the trustee of his child." 
 
 " Let the man possess all the influence," said 
 
THE WIDOW. 119 
 
 Alvingham, " to which his three-fold occupations 
 ill the family may entitle him, and yet I cannot 
 perceive that his marrying a girl young enough 
 to be his grand-daughter, forms any part of the 
 duty of any one of them." 
 
 " Well, then," said Charles, eager to get an 
 opinion favourable to his eloping scheme, 
 " would you have me risk the momentary 
 anger of all the interested parties and strike the 
 blow?" 
 
 " By no means," said Alvingham. " We 
 have hitherto discussed your proposal merely as 
 affecting the relative feelings and duties of 
 parent and child. Now look deeper into the 
 question. You have already told me her mo- 
 ther's opinion of the poetical notion of ' love in 
 a cottage ;' examine the case yourself You 
 have but a very small independence ; her for- 
 tune, as far as it extends, is dependent upon the 
 will of her mother; and that mother is appa- 
 rently dependent upon this formidable trustee. 
 You must labour for the means to live, to sup- 
 port your wife, and, if Heaven should so ordain, 
 
120 THE WIDOW. 
 
 your family; ask yourself whether you are jus- 
 tified in snatching this amiable young creature 
 from a sphere of life in which, although perhaps 
 she may not have partaken of the more splendid 
 gifts of fortune, she has enjoyed at least an 
 undisturbed and happy competence. Ask your- 
 self, I say, my dear friend, whether you have a 
 right to withdraw her from scenes of comfort 
 and serenity to place her amidst the stormy 
 elements to which a young, unknown, profes- 
 sional man must naturally be exposed." 
 
 " I deny," said Saville, " that Harriet is at 
 this moment enjoying either serenity or comfort. 
 She is unhappy and miserable, as all girls must 
 be whose inclinations are forced, and who 
 are—" 
 
 " Stay, stay, Saville," interrupted Alvingham, 
 " by what rule, by what criterion are you judg- 
 ing the young lady's feelings ? by what standard 
 do you regulate the admeasurement of her suffer- 
 ings ? All you know of the history seems to 
 me to be, that having been introduced to a very 
 charming person, you began first to admire, and 
 
THE WIDOW. 121 
 
 then to love her. You never declared your 
 affection, but Imgered on basking in the sun- 
 shine of her bright eyes, until a more active 
 and yet more wary suitor took the decisive step 
 which you liad neglected, and obtained the 
 prize, which, by your own admission, you did 
 not think worth asking for, until, in fact, it was 
 disposed of to your rival." 
 
 " My dear friend," said Saville, " it is per- 
 fectly clear to me that you were never placed in 
 the position in which I found myself relatively 
 with Miss Franklin. I was living constantly 
 with them, almost from the first until the last 
 day of my acquaintance with her. I had no 
 thoughts of happiness out of her sight; the 
 minutes seemed hours when I was away from 
 her; and it seemed as if nature contrived to 
 maintain the equation of time by turning the 
 hours into minutes when I was with her. The 
 incidents of one day led to engagements for the 
 next; and then I was fascinated and happy. 
 I knew — for even a dullard such as I, can find out 
 that — I was not disagreeable either to mother or 
 
 VOL. I. G 
 
122 , THE WIDOW. 
 
 daughter ; they both esteemed me, each in her 
 different degree. I knew what were her expec- 
 tations for her daughter in the way of marriage. 
 I saw that she was almost aware of the impru- 
 dence of permitting my constant association 
 with her child, being herself conscious that our 
 marriage was out of the question. I saw more, 
 I saw that they both dreaded lest I should make 
 the declaration which would infallibly separate 
 us eternally, while I trembled under the daily 
 anticipation of some remark on the subject from 
 the elder lady herself; and thus we went on, 
 until Croesus in the sticking-plaister shorts hob- 
 bled in upon all the confidence of half a million, 
 and snapped up my unhappy Harriet." 
 
 " There we differ," replied his friend. " I 
 admit all your doubts, and delicacies, and diffi- 
 culties — they were all natural enough ; but I do 
 not admit j;hat you have any right to presume 
 that a young lady who accepts an offer has 
 thereby rendered herself unhappy. She has 
 decided — she is gone ; and if you will take the 
 advice of one rather your senior, and whose 
 
THE WIDOW. 123 
 
 professional avocations and their preparatory 
 studies, have caused him to sober his feelings 
 and regulate his passions, you will reconcile 
 yourself to a loss which may be repaired by a 
 second choice, and permit the young lady who 
 has decided for herself to put in practice her 
 scheme of happiness without further inter- 
 ruption." 
 
 " My dear Alvingham, you talk so rationally 
 that I am sure you can have no idea what a man 
 really in love feels," said Saville. 
 
 " My dear Saville," replied Alvingham, 
 " there you are as much mistaken as I fancy 
 you may be with respect to Miss Franklin's 
 misery. I have been in love ; I am in love ; 
 and I should be extremely sorry if I were not." 
 
 " Well, but then," said Saville, " your be- 
 loved has not been snatched from you at the 
 moment she was within your reach." 
 
 " No," said Alvingham, smiling, " she cer- 
 tainly has not. If I had delayed and procrasti- 
 nated she might have been, I, on the contrary, 
 have woo'd and won her." 
 g2 
 
124 THE WIDOW. 
 
 " And with the consent of all parties T' 
 " Of all," replied the other. " It would look 
 ill for one of my cloth to appear in the character 
 of a scheming lover; although such parts have 
 been enacted by some of my reverend brethren. 
 I have obtained the consent of my Eliza and the 
 sanction of her parents, and her brother unites us, 
 next week, at St. George's, Hanover-square." 
 
 " Why, I hate you," said Saville, " absolutely 
 hate you. Do you imagine, my dear friend, 
 that if I had had the slightest idea that you were 
 yourself a happy lover, a well received son-in- 
 law, and a welcome nephew, that I would have 
 consulted you upon my unfortunate case ? not 
 I ; as Sir Robert Howard says — 
 
 " The happy seldom heed th' unhappy's pain." 
 
 And with every respect for your kindness of 
 disposition and tenderness of heart, it is impos- 
 sible to make you, a ' prosperous wooer,' com- 
 prehend, in the smallest degree, the wretchedness 
 which a being placed in my present situation is 
 doomed to suffer." 
 
THE WIDOW. 125 
 
 " You do me injustice," said Alvingham; 
 " my own happiness — for I am happy so far as 
 worldly matters are concerned — does not in the 
 least incapacitate me from sympathising most 
 heartily with you in your distress ; all I mean 
 to offer to your attention in any thing I may 
 venture to say, is the fact, that your happiness 
 will not be secured, — you may rely upon it I 
 am right, — by overthrowing the present scheme 
 of happiness which the Franklin family have 
 now arranged. And recollect what a pang will 
 you feel, in addition to all the others, which the 
 ruin of your Harriet's prospects will some day 
 or other inflict, when you have to reproach 
 yourself, or, it may be, even are reproached by 
 Aer, with having disunited her from her mother, 
 by exciting her to disobedience and rebellion." 
 
 " Her mother would be glad I did this ' gentle 
 violence' of saving her," said Saville. 
 
 " Upon my word," replied Alvingham, " the 
 Franklins seem to be a most extraordinary race : 
 the daughter, devoted to you, very quietly con- 
 sents to marry your rival ; and the mother, who 
 g3 
 
126 THE WIDOW. 
 
 advocates the match, would be extremely glad 
 if you were able to break it off. Really, you 
 must see this family through a curious medium, 
 or with eyes not much clearer than Cupid's own. 
 However, you have asked my advice, and 1 
 have given it ; — whether you will act upon it is 
 another question." 
 
 Saville's answer to the doubt implied in the 
 last observation was evasive. The truth seemed 
 to be, that, like all men, where love or marriage 
 form the subject matter of debate, Saville had 
 made up his mind as to his future conduct long 
 before he took the precaution of consulting his 
 reverend friend ; and like all his bewitched com- 
 peers, under the magical influence of woman, 
 agreed with his counsellor only just so long as 
 his advice exactly tallied with his inclinations. 
 
 Alvingham saw this, and therefore concluded 
 his lecture, having himself an appointment to 
 call on his intended, almost precisely at the time 
 fixed upon by Saville for his confession; and 
 preferring, as a good pastor ever does, practice 
 to preaching, he rather gladly dismissed the 
 
THE WIDOW. 127 
 
 discussion and the disciple ; not however without 
 begging him, whatever he might think proper 
 to do with regard to Miss Franklin, not to forget 
 that the parsonage-house of Harlingham was 
 always open to him, and expressing a hope that 
 as it soon would have a mistress, it would not 
 lose any of the attractions which, as the resi- 
 dence of an old and faithful friend, it might be 
 supposed to possess. 
 
 Thus parted these worthy compeers ; afford- 
 ing in their minds, tempers, characters, disposi- 
 tions, and circumstances, two of the most striking 
 examples of dissimilitude that, perhaps, were ever 
 exhibited under one roof. Alvingham, happy, 
 contented, and blest with quiet, competence, 
 and every hope of domestic happiness ; Saville, 
 wretched, restless, and dissatisfied with himself, 
 and every body else, looking for support to a 
 profession for which it seemed he had but little 
 turn or talent, separated from her with whom 
 alone he imagined it possible to exist, and not 
 in the slightest degree decided as to the course 
 of action which he had best pursue, either to 
 g4 
 
128 THE WIDOW. 
 
 recover her forthwith, or relinquish her alto- 
 gether. 
 
 One incident occurred on his return home to 
 his lodgings in the evening, which excited him 
 in an awful degree, 'and roused him from the 
 stupor of grief into which he appeared to have 
 fallen. He found a square pacquet of papers 
 upon his table ; a momentary glance sujfficed to 
 convince him, that the address was written by 
 either Mrs. Franklin or Harriet. Habit, asso- 
 ciation, and perhaps the same master, give so 
 strong a family likeness to the hand-writing of 
 mothers and daughters, in these days of elegant 
 education and literary unintelligibility, that he 
 could not, at first sight, decide which of them 
 " had done the deed ;" but that the parcel came 
 from the family he was convinced. 
 
 It seemed an age till the servant left the room 
 — he felt that he dare not trust himself to open 
 the magic paper while he remained near him, 
 and might be a witness to the violent emotions 
 which its contents might produce. At length 
 alone, he made a desperate plunge, and cut the 
 
THE WIDOW. 129 
 
 string with which it was tied ; and found in his 
 hands three or four of Haynes Bayly's sweetest 
 and most touching melodies ; the all accom- 
 plished Mrs. Norton's " Undying One, and other 
 Poems f^ " The Pleasures of Memory f and 
 two volumes of " Dehretfs Peerage ;" all of 
 which he had at different times, on different 
 occasions, taken or sent to Harley-street ; and 
 which were now, after the general rummage, 
 returned to their lawful owner, with " Mrs. 
 Franklin's compliments," written on a slip of 
 paper, and deposited within the parcel. 
 
 Amongst the innumerable ingenuities of a 
 lover, none are more remarkable than those 
 which he displays in groundlessly exhilarating or 
 depressing his spirits ; exciting or damping his 
 hopes, and perverting whatever he sees or hears, 
 or whatever happens, however accidentally, into 
 something bearing most pointedly and decidedly 
 upon himself, and his own particular affaire de 
 coeur. 
 
 Nobody, except a lover, or one who at some 
 period of his life had laboured heavily under the 
 rx5 
 
130 THE WIDOW. 
 
 complaint, could picture to himself the assiduity 
 with which Charles Saville searched and sought 
 over every corner and cranny of Mrs. Franklin's 
 parcel, to discover something about it, that might 
 convey a hint or a meaning, either from herself 
 or Harriet. There certainly was a dash under the 
 Mrs. in the brief note — what did that mean ? 
 to point out particularly that Harriet had nothing 
 to do with returning the books; did it mean 
 that he was not to consider that return any thing 
 more than a mere matter of course ; did it 
 imply that, although Mrs. Franklin sent them 
 back, Miss Franklin would rather have kept 
 them as relics of former foregone happiness ? 
 
 This consideration 'of the question, which had, 
 in point of fact, nothing whatever in it, occupied 
 him at least a quarter of an hour. Then an in- 
 vestigation of the seal was commenced ; a thistle, 
 with the device, " dinna forget" — that was odd — 
 it must mean something ! — " dinna forget," was 
 such an extraordinary injunction just at the break- 
 ing off of an engagement — was he to gather much 
 encouragement from this ? Lover like, he attri- 
 
THE WIDOW. 131 
 
 buted a motive to the commonest action of his 
 Harriet's life. " Dinna forget," he repeated at 
 least a hundred times in a hundred different 
 tones ; and if he had implicitly obeyed the in- 
 junction contained in the important words, he 
 could not have failed to remember, that the 
 blood-stone bearing this trite and hacknied 
 impression (without which no Scotchwoman, 
 married or single, matron or daughter, is to be 
 found,) was one of a circular cluster of seals, 
 moving on an agate handle, at the purchase of 
 which, at Grayhurst and Harvey's, he had himself 
 been present. There is little doubt, however, 
 if even this had entered his mind, he would have 
 drawn some favourable conclusion from the coin- 
 ciding circumstance of his having been one of 
 the party when it was bought, and its appearing 
 on the packet destined, as it outwardly ap- 
 peared, to terminate his connexion with the 
 family; he never taking into the calculation, 
 that which happened to be the fact, that the 
 memorable parcel, upon which so much appeared 
 to depend, had been made up by Mrs. Franklin's 
 G 6 
 
132 , THE WIDOW. 
 
 maid, who had concluded her operation of pack- 
 ing, by giving it the seal which had so strongly 
 excited all his tenderest feelings. 
 
 There were, however, other circumstances 
 upon which Saville dwelt, which might have 
 been rather more important. In turning over 
 the leaves of Mrs. Norton's poems, he perceived 
 that some pages had been doubled down ; some 
 even appeared to have been pencil-marked. 
 
 " Would I were with thee ! every day and hour 
 
 Which now I spend so sadly far from thee ! 
 
 Would that my form possess' d the magic power, 
 
 To follow where my heavy heart would be ; 
 
 • Whate'er thy lot — by land or sea, 
 
 Would I were with thee, eternally !" 
 
 This, page 259, was doubled down. It is im- 
 possible to describe the thrill — the chill — the 
 glow he felt at seeing the mark. The ninth 
 page farther on, had received a similar distinc- 
 tion. 
 
 " Oh, Edward ! dark my doom — this heart will love for ever, 
 
 Though thou wilt never share its joy or pain ! 
 Thine eye will turn to mine, and meet its glance ; but never 
 Beam fondly back on her's who loves in vain ; 
 
THE WIDOW. 133 
 
 But when weary life is o'er, and in the grave I'm lying, 
 (Silently a woman's heart should hide its love and break) 
 
 Then dearest, then some voice shall tell thee sighing, 
 How weary was my life to me for Edward's sake." 
 
 " For Edioard's sake !" repeated Saville. — 
 " Old Smith's name cannot be Edward," thought 
 lie — his vanity whispered "nomine mutato 
 de fe," she sings, or rather marks what others 
 sing. It certainly was very odd — the lines were 
 apposite and applicable — she had avowedly no 
 opportunity of directly communicating her senti- 
 ments, even had she the boldness to make a 
 confession. Here was a delicate mode of explain- 
 ing the real state of her heart, and expressing the 
 true character of her feelings ;— it must be so.— - 
 All the schemes of contrivances and stratagems 
 with which the pages of novels and romances were 
 formerly filled, occurred to his memory. Tele- 
 graphic signals — sympathetic inks — cyphers, 
 and keys, lemon juice of new milk, and every 
 other imaginable device for clandestine corres- 
 pondence, flitted before his sight; and upon 
 these grounds, and no better, he resolved to put 
 into immediate execution, at all events, the pre- 
 
134 THE WIDOW. 
 
 liminary arrangements for carrying ofFtlie broken- 
 hearted Harriet. 
 
 Debrett's Peerage, which lay next to the 
 poems on the table, became mechanically the next 
 object of his observation, and he took the first 
 volume in his hand. He threw it from him with 
 a toss of indifference ; when, lo, and behold ! 
 the book of fate, that magic tome, which dis- 
 plays to longing eyes the wonders of " the crea- 
 tion," fell open at a particular page, as if it had 
 been long " used to it." When, he examined it, 
 he found that the page was particularly thumbed 
 and tumbled, and moreover duly marked by a 
 " dog's ear," even more decided than that which 
 had attracted his noticcto the poems, — he read as 
 follows. 
 
 " Henry Augustus Baxter, Earl of Kencherton, 
 Viscount Pertwood, and Baron Baxter of Sax- 
 mundham, in the county of Suffolk, G.C.H. ; a 
 General in the army ; Colonel of the 103d regi- 
 ment of foot, and a Commissioner of the metro- 
 politan roads ; married, July 7, 1798, the Right 
 Honourable Lady Mary Witherington, only 
 2 
 
THE WIDOW, 135 
 
 daughter of George, late Earl of Crawley, by 
 Mary-Jane, third daughter of William, fifth 
 Duke of Twickenham. Her ladyship died, March 
 4, 1830, leaving the Earl the following issue, — 
 
 1. Charles George Augustus, b. April 15, 
 
 1799. d. young. 
 
 2. Emily Mary, b. June 4, 1800. m. 8 Sept. 
 
 1819, the Hon. William Boggis, third 
 son of Lord Pauperton, of Killymidam- 
 nimo, N. B. 
 
 3. Henry Augustus, Viscount Pertwood, b. 
 
 June 18, 1802. a Lieut.-col. in the army 
 and M.P. 
 
 4. William, who d. young. 
 Creations. Barony, 1584. Earl, 1766. 
 Motto. " Perseverance." 
 
 Towri residence. Grosvenor-square. 
 
 Seats. , Kencherton House, Gloucestershire, 
 
 Turflands, Suffolk, Twickenham Castle, 
 
 Cumberland. 
 
 No sooner had Charles perused this much loved, 
 much read page to the bottom than his ardour 
 
136 THE WIDOW. 
 
 cooled, his enthusiasm drooped, and from the 
 heights of extacy he precipitated himself into 
 the " deepest" depths of despair. With how 
 much reason he had previously exalted, or what 
 ground he had for at present thus debasing his 
 hopes, it is impossible to say ; but the immediate 
 cause of the sudden and desperate change in his 
 feelings, was the fact, that this very Lord Pert- 
 wood, as the reader may perhaps remember, was 
 at one time, and oh ! (which made the matter still 
 worse,) at the very period when Harriet Franklin 
 borrowed this very book, a dangler, as the 
 world thought, and a professed lover, as her 
 mother said, of that very Harriet herself. 
 
 Did she then seriousjy think of him? — had 
 she, with all the dislike and distaste for him, 
 which she had professed to Charles, really con- 
 templated an union with him ? Had she with 
 anxiety and interest traced his lineage, scanned 
 his pretensions, and read over the list of the 
 titles inherent in his race ? Could it be pos- 
 sible? What she had done with the Baronet 
 he could not, from equally good authority, de- 
 
THE WIDOW. 137 
 
 termine ; there were no data in Debrett to go 
 upon ; but the one case was quite sufficient to 
 overturn his visionary schemes, and rase his 
 castles to their ethereal foundations. 
 
 It is curious to think how these " trifles light 
 as air," should set a sensible man up and pull 
 him down again in so brief a space of time ; 
 that it had the latter effect may be easily be- 
 lieved, when the reader learns that all the pre- 
 parations which Saville had resolved to make 
 for his northern expedition, were for the moment 
 abandoned, and the intensity of devotion with 
 which he had, an hour before, loved his Harriet, 
 was metamorphosed into a sort of restless dis- 
 content with himself for having so easily been 
 made the dupe of her heartlessness. What effect 
 upon his future life this newly-excited feeling 
 produced, the reader will, perhaps, learn in the 
 following chapter. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 How long the sensitive lover remained in this 
 desponding mood, it is neither possible nor 
 necessary for us to know. His feelings were 
 destined to undergo a new trial in consequence 
 of his having accepted an invitation from his 
 friend Alvingham to accompany him to dine 
 with the family out of which he had selected a 
 daughter, the charming and accomplished young 
 lady to whom he was on the eve of marriage. 
 In the circle of this happy and contented family 
 he saw his friend received with warmth, affection, 
 and cordiality, each of its members appearing to 
 strive who should render him most welcome and 
 comfortable; every allusion which was made 
 spoke of anticipated happiness; and Charles 
 
THE WIDOW. 139 
 
 came away fully convinced, that a man treated 
 and circumstanced like his reverend friend, must 
 be the happiest of his sex ; but then charming 
 as were the Miss Simpsons, there was not one 
 out of the whole nine, for of that number did 
 the muse-like family consist, at all comparable 
 with Harriet Franklin. 
 
 Still it was impossible for him in his then 
 temper of mind, not to be painfully and forcibly 
 struck by the contrast which Alvingham's posi- 
 tion afforded to that in which he himself was 
 placed. Why had not he taken orders and gone 
 into the church ? Why had not he thus secured 
 at a coup^ a competency, which however mode- 
 rate, was enough, since it gave his friend a right 
 to make the match he had, instead of choosing 
 a profession in which nothing but lengthened 
 toil, superior ability, and constant application, 
 could make him either affluent or eminent. 
 There are professions in which favour and affec- 
 tion may rapidly promote a man, but in Law 
 and Physic, however much adventitious circum- 
 stances may sometimes aid the latter, merit 
 
140 THE WIDOW. 
 
 alone can stand and make its way. Let a man 
 be never so kind of heart or generous in dispo- 
 sition, health and wealth, life and property, 
 are matters not to be trifled with ; civility and 
 ceremony, partiality and patronage, are, in such 
 affairs, out of the question ; and he that is en- 
 tangled in difficulties, or assailed by sickness, 
 will seek the best lawyer and the best doctor, 
 without any great regard to personal feelings or 
 private predilections. 
 
 " And yet," thought poor Saville, by way of 
 consoling himself, " I could not have done as 
 Alvingham has done. I had no interest to pro- 
 cure such preferment as he holds. Why do I 
 lament not having don^ what I could not do ? 
 or why repine at the complete success of his 
 scheme of rational happiness, when circum- 
 stances have barred me from a similar course." 
 
 The future Mrs. Alvingham, — and the reader 
 is destined to know more of her hereafter, — was 
 the very picture, as the old nurses say, of good 
 humour. She was fair, rosy-cheeked, red-lipped 
 and inclining to plumpness ; a description which 
 
THE WIDOW. 141 
 
 will no doubt inspire the skinny and consump- 
 tive of my readers with horror ; all the withering 
 spectres about town, with long fleshless fingers 
 and ribs, aifect to shudder at any thing bordering 
 upon the en hon point ; a fat woman, (and what 
 they call fat is, like Miss Mary Simpson, only 
 plump) is associated in their ideas and conversa- 
 tion with vulgarity and coarseness, and they strain 
 their ghost-like countenances into an expression 
 of horror at the idea of any thing bearing more 
 flesh about it than themselves. 
 
 To these, the kind-hearted, good-natured 
 Mary would have been "oppressive," — dear 
 girl, to those who were less refined, but infi- 
 nitely more delicate than the anti-obesity phan- 
 toms who haunt the world, she was every thing 
 that was amiable and prepossessing. Of course, 
 as Saville was Alvingham's friend, she knew 
 the whole history of his love and disappointment 
 before she had seen him. Women are full of 
 consideration, and kindness, and sympathy, and 
 Mary felt a deep interest in the fate of their 
 new acquaintance : she was pleased with his 
 
142 THE WIDOW. 
 
 manners, admired his accomplishments, and 
 although his conversation, under the influence 
 of his sorrow, was not so gay and brilliant as it 
 sometimes was wont to be, she could judge of 
 what its bright days were, by what she saw of it 
 in its gloom, as a man looks at a villa in winter 
 and says, " What a lovely spot this must be in 
 summer !" and she rejoiced that her future 
 spouse had such a friend, and sincerely hoped, 
 in all the hospitality of her heart, that he would 
 come and be a frequent guest at Harlingham 
 Parsonage. 
 
 Scarcely any thing more seriously annoys an 
 unsettled, distracted lover, than the spectacle of 
 a happy family going .on almost mechanically 
 in its round of quiet arrangements : — the sons 
 pursuing their avocations, or enjoying their 
 pleasures; the daughters dividing their time 
 between study and recreation, amusement and 
 charity ; obedient children to indulgent parents, 
 who, blessed with competence, and not cursed 
 with vanity, permit the feelings and inclinations 
 of their offspring as to their eventual settlement 
 
THE WIDOW. 143 
 
 in life, to have, at least, fair play, and evince a 
 readiness to conduce to their happiness in the 
 most important particulars, by moderating their 
 expectations in making alliances for them, and 
 preferring modest worth and unassuming merit 
 to the more brilliant but much less suitable 
 pretensions of exalted birth or extensive for- 
 tune. 
 
 When Charles Saville returned to town from 
 Mr. Simpson's snug, well-placed villa at 
 Clapham, he was haunted by the recollection of 
 the smiling countenances of all the young ladies, 
 made restless and uncomfortable by the remem- 
 brance of the ease and comfort which his friend 
 seemed to enjoy in his well-chosen road to ma- 
 trimony. It struck him, however, in the midst 
 of his woes, that the amiability of the old gentle- 
 man, — or " Governor," as his sons were jocosely 
 in the habit of calling him, — would be very 
 speedily extended to himself, if he could direct 
 his feelings, and conquer his attachment for 
 Harriet Franklin, and attach himself to one of 
 his amiable daughters; and to be sure Sarah 
 
144 THE WIDOW. 
 
 Jane was an extremely nice girl, excessively 
 good-natured, quite enough accomplished, and 
 although, as Edmund Burke said of his wife, 
 not made to be the admiration of every body, 
 she seemed formed to make the happiness of 
 one ; but thus to abandon all the hopes of his 
 life, to surrender a chance of his beloved for 
 the sake of Miss Sally Simpson, — the idea only 
 flashed into his mind to be extinguished for 
 ever. 
 
 He resolved not to re-visit the philanthropic 
 plains of Clapham ; he determined no longer to 
 consult Alvingham on the measures to be pur- 
 sued. He was convinced that a matter of fact, 
 jog-trot lover, feted^ favoured, and accepted, 
 could never sympathize with him; and therefore 
 hastily bidding him adieu for the present, he 
 came to a decision of even more importance 
 than that of abandoning his friend, and that 
 was, — to carry off his beloved. He had heard 
 Mr. Simpson talk of the real, inherent, and 
 unalterable affection of parents for their chil- 
 dren ; he felt convinced of the genuineness of 
 
THE WIDOW. 145 
 
 all that gentleman's doctrines ; and before two 
 o'clock in the morning, after his return from the 
 villa, had completely satisfied himself that if 
 he made the dash, pounced on his innocent 
 dove, and carried her off; long before the 
 honeymoon waned, he and his bride would be 
 welcomed back by his amiable mother-in-law, 
 who woidd, as he believed, do every thing in her 
 power to compensate to the elderly willow- 
 wearing swain for his loss, even to the extent of 
 offering herself to become Mrs. Smith, in lieu 
 of her daughter. 
 
 This resolution once formed, the reader may 
 easily suppose that the hours until he could ob- 
 tain the attendance of his servant, passed heavily 
 with Saville. The inevitable delay, however, 
 gave him time to arrange his plans ; and long 
 before his ,valet and prime-minister was up, 
 and down, he had settled the programme of the 
 whole performance. 
 
 This valet was a character — that is to say, if 
 having no character except that which he 
 brought from his last place, justifies one in 
 
 VOL. I. H 
 
146 THE WIDOW. 
 
 saying so. His name was Twigg; lie was his 
 master's counsellor and adviser upon many oc- 
 casions ; and it was to his not having employed 
 him in the Harley-street stratagem, that Saville 
 attributed its lamentable failure, and his conse- 
 quent disagreeable exposure. Saville had a high 
 opinion of Twigg's judgment upon many topics ; 
 he had before this, discussed the subject of the 
 elopement, and had been much edified by his man's 
 remarks and observations; he was attached to 
 him for his fidelity and prudence, and considered 
 him " quite a treasure" in the way of guarding 
 him against imposition, and directing him to bar- 
 gains ; the truth being, that Twigg had not three 
 ideas in the world beyond taking the best possi- 
 ble care of himself. The only virtue he possessed, 
 consisted in a studious accommodation of himself 
 to his master's will and opinion, and in always 
 agreeing with him upon every point under dis- 
 cussion ; constantly appearing to originate some- 
 thing, which his master pronounced exceed- 
 ingly wise and clever, but which, in fact, was nei- 
 ther more nor less, than a new version of some 
 
THE WIDOW. 147 
 
 old proposition which had been previously made 
 by Saville himself. 
 
 " Twigg," said Saville, " shut the door." — 
 The door of course was shut. — " I am resolved 
 to put my scheme in practice with regard to 
 Miss Franklin. Have you got the paper about 
 the line of posting down the north-road, which 
 you had from Newman ?" 
 
 " I have, Sir," said Twigg. 
 
 " I cannot sit down quietly and give her up," 
 said Saville ; — " the affair is perfectly simple." 
 
 " Very, Sir," said Twigg. 
 
 " Of course every man knows his own busi- 
 ness best — " said Saville, " but — I — upon my 
 life — I don't know — I think it is better at once 
 to make the plunge ; and I question whether it 
 is not wiser to be rash for an hour, than miser- 
 able for life." 
 
 " It is a question. Sir." 
 
 " Yet, Twigg, if I hesitate the opportunity is 
 lost." 
 
 " So it is, Sir." 
 
 h2 
 
148 THE WIDOW. 
 
 " She cannot fail of being wretched with 
 Smith." 
 
 " Impossible !" said Twigg. 
 
 " He is a worthy man," said Saville, mutter- 
 ing to himself. 
 
 " Very, Sir," said Twigg. 
 
 " But not suited to Aer." 
 
 "By no means," said Twigg. 
 
 " He's sixty-three at least." 
 
 " Yes, Sir, full sixty-three," said Twigg. 
 
 " That, to be sure, is not so very old." 
 
 " No, Sir," said Twigg, " not so very old." 
 
 " Too old for a girl of nineteen." 
 
 " Oh ! much too old. Sir," said Twigg. 
 
 " I believe she is fond of //ze," said Saville — 
 like a fool. 
 
 " Very, Sir," said Twigg — like a knave. 
 
 " Do you think so, Twigg ?" said Saville. 
 
 " I do. Sir," replied Twigg. 
 
 " How d'ye know ?" 
 
 "Umph! I don't Inow^' said Twigg; "ser- 
 vants talk. Sir." 
 
yHE WIDOW. 149 
 
 " To be sure they do — very proper they 
 should." 
 
 " Very, Sir." 
 
 " Did Miss Franklin*s maid ever touch upon 
 the subject with you ?" 
 
 " Do what, Sir ?" said Twigg. 
 
 " Speak of her young- lady's affection for me?'' 
 
 " In course. Sir," said Twigg, " what I say to 
 you upon that, won't go to the old lady ?" 
 
 " Certainly not." 
 
 " Well," said Twigg, "we have argued it over 
 now and then ; and one night as we were sitting 
 in the servants' hall — for there's no second table at 
 Mrs. Franklin's — Thomas the footman comes to 
 the door, and he says, says he to me, ' Saville, 
 you're wanted.' " 
 
 " Saville?" said Charles, " Twigg, you mean." 
 
 " I mean Twigg, Sir," replied he ; " but we 
 are always called after our masters' names — it 
 saves trouble. ' Saville,' says he, ' you're wanted.' 
 ' Ah,' says Miss Johnstone, Miss Harriet's maid, 
 says she, ' the time isn't far distant, I think, when 
 we shall all be united in one establishment.'" 
 H 3 
 
150 THE WIDOW, 
 
 " That looks ominous," said Saville. 
 
 " Very, Sir," answered Twigg-. 
 
 " And with that, Sir," continued Twigg, " we 
 began talking of one foolish thing and another, 
 and at last we talked about you, and I thought 
 — thinks I — if my master marries Miss Frank- 
 lin—" 
 
 <' Saville the second might marry Miss John- 
 stone," interrupted Charles. 
 
 '« Exactly so. Sir," said Twigg; " its the way 
 they does it in books, and plays, and novels, 
 and—" 
 
 " Perfectly natural," said Saville. 
 
 " Very, Sir," said Twigg. 
 
 This enlightenment of the master as to the 
 views of the servant, was by no means disagree- 
 able to Charles ; he felt that the community of 
 interest between himself and his valet, would in- 
 sure the exertions and secure the fidelity of both 
 domestics, and thought he perceived an additional 
 zeal and ardour flash into his man's countenance 
 and manner, the moment after he had confided 
 his real feelings and intentions to his master. 
 
THE WIDOW. 151 
 
 It may seem incompatible with the elegance of 
 Saville's mind, and the delicacy of his feelings, 
 that he could thus sympathize with his " flunky," 
 as the Scots have it ; but those who know the 
 human heart, know that love, like misfortune, 
 makes men acquainted vdth strange bedfellows. 
 
 Love levels ranks, lords down to cellars bears, 
 And bids tbe brawny porter walk up stairs ; 
 There's nought for love too high, nor aught too low, 
 Oh, Huncamunca ! Huncamunca, oh 1 
 
 At all events, Twigg's exertions would be sti- 
 mulated by the prospect of obtaining the hand 
 of Miss Johnstone ; who, according to his own 
 description of her, was " a delishos creechur, 
 who wartzed like a German, and danced the gal- 
 lipot to perfection." 
 
 Half of what had transpired during the col- 
 loquy between Saville and his servant, was not 
 necessary to decide the love-stricken gentleman 
 in his course; all the arrangements necessary 
 to the great enterprise, were immediately 
 canvassed. Charles had studied that part of 
 the county of Surrey in which his beloved 
 H 4 
 
152 THE WIDOW. 
 
 damsel was, as he believed, confined, with all the 
 tact and zeal of a quarter-master-general ; not a 
 lane nor a brook was unknown to him ; and he 
 was as familiar with the circuit of country lying 
 between Botleys and Littleton in one direction, 
 and Oatlands and St. Anne's Hill in the other, as 
 he ought to have been with the interior of Mr. 
 Nibble's chambers, or the shady recesses of Paper- 
 buildings, and King's'Bench Walk. In pursuance 
 of designs originating in his knowledge of all the 
 localities, he resolved upon fixing his head-quarters 
 at Rattew's, the Swan at Chertsey, whence he 
 could despatch his faithful Leporello to the man- 
 sion of Harriet's aim t, and thence, under favour 
 of " Miss J." (as Twigg always called her,) re- 
 ceive those communications, upon which the 
 happiness or misery of two fond hearts so en- 
 tirely depended. 
 
 Accordingly, having previously put himself 
 in communication with the Crown at Uxbridge, 
 where horses were to be ready to convey him 
 and his prize, (with Twigg and Miss J., in the 
 rumble) to St. Alban's, and thence to Gretna, 
 
THE WIDOW. 153 
 
 he proceeded to the domicile of the said Rattew, 
 into the yard of which he was driven, and where 
 he descended from the carriage (jobbed from 
 Messrs. Fell and Briggs, of Charles-street), and 
 stepping with a dignified air into the midst of a 
 groupe, composed of " mine host," Mrs. R., 
 and a chambermaid, announced his intention of 
 honouring the Swan, by occupying a sitting- 
 room and bed-room there for a day or two. 
 
 " Sorry, Sir," said Rat, " God bless me, so 
 I am — not a bed or a room in the house but 
 what is full. All engaged, Sir, for Ascot races." 
 
 " Dear heart !" said Mrs. Swan. 
 
 " The deuce take it !" said Saville. 
 
 " Here's a pretty commence," said Twigg. 
 
 " This is very provoking," said Saville. 
 
 " Very, Sir," sighed the servant. 
 
 " It always happens so," said Rattew ; " for 
 weeks and weeks we have not a soul near us, 
 and then comes a crowd all in a lump. However, 
 Sir, walk in, we must try to get you a bed over 
 the way, and as for sitting-room, there's the 
 assembly-room up stairs, with only one or two 
 H 5 
 
154 THE WIDOW. 
 
 small parties, very genteel and agreeable, per- 
 haps you would not mind joining them." 
 
 The idea of mingling in a mixed society 
 huddled together in an assembly-room, to a 
 being, whose mind absorbed by one idea alone, 
 was seeking the deepest solitude in order to in- 
 dulge his thoughts and arrange his plans, was 
 worse than death. But what was to be done — there 
 was, to be sure, another inn, but an inferior one ; 
 and that, in all probability, as full as the Swan. 
 Calling, therefore, a little of the rationality of 
 ordinary life to his assistance, Charles acceded to 
 the double proposition of the landlord, and while 
 the maid was sent in search of the promised bed, 
 he proceeded up stairs io the apartment in which 
 the various parties, designated " genteel and 
 agreeable," were placed. 
 
 The company consisted of a city wine-mer- 
 chant and his wife, and his wife's sister, (both 
 ladies being natives of Maldon in Essex, as it 
 should seem,) and a lover of the young lady. 
 They were surrounding a large table in the 
 centre of the room, on which were placed an 
 
THE WIDOW. 155 
 
 extensive tea equipage, and a huge round of cold 
 beef, an admixture of late dinner, well timed tea, 
 and early supper, with which all the practitioners 
 showed themselves highly delighted. 
 
 This knot of laughers was shortly joined by 
 a " stout gentleman" on crutches, who it seemed 
 had selected that particular stage of his recovery 
 from some serious accident, to attend a race- 
 course. He did not appear to have been pre- 
 viously acquainted with the party, but soon 
 amalgamated with them ; a process which the 
 more rapidly took place after the return of the 
 wine-merchant, from an expedition which he had 
 undertaken for the purpose of making, with his 
 own hands, a quantity of hot punch, sufficient 
 to fill a bowl of proportions equal to those of 
 the round of beef before noticed. 
 
 These worthies were enjoying themselves in 
 a manner perfectly dreadful to Saville; they 
 joked, they laughed, they discussed the court, 
 the Maldon election. Sir Walter Scott's belief 
 in ghosts, and what they should have for dinner 
 the next day. At last it was agreed that each 
 H 6 
 
156 THE WIDOW. 
 
 member of the party should choose a dish ; and to 
 Saville's horror and amazement, who had in vain 
 attempted to close his ears to the conversation in 
 progress, each individual of the coterie^ chose a 
 roasted duck stuffed Vith sage and onions ; the 
 only variety arising in the selection of the stout 
 gentleman with the crutches, who voted for 
 goose with the same sauce. 
 
 The boisterous raj)ture with which this an- 
 nouncement was received, rang through the lofty 
 apartment; and besides striking to the very heart 
 of Saville, seemed most violently to discompose 
 the serenity of two new associates, who, having 
 previously secured stabling for their team, had 
 abandoned their " coach and four," for a table at 
 the " west end" of the room, where they were 
 dining at ten, and giving and taking information 
 from a jockey belonging to one of them, who 
 had cantered down on his pony from Ascot to 
 meet them. 
 
 The house began to fill ; arrivals accumulated. 
 The wine-merchant's agreeable wife, and her 
 pretty and vivacious sister having retired, the 
 
THE WIDOW. 157 
 
 wine-merchant, the lover, and the " stout 
 gentleman," began a fresh bowl of punch, and 
 seemed to be settmg in for the evening, when 
 Twigg was announced as wishing to speak to his 
 master. 
 
 Every particle of intelligence, however minute, 
 connected with the object of his visit to Chertsey, 
 was of first-rate importance to Saville; he flew 
 to grant an audience to his active minister. 
 
 " What is it?" said Saville. 
 
 ** Miss and her Ma, are to be at Ascot to- 
 morrow. Sir," said Twigg. 
 
 " How d'ye know?" 
 
 " They get their horses from here," said 
 Twigg; "and four are ordered to be at the 
 Lodge at twelve." 
 
 " Good — you must get horses for me, then," 
 said Saville — " I'll go too." 
 
 " We can't get any horses for our carriage. 
 Sir," said Twigg, " all bespoke. If I was you, 
 Sir, I would not go ; better not be seen — let me 
 alone for to-morrow." 
 
 " What will you do ?" said Saville. 
 
158 THE WIDOW. 
 
 " Go to tlieir house when they are gone," 
 said Twigg, " see Miss J., and carry any 
 message or note, or what not, that you may 
 choose to send. If you meet Miss Harriet and 
 the old one on the r^ce-course, they'll all be in a 
 regular lantarum puff, and we shall all be beaten." 
 
 " Faith," said Charles, not exactly compre- 
 hending the meaning of his excellent domestic's 
 phraseology, but making a tolerably fair guess 
 at its general bearing, " I think you are right 
 — there are, as you say, strong reasons for my 
 not going." 
 
 " Very, Sir," said Twigg, " and one in par- 
 ticular, which beats all the rest, — you have no 
 means of getting there ; no — you keep here. Sir, 
 while I go skrimmiging about the premises, 
 and I'll back my life to do some good ; I don't 
 speak without book. Sir." 
 
 " It shall be so," said his master ; " you shall 
 take the opportunity of the family's absence, and 
 see how the land lies." 
 
 " Oh !" said Twigg, with a most melancholy 
 expression of countenance ; " but do you write, 
 
THE WIDOW. 159 
 
 Sir. I'm sure Miss Harriet would like to have 
 a billy of your's, ever so small a one. Sir." 
 
 " Well," replied Charles, " there will be time 
 enough for all that in the morning. Call me at 
 nine, and in all probability I shall have written 
 a few lines, just stating" 
 
 " Oh ! never mind what it is, Sir," said 
 Twigg, whose delight at finding himself his 
 master's confidant, seemed to have no bounds, 
 " so you do but say something to her, just to 
 cheer up her spirits." 
 
 *« We'll see/' said Saville, convinced by the 
 manner in which Twigg descanted upon the 
 subject, that Harriet's maid had given him some 
 very strong grounds for believing in the strength 
 of her mistress's attachment to him. 
 
 Having dismissed his anxious retainer for the 
 night, Saville proceeded to his bed-room on the 
 opposite side of the street, to which he was 
 ushered by the landlord himself, who in crossing 
 the way, inquired how his guest intended to 
 travel to the course in the morning. 
 
 " I am not going to the races," said Saville. 
 
160 THE WIDOW. 
 
 " No, Sir !" said Rattew, with an expression 
 of astonishment strong upon his countenance. 
 
 " No, I have other business to occupy me," 
 said Saville; "besides, even if I had not, as 
 you have no horses 'disengaged, I have no means 
 of getting thither." 
 
 " Dear me, Sir," said the civil Swan ; " I'm 
 very sorry for that — I dare say — rindeed I am 
 sure, if you wished for a cast up to the heath, 
 Sir Harry Amadou would be delighted to take 
 you in his four-horse coach, which is standing in 
 the yard, provided as how you'd no objection to 
 go inside and keep the blinds up ; 'cause he 
 can't bear to let people see he has got any inside 
 passengers." 
 
 " Thank you for your consideration," said 
 Saville, " but I prefer staying away." 
 
 " Perhaps you'd like to take a day's fishing 
 till dinner-time. Sir ?" said Rattew. " We can 
 get you a comfortable punt, with a nice easy 
 arm-chair in it, and my missis would lend you 
 an umbrella, and we'd send down a basket 
 with a few sandwiches and something to drink ; 
 
THE WIDOW. 161 
 
 and under the bulrushes in the mud just by the 
 bridge, you might sit as snug as a bug in a 
 rug all day long, and perhaps catch summut afore 
 you corned in at night." 
 
 " No, I am obliged to you," replied the 
 distracted lover, not a little amused at the de- 
 scription of " sport made easy," after the Rat- 
 tew fashion, " I prefer doing nothing." 
 
 " Oh, well, Sir, so long as you won't be dull." 
 " Not I — so good-night — I shall breakfast 
 
 about ten, and" 
 
 " When shall I send your servant to you ?" 
 " I have already given him his orders," said 
 Saville ; and having so said, began to mount the 
 minute stair-case which led to his compact sleep- 
 ing room, destined that night to be the scene of 
 much meditation, many waking thoughts, and 
 a few feverish dreams. 
 
 Long before nine o'clock, Chertsey was all 
 alive ; groups of pretty girls, dressed in their best, 
 were seen either standing at doors, or peering 
 from windows. Carriages of all descriptions were 
 rolling through its lengthened street ; and Saville 
 
162 THE WIDOW. 
 
 was anxiously waiting the arrival of Twigg, at 
 least an hour before he made his appearance. It 
 was not even then without a struggle, that Charles 
 acceded to his servant's suggestion of staying 
 from the heath, independently of the almost 
 certainty of being near his Harriet, of seeing 
 her smile, perhaps hearing the melody of her 
 voice, he had a w^orldly feeling of inclination to 
 go to the races. 
 
 There are about Ascot a charm and interest 
 created almost unconsciously, which give the 
 annual meeting there, a character totally dis- 
 tinct from that of any other races in the empire. 
 Newmarket, as a place of business, of course 
 transcends it ; Epsom, for horses, and crowd, and 
 bustle, far surpasses it ; but there are in all the 
 accessories of Ascot, a grace and beauty which 
 every where else are wanting. 
 
 The being brought into contact with the Sove- 
 reign upon a footing of equality, has much to do 
 with this feeling, as far as the multitude is con- 
 cerned; they see the King in the enjoyment of 
 the amusement of which they are themselves 
 
THE WIDOW. 163 
 
 partaking : there is a fellowship of feeling, a 
 community of interest in this, which is gratify- 
 ing to those, who have, perhaps, no other oppor- 
 tunity of beholding the Monarch in his private 
 circle, and in moments of unstately leisure. 
 Add to the complacency which this association 
 confers, the very circumstance of His approach 
 with all His brilliant cortege, the well-appointed 
 carriages, rolling noiselessly along the velvet turf, 
 surrounded by innumerable gaily-dressed ser- 
 vants, mounted on the finest horses, — the party 
 itself combining the greatest and most distin- 
 guished of our fellow-subjects, — passing to its 
 destination, amidst the cheers of the people; 
 — Add to this again, that the scene is adorned 
 and beautified by the presence of thousands of 
 the loveliest women in the world, who here 
 promenade the course between the races; and 
 who shall wonder that even he, whose heart was 
 fixed on one alone, should have felt some slight 
 regret at not mingling with that one, in an as- 
 sembly so graced, so glorified. 
 
 Still, however, with all these feelings full and 
 
164 THE WIDOW. 
 
 strong upon him, Charles felt conscious that the 
 advice of the sagacious Twigg was to be impli- 
 citly followed ; and although he sighed to relin- 
 quish so much gratification as his meeting with 
 Harriet could not*- fail to produce, he did not 
 flinch from his purpose of abandoning the 
 expedition, which, however agreeable in its im- 
 mediate results, might produce the eventual 
 overthrow of all his future hopes. 
 
 Twigg was charmed to find his master so firm 
 in his resolution, and having again urged the 
 subject of the billet doux, succeeded at length in 
 procuring from Saville such a note as must 
 require, and would, in all probability, obtain an 
 answer; the procuring which answer Twigg 
 clearly foresaw would compel him to make ano- 
 ther visit to the lodge, and so obtain another in- 
 terview with his dearly-beloved Miss Johnstone. 
 The note announced Saville's proximity to Har- 
 riet, and his unconquerable desire to say fare- 
 well, and hear one last adieu from her own 
 sweet lips, leaving to fate and Miss Johnstone 
 the arrangement, — if it were practicable, and his 
 
THE WIDOW. 165 
 
 adored girl would consent to it — of a melan- 
 choly yet painfully satisfactory interview with 
 which their acquaintance was to terminate. 
 
 It was not without much consideration, and 
 some difficulty, that Saville prevailed upon him- 
 self to take this step ; for although, as we have 
 already stated, he was not yet sufficiently a man 
 of the world to have adopted the doctrine of the 
 agreeable and noble Mephistopheles, of " never 
 writing a letter to a woman, nor ever destroy- 
 ing one which he had received," he felt a repug- 
 nance to address her, who although dearer to 
 him than life, was actually the affianced bride of 
 another. He had fancied himself into the belief 
 that she was wretched and miserable, and forced 
 to commit Smithism against her will ; but perhaps 
 after all, he might be wrong. His amour -propre 
 certainly induced him to doubt whether a young 
 lady of Harriet's standing and understanding, — 
 for the bandage with which Cupid blinds the eyes 
 of his votaries, is long enough to tie over the 
 ears, — could possibly prefer Smith, at sixty-four. 
 
166 THE WIDOW. 
 
 to himself, at twenty-five; — ^but then she had 
 sunk very tranquilly into her captivity and 
 wretchedness. She had " died and made no 
 sign." If she really were so persecuted, if she 
 really hated the elderly gentleman, and, above 
 all, if she really loved the young one, why had 
 she given no evidence of her feelings to her 
 disconsolate swain ? She might have been too 
 timid ; she might have considered it indelicate ; 
 she might have fancied it undignified ; well, and 
 if she had^ it was evident that the present at- 
 tempt to persuade her into the decisive step of 
 an elopement would be fruitless. Yet why ? the 
 offer would come from her suitor, whom at the 
 very moment in which he was debating the 
 question, she might consider as having tamely 
 and quietly abandoned her; — to be sure she 
 might ; the letter in which, for the first time, he 
 had openly declared himself, she had — thanks 
 to the prudence of her mother — never received ; 
 so that both of the ardent, dying lovers might, 
 for all that any body knew to the contrary, have 
 
THE WIDOW. 167 
 
 been all this time sympathising in the desire to 
 meet to part no more — either anxiously ex- 
 pecting the advance of the other. 
 
 The letter was therefore despatched. Twigg 
 departed; Saville returned to the assembly- 
 room, where more groupes of fresh arrivals were 
 breakfasting at different tables; the wine- 
 merchant's family, with which the stout gentle- 
 man with the crutches seemed to have formed 
 an alliance offensive and defensive, now occupy- 
 ing the bay window next the street ; the head of 
 the clan being extraordinarily loud in his praises 
 of the excellence of Chertsey bread, and the 
 beauty of the butcher's daughter. 
 
 One by one, and two by two, did all these 
 felicity-hunters take their departure ; gigs, tilbu- 
 ries, coaches, and cabriolets, all were in motion ; 
 and before noon, Saville found himself the sole 
 tenant of the hostelry, save those indeed whose 
 occupations detained them under its roof. The 
 day was a dreary waste to look forward to ; neither 
 occupation nor amusement appeared upon the 
 surface of the arid plain ; all was flat and dry as 
 
 2 
 
168 THE WIDOW. 
 
 a desart. He walked unconscious alike of the 
 distance and the objects which he passed, until 
 he had paced from his inn to the bridge, in one 
 direction, and to the Rhododendron Walk, at 
 St. Anne's Hill, in the other. Still was Twigg 
 absent ; he was, no doubt, occupying his time 
 much more satisfactorily in the society of Miss 
 Johnstone ; the poor master was all alone, with 
 " nobody by but himself," but it was not until 
 gentle force had been used by the fair demoiselle 
 in order to get him clear of the house before the 
 family returned from the races, that Twigg made 
 his bow, and bent his way back towards Chertsey, 
 where he arrived to report progress to Saville, 
 just as the advanced guard of the cockneys was 
 entering the town on their return from the 
 sports. 
 
 The intelligence Twigg brought was of first- 
 rate importance ; and if detailed, as Saville was 
 obliged to hear it, would occupy the greater 
 part of this volume : it will luckily lose nothing 
 by condensation. 
 
 It appeared from the evidence of Johnstone, 
 
THE WIDOW. 169 
 
 that Miss Franklin had, during her brief resi- 
 dence in that neighbourhood, been extremely 
 unwell; that disagreements, hitherto unknown, 
 had taken place between her and her mother ; 
 that from the observations she had thought proper 
 to make upon these very disagreeable differences 
 to her maid, the maid fancied she had gathered 
 enough of her young lady's inclinations on the 
 subject to be assured that if Saville were to pro- 
 pose an elopement, he would find her " nothing 
 loth;" that the mine was all properly charged, and 
 that nothing but the contact of the match was 
 wanting to explode it; nay, it appeared from 
 what the smart and intelligent souhrette hinted, 
 (coloured a little more highly, perhaps, by the 
 anxious Twigg,) that the only disheartening 
 feeling which pervaded the young lady's bosom, 
 originated in the apprehension that the affection 
 of her lover had undergone some serious de- 
 terioration, or that his zeal was not of a cor- 
 responding character with her own ; for, as the 
 reader already knows, Mrs. Franklin had care- 
 fully concealed from her daughter any mention 
 
 VOL. I. I 
 
170 THE WIDOW. 
 
 of the letter which Saville had attempted to send, 
 he may easily anticipate that she never told her 
 of her subsequent interview with him, or of the 
 scrape into which he had gotten himself in the 
 ardour of his pursuit of her. As the most 
 minute particulars of the affairs of a family, 
 are always circumstantially related by servants 
 one to another, there can be no doubt that 
 the news of the interview between Saville and 
 Mrs. Franklin, would have reached Miss John- 
 stone, but for the circumstance of the footman 
 who was at the milliner's door, having been 
 discharged when his mistress left town the next 
 day, and the coachman happening to be a 
 " Job," who quitted his functions at the same 
 period, resigning his temporary mistress's odious 
 blue chariot to the care of posters, with which 
 she hastened to Chertsey, her maid and her 
 butler being the only permanent officers of her 
 personal staff. 
 
 There can be no question as to the effect pro- 
 duced upon Charles's mind by the information re- 
 tailed to him through the medimn of the sanguine 
 
 2 
 
THE WIDOW. 171 
 
 Twigg, who interlarded his detail with frequent 
 eulogies of Miss Harriet's beauty, and goodness, 
 and mildness, and sorrow, and affection for his 
 master, convinced in his own mind that his own 
 Dulcinea would not for a moment hesitate to 
 follow the example of her mistress, and upon 
 such excellent authority in the way of precedent, 
 unite herself to the squire of the knight, upon 
 whom the fair lady herself was willing to bestow 
 her fair hand. 
 
 Saville saw but one course to pursue : it was 
 true he had received no answer to his note ; 
 could receive none until the next day; and it 
 would be the height of folly to make prepara- 
 tions for flight until sanctioned at least by a 
 gentle refusal on the part of his mistress; and 
 moreover, it was not practicable at the moment, 
 because post horses, so essential in such cases, 
 could not be procured. But he might have spared 
 himself all the pains which these reflections 
 momentarily caused him, inasmuch as there was 
 a sequel to Twigg's history, which as yet he 
 had not heard: — the whole party, Franklins, 
 I 2 
 
17^ THE WIDOW. 
 
 Smith, the aunt, and all, were going the very 
 next morning to the Isle of Wight for a month, 
 previous to the celebration of the marriage be- 
 tween the young folks. 
 
 This was conelAsive; and Saville's anger 
 with his man for not having come to this decid- 
 ing incident in the history, at first, had nearly 
 proved fatal to his further connexion with 
 Twigg, who, however, excused himself upon the 
 plea of keeping up the interest, and expressing 
 his conviction, that if his master had heard of 
 their approaching departure, in the first instance, 
 he would not have listened patiently to the de- 
 velopment of Miss Franklin's true love, evidence 
 of which he believed himself most satisfactorily 
 to have adduced. 
 
 Twigg, however, contrived to redeem himself 
 in his master's good opinion, by making him 
 understand that he had arranged to see Miss 
 Johnstone early in the morning before the de- 
 parture of the family, in order to receive from 
 her whatever answer, if any, her young mistress 
 might choose to send. This pacified Saville, who, 
 
THE WIDOW. 173 
 
 however, declaring himself incapable of enduring 
 another evening in the assembly-room, and 
 another morning in the street, resolved to put 
 himself into the stage-coach and return to town, 
 where Twigg was to join him, Rattew under- 
 taking to send back his carriage to the coach- 
 makers, the moment he had a pair of horses 
 disengaged. Thus the first part of the expedition 
 might have been considered a failure, if he had 
 not anticipated such a reply from Miss Franklin 
 as might, perhaps, have the effect of continuing 
 the action, only changing the venue. 
 
 Under this arrangement Saville reached his 
 lodgings in London the same evening, at which 
 Twigg was to arrive the following afternoon. 
 
 i3 
 
CHA'PTER VIL 
 
 Nothing is read by a protestant, especially a 
 protestant woman, with greater interest than the 
 details connected with the ceremony of taking 
 the veil. Pratt, an author of great merit in his 
 day, but now nearly forgotten, was one of the 
 earliest if not the first, who, mingling fact with 
 fiction, gave an account of the proceedings at 
 one of these European suttees. Many other 
 writers have followed in the same track, and 
 none of them have failed to attract and engage 
 the attention of the reader. No wonder ; there 
 is in the nature of the ceremony, in its details, 
 in the occasion, in the consequences, something 
 seriously touching; the lengthened processions 
 moving slowly along the dimly-Kghted aisles. 
 
THE WIDOW. 175 
 
 the deep-toned organ, the swelling choir, the 
 wafted incense, the weeping friends, the sympa- 
 thising spectators ; all these accessories are sure 
 to effect the object for which they are thus com- 
 bined. 
 
 If such an immolation then be really matter 
 of stirring interest, something better than in- 
 difference may be claimed for poor Harriet 
 Franklin ; true it is, that she was not destined 
 to crop her hair, and casting away her jewels 
 with disdain, assume a veil ; nor was she to be 
 buried in a cell, with an iron-bedstead and one 
 chair by way of furniture ; nor was she absolutely 
 to renounce the society of all her early friends 
 and acquaintance ; but it is equally true that 
 she was about to be married to an elderly gen- 
 tleman in despite of her feelings and inclinations, 
 and give up one, who, as it appeared, was more 
 to her than a crowd of worldly associates. 
 
 Those, and there are some, but in these days 
 
 very few, who have not had the advantage of 
 
 " foreign travel," and who have formed their 
 
 notions of a conventual life upon what they 
 
 I 4 
 
176 THE WIDOW. 
 
 have seen in the nunneries of Essex, Middlesex, 
 or Warwickshire, can form but a very faint 
 opinion of the continental establishments of a 
 similar nature. In England, a few strange-look- 
 ing old bodies in bkek gowns, with a plump con- 
 fessor, " hien poudre^^ smart, smug, and smirking, 
 huddled round the outside edge of a low roofed 
 parlour, with no high walls to bound their view, 
 and no rigid ordinances to restrain their harmless 
 conversation, look all mighty snug and comfort- 
 able ; but far different is the position of the closely 
 immured girl who, compelled by the imperious 
 commands of a bigoted parent, is doomed to 
 eternal solitude and sorrow. It was to this last 
 victim, that poor Harriet bore the strongest re- 
 semblance ; nor was the positive command of 
 her mother to marry Smith less cruel — perhaps, 
 taking all things into consideration it was more 
 so — than the decree which would consign the 
 innocent novice to her premature grave. 
 
 Oh ! it was sad to see the once lively, laugh- 
 ing Harriet, reduced in so short a space of time 
 to melancholy and mourning, her rosy cheeks 
 
THE WIDOW. 177 
 
 blanched and her bright eyes dim ; and to watch 
 the innocent attentions of her doting suitor, and 
 listen to his observations and remarks. The 
 man had from his youth been ignorant of all 
 things, save in the particular of expertness in 
 book-keeping by " double-entry," and money- 
 gathering by any entry through which it would 
 come. Like Nelson on his quarter-deck, he 
 was mighty in his counting-house, but out of 
 that sphere of action, he possessed every quality 
 to justify the nickname which we have already 
 mentioned was bestowed upon him, of Twaddle 
 Smith. 
 
 He had however a fine house in a fine street, 
 and he had fine pictures, for Segueir honoured 
 him with his notice. He had a splendid library, 
 for what is a merchant without his books ? He 
 had plate, and carriages, and horses, and wines ; 
 and although on the stock-exchange, which is 
 represented to the uninitiated as the mart of fun 
 as well as of funds, he had been he-twaddled by 
 general consent, yet in society, to which his 
 golden key was as sure a passport as that of an 
 I 5 
 
178 THE WIDOW. 
 
 Imperial chamberlain, lie was called " a good 
 creature" — " a well meaning, kind-hearted man," 
 and above all, " so very quiet and gentlemanly." 
 He had, moreover, besides his actual wealth, 
 another recommencTation to the men of certain 
 sets in which he mingled ; he was remarkably 
 fond of whist — played particularly ill — backed 
 himself highly — and always paid his bets 
 " prompt." 
 
 " My dear Harriet," said Mrs. Franklin to 
 her daughter, only a day or two before the 
 Ascot meeting, " I must insist upon your shak- 
 ing off this sort of apathetic indifference to every 
 thing around you, which you either feel or 
 affect; what must Mr. Smith think of your 
 gravity, and your sighs, and even tears, which, 
 if he is not as blind as a beetle, he must occa- 
 sionally see ?" 
 
 " Can I command my feelings?" said her 
 daughter. " I have in all things obeyed you; 
 have met your wishes in direct opposition to my 
 own. It is not in my power entirely to check 
 the natural impulses of my heart." 
 
THE WIDOW. 179 
 
 " You ought to be the happiest girl in 
 England." 
 
 " Would I could think so," said Harriet. 
 
 " You do not think so," replied her mother, 
 " because you have established some romantic 
 ideas in your mind, which the most favourable 
 events could never realize. You have already 
 rejected a viscount and a baronet, because you 
 did not like them, and they did not suit " 
 
 " And surely. Mamma," said Miss Franklin, 
 interrupting her voluble and somewhat irritated 
 parent, " there could have been no better 
 reason, even were the fact as you have set it 
 down. That I most certainly should not have 
 accepted either Lord Pertwood, or Sir Harry 
 Fitch, is most true, supposing they had given 
 me the opportunity of refusing them, but they 
 never did me the honour of making me any oifer 
 that I heard of." 
 
 " Offer !" said Mrs. Franklin, "of course not; 
 why should men propose with the certainty of 
 being rejected ? You took the greatest possible 
 I 6 
 
180 THE WIDOW. 
 
 pains to display your sentiments towards both 
 of them." 
 
 " I am not aware of that," said Harriet. 
 
 " They were," answered her mother. " A 
 lover, however blind to every thing else, is pecu- 
 liarly sensitive as to the manner of the lady to 
 whom he is paying his addresses ; the least taunt 
 — a look — a word" 
 
 " Well, then," said Harriet, smiling, " if both 
 these lovers of mine, as you call them, were driven 
 away by my manner, — and I am unconscious of 
 having done any thing which ought to displease 
 them, — it only proves the sincerity of my dispo- 
 sition,, and the singleness of my character." 
 
 " Conscious, Harriet !" exclaimed Mrs. Frank- 
 lin; " what earthly object had you in making a 
 fool of young Saville, by devoting yourself to 
 his conversation when they were present, listen- 
 ing to his singing, and poring over his draw- 
 ings? You never could have had any serious 
 view in such behaviour, unless to declare, in the 
 most convincing manner, not only your indiffer- 
 
THE WIDOW. 181 
 
 ence towards them, but your partiality for 
 him." 
 
 " That again," said Harriet, colouring a little, 
 " proves my sincerity. It never struck me that 
 I showed any special favour, or paid any par- 
 ticular attention to Mr. Saville. I dare say I 
 did, if it appeared so to you, because I really 
 felt the greatest pleasure in his society. I ad- 
 mired his talents, and I enjoyed his conversation ; 
 yet I think you must have been more observant 
 of my partialities than he was ; for, like the 
 viscount and the baronet, whom you represent 
 me to have chasseed for his sake, Mr. Saville 
 made good his retreat upon the approach of a 
 rival, and like them spared me — or rather you — 
 the pain of a refusal." 
 
 " Me ! my dear child," said the mother, 
 feeling herself look confused and agitated by the 
 consciousness that Saville had actually made a de- 
 claration and proposal, which she had intercepted 
 and returned. " Me ! not only me — but you ; 
 surely, however pleasant Mr. Saville may be as 
 a companion or an acquaintance, he would be 
 
182 THE WIDOW. 
 
 any thing- but desirable as a connexion. These 
 talking, and drawing, and singing men are all 
 mighty well in society, but a woman in settling 
 for life, wants something more than a pun, a 
 pencil, and a piano-forte." 
 
 " And yet," said Harriet, shaking her head, 
 and aiFecting to look judicially grave at her 
 mother, " you — yes, you, my dear mother, 
 married for love yourself, in defiance of my ex- 
 cellent and exemplary grandfather and grand- 
 mother." 
 
 " Ah !" answered Mrs. Franklin, rather stag- 
 gered by the attack, " ah ! that's quite another 
 thing— where there is a powerful feeling of 
 attachm en t — and — so — I — " 
 
 " Spare yourself, my dear mother," said 
 Harriet; " I presume neither to arraign your 
 conduct, nor justify my own rebellion by your 
 example. Whatever my feelings were, they are 
 conquered ; whatever my scruples, they are 
 overcome ; but they will still occasionally flash 
 into my mind; and when the recollection of other 
 days, and of the prospects which I thought those 
 
THE WIDOW. 183 
 
 days presaged, occur, some few natural tears will 
 fall, but they shall be dried. All that is wanting 
 to reconcile me to what I know you think best for 
 me, is time. The bitterest afflictions are con- 
 quered by time ; and it will be hard if I, who 
 am about to form a connexion, which you tell me, 
 is the envy of all my unmarried acquaintance, 
 am not able to overcome regrets which I ought 
 now most certainly not to cherish, and which, 
 perhaps, after all, have been erroneously ex- 
 cited." 
 
 The truth is, that the grief and sorrow of 
 Harriet were of a two-fold character : giving up 
 Saville was one cause of wretchedness ; marrying 
 Smith was another and a greater one ; but 
 the most poignant of all was the belief that 
 Charles had deceived, and then deserted her. 
 He certainly, perhaps as unconsciously as her- 
 self, had taught her to fancy that he loved, and 
 yet from the instant that so questionable a rival 
 as Smith appeared, he had withdrawn without one 
 effort to rescue her from that respectable dragon, 
 and without having given her the option of 
 
184 THE WIDOW. 
 
 refusing or accepting him. She little thought 
 what Saville's suiFerings had been ; she could 
 not guess at the cruel duplicity of her mother ; 
 she attributed his silence and absence either 
 to neglect, or perhsrps disgust, excited by what, 
 if he thought at all about her, he must have 
 considered her ready acceptance of her now in- 
 tended husband. 
 
 She had accepted him; but it was a condi- 
 tional acceptance : she had demanded time be- 
 fore she surrendered ; that time elapsed, and no 
 Saville appeared. The election was to be made ; 
 he still kept away; and, at the very moment 
 when his efforts should have been the most 
 energetic, he came not — wrote not — as she 
 thought ; and, actuated by the influence of her 
 elderly lover, and the authority of her anxious 
 parent, she arrived at the conclusion which was 
 eternally to separate her from the only man who 
 had ever excited an interest or affection in her 
 heart. 
 
 The Ute-a-tete of Mrs. Franklin apd her 
 daughter was broken up by the arrival of Mr. 
 
THE WIDOW. 185 
 
 Smith, who, in spite of all the dim-sightedness of 
 age, occasionally caught a glimpse or two of his 
 unpopularity in the family. To this he was mag- 
 nanimously callous ; it was his will and pleasure 
 to have a young and handsome wife, and Har- 
 riet's mother was evidently disposed to gratify his 
 inclination that way; upon him, therefore, any 
 looks or sighs, or tears, even of his intended, 
 however much they might convince him of her 
 real feelings towards him, produced but little 
 effect ; he looked upon the whole affair as a trans- 
 action in which, for valuable considerations on 
 either side, a bargain had been struck, and he 
 went on making preparations for the marriage 
 ceremony as he would for any other ordinary 
 event. 
 
 The honeymoon, and five or six moons more, 
 as he proposed, were to be passed in continental 
 travelling ; he had hitherto visited only France 
 and Italy, and somebody had suggested that an 
 extended excursion through Europe, alone was 
 wanting to complete his education ; he therefore 
 determined to see every thing that the Continent 
 
186 THE WIDOW, 
 
 could show, as fast as he possibly could; and 
 what would be pleasanter than pursuing his 
 gratifying researches in the society of a young 
 and accomplished wife. Harriet objected to 
 nothing that was proposed, and even if she had 
 made a choice, the excursion was rather prefer- 
 able to remaining in the same scenes and the same 
 society which she had enjoyed before her mar- 
 riage. To Mm, siich a companion was every 
 thing ; she spoke two or three of the continental 
 languages fluently, of which he himself had not 
 the slightest knowledge ; these, in his capacity of 
 guardian, he had made a point of her acquiring, 
 and now felt the importance of reaping the har- 
 vest which himself had sown. 
 
 Little amusement and less information would 
 be afforded to the reader by the details of con- 
 versations such as those, in which the family 
 party indulged during the sojourn at Chertsey. 
 Mr. Smith had grown particularly good-tempered 
 within the last few days, in consequence of 
 having let his house in London for six months, 
 at a most advantageous rate. It would just 
 
THE WIDOW. 187 
 
 suit for the time they were to be absent; 
 and besides pocketing five-and- twenty guineas 
 a week — which to a man of his extensive wealth, 
 was a matter of infinitely greater interest than 
 it would have been to the less opulent Mrs. 
 Franklin, or any body of her grade — the rooms 
 would be kept aired, and the furniture in order 
 till their return, and he might disband his do- 
 mestic establishment, retaining only his own man, 
 who with an ambi-dexterity highly valuable to 
 an economist of Mr. Smith's disposition, per- 
 formed the double character of valet and butler. 
 Smith always declared that more fortunes 
 were saved than made; and although, perhaps, 
 he had not, like some of his wealthy contempo- 
 raries, the prospect of the parish poor-house con- 
 stantly before his eyes, he certainly appeared to 
 take the most anxious precautions to avoid the 
 possibility of outliving his income. Indeed, the 
 evidences of his parsimonious character, which 
 were discernible from the proceedings of the 
 last fortnight of their acquaintance, had not 
 tended to increase the affection of Harriet for 
 
188 THE WIDOW. 
 
 her betrothed, however much they might have 
 added to her respect for his prudence and fore- 
 thought. 
 
 In this state were affairs when Harriet re- 
 turned from Ascot'Heath, tired and jaded, and 
 worried, and even disappointed — disappointed 
 too, because, although she had gazed and looked, 
 and looked and gazed in every direction, she had 
 not seen Charles Saville ; having strangely, and 
 even improperly, as her maiden aunt would have 
 thought, anticipated that he would be there. 
 Yet why ? — if he knew where she was, he cer- 
 tainly would not seek that neighbourhood, after 
 having so evidently relinquished all intention of 
 bringing their ill-fated acquaintance to a happy 
 conclusion; and if he knew nothing about her 
 present residence, which was most probable, why 
 should he visit Ascot ?— Why should he not ? — 
 all the world went to Ascot; why not Charles 
 Saville ? All these questions Harriet had asked 
 herself, and had answered them all, so as at the 
 conclusion of the colloquy to have wound herself 
 up into a hope that he might be there, and there- 
 
THE WIDOW. 189 
 
 fore, as the reader must be told, coute qui coute, 
 she came back disappointed that he was not. 
 
 This was not the sort of feeling which should 
 have actuated a young lady within a month of 
 her marriage to another man; but whether it 
 were or were not, the reader may easily antici- 
 pate how a note from the regretted object which 
 had excited it, was received, and how awfully 
 agreeable to the young bride elect was the sight 
 of the hand- writing of the rejected lover, just at 
 the moment of her enlightenment upon the sub- 
 ject of his feeling towards her, with the whole 
 history of which she was at this juncture favoured 
 by her maid. That she had now for the first 
 time discovered that he had been rejected, dimi- 
 nished neither the pain which she derived from 
 the intelligence, nor the vexation — it might 
 almost be called anger — which was excited in 
 her breast by the exposure of her mother's mis- 
 taken duplicity, as related to the suppression of 
 his declaration and proposal. 
 
 Harriet, in the first instance, received Saville's 
 billet from the all-accomplished Miss Johnstone, 
 
190 THE WIDOW. 
 
 without knowing what it was, or whence it came ; 
 the experienced souhrette was too great an artist 
 in her particular line, and understood her metier 
 much too well to subject the question of opening 
 a letter from Mr. -Saville to Miss Franklin's dis- 
 cussion ; she did not humanely warn her young 
 lady of the trap that was set for her ; and she 
 knew enough of her sex to be quite assured that 
 if her principle Were once compromised, and 
 the seal once broken, the letter would be read. 
 It is necessary that the reader should be put into 
 possession of this fact, in order that my heroine 
 should be exempt from the reproach which many 
 of the elderly Dianas of society would, no 
 doubt, be inclined to cast upon her for her want 
 of delicacy, — or what they talk about quite as 
 much, and think about, perhaps, a little more, — 
 her want of dignity in opening a note addressed 
 to her by a faithless lover, as she supposed 
 Charles to be ; or indeed a lover of any sort, 
 while she was actually under an engagement, 
 and on the eve of bestowing herself upon an- 
 other. 
 
THE WIDOW. 191 
 
 " Is it possible !" said Harriet, still holding 
 the note in her trembling hand, her heart palpi- 
 tating rapidly, and her eyes filling with tears. 
 " Can my mother have betrayed me so cruelly ? 
 Had the letter of which he speaks ever reached 
 me, although it might have made no serious 
 alteration in the resolution to which I came, of 
 acting according to my mother's wishes, I should 
 at least, have had the merit of making a sacrifice 
 to duty ; and I should have done so with com- 
 parative happiness, if I had known that I had 
 not lost the esteem of so dear a friend as Charles. 
 But this I cannot bear ! to be cheated into 
 obedience, when I was ready to submit to all 
 she wished; to be blinded, duped, and even 
 taught, carefully taught, to banish Charles from 
 my memory, not upon principle, but upon the 
 low and petty feeling of retaliation — because he 
 had forgotten me, is more than even I can endure." 
 
 " Why," added she, addressing her maid, who 
 stood near at hand, to watch the working of the 
 subtle poison which she had administered, " why 
 
192 THE WIDOW. 
 
 did I not know this before ? — why do I know it 
 now ?" 
 
 " Why, Ma'am," said Johnstone, " Tm sure 
 I never had the least suspicion of Mr. Saville's 
 intentions, only what I could pick up from 
 Mr. Twigg ; and I'm sure, if you'll believe me, 
 I thought I felt my heart up in my mouth when 
 I saw him here this morning." 
 
 " I certainly should like to see Mr. Saville," 
 said Harriet, " if it were only for five minutes, 
 to exculpate myself from the imputation of heart- 
 lessness, of which he must so naturally consider 
 me guilty." 
 
 " Why, yes. Miss," said Johnstone, " that's 
 very natural; but don't you think he deserves 
 something more than a mere farewell ?" 
 
 " How do you mean ?" said Harriet. 
 
 " Why, Miss," replied Johnstone, " I mean — 
 nothing particular — only that I don't think if I 
 were ^ou I should have the heart to send him 
 away." 
 
 " I don't comprehend," said the young lady. 
 
THE WIDOW. 193 
 
 " I don't in the least comprehend what you would 
 do. To-moiTow morning we leave this, for the 
 Isle of Wight, and this day month is fixed for 
 my marriage." 
 
 " Why, certainly, Miss," said Johnstone, " as 
 to the Isle of Wight, and the journey to-morrow, 
 there is no getting off those; but for the mar- 
 riage, I am sure if I had such a sweetheart as 
 Mr. Saville, ready to fly to my arms, I could not 
 make up my mind to give him up for such an 
 old " 
 
 " Pray be quiet, Johnstone," interrupted her 
 young lady, " recollect that I have made up 
 my mind." 
 
 " But why. Miss?" said the maid. " You have 
 made up your mind to marry Mr. Smith, half 
 out of spite, because you thought Mr. Saville 
 had behaved ungenteelly; and now here, poor 
 dear gentleman, he tells you all the truth. I am 
 sure, if I were you, I would take my mind to 
 pieces again, as I had made it up, and show 
 them the difference." 
 
 " How?" 
 
 VOL. I. K 
 
194 THE WIDOW. 
 
 " How ?" said Johnstone, " leave me alone 
 for settling that ; — why, by giving the slip and 
 running away." 
 
 " Good heavens ! what a suggestion !" said 
 Harriet — not, however, in so angry a tone as 
 some people might have expected — " What 
 could have put such a thing into your head ?" 
 
 " Why, Miss, I believe," replied Johnstone, 
 " it was your telling me that your Mamma ran 
 away with her first husband, and " 
 
 " Aye — yes," said Harriet, " so she did." 
 
 " And to avoid a match she disliked, I think 
 you said." 
 
 « True— but then " 
 
 "What, Miss? 
 
 " Nobody can be more convinced of the rash- 
 ness, and indelicacy, and imprudence of such an 
 act, than Mamma herself." 
 
 " Aye" said Johnstone, "it is part of her 
 duty as a parent to say so, but don't the best books 
 tell us that practice is before precept, and better 
 than preaching; — she would not be seriously 
 angry for long." 
 
THE WIDOW. 195 
 
 " Her case, if you mean that," said Harriet, 
 " was totally different from mine. But why do 
 I permit myself to entertain such a subject for a 
 moment ?" 
 
 " Because you cannot help it, Miss." 
 
 " But I ivill help it, Johnstone ; am I not 
 pledged?" 
 
 " If it is merely a question of time, Miss," 
 said Johnstone, " I don't think it signifies the 
 value of an old gown. Do you love Mr. Smith ?" 
 
 " No," said Harriet, sharply, " not as I ought." 
 
 " Why marry him ?" 
 
 " My mother wishes it — desires it — orders it 
 — and I have consented." 
 
 " Her mother wished her to marry a man she 
 did not love ; and desired it — and ordered it — 
 and what did she do ?" said Johnstone, " jumped 
 out of a one pair of stairs window, and ran away 
 with the man she did love." 
 
 " As I shall most assuredly not do," said Har- 
 riet ; " my word is given, my faith is plighted." 
 
 " And when you gave your word and plighted 
 your faith," said Johnstone ; " did you or did 
 k2 
 
196 THE WIDOW. 
 
 you not believe that Mr. Saville had given you 
 up ?" 
 
 Harriet sighed. 
 
 " And who made you think so, Miss, but your 
 Ma ?" continued the maid. " She it was that 
 took Mr. Saville's offer of his hand and heart, 
 and crumpled it up and poked it into her bag, 
 and never said a word about it to you — good, bad, 
 or indifferent." 
 
 " That is true," said Harriet. 
 
 " Well, then, I am sure," said Johnstone, " that 
 one single thing puts an end to all obligations 
 from you to your Ma. What I says is this — 
 trust me, and I'll never deceive you — play me 
 false, and I'll show ^you I am as good as my 
 neighbour at the game." 
 
 " I conclude my mother thought it best to con- 
 ceal the offer from me," said Harriet. 
 
 " Well, then, Miss, if she thought it best to 
 conceal the offer from you, it shows she must 
 know you don't like the old fogey." 
 
 " Johnstone," said Miss Franklin, " do you 
 recollect of whom you speak ?" 
 
THE WIDOW. 197 
 
 " I do. Miss ; of a very worthy old gentleman, 
 with a very good fortune, of which he is ex- 
 tremely fond and vain ; but no more fit for your 
 husband" — 
 
 " Come," said Harriet, " end these remarks ; 
 even if I could properly or correctly listen to 
 such language, I have no time : I am waited 
 for in the drawing-room, so tell me at once, is 
 Mr. Saville's servant gone ?" 
 
 " He is, but he will be here again before any 
 body is stirring in the morning. I have pro- 
 mised your answer." 
 
 " I can send no answer," said Harriet. " What 
 could I say ?" 
 
 " Very little will do, of that I am quite sure," 
 said Johnstone ; " do not forbid him to hope — 
 let him see you once." 
 
 " But even if I did wish to see him," said 
 Harriet, thoughtfully, " I could not." 
 
 The moment Harriet uttered these words, the 
 
 acute Johnstone felt that she had triumphed; 
 
 the main objection was overcome. The seeing 
 
 or not seeing him, ceased now to be a matter of 
 
 k3 
 
198 THE WIDOW. 
 
 principle, and had resolved itself into a question 
 of time, and — which seemed still more difficult — 
 opportunity. 
 
 " Oh ! Miss," said Johnstone, " I'll answer 
 for your being able* to see Mr. Saville; we are 
 to be a month at the Isle of Wight — where is 
 the difficulty?" 
 
 " No," said Harriet; " I dare say the diffi- 
 culty might be overcome — but — no, no — it is 
 impossible — there would be such duplicity in it. 
 What on earth should I do if my mother were 
 to speak of him, or allude to him, and I felt con- 
 scious that I had seen him since she had ?" 
 
 " If things turn out as I hope. Miss," said 
 Johnstone, " I don't think you would see much 
 of your Ma after you had seen Mr. Saville, until 
 you appeared before her with him as your 
 husband." 
 
 " Oh ! ridiculous," said Miss Franklin ; " as if 
 it were possible to break off with Mr. Smith, even 
 if I desired it; every thing is prepared for the mar- 
 riage and for our journey afterwards; my clothes 
 and jewels are all ordered and nearly ready." 
 
THE WIDOW. 199 
 
 " What signifies, Miss ?" said Johnstone ; " Mr. 
 Smith is too good a manager to lose by that ' 
 besides, if he had the generosity of a gentleman, 
 when he found you had married the man of your 
 choice, he would make you a present of all the 
 wedding-clothes ; and as for the jewels — pooh — 
 what is the value of a long suit of diamonds in 
 a game where hearts are trumps ?" 
 
 " Rely upon it, Johnstone," said Harriet, "that 
 I am not actuated by any great envy of wealth 
 in this connexion ; they did not catch me as they 
 do birds by dazzling. I can see plainly and 
 clearly, and I know I shall be miserable for the 
 rest of my life, as well as any of the indifferent 
 lookers on ; but my pride was hurt by Charles's ap- 
 parent negligence ; his silence left me no defence 
 for what I could not have considered any thing 
 short of disobedience, and mingled duty and 
 resentment, I am ashamed to say, led me to 
 consent." 
 
 " Well then, Miss," said Johnstone, " since 
 your Ma has so bitterly deceived you, you should 
 let resentment lead you to fulfil your first inten- 
 k4 
 
iJOO THE WIDOW. 
 
 tion, and reward the ill-used, constant Mr. Saville 
 with your hand." 
 
 " I tell you it is nonsense to talk of such a 
 thing," said Harriet; " the idea of running 
 away with one lov^r a month before my pro- 
 posed marriage to another !" 
 
 " Better by half do that. Miss," said John- 
 stone, " than run away a month after, which I'm 
 sure you'll just be ready to do if you " 
 
 Here a knocking at the dressing-room door 
 attracted Miss Johnstone's attention ; it proved 
 to be the summons of the domestic black-rod to 
 coffee, which was announced to be ready; and 
 Harriet hurried down stairs, not, however, with- 
 out promising Johnstone that she should have 
 some decisive answer for' the enterprising Twigg 
 on his arrival in the morning. 
 
 Johnstone, who was an adept in what in better 
 society is called finesse^ but who, spite of all 
 her overstrained education and fine language, 
 got credit for nothing better than cunning, con- 
 gratulated herself, and not without reason, upon 
 the tone she had assumed, and the line she had 
 
THE WIDOW. 201 
 
 adopted, in pleading the cause of Saville with her 
 young lady. She found her unassailable where 
 mere self-gratification, at the expense either of 
 her " dignity," or her filial duty was the object; 
 these she had resolved to support and maintain, 
 even to the annihilation of all her best and dearest 
 hopes of future happiness ; but the moment the 
 pleader made her sensible that she had been 
 cheated into compliance with her mother's wishes 
 by a trick, by the suppression of a confidential 
 communication, the case was altered: not only 
 did she then feel that she had been treated like a 
 child, and duped and trifled with, but she recalled 
 to her mind all that she imagined Charles must 
 have felt regarding her apparent contemptuous 
 neglect of him ; for she was of course not aware 
 that her mother had herself confessed to him her 
 interception of his letter, and the concealment of 
 its contents. Johnstone, in truth, had piqued her 
 — wounded her pride, and excited a spirit, which, 
 during the wakeful restlessness of the night, 
 prompted her — not to write to Saville, but to do 
 — what, in fact, if less indelicate, was assuredly 
 K 5 
 
20^ THE WIDOW. 
 
 more dangerous — permit her maid to enter into 
 such a negociation with his man, as might pro- 
 duce an interview between them previous to 
 her marriage, in which she might vindicate her 
 own conduct, and bid farewell for ever to a be- 
 ing, of whose importance to her happiness, she 
 had no just idea, until she had been deprived of 
 his society. 
 
 The delegation 6f power to weak or vulgar 
 minds, is at all times perilous and imprudent. 
 The necessities of society, which invest the tax- 
 gatherer or the toll-taker with personal authority, 
 are great and flagrant evils, the obvious results 
 of which are impertinence of manner, coarseness 
 of language, and an unqualified disposition to 
 tyrannize. It is recorded somewhere, that an 
 eminent brewer, now no more, finding himself 
 universally despised in all companies with which 
 he mingled, his facts doubted, his arguments re- 
 futed, his opinions ridiculed, and his capacity 
 questioned, enjoyed a pleasurable counterpoise for 
 the miseries of his insignificance, in walking forth 
 into the yard of his brew-house, and kicking the 
 
THE WIDOW. 203 
 
 pigs that were feeding on the grains. It was a 
 triumph to his little mind to tyrannize over some- 
 thing that had breath and life. Harriet, when 
 she appointed Johnstone her minister plenipoten- 
 tiary and extraordinary — extraordinary indeed ! 
 did not foresee the vast accumulation of power 
 which she surrendered by so doing. That her 
 scruples about writing were just and proper, no 
 one can for a moment doubt ; but it is question- 
 able whether the justice and propriety of her 
 resolutions upon that point, were not altogether 
 compromised by the equivocal course she had 
 actually chosen to adopt. The qualification of 
 the sin of writing by the weakness of a personal 
 communication, is not very unlike the contempti- 
 ble distinction made by a well-known puritanical 
 parson, between the delicacy of a young lady 
 who sang with her back to the company, and the 
 impropriety of her, who did the same thing, 
 facing it. 
 
 So it was, however, and there could be little 
 doubt that in the matinal meeting between 
 Twigg and the fair object of all his hopes and 
 k6 
 
204 THE WIDOW. 
 
 anxieties, enough was said by the amiable diplo- 
 mate, to justify the conclusions at which her com- 
 panion very speedily arrived. 
 
 The reader may easily picture to himseK the 
 feverish state of anxiety in which Charles Saville 
 remained in London, until the arrival of his 
 minister, by whose hand he expected such im- 
 portant despatches. He lived, however, to be 
 disappointed in that particular, but gratified by 
 the appearance of the faithful Twigg, who reached 
 town just about the period at which the Isle of 
 Wight travellers were eating their luncheon, 
 at the sign of many quarterings, at Murrell 
 Green. 
 
 " Well !" exclaimed Saville, as he entered the 
 room, " what answer ?" 
 
 " None, Sir," said Twigg. 
 
 "Not a line?" 
 
 " Not a scratch." 
 
 " Are they gone ?" 
 
 " Gone, Sir," said Twigg. 
 
 " And no answer to my note ?" 
 
 " No ; Miss would not write, Sir," said Twigg. 
 
THE WIDOW. 205 
 
 « That's strange !" said Saville. 
 
 " Very, Sir," said Twigg ; " I wish you had 
 been there this morning, instead of here." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 " Because Miss Franklin would have seen 
 you. Sir." 
 
 " How do you know ?" 
 
 " She said so." 
 
 " That," said Saville, " is tolerably good au- 
 thority." 
 
 " Very, Sir." 
 
 " Did you see her ?" 
 
 " No," said Twigg, " but Miss Johnstone 
 told me all about it — that her young lady would 
 not write ; she said she could not write — that I 
 s'pose is her way of excusing herself — she said 
 she could not write, but if" 
 
 " What ?" 
 
 " If you choose to go down quietly to Cowes, 
 where they are to stay, she will endeavour to 
 see you, and bid you good bye." 
 
 " And is that all ?" said Saville ; " meet to 
 part — that's sad work." 
 
206 THE WIDOW. 
 
 " Very, Sir," said Twigg ; " but I have a 
 notion that if you mind your P's and Q's, as I 
 mean to mind mine with Miss J. — that is, with 
 your permission, Sir — you need not part at all. 
 I think, from all I" know, that the day is your 
 own ; and that even now she would take a long 
 run to get away from Smith." 
 
 " What ! at the eleventh hour ?" said Saville. 
 
 " Why," replied' Twigg, " we have not come 
 to sich close calcilations as to fix the hour yet, 
 but very nigh it, Sir. She'll go ?" 
 
 " Do you really believe so ?" said Saville. 
 
 " I do, Sir," said the servant, " and she has 
 said as much. You can't expect a horse to 
 come to corn without shaking the sieve a bit; 
 and I reckon she may want a bit of pressing ; 
 or rather I should say encouraging — she can't 
 bear the old one, and is dying for love of you." 
 
 " Is this the opinion of Miss Johnstone ?" 
 said Saville, 
 
 " She knows it. Sir ; she is her considerate in 
 the whole affair." 
 
 " Confederate?" 
 
THE WIDOW. 207 
 
 " Yes, Sir, all the same, that's it," said Twigg ; 
 •' and she commissioned her to commission me to 
 make the same known to you in any way I thought 
 most properest." 
 
 " That is good news, Twigg." 
 
 " Very, Sir," replied Twigg ; " and so I took 
 the liberty of meeting Miss Johnstone half-way 
 in the matter of arrangements; for as Miss 
 Franklin had appointed her minister penitentiary 
 on one side, I thought it was right for me to 
 appoint myself minister penitentiary on the 
 other." 
 
 " You seem to have a very just idea, Twigg," 
 said Saville, " of the dignity of your principal ; 
 I suppose you picked up this quality in the ser- 
 vice of your late master ?" 
 
 " I got a smattering there. Sir," said Twigg, 
 looking rather shy ; " one ought, you know. Sir, 
 to live and learn; and no better school of 
 course than a cabinet minister's stable. I assure 
 you. Sir, though I say it, my Lord more than once, 
 when he's been a looking at the horses, afore he 
 went down to Downing-street, has asked me 
 
208 THE WIDOW. 
 
 what I thought of things in Portugal, and 
 Turkey, and them sort of outlandish places, 
 and regular as could be I've noticed in 
 the newspapers that he did whatsumever I 
 advised." 
 
 " I delight in your adroitness — go on." 
 " So I fixed. Sir," said Twigg, "that we 
 should go down upon the sly to Portsmouth, in 
 t]/ro or three days; put ourselves up at the 
 Queebec Hotel, where nobody will see us ; pop 
 over in the Ryde steamer in the afternoon, and 
 so reach Cowes in the dusk. The time Miss will 
 meet you will be when she goes out in the 
 morning as if she was going to bathe, and takes 
 Johnstone along with her. Miss J. and I have 
 settled where she is to turn off up the hill towards 
 Northwood, and, for that morning, take a stroll 
 instead of a dip. You will have half an hour for 
 conversation ; and I and Miss J. will play pro- 
 priety, and, like good seconds, follow the ex- 
 ample of our principals." 
 
 " The notion is good," said Saville, " and 
 practicable." 
 
THE WIDOW. 209 
 
 ^« Very, Sir," said Twigg ; " I know every 
 inch of my ground, and I'll answer for the ease, 
 safety, and security of the meeting — the rest 1 
 must leave to you." 
 
 " You have done wonders, Twigg," said 
 Saville, " and when shall we go ?" 
 
 " Oh, the sooner the better. Sir," said Twigg, 
 " 1 cannot bear to think of the poor young lady's 
 sufferings under the courtship of that old fogey, 
 as Miss J. calls him. I saw him out on one of 
 the gravel walks this very morning, when he 
 little thought who was so near him, trying all he 
 could to make himself insinivating. Sir. It's 
 quite shocking to look at." 
 
 " It is an intricate web in which she has got 
 entangled," said Saville. 
 
 " Very,'* said Twigg, " and to keep up the 
 meteor, as my Lord used to say, old Smith is the 
 spider what paws and mumbles her, just like 
 an innocent fly — and I'm sure she'll die of him, 
 just like the fly, if we don't rescue her." 
 
 " But, Twigg," said Saville, " I see no encou- 
 ragement to hope for more than this transient 
 
210 THE WIDOW. 
 
 meeting ; there is no hint — no allusion — nothing 
 prospective as to her going oiF." 
 
 " Never you mind, Sir," said Twigg ; " you 
 can't expect a young lady to jump down your 
 throat, if you won't'open your mouth. She's in 
 love with you, and hates Smith, — that's one good 
 thing; she's unhappy where she is, and would 
 be happy with you, — that's another good thing ; 
 but the best thing of all is, that she is as savage 
 as can be with her Ma, as she calls her ; and 
 Miss J. has put it into her head that turn-about 
 is all fair play, and that as Ma cheated her, she 
 may cheat Ma, and so play tit for tat without 
 committing the slightest impropriety." 
 
 " It matters little, as far as our visit is con- 
 cerned," said Saville, " what may be our ulterior 
 proceeding ; we will not lose a moment in pre- 
 paring for our expedition to Portsmouth. How 
 are we to go ?" 
 
 « Per Rocket, Sir," said Twigg, " « Faulkner's 
 four' — that's the surest way — steady pace — up 
 hill and down hill, and round the Devil's Punch 
 Bowl all at the same pat." 
 
THE WIDOW. 211 
 
 " Well, all the arrangements I leave to you ; 
 and the day after to-morrow we go." 
 
 "Aye, aye, Sir," said Twigg; "rely upon 
 me ; you have not another word to say, nor 
 another order to give till you find yourself in 
 the bow-window of the Queebec." 
 
 "Why there?" 
 
 " Close to the packets, and away from every 
 thing else, Sir," said Twigg ; " and if we should 
 have to sleep there, you won't mind for one 
 night, whether the beds are " 
 
 " Oh, not I," said Saville, " you have your 
 reasons, — no doubt they are good, so do exactly 
 as you please." 
 
 With these extensive instructions, Twigg, 
 who saw in the approaching elopement of Har- 
 riet Franklin with his master, the precedent and 
 gratification of his own union with " Miss J." 
 departed to make the requisite preparations for 
 the start, leaving Charles overwhelmed by a 
 multitude of conflicting hopes and fears, doubts 
 and distresses. 
 
 Amongst the gloomy feelings which afflicted 
 
212 THE WIDOW. 
 
 him, few were more remorseful than those excited 
 by the recollection of the base injustice of which 
 he had been guilty towards the character and 
 attributes of his adored Harriet, in fancying it 
 possible — even in -the haste and blindness of 
 love — that she could have been the contriver of 
 a Portland-place assignation, and the authoress 
 of the note suggesting their meeting. She, the 
 sensitive, delicate' girl, who now, at a mo- 
 ment when her happiness or misery was de- 
 pending ; when her feelings were harassed, and 
 her indignation roused, could not prevail upon 
 herself to write one line to the man for whom 
 she admitted the warmest esteem, and upon 
 whom, consequently, she must have the most 
 implicit reliance. But it was now no time to 
 reflect upon former indiscretions or by-gone 
 follies ; the future alone was to be looked to. He 
 was about to incur, if she granted his prayer, the 
 weighty responsibility from which he had before 
 felt it a duty to shrink; he was on the eve of 
 inducing an innocent girl to take a step, her 
 mother's opinion of which he already knew ; he 
 
THE WIDOW. 213 
 
 was about to withdraw her from competence and 
 comfort, to partake of his hazardous and preca- 
 rious means of existence. But what of that? — 
 they loved ; and as she had already expressed 
 her detestation of a marriage made for money, it 
 was not unreasonable to expect that she had 
 made up her mind to the extreme alternative of 
 taking a husband who had none. 
 
 It was in vain that Saville endeavoured to 
 collect and concentrate his scattered thoughts 
 during a long day and evening in the society 
 of his exemplary friend Alvingham, and the 
 family of his betrothed : his absence of manner, 
 his unconsciousness of passing events, were no- 
 ticed, and even joked upon, by his better-fated 
 companion ; but neither malice nor jest could pro- 
 voke or entice him into a second confidence with 
 the young priest, for whose want of sentiment and 
 unqualified happiness at that period he felt the 
 most sovereign contempt. It may appear that such 
 a feeling was a somewhat extraordinary return 
 for the kindness and hospitality which Alving- 
 ham had uniformly exhibited towards him ; but 
 
214 THE WIDOW. 
 
 as every body knows, with a man in love all 
 absurdities are reconciled, antipathies are trans- 
 formed into affinities, extremes meet, and op- 
 posites assimilate. Saville, who had, on his first 
 introduction to the "Simpsons, been considered by 
 the whole family as extremely agreeable, was 
 nevertheless pronounced a bore, and the question 
 heretofore so cordially asked, of "When shall 
 we see you again'?" was purposely omitted by 
 the head of the family, in the ceremonial of 
 parting. Saville did not notice the omission, 
 which shared the fate of every thing not imme- 
 diately connected with the expedition he was 
 about to undertake, and returned to town to 
 pass the next day in completing all the prepara- 
 tions necessary for its execution. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Bright beamed the morning of Saville's start 
 for Portsmouth ; and fortunate would it be for 
 me were the scene of his departure more ro- 
 mantic than truth compels me to admit that it 
 was. There is nothing to be found in strict 
 accordance with the feelings of a love-sick heart 
 at the door of the Gloucester Coffee House, in 
 Piccadilly, nor any sound responsive to the 
 plaintive sigh, in the hoarse bawling of the por- 
 ters, or the more eloquent appeals of the can- 
 vassing cads of the short stages, borne on the 
 eastern breezes from the neighbouring White 
 Horse cellar. 
 
 Twigg had arranged every thing so that his 
 master should have neither need of trouble, nor 
 time for deliberation. He had booked him for 
 2 
 
216 THE WIDOW. 
 
 the inside, not because he considered it the 
 more convenient or pleasant position, but be- 
 cause he anticipated that his own disposition for 
 research, and talent for conversation, might be in 
 some degree restrained by the presence of his 
 immediate superior, on the roof. To those who 
 are regardless of dust, rain, and heat, and to whom 
 broken legs and arms are every day incidents, 
 the outside of a cosLch is, no doubt, more agree- 
 able than the inside ; but to those who were 
 born when the insides of carriages were consi- 
 dered the better places, and in which a man is 
 secured against the sudden and frequent changes 
 of our extraordinary climate, the right hand 
 corner facing the horses seems to be no uncom- 
 fortable position. In such a corner was Saville 
 deposited, when the Rocket darted forwards on 
 the high road to Portsmouth. 
 
 And what road is fuller of interest to thou- 
 sands of our fellow-subjects. It is one of the 
 great paths of our nation which leads the anxious 
 merchant to his foreign store, the seaman to his 
 fearful trade, and on which the devoted lover 
 
THE WIDOW. 217 
 
 journeys from his anxious mistress, and the faithful 
 husband from his constant wife. Along that road 
 has many a noble soldier travelled, to whom there 
 has been no return ; along that road the British 
 sailor has often sped to victory or death. It does 
 not strike the ordinary run of admirers of well- 
 appointed public carriages, who stand and praise 
 the neat " turn out," and the " well bred cattle" 
 of these Portsmouth coaches, what interest for 
 others hangs upon their wheels ; nor as they roll 
 along the level ground, does the casual observer 
 think what feelings, what hopes, what fears, 
 what doubts, what anticipations, and what re- 
 grets are pent within their pannels. 
 
 In the coach with Saville were three other 
 passengers — the full allowance : two were 
 friends ; the third, like Saville himself, was an 
 independent, isolated traveller. What he was, 
 or what the object of his journey, of course re- 
 mained within his own bosom. Of the other 
 two, one was a partner in a mercantile house at 
 the Cape of Good Hope, where he never had 
 been, and the other, one who had recently 
 
 VOL. I, L 
 
218 THE WIDOW, 
 
 arrived from that fine colony, and had succeeded 
 in persuading his companion to go out, as 
 Southey says the Devil did, when he visited his 
 " snug little farm, the earth," in order — 
 
 " to see how his stock went on." 
 
 The experienced voyager, the active specu- 
 lator, was all alive and in excellent spirits, — full 
 of jest, and glee, and gaiety ; to him the trees 
 looked green and the sun shone bright, and not 
 a word could be spoken, nor an incident occur 
 that he did not turn to jest and merriment. Not 
 so his companion : he was grave and pale, and 
 July as it was, wore tight blue worsted pantaloons 
 and Hessian boots. He spoke little, but sighed 
 much, complained of the heat in murmured ac- 
 cents, and for want of other conversation, augured 
 rain and thunder ; — he dozed a little, and then 
 needlessly apologized to his companions for what 
 he thought unseemly conduct, by telling them 
 that he had been married eleven years ; that he 
 had never been apart from his wife and children 
 one whole day since his marriage ; and that he 
 
THE WIDOW. 219 
 
 had, at tlie persuasion of his excellent friend, 
 resolved to undertake a voyage to Africa, upon 
 business, although he had never before been at 
 sea, or even beheld it, except from the Steyne 
 at Brighton, or the Pier at Margate. " I 
 slept little last night," said he, " I am not used 
 to partings, and it has been a sad morning for 
 me, gentlemen." 
 
 The appeal was uncalled for; but having 
 been made, it was received by the stranger 
 travellers with courtesy and sympathy; it was 
 met with a horse laugh by his friend, who, being 
 a bachelor, on his return to what he had esta- 
 blished as his home in Cape Town, wondered 
 how any man could be so silly as to waste a 
 thought or a sigh upon an affectionate spouse 
 and seven children, and a country like England, 
 when he was travelling at the rate of ten miles 
 an hour towards Africa, and the detection of a 
 pilfering partner. 
 
 Charles's feelings were just in a fit state to 
 sympathize with this "parted husband," but 
 even his commiseration seemed light by compa- 
 l2 
 
220 THE WIDOW. 
 
 rison with that of the fourth passenger, whose 
 melancholy appeared to increase with the dis- 
 tance from London. To Saville, the general 
 disposition to silence (with the exception of the 
 Cape Town Winkle-keeper) was particularly 
 agreeable ; and while his eyes remained uncon- 
 sciously fixed upon the houses and hedges that 
 seemed to dance by the rapidly-moving coach, 
 his thoughts remained fixed upon Harriet, 
 while amidst the measured rumble of the wheels, 
 he fancied he could trace the melody of the air 
 " she loved so much to sing." 
 
 After a transient refreshment the party seemed 
 more familiarized to each other, and even Saville 
 himself condescended from his stilts and joined 
 in the conversation ; the melancholy man in the 
 left-hand corner unbent his brow, and added his 
 mite to the verbal contribution of his compa- 
 nions, till at length the subject of lotteries was 
 started by the Winkle-keeper, who declared an 
 opinion that nobody ever got a prize. 
 
 This statement was stoutly contradicted by the 
 melancholy man, who seemed to derive a vast 
 
THE WIDOW. 221 
 
 reinforcement of animation from tlie subject : he 
 enumerated Dukes, Members of Parliament, 
 Hampshire squires, Bloomsbury attornies, and 
 Pall Mall pastry-cooks, who had, all to his own 
 knowledge, been splendidly and suddenly en- 
 riched by the acquisition of large sums. " In- 
 deed, Sir," added he, "even I myself might 
 have been worth thirty thousand pounds more 
 than I am at this moment, by the same means, if 
 it had not been for an accidental circumstance, 
 over which I had no controul." 
 
 " What might that have been?" said the 
 Winkleman, — " choosing the wrong number, 
 perhaps ?" 
 
 " Not so. Sir," said the melancholy gentle- 
 man, his countenance at the same moment as- 
 suming an expression rather of " anger than of 
 sorrow," — " I did choose the right number — 
 bought it — brought it home — and had it in my 
 library table drawer — but" 
 
 " It was stolen, perhaps. Sir ?" said the Win- 
 kleman's friend, in a piteous tone. 
 l3 
 
222 THE WIDOW. 
 
 " No, Sir, not that. I had it — it was mine — 
 it was in the days when lotteries lasted a month, 
 and tickets rose in value as they continued un- 
 drawn. I went into the city on business — a 
 friend, who knew of'my ticket, called in my ab- 
 sence — offered my wife a hundred and twenty 
 guineas for it ; — she knew that it had cost me 
 but five-and- twenty ; — sold it him — all for my 
 good, poor soul — she's in heaven now. Sir — it's 
 no use scolding about it— it won't bring it 
 
 back — and the very same afternoon — d n me 
 
 — I'm sure you'll excuse my swearing at the 
 recollection — it came up a thirty thousand pound 
 prize !" 
 
 A general exclamation of horror followed the 
 announcement. 
 
 " And now. Sir," continued the gentleman, 
 " as I walk along the streets in wet weather, be- 
 cause I cannot afford a hackney-coach, my friend 
 Dodman, the lucky purchaser, dashes by in his 
 carriage, and splashes me with mud. He lives 
 in the house which I had all my life an anxiety 
 
THE WIDOW. 223 
 
 to possess ; and has refused his consent to his 
 son's marrying my daughter, on the plea of her 
 poverty." 
 
 It was evident that the melancholy gentleman 
 felt the circumstances keenly. 
 
 " Well," said Saville, " I don't think I could 
 have survived such a thing." 
 
 " Only conceive, Sir," said the gentleman, 
 seeming to delight in aggravating all the mise- 
 ries of his loss, — " only conceive my coming 
 home out of the city — having seen my number 
 placarded at Cornhill as the prize — having com- 
 pared it with the memorandum in my pocket- 
 book — having bought a necklace and pair of ear- 
 rings for my wife upon the strength of it — and 
 finding, upon my arrival, that she had sold my 
 thirty thousand pounds, which I was sure was in 
 my pocket, to a man I hated, for one hundred 
 and twenty guineas, which she exultingly exhi- 
 bited, and which, with thirty-five more, went to 
 pay for the baubles I had brought her home." 
 
 " I could not have stood that," said the Win- 
 kleman. 
 
 l4 
 
224 THE WIDOW. 
 
 " Nor I," said the weeping husband. 
 
 " I," said Saville, " should have cut my 
 throat." 
 
 " So I did. Sir !" said the melancholy gen- 
 tleman, " and here are the marks where it was 
 sewn up !" — exhibiting, at the same moment, a 
 huge scar right across his windpipe. 
 
 To describe the sudden coil-up of the three 
 listeners, when the narrator of his own misfor- 
 tunes made this disclosure, would be impossi- 
 ble ; — in a moment they unanimously construed 
 all his previous observations and remarks into 
 symptoms of his yet latent malady ; and never 
 were rightly at their ease until they were blessed 
 with the sight of his back, as he descended the 
 steps of the coach at the door of the Dolphin, at 
 Petersfield. 
 
 The occurrence of this circumstance was a 
 great relief to Saville, as it furnished ample 
 conversation for his two fellow travellers to the 
 end of the journey, which was accomplished with 
 ease and punctuality, and terminated about half- 
 past four in the centre of a labyrinth of dirty 
 
THE WIDOW. 225 
 
 courts and blind alleys, of which the Quebec — 
 (or Queebec, as Twigg called it) — is the Mino- 
 taur. In an instant, the coach was surrounded 
 by crowds of the amphibious animals thereabouts 
 indigenous — each vying with the other to haul 
 out our desponding lover, and ship him off forth- 
 with by the Ryde Packet, whose tall chimney 
 gave black and certain evidence of her readiness 
 to start 
 
 " How are you, Master Falkener?" said a 
 man, who made his appearance at the tavern door, 
 his face flushed with the heat of the weather, 
 and of some powerful potation, which he had just 
 swallowed, with a view to cool himself — " I say, 
 did you meet that ere new hopposition ?" 
 
 " Yes," said Falkener, " passed her just t'other 
 side Godalming." 
 
 " AU safe?" 
 
 " I suppose so," said Falkener ; " I did not 
 ask. Why not?" 
 
 " Vy, only yesterday," said the other, " she 
 had a reg'lar upset coming round the corner by 
 l5 
 
226 THE WIDOW. 
 
 Horndean — twelve outsides damaged, more or 
 less — all sprawling in the middle of the road." 
 
 " Oh," said a horsekeeper, who was standing 
 by, "that ere^s nothing; he's got so much cus- 
 tom, that he can't Count his passengers without 
 spreading them." 
 
 This bit of humour had its effect : it was re- 
 ceived with a shout of laughter by the landsmen, 
 and taken into serious consideration by the boat- 
 men, who (their technicalities lying in another 
 direction,) did not at once see the merit of the 
 jest. 
 
 During this brief interchange of words, Sa- 
 ville had extricated himself from the stage-coach, 
 and was preparing to accept the invitation of 
 some of the mermen around him to embark; but 
 Twigg interposed his authority, and informed 
 his pliant master, that he could not permit him 
 to start until he had visited the Post-Office, in 
 order to get the instructions which he expected 
 from " Miss J.," and begged him to go into 
 the house, and wait his return. 
 
THE WIDOW. 227 
 
 To Saville's eye, the Qiieebec did not present 
 exactly the appearance which Twigg's previous 
 description and praise had led him to expect : — 
 the red-curtained bar — the sanded passage — the 
 larder, lined with Dutch tiles, containing half a 
 yellow cold fowl, dotted with black stumps of 
 feathers, a dry bone of beef, two purple kidneys, 
 and a brace and a half of limp whitings — the nar- 
 row coflfee-room, redolent with the fumes of rum 
 and tobacco, with a hot waiter in his shirt-sleeves 
 standing at the entrance, — these were the lead- 
 ing landmarks of the place, with nothing to re- 
 deem them, except a pretty, smart-looking young 
 woman in the landlady's parlour, and at this 
 juncture of Saville's life, as one woman alone 
 engrossed all his cares and consideration, her 
 charms were literally thrown away. 
 
 Here, however, spite of his prejudices, Sa- 
 ville was ordered by his Leporello to remain con- 
 cealed until his return. His portmanteau, bags, 
 &c., were all put "just inside the bar," while he, 
 the disconsolate, lingered about, "just outside of 
 the door," unwilling altogether to abandon the 
 l6 
 
228 THE WIDOW. 
 
 hope that he might not be compelled eventually 
 to enter it; wholly unaware of the danger in 
 which he was placing the fate of his expedition 
 by so doing, seeing that the very position he 
 occupied, however obscure in point of situation, 
 was open to the observation of every individual 
 embarking or disembarking for or from the Isle 
 of Wight, and utterly unsuspicious that within 
 half an hour his beloved Harriet and her bride- 
 groom elect, with all the family party, would 
 actually pass by it, for the purpose of returning 
 to Ryde, whence it appeared they had that day 
 come on a visit to Portsmouth. 
 
 " It's a good thing, Sir," said Twigg, who re- 
 turned in breathless haste, " that I went to the 
 Post-Office as I did : Miss J. writes to let me 
 know, that her folks were all to go to Ryde to- 
 day, and come over here, to see the dock-yard, 
 and the deuce knows what, and return to Cowes 
 in the evening. A hundred to one if we hadn't 
 popped upon 'em in the packet ; and even now. 
 Sir, — do get into the house, and " 
 
 " But when are we to go ?" 
 
THE WIDOW. 229 
 
 " Not till the morning, with any safety, Sir," 
 said Twigg; — " get into the house, Sir, and 
 don't come out of it till after dark, at any rate." 
 
 " It was lucky, indeed," said Saville, impli- 
 citly obeying the mandate of his minister, and 
 turning round to ascend the steps of the Queebec, 
 " that you thought of going to look for a letter." 
 
 " Very, Sir," said Twigg. " Oh, I knew ' Miss 
 J.' wouldn't be idle — she has every thing at 
 stake" 
 
 " I am aware of that, Twigg," replied Charles, 
 not a little amused at his self-satisfaction. 
 
 In compliance with Twigg's instructions, a 
 private room was secured — if that, which in 
 shape and size resembled a cocked hat-box, 
 might be called a room — wherein he was to dine 
 and sit after his dinner, which Twigg also or- 
 dered. Twigg, moreover, selected the bed- 
 room, which was immediately over the sitting- 
 room, and adjoining the official window of the 
 Custom House, which commands the entrance of 
 the harbour. 
 
 To Saville, the view to which the little win- 
 
230 THE WIDOW. 
 
 dow of his little den gave admission, was de- 
 lightful, and compensated for all the inconve- 
 niences of the apartment itself, and the noisy 
 nuisance of a group of little children, playing 
 on the beach immediately beneath. There he 
 beheld — some in commission, and some in ordi- 
 nary — ^various of His Majesty's ships, whose 
 names were not unknown to fame ; and there, 
 in the centre, distinguished by the banner of 
 St. George, which floated at her main-top-gal- 
 lant-mast head, rode the Queen Charlotte. 
 
 If this huge floating citadel possessed not the 
 fatal interest of the Victory, it was impossible to 
 look at her, majestically resting upon the un- 
 ruffled surface of a peaceful harbour, and not 
 think upon the places she had occupied in other 
 days; or not to contrast the still and tranquil 
 scenery around her with the blazing batteries 
 of Algiers, within a hundred yards of which, the 
 gallant Exmouth led her to the terrific work of 
 glory. She seemed like a giant reposing, and 
 yet extending protection to all around her. 
 
 It is when the mind is softened by afflic- 
 
THE WIDOW. 231 
 
 tion, or excited by hopes and fears, such as 
 agitated Saville at this moment, that the heart 
 is most susceptible to the impressions which such 
 objects cannot fail to make. He saw her, in 
 imagination, dealing death and destruction on 
 every side ; her huge artillery roaring like 
 thunder, responsive to her deadly freighted 
 lightning; her decks wet with the blood of 
 heroes, her tall masts veiled in clouds of smoke ; 
 and towering above all, at once the beacon and 
 the guide of thousands, floated the blood-red 
 cross, the banner of our country — the symbol of 
 her faith. 
 
 " They are off, Sir, — they are off!" said 
 Twigg, rushing into the room, and destroying at 
 one fell swoop the whole airy fabric of Saville's 
 fancy. 
 
 " Who — the Algerines ?" said Charles. 
 
 " No, Sir," said Twigg; " the Franklins." 
 
 u Off— where ?" 
 
 " In the packet. Sir," said Twigg, " for the 
 island. I was close to them at the corner of the 
 
232 THE WIDOW. 
 
 baths. There was Mrs. Franklin leaning upon 
 the arm of that Colonel O'Lollocky, as he calls 
 himself, that used to come to Harley-street, a 
 twisting and a shaking herself about, just like a 
 girl of fifteen, and pointing her toes, and in her 
 Tooting assembly, appearing for all the world 
 younger than Harriet" 
 
 " Than whom, Sir?" 
 
 " I beg pardon, !^r," said Twigg, " Miss F. : 
 we always — that is. Miss Johnstone and I — enter 
 nows — always calls her Harriet, and sometimes 
 Harr. ; but we mean no harm. Sir ; its only for 
 shortness, as I call Miss Johnstone herself, Nancy 
 for Anne." 
 
 " Rather impertinent, 1 think," said Saville. 
 
 " Very, Sir," said Twigg. 
 
 " Well, and Miss Franklin was" 
 
 « Walking with Old S.," said Twigg : " he 
 carrying her parisol, and talking some of his un- 
 intelligible stuff; and she, poor dear, her head a 
 constantly going round and round, first this way 
 and then that way ; in my belief, a looking to see 
 
THE WIDOW. 233 
 
 if she could see anything of us ; and you know, 
 Sir, for young women as likes to look about 'em, 
 them poke bonnets is old nick." 
 
 " Ah !" said Saville. 
 
 " There was a young creechur came down out- 
 side to-day," said Twigg : " a going governess 
 to some gentleman's children in the island. She 
 seemed uncommon pretty, and sociable, too; 
 but I could not get to see much of her counte- 
 nance, on account of her unmerciful large 
 bonnet; and, as for conversation, it spoiled it 
 completely ; for, as she had not room to turn 
 round, all she said inside her poke — as I call 
 em — sounded to me not a bit more distincter 
 than so much wind down a chimley." 
 
 " And was Miss Franklin the elder, of the 
 party ?" said Saville. 
 
 " Yes, Sir, she came last," said Twigg, " with 
 a tall moon-faced girl, with a straw bonnet 
 and green ribands, which I takes to be a Miss 
 Macpherson, a friend of their's, who I knew was 
 to come down with them for the benefit of wash- 
 ing-" 
 
234 THE WIDOW. 
 
 " And they did not see you ?" 
 
 " Me," said Twigg, " no: I'm too good a judge 
 for that. And now, Sir, if you have finished 
 your dinner, I'll let you out for a walk, on the 
 lines, or in High-str&et, or where you will." 
 
 " I have no desire for such luxury ; I prefer 
 sitting here," said Saville. 
 
 " Here, Sir," said Twigg; " what, looking at 
 that great ship in the middle of the pond ? You'll 
 be moped to death here — up in the street there 
 are capital shops, and a nice pavement — you 
 might almost fancy yourself in London." 
 
 " I have no great anxiety," said Charles, " to 
 conjure up any such a delusion ; I prefer the ship 
 and the pond to the shops and the pavement." 
 
 Twigg retired, wondering at his master's bad 
 taste ; and so deeply commiserating his melan- 
 choly position, as to desire the landlady to send 
 him some books to wile away time ; and, accord- 
 ingly, with the Ladies' Magazine, the Percy 
 Anecdotes, Paul and Virginia, and a small col- 
 lection of Tracts, diversified with occasional 
 slumbers, Saville got through the dark hours, by 
 
THE WIDOW. 235 
 
 the aid of a couple of mutton-candles, till it was 
 time to go to bed. 
 
 The sun had set redly, but the clouds looked 
 wild, and as the evening closed in, sharp and 
 sudden puffs of wind shook the windows of the 
 Quebec ; towards midnight those puffs increased, 
 until before one it had actually begun to blow 
 a gale. Saville's thoughts, his position, the 
 natural anxiety of his mind, contributed to keep 
 him awake, and it was not until the sun had 
 again shown himself through the dirty white 
 dimitty curtains of his ricketty tent-bed, that our 
 hero felt inclined to sleep. 
 
 At length he was conscious of the welcome 
 symptoms of drowsiness, and laying his head on 
 his pillow, was roused suddenly by the throwing 
 up of a creaking window close to his ear ; he list- 
 ened, not at all certain what next was to happen, 
 when a stentorian voice bawled out — 
 
 " Brig, a-hoy ! What brig is that ?" 
 
 The answer was inaudible. 
 
 " Where are you from ?" 
 
 Still the answer was unheard. 
 
236 THE WIDOW* 
 
 " What's the name of your master ?" 
 
 Ditto, as to inaudibility. 
 
 " What have you got in ?" 
 
 Another answer, and down went the window. 
 
 Ah ! thought Saville, settling himself again, 
 now that's a fancy — a passion — some man has got 
 out of his bed to inquire about a brig coming 
 into the harbour^perhaps he has a fond, 
 affectionate girl on' board some vessel, and is 
 anxious 
 
 Up went the window again — again the same 
 voice and the same questions — but not exactly 
 the same results ; the schooner which now entered 
 the harbour, and which, by the in-and-outish- 
 ness of the Quebec, Saville could not see — for 
 he had the curiosity this time to look out — was 
 nearer the Portsmouth shore than the brig which 
 had preceded her, so that the replies to the 
 inquirer came tumbled about by the wind in 
 a sort of unintelligible noise, always, at least 
 to Saville's ears, exactly alike, varied only in 
 length and pace of utterance, and reducible to 
 writing only by the words, wulla, wulla, wulla. 
 
THE WIDOW. 237 
 
 " Schooner, a-hoy !" bawled the inquirer 
 through an immense speaking-trumpet; "what 
 schooner's that ?" 
 
 " Wulla, wulla, wuUa." 
 
 " Where are you from ?" 
 
 « WuUa, wuUa." 
 
 " What's your master's name ?" 
 
 " Wulla, wulla, wulla." 
 
 " What have you got in?" 
 
 « WuUa." 
 ' Down went the window, and away went the 
 schooner, and so did Saville to his bed. But 
 all in vain: to the schooner succeeded a lugger, 
 after her came a ship, and then a brig, and 
 then a lugger again, and to all of these, and to 
 fifty more, were all the same questions put, and 
 the same answers given ; until Saville at last be- 
 came reconciled to the annoyance, which he 
 found proceeded from the neighbouring official 
 window belonging to the Custom-house, whence 
 the inquiries he had heard were authoritatively 
 made, and satisfactorily replied to, before the 
 vessel catechised was permitted to pasj. 
 
238 THE WIDOW. 
 
 Habituated for two hours to these queries, 
 and to the violence of the wind, which even out- 
 roared the stentorian Custom-house officer, Saville 
 had responded to the claim of wearied Nature in 
 his first unromantic ^ore, when a noise not very 
 much unlike a march of cavalry up the ladder- 
 like staircase of the hotel, once more aroused 
 him from his rest. 
 
 " Hallo," cried a voice, nearly as loud as that 
 of him with the trumpet ; " mind my dressing- 
 case, you sir." 
 
 " I say," cried another, " give me some soft 
 bread." 
 
 " Tea for twelve," cried a third. 
 
 " And toast and butter for sixteen," bellowed 
 a fourth. 
 
 Bang went boxes and bundles: men scram- 
 bling along the passages, children crying, and 
 women scolding; but all, men, women, and 
 children, unanimously demanding something to 
 eat and drink, but more especially tea and toast 
 and butter. 
 
 " Anna Maria, my dear," said a man close 
 
THE WIDOW. 239 
 
 to Saville's door, " we must get tlie cliildren's 
 hair cut the first thing, — their heads are Kke 
 mops." 
 
 " And I must get a bonnet somewhere, Frede- 
 rick," said a lady in reply. 
 
 " What is it o'clock by land time ?" cried a rough 
 voice ; " is the barber up ? — I say, waiter, what 
 news is there ? — have you got the cholera here ? 
 — who's king now ? — are the Whigs in or out ?" 
 
 The waiter, who had been roused from his 
 sleep, was mightily enraged by the confusion of 
 domestic and political questions which were put 
 to him ; and the chambermaids, who had not 
 wasted the precious time in dressing, were run- 
 ning about in all directions in the extreme of 
 deshabille, appearing to the famished eyes of the 
 new arrivals, like so many divinities. 
 
 Truth to be told, the uproarious party, who, 
 like Macbeth, had murdered sleep, and entirely 
 awakened Charles, comprised the captain and 
 some of the passengers of the Lumper, a country 
 ship from the East Indies, who had preferred get- 
 ting ashore in the pilot-boat, to waiting on board 
 
240 THE WIDOW. 
 
 until the vessel reached Blackwall; a place 
 which, abounding as it does in all the pleasing 
 reminiscences of " mud scrambles," and white 
 bait, is placed at a very considerable distance from 
 the Isle of Portland," at which place the present 
 invaders had got into the boat, in which they 
 had been overtaken by the gale of the preceding 
 evening, and had endured ten times as much 
 wretchedness as they could have anticipated, 
 and at least as much as they deserved, for not 
 sticking to the old ship to the last. 
 
 All these ravenous animals, who had been for 
 four months grinding hard biscuit, and digesting 
 salt junk, sprang into the Quebec, afflicted with the 
 most horrible appetites; and the noises which they 
 made were merely the usual evidences of hunger, 
 which all living creatures are in the habit of afford- 
 ing when in a state of incivilization. The anxiety 
 to have up their boxes,, in order to be " rigged 
 out" ready for a start in the morning, and the ne- 
 cessity for cutting the four months' exuberance 
 of hair from the heads of the young girls and 
 children, and the imperious demand for bon- 
 
THE WIDOW. 241 
 
 nets, " something like those worn in England," 
 made the Welkin ring, and determined Saville 
 to abandon all further hopes of rest, and dress 
 himself at the earliest opportunity. To what 
 purpose, except, perhaps, to make good a retreat 
 to his sitting-room, and there ensconce himself, 
 it would be difficult to say ; for, early as it w as, 
 the clouds gave promise of a wretched day, the 
 rain already poured in torrents, and driven against 
 the windows, must have added a new zest to the 
 meal, or rather meals which the half-famished, 
 half-drowned passengers were devouring, without 
 regard to decorum or ceremony, some even in 
 Saviile's room, the door of which had chanced 
 to stand open, and others in their bed-chambers, 
 and some even upon the stairs. 
 
 To a quiet, peaceably-disposed person, all this 
 emeute would have been distracting. Saville, 
 little inclined to rest, liked 
 
 ** the rocking of the battlements ;" 
 
 and he could not resist the amusement offered 
 him in the spectacle of such a dispersion from 
 the ark, accompanied throughout as it was at 
 VOL. I. M 
 
242 THE WIDOW. 
 
 intervals, by the imperious demands of the 
 trumpeter out of the window, and the never- 
 failing answer of wuUa, wulla, wuUa. 
 
 It was not much after seven, when Charles 
 finally made good his footing in his own particu- 
 lar hat-box, to which the ever attentive Twigg, 
 with his own proper hand had conveyed his 
 breakfast, snatched as it were from the teeth of 
 the passengers ; arid before eight, our hero was 
 seated at a small ricketty table, covered with a 
 diaper napkin, in order to eat or rather look 
 at, (for eating with him was out of the question, ) 
 two lately imported French eggs, which, however, 
 had been long enough from la helle France to 
 have become naturalized, a slice of black ham, 
 milk of London quality, stale bread, and rancid 
 butter; the contents of the larder, before no- 
 ticed, having all gone to satisfy the Lumpers, 
 so called from the name of the fortimate vessel 
 which bore them to our shores. 
 
 Nothing could be more wretchedly uncomfort- 
 able to Saville than the wearisome, long morning 
 before him. Confined to the house by weather. 
 
THE WIDOW. 243 
 
 which would have been infinitely more seasonable 
 in November, and rendered doubly dismal by the 
 beauty and brightness of the preceding day, he 
 read and re-read his magazines, and his anecdotes, 
 and gazed on the Queen Charlotte, and watched 
 the ferry, and listened to the inquisitor next door, 
 until his patience was totally exhausted. 
 
 At length, it blowing a perfect hurricane, the 
 Cowes and Southampton packet was announced 
 as ready to start. In that they were to proceed. 
 Miss Johnstone having informed her correspon- 
 dent, that the Franklin party were to remain at 
 Ryde until the following morning, suggesting 
 either the stay of the lovers at Portsmouth till their 
 return, or their immediately crossing to Cowes, 
 where every arrangement might be made before 
 the enemy arrived; Johnstone having contrived 
 to excuse herself from attending upon Harriet, 
 who with great good nature and a perfect under- 
 standing of the reasons of her absence, had 
 readily agreed to accept the services of her 
 " Ma's" maid during their little excursion ; an 
 excursion made at the suggestion of Mr. Smith, 
 M 2 
 
244 THE WIDOW. 
 
 under the pretence of pleasing his betrothed, but, 
 in fact, for the purpose of ascertaining whether 
 he could not engage a house at Ryde upon 
 cheaper terms than one at Cowes. 
 
 The wind blew^ so violently that it was 
 scarcely possible to stand ; and in the time be- 
 fore hot water and paddles bade defiance to the 
 elements, it would have been considered impos- 
 sible for the vessel to go. However, the packet 
 in question had steamed round to the point, 
 where she lay under the lee of the houses, the 
 wind having shifted in the morning, to a gale 
 at south-east. Twigg, who was an admirable 
 land officer, was the least in the world like 
 
 " That maritime soldier the royal marine." 
 
 He was as helpless at sea as a cat, and his want 
 of skill was in no degree compensated by any 
 excess of courage. In the bubbling of the 
 water, and the spray which he saw splashing 
 against the graduated stone facing of the point, 
 he thought he beheld death and destruction 
 staring him in the face. In a hurry not to be 
 
THE WIDOW. 245 
 
 described, lie bimdled his master's luggage into 
 the boat, tumbled himself down the narrow 
 steps without regard to the law of precedence, 
 and in his alarm, actually scolded Saville for his 
 want of expedition in relieving him from what 
 he considered the perilous situation of dancing 
 upon the little toppling waves within a yard and 
 a quarter of the street. Squalls of rain beat in 
 their faces, and although covered with cloaks 
 and umbrellas, and the distance of the packet 
 not being more than four or five boat-lengths, 
 they were nearly wet through when they 
 reached the gangway, whence Saville slipped 
 down the companion into the cabin; andTwigg, 
 almost unconscious what he did, was hauled for- 
 ward and deposited down the fore hatchway, to 
 be dried by the heat of the boiler. 
 
 To be sure there was a vast deal of noise and 
 bustle, and the packet was under way when 
 they reached her. Saville, anxious not to be 
 seen or recognized by anybody who might know 
 him, and equally anxious not to be bored with 
 the conversation of anybody who did not, rolled 
 M 3 
 
246 THE WIDOW. 
 
 himself up in a corner of the cabin which was 
 dark, hot, and ill-smelling, owing probably to 
 the circumstance of all the company having 
 been soaked through on shore, before they were 
 deposited on board. ^ 
 
 Away they went — bang, bang, went the en- 
 gines, shake went the vessel, and rattle went 
 the bulk-heads, and Charles, worn out with 
 worry, and fatigued by his want of rest during 
 the night, fell into a profound slumber, from 
 which it appears he did not awake for upwards 
 of two hours and a half. 
 
 At the termination of that period he shook 
 off his slumber, and sat upright on the sofa, 
 where he had been so long reclining. The wea- 
 ther seemed to have moderated ; he thought a 
 little air on deck would be agreeable; and to see 
 the island which contained his fair one, even 
 although he was not that day to be in the same 
 town with her, would be something. Having 
 accordingly scrambled over the legs of various 
 people who were huddled up in different corners, 
 and begged a proportionate number of pardons, 
 
THE WIDOW. 247 
 
 he ascended the companion, and cast his eyes 
 around to trace the line of land from Ryde to 
 Cowes ; but to his surprise, on turning to the 
 south, he saw no land at all, neither to the west, 
 nor could he anywhere distinctly make out any- 
 thing, except right astern, quite on the horizon, 
 where he beheld a ridge of something dark which 
 for any cognizable land-mark he saw upon it, 
 might have been Cape Fly-away itself. 
 
 " Why," said he to the man at the wheel, 
 " you give the island a wide berth to-day." 
 
 " Yes, Sir," said the man, " we don't want to 
 have nothing to do with she this weather ; and 
 we can hold our own — 'tan't with us as with sail- 
 ing wessels." 
 
 "No," said Saville, " but when do you get 
 to Cowes then ?" 
 
 " Cowes, Sir," said the man, " 1 can't say as 
 ever I were at Cowes in my life, and I don't 
 think as I shall be, please God, for some time 
 to come." 
 
 " What do you mean ?" said Saville ; " why 
 this is the Cowes packet?" 
 M 4 
 
248 THE WIDOW. 
 
 " Cowes, Sir ! Lord love your heart," said the 
 man, " you might put the Cowes' packet into 
 our cabin." 
 
 " Then where are we going ?" said Saville, in 
 a tone of agony which made the steersman 
 stare. 
 
 " To Granville, Sir," said the man, " where, 
 please the pigs, we shall be by to-morrow dinner- 
 time." 
 
 " France !" exclaimed Saville. " What on 
 earth shall I do !— Where is my servant ?" added 
 he, speaking to the steward's mate. 
 
 " Dead sick below. Sir," said the man. 
 
 " And I raving mad above ! Never mind," 
 continued Saville, " it matters not what the 
 mishap was that brought us here, here we are ; 
 the next thing to ascertain is the soonest time 
 at which we can get back." 
 
 " We come back. Sir, next Friday," said the 
 man. 
 
 " An age !" thought Saville. 
 
 " I thought somehow your servant was wrong," 
 said the steward's mate ; " but he would persist 
 
THE WIDOW. 249 
 
 he was right, so I said no more about it. I'm 
 very sorry. Sir — I" 
 
 " Sorry ! — thank you, thank you," said Saville, 
 "it is the very deuce to me. But I must 
 bear it of course; it is nobody's fault but my 
 own. Five days ! Mercy on us !" and so he 
 went on muttering and moaning, as if not yet 
 quite convinced of the real state of the affair, 
 and nourishing one of those hopes in which none 
 but desperate lovers ever indulge, that even yet 
 they might fall in with something in the Channel 
 wliich would put them back sooner than the 
 packet possibly could. To discuss the point 
 with Twigg, under the influence of alarm and 
 sea sickness, would be ridiculous; and, accord- 
 ingly, he retired to his place in the cabin, and 
 witnessed, with the closing night, all the prepa- 
 rations for eating, drinking, and sleeping, which 
 his fellow-passengers were making, in every 
 direction, to his utter discomfiture and annoy- 
 ance. 
 
 All worldly evils have a termination. By the 
 middle of the next day they were safely an- 
 M 5 
 
250 THE WIDOW. 
 
 chored at Granville ; and Saville, having pre- 
 viously vented his long-dormant misery upon 
 Twigg, who made his appearance shortly after 
 the packet had slipped into smooth water, com- 
 posed his countenance and moderated his manner 
 into something like placid civility, when the 
 officer of the port came on board. He saw that 
 the master of the packet had communicated to 
 that gentleman the' mistake under which he had 
 become a visiter there ; and that the officer was 
 consequently advancing to make some civil ob- 
 servations upon the misadventure. 
 
 " I shall be sorry to hear," said the officer, in 
 English, " dat you have come to us by mistake. 
 I am ver much afraid it shall be serious loss to 
 you for de time" 
 
 " Why, Sir," said Saville, "it is extremely 
 provoking; but not so seriously injurious as it 
 might have been." 
 
 " No ! but," continued the Frenchman, " un- 
 der de circumstance it may be worse dan you 
 tink." 
 
 " No, no," said Saville, with an assumption 
 
THE WIDOW. 251 
 
 of gaiety in his manner, " I shall go back on 
 Friday, and have seen a little bit of the conti- 
 nent which will be new to me." 
 
 " Ah !" said the Frenchman, opening his eyes 
 to double their ordinary width, " dere he is ; dat 
 is what I meant. You cannot go back Friday ; 
 nor can you see our country. Dere is orders 
 from our Government to put you in quarantine 
 forty days, because dere has been in dis packet 
 a case of cholera !" 
 
 " Forty days. Sir !" said Saville ; " a whole 
 life sacrificed would not be worth so much as 
 forty days ! How can I write to explain ?" 
 
 " Oh ! you must not write, Sir," said the 
 officer ; " I am to allow no communication with 
 de vessel, and you are to stay here till you get 
 well." 
 
 " But, Sir, I am not ill," said Saville. 
 
 " I don't know dat," said the officer; "it may 
 come out upon you some day or other when you 
 little tink of him." 
 
 " What, Sir," said Saville " do you mean to 
 M 6 
 
252 THE WIDOW. 
 
 say that I am to be shut up in this vessel in 
 order to get the cholera ?" 
 
 " I cannot speak to dat," said the officer; " my 
 orders are vary simple ; dis vessel must remain 
 where she is, forty d^ys, or such less time as de 
 government may hereafter decide upon." 
 
 Saying which the French gentleman turned 
 upon his heel, and left Saville standing transfixed 
 as it were to the deck ; and when Twigg, not yet 
 aware of all the consequences of his mistake, 
 came aft to inquire, unluckily for him, something 
 about taking the luggage ashore, he was received 
 by a volley of words from his master, which 
 nothing but love or distraction could, in these 
 civilised days, have either palliated or justified. 
 
 It would neither be entertaining nor instruc- 
 tive to the reader, to repeat the angry expressions 
 of Mr. Saville, or the energetic defence of his 
 servant, upon whose zeal and activity no impu- 
 tation could be cast, seeing that his fate in love 
 and life was linked with his master's ; nor will 
 it be necessary to detail all the proceedings of 
 
THE WIDOW. 253 
 
 the ill-fated couple, who, after having been in 
 the packet three days, were carried ashore in 
 the hospital boat, and placed apart in a lazaretto, 
 where they remained twenty-nine days of the 
 prescribed forty, and whence they were released 
 exactly in time to arrive back again at Ports- 
 mouth, four mornings after the departure of Mr. 
 and Mrs. Smith (now^ united in the holy bonds 
 of matrimony,) to spend the honey- moon on the 
 continent. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 It may easily be imagined that the intelligence 
 of Harriet's marriage and departure was bitterly 
 painful to Saville ; and the horrors arising from 
 the dreadful certainty that her fate and his, were 
 irrevocably fixed, received additional strength 
 from the conviction, the certainty which existed 
 in his mind, that she — ignorant of course of the 
 unfortunate mistake of the bewildered lacquey, 
 and of their consequent delays and detentions — 
 would naturally attribute his sudden silence and 
 abrupt disappearance, (after having by his ambas- 
 sador pledged himself to active measures for her 
 rescue,) to coldness or caprice, corroborated by 
 his former apparent negligence about her ; she 
 being unable to ascertain whether all she had 
 
THE WIDOW. 255 
 
 now heard about his offer and his letter was 
 true or not, seeing that she dare not apply upon 
 the subject to her mother, the only person 
 who could have given her any authentic infor- 
 mation upon it. 
 
 The reflections, therefore, in which Saville 
 indulged, were of the most galling and irritating 
 nature. That she was lost, irretrievably lost, was 
 the great and fatal truth connected with his 
 misfortunes ; but, convinced as he was, that she 
 was ready to be rescued from the grasp of her 
 present lawfully wedded husband, if he had 
 been at hand to favour her escape, it really was 
 too bad to lose her. Besides, what would she 
 think of his conduct ? How must she despise 
 him for his neglect of her ; how debased he 
 must be in her opinion; and the more so, as 
 having frivolously revived the feeling in her 
 heart, which she had in some degree successfully 
 struggled to overcome. He saw all his misery, 
 for although he was studying for the chancery 
 bar, he was convinced whatever the practice 
 
256 THE WIDOW. 
 
 there might be, that in the cause of love, attach- 
 ment does not always follow contempt. 
 
 Too true, however, was the news. In one of 
 the libraries, Saville read the details of the mar- 
 riage, set forth in the Imperishable columns of the 
 Morning Post ; and as he read of the beautiful 
 bride, enveloped in her beautiful veil of Brussels 
 lace, he thought of the odious bridegroom, so far 
 advanced in the vale of years, and launched forth 
 in imprecations deep and heavy on his head. 
 
 The faithful Twigg was for the moment as 
 inconsolable as the unhappy Saville. Miss J. 
 was gone, but not married ; there was yet a 
 gleam of hope for him; it was but a spark, yet 
 he fanned it with his sighs, and wished himself 
 into the belief that she would remain constant 
 and true, attributing their non-appearance at 
 Cowes to the timidity or indecision of his master, 
 qualities for which, knowing him as well as she 
 did, it was not probable she would give her own 
 sweetheart credit. 
 
 When the first shock, which the sudden cut of 
 
THE WIDOW. 257 
 
 the Gordian knot of Saville's love-aiFair excited, 
 had somewhat subsided, his thoughts reverted to 
 himself; his present position, his future prospects, 
 and the course of remedies he should adopt to 
 staunch the wound he felt assured he could never 
 heal. To return to London would be absurd : it 
 was long vacation ; chambers were deserted, and 
 lawyers at liberty ; and besides, could he at such 
 a moment apply himself to study, or divert his 
 mind from subjects of such deep interest as those 
 which now wholly engrossed them, into the dry 
 and confined channels of legal education? It 
 was open to him by a desperate resolution to 
 study to obliterate his fondest recollections; 
 for he 
 
 '* The better to improve his taste, 
 Was by his parents' fondness plac'd 
 Amongst the blest, the chosen few 
 (Blest, 'if their happiness they knew,) 
 Who for three hundred guineas paid 
 To some great master of the trade, 
 Have at his rooms, by special favour. 
 His leave to use their best endeavour, 
 By drawing pleas from nine till four. 
 To earn him twice three hundred more, 
 
258 THE WIDOW. 
 
 And after dinner may repair 
 To 'foresaid rooms, and then and there, 
 Have 'foresaid leave from six till ten, 
 To draw the aforesaid pleas again." 
 
 Whether Saville, admitting the efficacy of the 
 medicine, considered the remedy worse than the 
 disease, history does not inform us; all we 
 know is, that instead of flying from the scenes 
 recently hallowed by the presence of his beloved, 
 he resolved to remain where he was, having first 
 ascertained that the family party had separated 
 and departed from the island, on the day when 
 the marriage was celebrated. What occurred to 
 our hero there we shall hereafter see ; in the 
 meanwhile we must take a glance at our dearly 
 beloved friends, Mr. and Mrs. Smith. 
 
 To describe the state of Harriet's existence, 
 from the moment in which she had so far com- 
 mitted herself as to encourage Charles's propo- 
 sition of visiting, and, as he called it, rescuing 
 her, until the fatal morning, when the ceremony 
 which eternally decided her lot in life, would be 
 impossible. The consciousness that she had failed 
 
THE WIDOW. 259 
 
 in her duty to her mother, and faltered in her 
 allegiance to her betrothed husband, was made a 
 thousand times more painful than it otherwise 
 would have been, by the mortifying reflection 
 that she had permitted herself to be duped by 
 empty professions, and sacrificed either to the 
 ignorant zeal of her new confidant, or the heart- 
 less vanity of a worthless pretender to her love. 
 Day after day passed, the lingering hours were 
 counted, and yet no news of Saville came ; it 
 was one continued fever and irritation, for while 
 she pined and sickened at his protracted absence, 
 she was in a constant state of alarm lest he should 
 unexpectedly appear. 
 
 Miss Johnstone, in whom the spirit of enter- 
 prize was strong, had, by permission of her 
 mistress, made an excursion to Portsmouth, 
 where by application at the post-office, she dis- 
 covered that her letter to the faithless Twigg 
 had been safely delivered to its right owner. 
 This certainty, far from being consolatory, added 
 new fuel to the flame which was already con- 
 suming the lady and her maid. Nothing could 
 
260 THE WIDOW. 
 
 have happened to keep their lovers away, ex- 
 cept distaste and a determination to put an end 
 to an affair which, with a duplicity scarcely 
 paralleled, they had themselves originated. 
 
 Miss J. as Twigg^ called her, was not to be 
 baffled so easily ; she determined to " know the 
 rights of it ;" and as she was acting in the double 
 capacity of principal for herself, and agent for her 
 mistress, Harriet coiild not permit the authority 
 which she undoubtedly possessed over her in the 
 one character, to controul her operations in the 
 other. It was by thus temporising, that the 
 young lady permitted her servant to try the 
 experiment of writing to Saville's London lodg- 
 ings to inquire, — not after him for the world, — but 
 after his valet, satisfied with believing that any 
 answer which Twigg might send to " Miss J.'s" 
 letter, would, while it described his own pursuits 
 and occupations, necessarily contain a detail of 
 those in which his master might be engaged. 
 
 Here again they were doomed to be disap- 
 pointed ; the epistle of the anxious damsel re- 
 mained unanswered, unnoticed, and at the end 
 
THE WIDOW. 261 
 
 of a fortnight, both the " forsaken," agreed 
 that it woukl be quite unworthy the dignity of 
 the sex, to take any farther steps for the recovery 
 of their lost lovers; Miss Johnstone, however, 
 specially consoling herself with her negative loss, 
 which she contrasted in glowing colours with 
 the positive calamity which awaited her betrothed 
 mistress. 
 
 It was easy to make this determination, and, 
 with a mind like that of Miss J., not difficult, 
 perhaps, to abide by it; but to Harriet the 
 struggle proved nearly mortal. The continued 
 conflict between duty and inclination, and hope 
 and despair, added to the remorseful regrets 
 which she experienced at having betrayed her 
 weakness, and compromised her dignity of cha- 
 racter, by the admission of a claim upon her 
 heart, which appeared to have been made but in 
 sport, were almost too much for her delicate 
 frame and constitution; yet she endured them 
 all with that meek and unworldly patience which 
 exclusively belongs to woman. 
 
 It was a piteous sight to see her selecting and 
 
262 THE WIDOW. 
 
 choosing bridal ornaments, and accepting from 
 the trembling hand of her dotard lover, gifts 
 which could scarcely be considered any thing 
 but bribes ; and there was in her manner a quiet 
 resignation, a totaPabandonment of herself to 
 the views and will of others, which at times 
 even wounded the feelings of her mother. It was, 
 however, too late now to retract ; although Mrs. 
 Franklin suspected ' that the total silence which 
 Harriet observed with regard to Saville, and the 
 entire absence of any attempt on his part either 
 to see or prevail upon her to take the desperate 
 measure which could alone relieve her from her 
 approaching thraldom, was merely maintained as 
 a cloak for stratagems, which she imagined to be 
 in a regular course of progress, and never did 
 she rise in the morning without expecting to 
 hear that the bird was flown. 
 
 She could not otherwise account for the appear- 
 ance of implicit obedience which characterised 
 every action of her poor devoted daughter's life. 
 She little knew the awful struggle by which her 
 mind was torn, and least of all could she suspect 
 
THE WIDOW. 263 
 
 that the calm resolution of her daughter had 
 been produced by the believed infidelity and 
 heartlessness of her lover. 
 
 Time passed — one day succeeded another — 
 and still the aching pain of dread and expecta- 
 tion continued. The ring was bought which was 
 to bind her to her Mezentian spouse ; he placed it 
 sportively on the finger which it was to bind for 
 life — a mark, at once, of duty and affection. 
 To him, this, to others, easy task, was not 
 so trifling an achievement; his hand, trem- 
 bling neither "with love nor fear," but with a 
 more incurable malady, old age, was not well 
 calculated to place the golden mark of bondage 
 — apt illustration of such a match — on his cap- 
 tive ; yet, in three short days, he was to do so in 
 earnest, to secure his passive victim. He affected 
 to be gay and jocose, and concluded the rehearsal 
 of his performance by holding in his hand the 
 finger he, after two minutes, pottering, had en- 
 slaved. There sat the pale, placid girl, patiently 
 undergoing the protracted operation, her mother 
 looking archly and almost mischievously on ; while 
 
 2 
 
264 THE WIDOW. 
 
 " Miss J.," entering the apartment on tip-toe, 
 stood eyeing the scene with an expression in her 
 countenance of mingled surprise and disgust. 
 It was a subject for a painter; and with " Ring- 
 ing a 5eZ/e," by way of title, might have made 
 no inconsiderable figure in one of the Exhibi- 
 tions, 
 
 Ringing of bells indeed there was, within three 
 days of this occurrence ; and favours, and gloves, 
 and cake, and all the other concomitants of nup- 
 tial ceremonials. 
 
 " I pass each previous settlement and deed, 
 Too long for me to write, or you to read ; 
 Nor will with quaint impertinence display 
 The pomp, the pageantry, the proud array : 
 The time approached — to church they went — " 
 
 and were made man and wife ; Harriet, absorbed 
 in tears, and wholly unconscious of what was 
 passing; Mr. Smith himself not being entirely 
 delighted with the observations of some of the 
 spectators, made as he led, or rather lifted, with 
 the assistance of the bride's-maids, his broken- 
 hearted better-half to the carriage. Mrs. Franklin 
 
THE WIDOW. 265 
 
 looked at the by-standers and her daughter, as 
 if she could have killed the former, and eaten the 
 latter : her pride was hurt by hearing a murmur 
 amongst the crowd, in which the word " shame" 
 was distinguishable; but Colonel O'Lollocky, 
 who handed her from the door, hurried her 
 through the knot of people who surrounded it, 
 in order that she might escape the reproaches 
 which they seemed unanimous in breathing 
 forth. 
 
 The reader knows that with this ceremony the 
 residence of the party in the island terminated. 
 After a dejeuner-d-la-fourchette, the bride and 
 bridegroom proceeded to Southampton, on their 
 way to Bath, Cheltenham, Malvern, Leaming- 
 ton, and eventually the Lakes ; and Mrs. Frank- 
 lin, with her sister-in-law, her niece, and Colonel 
 O'Lollocky, st^arted at the same time for Ports- 
 mouth ; Miss Johnstone having nearly cried her 
 eyes out at being compelled to share the rumble 
 of her young mistress's carriage with her old 
 master's favourite servant — a favourite of two- 
 and-twenty years' standing ; and who, before 
 
 VOL. I. N 
 
266 THE WIDOW. 
 
 they had travelled two and twenty miles, gave 
 several indications of an ardent desire to follow 
 his excellent master's example in the way of 
 matrimony, if Miss J. could be prevailed upon 
 to accede to his entreaties. 
 
 Our dramatis personce are now scattered, and 
 the reader must make up his mind to a long" 
 separation from them. It would be worse than 
 useless to record in detail the miseries which poor 
 Harriet found herself destined to undergo. Dis- 
 satisfaction with himself soon rendered her hus- 
 band dissatisfied with her ; and a parsimony, as 
 absurd in him, as it was distressing to his wife, 
 added to the most restless jealousy, kept her in 
 a state not to be described. 
 
 Saville, with a mind completely overthrown 
 by the circumstances which had deprived him of 
 his Harriet, conscious what her opinion of him 
 must be, and yet feeling that any attempt to un- 
 deceive her as to his conduct, could only be 
 construed into a desire to maintain a correspond- 
 ence with her, which, in their relative positions, 
 it would be most indelicate to keep up, deter- 
 
THE WIDOW. 267 
 
 mined upon abandoning his profession, and tra- 
 velling. The moment the reader hears this, he will 
 construe such a determination into the result of 
 a restless anxiety and an undefined hope of meet- 
 ing his loved and lost angel (by accident of course ) 
 on the Continent; or as an intermediate step be- 
 tween writing to her in his own vindication, and 
 giving her up altogether. But it turned out that 
 he thought better even of this scheme, and gene- 
 rously relinquished what might have afforded him 
 the greatest gratification now left within his reach, 
 — that of seeing and explaining to her the circum- 
 stances by which he had been forced into apparent 
 inconsistency and frivolity ; because he could not 
 but apprehend one of two evils as likely to result 
 from his putting it into execution : — he might 
 either succeed in withdrawing her from her 
 matrimonial allegiance, or do what, as far as the 
 world was concerned, would have been equally 
 injurious, — subject her to the imputation of 
 tolerating the advances of a lover, who had been 
 discarded not by her, but by the authority of her 
 mother. 
 
 n2 
 
268 THE WIDOW. 
 
 After much deliberation, he came to the reso- 
 lution of applying himself to the drudgery of his 
 profession, in the hope of diverting his thoughts 
 from their one dear object; and in the certainty 
 that, however much study and other pursuits 
 might temporarily relieve his mind, his heart 
 would still remain constant to his Harriet. To 
 wait years and years for the consummation of hap- 
 piness, dependent upon the death of another, may 
 be thought neither christian -like nor proper ; but, 
 certain as he was of her affection, convinced by 
 the last communication which passed between 
 them, that she reciprocated his love — his resolu- 
 tion was nothing but a fitting return for her 
 kindness. What he hoped, or what he looked 
 forward to, could in no wise affect either the 
 health or happiness of the far distant possessor 
 of his beloved. No tie of friendship bound him 
 to the veteran husband ; and his anxiety for Har- 
 riet's comfort and welfare was so pure and dis- 
 interested, that, if he could have believed — which 
 of course under the circumstances he did not — 
 that she was happy, he would have satisfied him- 
 
THE WIDOW. 269 
 
 self with watching her career through life without 
 a murmur of discontent. 
 
 The career of her mother as a widow was 
 very speedily stopped by her accepting the 
 hand of Colonel O'Lollocky, who found little 
 difficulty in convincing her of the importance 
 of the loss she had sustained in the society of her 
 daughter, or in impressing upon her mind the 
 advantages which, in every worldly point of 
 view, would attend her union with him, whose 
 whole life would be devoted to her happiness, 
 and who felt that his own would be assured to 
 him by her consent. This assurance of the 
 Colonel's had its effect; and in less than a 
 month after Harriet had set her the example, 
 Mrs. Franklin entered the holy state of matri- 
 mony with the gallant officer, who had before 
 that ceremony took place, proposed taking his 
 matured bride over to Ireland to see a re- 
 markably fine property which he had there, 
 — at least in expectation, — upon which there 
 were a fine mansion, a valuable farm, capital 
 shooting, and a beautiful decoy. This journey, 
 n3 
 
270 THE WIDOW. 
 
 however, he postponed immediately after the 
 wedding; and Mrs. Franklin, although, for a 
 time, blinded by a passion which she fancied 
 love, began to see pretty clearly, that of all the 
 promised valuables of her gallant spouse in the 
 " green island," nothing was entirely to be de- 
 pended upon except the decoy. 
 
 Time rolled on, and Saville persisted in his 
 assiduous attention to business, until his health 
 became visibly and seriously impaired, and he 
 was compelled to seek change of air as the only 
 chance of restoration. To his kind friends, the 
 Alvinghams, then some time married and settled, 
 the broken-hearted young man was indebted for 
 a hospitable welcome t9 Harlingham Parsonage ; 
 and under their happy roof, and in the enjoy- 
 ment of that tranquillity which is afforded to the 
 mind, almost unconsciously, by the society of 
 such people, he recovered both health and spirits ; 
 and when he quitted them after a lengthened 
 stay till the end of the year of Harriet's depar- 
 ture, he promised to revisit them annually at the 
 same season. 
 
THE WIDOW. 271 
 
 It was after his return to London from his 
 first agreeable visit to Harlingham, and seven or 
 eight months after Harriet's marriage, that as he 
 was sitting at breakfast, just ready for a start to 
 Chambers, Twigg entered the room with an 
 opened letter in his hand, — his countenance was 
 animated by an expression of interest and im- 
 portance, — a sort of triumphant giggle was on 
 his lips, and in his manner a consciousness of 
 having something to impart which his master 
 would be most anxious to hear. 
 
 " I've got a letter. Sir," said Twigg, " come 
 all the way from where the sallad ile comes, in the 
 basket-bottomed bottles — full of news. Sir." 
 
 " Indeed !" said Saville, " that must be agree- 
 able enough for you." 
 
 " Very, Sir," said Twigg. 
 
 " Who is it from?" asked Saville. 
 
 " From ' Miss J.,' Sir," said Twigg, " who 
 moreover is ' Miss J.' still." 
 
 Saville was not prepared for this announce- 
 ment; he did not know the particular place at 
 which the Smiths had fixed their residence ; and 
 N 4 
 
272 THE WIDOW. 
 
 when Twigg mentioned his letter, and described 
 its date, there was nothing in Saville's mind to 
 associate it with his loved, lost Harriet- 
 
 " It's full of news, as I have just said," conti- 
 nued the anxious valet, " and you may read it, 
 Sir, in welcome — all but just a little bit where 
 I have doubled it down." Saying this, he 
 handed the precious document to his master, 
 who proceeded to peruse its contents. They 
 had best speak for themselves : — 
 
 " Florence 
 " Dear Alexander, 
 
 " You will think me vastly foolish, I dare 
 say, and perhaps laugh at me for writing to you 
 ever again, after your extraordinary conduct; 
 but, as I say, if you have behaved bad to me, your 
 master has behaved worse to my mistress" 
 
 " You must not mind that. Sir," said Twigg, 
 interrupting Saville's reading ; " she means all 
 for the best — you'll see presently — go on, Sir." 
 
 " I don't know enough of him to know what 
 his real principle at bottom is, and cannot there- 
 
THE WIDOW. 273 
 
 fore judge how much he is to be blamed, or how 
 much to be pitied; but you, I cannot think, 
 would wilfully have made me the protestations 
 you have made, if you wasn't in earnest, and 
 serious and honourable in your intentions" — 
 " That, you see. Sir," said Twigg, "means" — 
 " Oh, I see perfectly," said Saville ; " well." 
 " It is because I quite believe this, that I take 
 the opportunity of Miss Mill — who is Lady 
 Frances Fotheringham's maid — going to Eng- 
 land, to write, in order, by giving you our 
 address here, to afford you an opportunity of 
 explaining your conduct to me — that is to say, if 
 you are yet alive, and in Charles-street, St. 
 James's-square. She has promised to carry my 
 letter home, and put it into the twopenny-post- 
 office before she leaves London." 
 
 " But," said Saville, having read thus far, 
 " this letter seems wholly to concern you, and I 
 
 have no right" 
 
 " Right, Sir !" said Twigg ; " what's right to 
 do with it? — I'm not ashamed nor afraid of 
 n5 
 
274 THE WIDOW. 
 
 what's in the letter, as far as I am concerned ; 
 and if you'll go on, you'll see something more 
 about yourself" — 
 
 " Equally flattering with the former observa- 
 tions," said Saville. , 
 
 " Write, if you please, Alexander, to me here 
 — that is, if you continue to care at all about 
 me — and explain your real feelings, and the 
 reason for your extraordinary conduct in never 
 coming to the Isle of Wight, after all the pains 
 I had taken ; because, if you are in the same 
 mind, and was prevented by sickness or accident 
 from keeping your appointment, I tell you 
 straight-forward, that I neither have changed, nor 
 am likely to change my mind, as Miss Mill 
 could tell you, if you had the opportunity of 
 speaking to her ; but if you have wilfully neg- 
 lected me, and do not reply to this, I shall con- 
 sider you have done with me altogether ; and as 
 I have a very good opportunity of bettering 
 myself, in that case, shall accept the offer of an 
 Italian marquis, who is very fond of me, and has 
 
THE WIDOW. 275 
 
 a fine estate in his own country of more than a 
 hundred and thirty-two pounds a year. He says 
 that I"— 
 
 " Ah, Sir !" said Twigg, " that's what I have 
 doubled down, because its all about myself, 
 Sir" 
 
 " Oh, of course, that is sacred," said Saville ; 
 " well, where may I turn to ?" 
 
 " Up there. Sir," said Twigg, " where it 
 begins, ' My mistress/ " 
 
 " Oh !" said Saville. 
 
 " My mistress has been very very ill ; she 
 has not entirely recovered the shock and disap- 
 pointment occasioned by Mr. Saville's cruel 
 conduct. I thought she would have died. There 
 she was, Alexander, day after day going down 
 to the bathing machine, which was where I told 
 you to tell Mr. Saville to meet us; a wash- 
 ing and washing herself every morning of her 
 life, till there was scarce any thing of her left ; 
 and what with that, and weeping, I do assure 
 you I thought we should have lost her. She is 
 better a little, and now speaks of your master, 
 N 6 
 
276 THE WIDOW. 
 
 and will let me mention his name. But there is 
 a book of his — one which she did not send back 
 when she returned all his bits of things that he 
 had left at our house — and I often see her read- 
 ing in it, and cryingj but she tries not to let 
 me see it ; and the minute I come into the room 
 she jumps up and hides the book, and affects 
 to laugh and talk something about nothing, just 
 merely for conversatipn." 
 
 " There, Sir," said Twigg, " I told you. Sir, 
 there was something about you^ 
 
 " And extremely consolatory, as well as com- 
 plimentary, that something is," said Saville. 
 
 " As for my mistress's husband, he has been 
 at the very point of death. Wliat has been the 
 matter with him I cannot l-ightly tell you, because 
 I do not exactly know ; but the doctors say he 
 has got something the matter with his something, 
 in Latin, which I believe is his liver in English, 
 and he has great pain in his side, and is always 
 sick ; but I am no great hand at Italian, and don't 
 know the names the people here give to com- 
 plaints. One thing I can make out, and that 
 
THE WIDOW. 277 
 
 is, that he is not long for this world. And be- 
 tween you and me and the post, when he goes 
 it will be no great loss ; for he leads my poor 
 young lady such a life, that if he was the great 
 Mogul, stuffed with diamonds, I would not stop 
 with him. Nobody dare speak to her, nor she 
 to nobody ; and every body is running after her 
 here, because she is what they call leggiadra, and 
 bella, and all that ; but if any man bows or stops 
 a moment to talk to her, old Smith is in one of 
 his tantrums, and scolds her worse than ever 
 her mother did, — and that's saying a good deal. 
 However, when the old man pops off, there she'll 
 be just as young and as handsome as ever ; only 
 a little thinner and paler than she was before, and 
 if I am not very much mistaken, if your master 
 can make out, as I hope you can, a good expla- 
 nation of his behaviour, just as ready to be 
 Mrs. Saville." 
 
 " Psha !" said Charles, " how— 
 
 " ' These fools rush in where angels fear to tread.' 
 
 The most delicate points are discussed and 
 
278 THE WIDOW. 
 
 settled; every tMng upon which the tenderest 
 feelings are excited canvassed with careless- 
 ness and flippancy, and the fate of half a score 
 people sealed, with as much ease as a gown 
 is pinned or a curl twkted," 
 
 " Fools ! Sir," said Twigg, reproachfully, 
 « you can't think Miss J. a fool ?" 
 
 " No, no, Twigg," said Saville, endeavouring 
 to hide the emotions caused by her abrupt, but 
 clearly correct communication of the state of the 
 case ; "no, let her be one of the angels ; she is 
 very like one." 
 
 " Very, Sir," said Twigg, adding parenthe- 
 tically, and in an under tone, (" Not that I ever 
 se'ed one.") 
 
 -« You may tell Mr. Saville of this letter, 
 
 and give my dutiful respects to him, if you are 
 yourself able to let me see that both you and he 
 are wrongfully accused by us. I say us, for 
 although Miss Harriet — I cannot bear to call 
 her Mrs. Smith — is as mute as mute can be on 
 the subject, I am sure in her heart she would be 
 happier, and in her mind easier, if once she 
 
THE WIDOW. 279 
 
 could think she has not been forsaken by him on 
 purpose ; for to be an abandoned woman, Alex- 
 ander, is, as I know, a very sad thing indeed. I 
 don't mean to say much, because I am afraid of 
 the worst; and sometimes fear he may be one of 
 them vile wretches of men who sport about and 
 trifle with the feelings of the softer sex, and that 
 you may, perhaps, be as bad; but, nevertheless, 
 I will hope, and, as I said before, if you c-an 
 clear yourself, write to me ; and if he can clear 
 himself with my young lady, there's nothing I 
 won't do to serve him; and whatever he may 
 write in a letter, I will give her, provided it is 
 all fair and honourable. But I will not have a 
 hand in any thing wrong ; only I am sure if she 
 was satisfied about his not being fickle and 
 changing, she would be more at ease, and how 
 could she be so well satisfied as by having the 
 assurance under his own hand. 
 
 " When I recollect, Alexander," 
 
 " That's doubled down. Sir," said Twigg ; 
 " there's nothing more about you, Sir, not a 
 syllable ; it's only about Miss Mill, and two pots 
 
280 THE WIDOW. 
 
 of soap, and some other little conundrums wliich 
 Miss J. lias sent me, and which Miss M. is to 
 give me, provised I am single and constant, Sir. 
 You may read it all for the matter of that, 
 only" 
 
 " Oh," said Saville, " I have no desire, I 
 assure you. I am much obliged to you for a 
 sight of the letter, and" 
 
 " In course," said Twigg, " you will take 
 Miss J.'s hint and write." 
 
 " That," said Saville, " requires considera- 
 tion, and must be deliberated upon at leisure ; 
 there will be plenty of time for that, before you 
 send your answer." 
 
 " I shall write to-day. Sir," said Twigg, 
 " and if I can lay my hands upon Miss Mill, 
 give her ocular proof of my constancy, and get 
 the soap and the enceteras." 
 
 " Well," said Saville, " I shall be prepared 
 with my answer when your letter is ready." 
 
 Twigg retired in high spirits, and left Saville 
 in a state of mind difficult to describe. His 
 beloved Harriet was suffering a martyrdom from 
 
THE WIDOW. '281 
 
 which he might have rescued her. That he was 
 accidentally and unavoidably prevented from 
 achieving this most desirable object, she did not 
 know ; and he perfectly agreed with Miss John- 
 stone that the knowledge of the fact would 
 relieve her mind and diminish her remorse. 
 Then ought he not to communicate this fact 
 simply ? No. It appeared to him that the cer- 
 tainty of his constancy, and the immutability of 
 his affection, would equally excite and agitate 
 her ; and that it would be cruel to open a new 
 source of grief, when, perhaps, time had in some 
 degree alleviated the sorrow derivable from 
 another. 
 
 As to this, however, it was pretty clear that 
 Twigg's vindication of his own conduct to Miss 
 Johnstone, over which Saville could have no con- 
 troul, would inevitably involve his master's excul- 
 pation. Yet he dare not himself write to Harriet. 
 It would be dishonourable ; it would be dangerous 
 to her comfort and welfare; and what are so 
 dear to man as the ease and security of the 
 woman he loves. She might think him cold — 
 
282 THE WIDOW. 
 
 cruel, or even yet inconstant, if he let slip the 
 opportunity of communicating the few facts 
 connected with his delay in France. But why 
 should he undeceive her? why, for the personal 
 gratification of setting himself right in a matter 
 where, whether he were right or wrong, fate 
 had decided that no good could accrue to either 
 himself or his beloved, should he farther en- 
 danger her tranquillity ? She now believed him 
 false ; let it be so. Better that he should suffer 
 under unmerited reproach, than that she should 
 again be agitated or disturbed. 
 
 If he wrote — she would answer ; could he — 
 had he the stoicism to hear the complaints with 
 which no doubt her letter would be filled, and 
 not be moved to a line of conduct which, if per- 
 sisted in, might lead to the saddest and bitterest 
 results, and perhaps eventually mar the bright- 
 ness and sully the purity which he had so long 
 worshipped and adored. 
 
 The Sortes VirgiUajice have, before now, in- 
 fluenced the conduct and affected the minds of 
 the greatest and wisest ; and, although upon the 
 
THE WIDOW. 283 
 
 present occasion, Saville had not recourse to any 
 book of fate to decide his choice in the course 
 which he had to steer amongst the baffling winds 
 of love and honour, it did so happen that while 
 doubting and hesitating — for his principle almost 
 faltered when he thought of her misery and his 
 own debasement in her estimation — his eyes fell 
 upon an accidentally open page of poems, which 
 lay on his breakfast-table. The lines which 
 were presented to his sight were these, by Soame 
 Jenyns. 
 
 " Too plain, dear youth, these tell-tale eyes, 
 My heart your own declare ; 
 Let it, for Heaven's sake, suffice 
 To know your triumph there. 
 
 Forhear your utmost power to try. 
 
 Nor further urge your sway ; 
 Press not for what I must deny, 
 
 For fear I should obey. 
 
 Could all your arts successful prove, 
 
 Would you a being undo. 
 Whose greatest failing is her love, 
 
 And that her love for you ? 
 
 Say would you use the very power, 
 
 You from her fondness claim, 
 To ruin in one fatal hour, 
 
 A life of spotless fame ? 
 
284 THE WIDOW. 
 
 Ah ! cease, dear love, to do an ill, 
 
 Because perhaps you may ; 
 But rather try your utmost skill, 
 
 To save me, than betray. 
 
 Be you yourself my virtue's guard, 
 
 Defend, and not pursue ; 
 For ah ! I feel the task too hard. 
 
 To strive with love and you." 
 
 It would, perhaps, be doing an injustice to the 
 firmness and integrity of Saville, to attribute his 
 determination not to write to Harriet to the acci- 
 dental presentation of this appeal " from Chloe 
 to Strephon" to his view. It certainly was a 
 curious coincidence ; and, accordingly, when 
 Twigg came in and announced that he had got 
 his soap and his enceteras, as he called them, 
 and had written his letter, and meant to send it 
 next day, Saville, much to the disappointment of 
 his servant, and as, I suspect, to that of many 
 of my female readers, who " thought better of 
 him," announced that he had no note to send. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 It was singular enough that Saville's scrupu- 
 lousness was needless; as it turned out, Har- 
 riet — had her sorrow permitted it — might have 
 received his letter, and returned an answer ; for, 
 before Twigg's letter reached Florence, she had 
 become a widow. Mr. Smith had been sud- 
 denly attacked with some violent spasmodic 
 affection in the middle of the night — his medi- 
 cal man was sent for — he grew worse — three 
 other physicians were called in — and he died. 
 
 Harriet's situation after this event would have 
 been embarrassing and difficult, had it not hap- 
 pened that her mother and Colonel 0*Lollocky 
 had been her guests at Florence for a few days 
 previous to its occurrence ; and, although, Mrs. 
 
286 THE WIDOW. 
 
 O'LoUocky's jointure had been so secured by 
 Smith after his marriage with the daughter, that 
 she was placed in a permanent state of inde- 
 pendence, it appeared that the gallant Colonel 
 had discovered the clinTate of England to be much 
 too keen for him, and that the more genial air of 
 the Continent was infinitely better suited to his 
 constitution than that of his native country. Such 
 had been the liberality of the young couple since 
 their happy union, that the circumstance of 
 having an establishment at their command was by 
 no means disagreeable ; and as, of course, Har- 
 riet would be charmed with their society, it was 
 settled that they should pass a few weeks with 
 her and her husband at Florence, — an indefinite 
 sort of engagement, which the Colonel reason- 
 ably imagined might be considerably extended, 
 if convenient. 
 
 The death of their hospitable host made no 
 kind of difference in their arrangements ; and 
 Harriet, accustomed to the sway of her parent, 
 suffered her to take the reins which in fact were 
 her own ; and satisfied, by circumstances, that her 
 
THE WIDOW. 287 
 
 maid's interpretation of Saville's conduct, com- 
 municated in Twigg's letter, could not be a cor- 
 rect one, or at all events not one upon which, 
 with her sense of delicacy, she could act, or even 
 rely, she abandoned herself to a grief which her 
 common acquaintance attributed to the loss of 
 her husband, with many observations and remarks 
 upon its oddity and extravagance. 
 
 The arrival of Mrs. O'Lollocky, her assump- 
 tion of power upon the death of the old gentle- 
 man, combined with the announcement of the 
 widow's determination not to return to England 
 until the year of mourning was past, produced a 
 serious change in the administration of her do- 
 mestic affairs. Miss Johnstone, who had antici- 
 pated, with more anxiety of feeling than appre- 
 hension of the result, the demise of her master 
 as the termination of her residence abroad, newly 
 fired by the certainty of Mr. Twigg's fidelity, 
 confided to her " young lady " her resolution of 
 quitting her service, and proceeding to England ; 
 adding, that as an opportunity offered of her 
 
288 THE WIDOW. 
 
 getting home with a " return family," she trusted 
 her immediate departure would not be inconve- 
 nient. 
 
 Of course, Harriet, who, having been made 
 the confidante of her attachment, and necessarily 
 of the exoneration of her lover from the charge 
 of inconstancy and neglect, would not suffer any 
 little worry to herself to interfere with her maid's 
 views and objects. 'To part with a maid is as 
 unpleasant an affair for a lady as can be well 
 imagined : — she has got used to all her mistress's 
 habits and ways — anticipates her likings, and 
 obviates her antipathies — and is altogether so 
 important a depository of confidential matters, 
 that, puzzled as a king sometimes is to get rid 
 of his prime minister for want of a successor, the 
 royal embarrassment is scarcely so great upon 
 such an occasion as that which is felt by a lady 
 in parting with her souhrette. 
 
 The arrangements for "Miss J.'s" departure, 
 were, however, speedily made, Mrs. O'Lollocky 
 accelerating her removal as much as possible, she 
 
THE WIDOW. 289 
 
 having conceived an unconquerable aversion 
 from the " young person ;" whom she believed — 
 and we know how justly — to have been the con- 
 federate and counsellor of her daughter while she 
 was single and married ; and anticipated in the re- 
 ciprocity of dislike, which Miss J. made no great 
 eifort to conceal, some plot against herself and 
 her ornamental husband, who was no great 
 favourite with either mistress or maid. 
 
 Harriet did not part with her without much 
 regret. Her fidelity and attachment had been 
 proved; and she quitted her mistress's service 
 with nearly as much money — including a legacy 
 from her late master — as would produce her an 
 income in England equal to the rental of the 
 territorial domain of the rejected nobleman, who 
 had been dangling about her for some time. 
 
 Before she went. Miss J. played the same 
 game with her mistress at Florence, as Twigg 
 had tried with Saville in London ; and, although 
 the state of affairs was considerably altered since 
 the latter period, it made no change in Har- 
 riet's determination — she strenuously refused to 
 
 VOL. I. o 
 
290 THE WIDOW. 
 
 permit Johnstone to be the bearer of a message or 
 even a word to Saville. She saw, it is true, in the 
 vindication of Twigg, a vindication of his master; 
 but she could not believe that if he were equally 
 anxious upon the subject, he would have per- 
 mitted such an opportunity as had offered for his 
 exculpation to slip, or have neglected to dis- 
 abuse her mind upon a topic to her the most 
 galling and mortifying. 
 
 " No, Johnstone," said Mrs. Smith, " my 
 parting injunction to you is, not to mention my 
 name to Mr. Saville; and, above all, I entreat — 
 and indeed command you — not to permit my 
 reason for coming to this determination to escape 
 your lips. Circumstances have occurred under 
 which I might have been justified in sending him 
 my regards and remembrances, if he had thought 
 proper to clear himself from the imputation which 
 he must know rests upon him : I have new reasons 
 afforded me, since my mother's arrival here, to be 
 satisfied lohy he remained silent." 
 
 " What does the old lady say?" said Miss 
 Johnstone. 
 
THE WIDOW. 291 
 
 " It is of no consequence," replied Harriet, 
 trembling from head to foot, the tears standing 
 in her eyes, her cheeks pale as death — " of 
 no consequence whatever; he was right — it 
 was 1 who first faltered in my affection for him 
 — it is right and just, but I cannot help feeling — 
 he is on the very point of marriage to a sister- 
 in-law of his friend Mr. Alvingham." 
 
 " I don't believe one single syllable of it. 
 Ma'am," said Johnstone ; " I am sure it can't 
 be so, from what Mr. Twigg writes, and what" — 
 
 " It is not likely he would have admitted him 
 to a confidence upon such a subject, at a moment 
 when he knew his man was about to write to 
 you." 
 
 " I won't believe it. Ma'am," said Johnstone. 
 " All I ask is, if I find it out to be a fib, — I'm 
 sure it is onC;, — may I write to you to tell you 
 so ; nay, if I am sure it is a fib, may I tell Mr. 
 Saville what I know to be really the case ?" 
 
 " Hush, hush, Johnstone," said Harriet, " I 
 cannot suffer you to do any of these things — 
 time will show us all. If Mr. Saville has been 
 o 2 
 
292 THE WIDOW. 
 
 calumniated, he will be free to take what course 
 he pleases ; after what you know, and what he 
 knows of my feelings, it would be worse than 
 useless to deny how deeply interested I am in 
 every thing concerning him ; but I have already 
 stooped too much, and I cannot, particularly in 
 my present position, think of communicating 
 with a gentleman who did not consider it worth 
 while to acquit hinlself in my eyes, or run the 
 risk of admitting the affection I feel for one, 
 who, before you reach England, will perhaps be 
 the husband of another woman." 
 
 " Oh, I don't say. Ma'am," replied Johnstone, 
 " but that you show a proper spirit there ; but 
 however fond Mr. Saviile may be of the society 
 of his friend Mr. Alvingham, I am quite sure 
 from what Mr. Twigg told me almost the very 
 last time I ever spoke to him, that none of the 
 Miss Simpsons would do for a wife for him ; 
 he used to laugh at them, and quiz them, and 
 call them the dear innocents of Baa-lamb hill." 
 
 " Ah ! Johnstone," said Harriet, '' it has 
 very often happened that first impressions have 
 
THE WIDOW. 293 
 
 entirely worn off, and that men have married 
 women, who in the early stage of their acquaint- 
 ance, they have laughed at infinitely more than 
 Mr. Saville ever laughed at those young ladies. 
 However, let the case be as it may, my in- 
 junctions to you are positive and unqualified; 
 and although I cease to have any control or 
 authority over you, I think I may rely upon 
 you for a compliance with my wishes, the neg- 
 lect of which could not fail to lower me in the 
 estimation of Mr. Saville, and (which is much 
 worse) in that of my own." 
 
 What effect this " preachment," as Mr. Twigg 
 would have called it, eventually had upon Miss 
 Johnstone's conduct after her return to England 
 we may presently see ; for the moment, our care 
 is only to wish the kind-hearted creature a 
 pleasant journey to her native country, and all 
 the happiness which she evidently anticipated in 
 her union with the constant Twigg. 
 
 The intelligence of Mr. Smith's death reached 
 Saville before the arrival of Miss Johnstone. A 
 thousand natural feelings filled his mind — his 
 o 3 
 
294 THE WIDOW. 
 
 beloved Harriet was free from the chains which 
 had fettered her inclinations; and although the 
 customs of society prescribed rules for the exer- 
 cise of a proper grief, he could not but consider 
 the demise of her husband as the first step towards 
 the realization of all his hopes, and the consum- 
 mation of all his earthly happiness. 
 
 It was evident that he could not with delicacy 
 take any decided step at the moment; he felt 
 anxious and alarmed for her in her lone and 
 isolated station, not knowing that she was sup- 
 ported by the presence of her mother. But 
 what could he do — he had no pretence to be 
 her champion or protector, and although time 
 might secure his eventual comfort, time was 
 absolutely necessary. He now regretted that 
 he had not strained a point, and written a few 
 words of exculpation to the wife of Smith, which 
 would have been read by her only as his widow. 
 Yet he consoled himself with the assurance that 
 Twigg's explanation must have satisfied Harriet 
 of the real cause of his failure in keeping the 
 appointment at the Isle of Wight, which he had 
 
THE WIDOW. 295 
 
 been so anxious to make, and that she must 
 know him too well to attribute his silence to any 
 but its real cause, his anxiety not to subject her 
 even to an imputation of impropriety on his 
 account, while she remained the wife of another. 
 When Miss Johnstone arrived, and explained 
 not only the actual state of circumstances at 
 Florence, but of the report which Mrs. O'Lol- 
 locky had carried thither, Saville's feelings were 
 excited in a very eminent degree, he denounced 
 and anathematized not only himself, the cholera, 
 and the French quarantine laws, but his ow^n 
 timidity, and the old lady's mendacity. His 
 first impulse w^as to proceed forthwith to Italy, 
 but this scheme he abandoned, because he felt 
 he should needlessly involve himself in conten- 
 tions with Mrs. O'Lollocky, who, now that she 
 was married,, appeared infinitely more inveterate 
 against him than she ever had been before ; while 
 her distaste for him was upon all occasions excited 
 and corroborated by her amiable husband, who 
 hoped by keeping him off, to secure to himself all 
 the comforts of his daughter-in-law's convenient 
 o 4 
 
296 THE WIDOW. 
 
 residence, her easy carriages, and her well-bred 
 horses, which, if she married again, would of 
 course be wrested from him, and both the Colonel 
 and his lady agreed, that knowing as they did, 
 the character and disposition of Mrs. Smith, it 
 was only necessary to keep her separate from 
 Saville, to hinder her from again entering into a 
 state in which she had found little but sorrow and 
 vexation. These people, intimate as they were 
 with her, fell into the error which has been before 
 noticed of mistaking gentleness for weakness, and 
 mildness for want of firmness, and under that im- 
 pression believed they could manage her exactly 
 as they pleased. What their success was, events 
 must show ; in the outset of their vice-royalty 
 over her, she seemed implicitly to bow to their 
 will. Still uncertain about Saville, his ap- 
 proaching marriage uncontradicted, she could 
 not venture to rely upon what in due season he 
 might do, and therefore until that due season 
 came, when the truth or falsehood of the stories 
 which had been told her would also be proved, she 
 resolved to bear every inconvenience with meek- 
 
THE WIDOW. 297 
 
 ness and patience, and sustain her character of the 
 obedient daughter which she had so truly acted up 
 to, to the day of her marriage ; the entirety of her 
 obedience in the last instance, having been 
 preserved, it must be confessed, rather by acci- 
 dent than upon principle. 
 
 The viceroys suggested an immediate removal 
 from Florence, the Colonel undertaking to trans- 
 act all the necessary business connected with 
 her accession to a part of the fortune and some 
 of the estates of her late husband. Smith had 
 left a considerable portion of his property to his 
 own relations, so that, in fact, when things were 
 wound up, it appeared that besides the house in 
 Buckinghamshire, and that in London, Harriet 
 had about three thousand pounds annual income 
 from the funds, making nearly, one way and 
 another, five thousand a-year. 
 
 The Widow, who knew little enough of what 
 are called the ways of the world, had yet a 
 sufficient perception of the sort of man Colonel 
 O'LoUocky was, to desire in her own mind that 
 he should have as little as possible to do with the 
 . o 5 
 
298. THE WIDOW. 
 
 management of her concerns; the Colonel, on 
 the contrary, was all anxiety, civility, and aifec- 
 tion, and called her his " little daughter-in-law," 
 " his dear child," and " his sweet love," in a 
 manner so wonderfully warm and easy, that 
 Harriet could scarcely comprehend the character 
 in which the endearing words were addressed to 
 her. Patience was still her motto ; and during 
 this reign of encroachment and submission, the 
 notable Colonel and his superficial lady, firmly 
 believed that they were managing the Widow, 
 and completely superseding Mr. Charles Saville 
 in her thoughts and recollections. 
 
 Saville, who was greatly affected by the new 
 imputation of an intended marriage, considered 
 that circumstance, of itself, a sufficient ground 
 for \vriting a few lines to Harriet, although Miss 
 Johnstone entreated him for her sake to do no 
 such thing. That in the first place, it would 
 prove to Mrs. Smith that she had broken her 
 promise, which, although it was true she had 
 done so, she had done with the best possible 
 intentions ; and in the second place, it might 
 
THE WIDOW. 299 
 
 expose lier late mistress to some unpleasant dis- 
 cussions with lier mother and her father-in-law, 
 who would not fail to see and inquire into the 
 particulars of any letter she might receive from 
 England. 
 
 Saville — who, the reader must have already 
 perceived, was infinitely more careful of Har- 
 riet's happiness than his own — listened to the 
 plausible reasonings of Harriet's ci-devant maid ; 
 and at length acceded to her earnest request to 
 manage the matter according to her own method, 
 which was to allow her to write all the facts of the 
 case to the Widow, stating the nature of the cir- 
 cumstances by which she had ascertained the 
 falsehood of the report of the marriage, and Mr. 
 Saville's anxious desire to have one line of intel- 
 ligence concerning her views and projected 
 movements, telling her at the same time that it 
 was in compliance with her request that he had 
 not written himself, and begging her, if she had 
 any regard for a gentleman, who was entirely 
 devoted to her, to commission her in her answer 
 to say something to him to keep up his spirits, 
 
300 THE WIDOW. 
 
 or to suggest, if slie felt so inclined, the best 
 mode of avoiding the controversy which she was 
 but too certain would arise, if he either went to 
 Florence, or sent her any letters openly ; winding 
 up all these statements, petitions, and observ- 
 ations, by declaring her conviction that no man 
 upon earth would more gratefully receive a fa- 
 vourable word or two, or more zealously strive 
 to deserve the preference which it was impossible 
 for her to deny, and which she, " Miss J." 
 knew her young lady felt for him, beyond all 
 other living beings. 
 
 Satisfied with the wisdom and prudence of 
 this half-measure, Saville became considerably 
 tranquillized by the reflection, that, in a few 
 days, Harriet would, upon good authority — the 
 best except his own — be informed of the injury 
 which had been attempted on his character for 
 constancy, and busied himself in looking out for 
 a successor to Twigg, who, in a fortnight, was 
 to leave him in order " to better himself," 
 marry Miss Johnstone, take possession of a 
 tavern in the neighbourhood of Co vent- Garden, 
 
THE WIDOW. 301 
 
 and begin life with his dear partner, upon 
 their united funds, the produce of mutual in- 
 dustry and integrity. 
 
 Time passed, and Twigg was blest. The 
 happy couple left town in a one horse chaise to 
 pass the honey week — for they had not time to 
 make a moon of it — at the Crooked Billet on 
 Penge Common, where they only remained till 
 the next day, both parties being perfectly agreed 
 upon the false delicacy of seclusion, which to 
 them was so novel and uninteresting a system, 
 that six days' residence there, would have been a 
 season of gall instead of" treacle," as Lord Byron 
 calls it ; they accordingly returned to the metro- 
 polis in their buggy, and in a very short time were 
 in active employment in their new vocation. 
 
 A month elapsed — not of honey to Saville — 
 before the amiable Mrs. Twigg received any 
 acknowledgment from her late mistress of the 
 budget of news which she had sent her. At last, 
 however, it came ; it contained a kind of April 
 scolding, — half clouds, half sunshine, — for hav- 
 ing, as she almost feared, violated all her in- 
 
302 THE WIDOW. 
 
 structions with regard to Saville, when she saw 
 him ; some good advice, and a request that she 
 would write no more. 
 
 In one corner were these words, which she 
 desired Mr. Saville might see. 
 
 " It is of the greatest consequence to me that 
 I should not receive any letter from Mr. Saville, 
 even if he had any thing to say which should 
 induce him to write. ' We shall be moving about 
 without any fixed residence, for some months. 
 I should be greatly annoyed if he were to visit 
 the continent. At a future time I shall be most 
 happy to see him, when he can give me all those 
 explanations of his absence from the Isle of 
 Wight, which he seems anxious to do. But 
 again I beg of you, if you should accidentally 
 see him, to impress upon him the danger and 
 impolicy of his neglecting my request. Situ- 
 ated as we are, it does not require a correspon- 
 dence to maintain a friendship. The day will 
 come when less restraint upon my actions may 
 be necessary." 
 
 This was all that was wanting to ensure — not 
 
THE WIDOW. 303 
 
 his perfect happiness, for that^ he coiikl not be 
 supposed to enjoy while thus debarred the pre- 
 sence of his beloved — but his confidence in 
 Harriet. It was clear that her position was pain- 
 ful and disagreeable in an eminent degree ; but 
 what she said clearly proved that she was aware of 
 the difficulties by which her mother's unfortunate 
 marriage had surrounded her. It also showed 
 that she was firmly resolved to defeat whatever 
 machinations they might be employed upon, 
 and when the time came " which must come," 
 and which Saville construed into the termination 
 of the year of mourning, act with decision and 
 firmness upon the point where her happiness or 
 misery was so deeply concerned. 
 
 It is scarcely possible to describie the ma- 
 noeuvres of the gallant Colonel ; but his last 
 grand coup^ was the introduction of his younger 
 brother, a lieutenant on the half pay of his 
 former regiment, who met the party unexpect- 
 edly on their way from Rome to Naples, and 
 who was immediately quartered upon Mrs. 
 Smith. It was impossible for her to decline the 
 
304 THE WIDOW. 
 
 acquaintance of her mother's brother-in-law, or 
 to refuse him the hospitalities which she had 
 extended to his brother; but nothing could be 
 more annoying. He was a pert, impertinent, 
 vulgar dandy, than which nothing on earth 
 can be more odious. He was decked out in 
 tawdry chains and rings, all badly made, (some 
 of them of Mosaic gold,) and wore huge 
 bunches of ringlets over his ears, and a Charley 
 on his under lip. Add to this that he smoked 
 incessantly, and repeated jokes said to have been 
 made by eminent persons, at what he was pleased 
 to call " the West end," (all of which had, cen- 
 turies before his existence, graced the ancient 
 jest books whence Mr. Joseph Miller culled his 
 choicest flowers,) and a pretty fair judgment may 
 be formed of the advantages of his society. 
 
 It was evident to Harriet, from the clumsiness 
 of the fellow himself, that it was intended, 
 if she evinced a disposition to marry again, 
 she, like her mother, should become Mrs. 
 O'Lollocky — Mrs. Eneas O'Lollocky it woidd 
 be. The gallant Colonel's first desire was that 
 
THE WIDOW. 305 
 
 she should not marry at all, and therefore the 
 first object in having over the Lieutenant was 
 that he might act scarecrow, and frighten away 
 the flatterers from the fruit. The secondary 
 point to gain was, that if she married any body, 
 she should marry him. 
 
 This " double-barrelled scheme," as the Co- 
 lonel called it, was instantly seen through by 
 the timid Harriet, who resolved that the ques- 
 tion should be speedily set at rest; her pride 
 not being less hurt at the supposition that she 
 could ever admit such a person to her heart, 
 than at the flagrant indelicacy of foisting him 
 into the family before the first month of her 
 widowhood had expired. 
 
 Of this speculation Saville was, of course 
 ignorant ; but had he been aware of it, his 
 uneasiness would only have been excited for the 
 lady's sake. He had now a regular admission 
 of her feelings, under her own hand; of the 
 needlessness of any correspondence to maintain 
 and keep those feelings alive, and he had only 
 patiently to endure the flight of time, mitil she 
 
 12 
 
306 THE WIDOW. 
 
 should be at liberty to avow her resolution, for 
 the enjoyment of all earthly happiness. 
 
 It is true that it required some stretch of phi- 
 losophy to look forward with calmness to so 
 distant a period f but it was inevitable, and 
 satisfied with the wisdom of his precautions, he 
 endeavoured to "kill the enemy," as Lieutenant 
 Eneas O'Lollocky would have said, by a con- 
 stant succession of occupations and amusements, 
 which carried him on to the autumn, when he 
 accepted his annual invitation to Harlingham 
 Parsonage, for which place he speedily left town, 
 little expecting that the peaceful dwelling of 
 the parson of the parish was to become the 
 scene of events of the highest importance to his 
 future prospects, and which, whatever the reader 
 may do, he did not at the time of his arrival 
 there, imagine could possibly occur. 
 
 END or VOL. I. 
 
 GiLBEur & RiviNGTON, Printers, St. John's Square, London. 
 

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