Oak Street UNCLASSIFIED Ur ; v. of 111.. Library 52 • / (o 1 / \ r a BARBADOES GIRL. y.| t/ ■ By MRS. HOFLAND. LONDON: T. NELSON AND SONS, PATERNOSTER ROW; EDINBURGH; AND NEW YORK. MDCCCLX VI. / . • . v ‘ . y Yf v ( - v ■ \2> It is well known that the negroes are naturally extremely averse to all bodily labour, and that, although their faithfulness and affection are such as to render them capable of enduring extreme hardship, and many painful privations, yet they are rarely voluntarily industrious; and it is there- fore a decisive proof of Zebby’s real kindness, that she thus exerted herself in a way so purely English. Unhappily a mode of labour entirely new to Iter, and, in her present sickly state, requiring more strength than she possessed, although, had THE SICK NEGRO. 81 she used it freely some time before, it would have done her good, was now too much for her, and she came home complaining, in doleful accents, that “ poor Zebby have achies all over — is some- times so hot as Barbadoes, sometimes so cold as London.” Mrs. Harewood was well aware that the good- tempered negro was seized with fever, and she sent immediately for her apothecary, who con- firmed her fears, and prescribed for her; but as there was no getting her to swallow medicine, he was obliged to bleed her, and put a blister on her head, which, however, did not prevent her from becoming delirious for several days. Poor Zebby was at this time troubled with the most distressing desire to return to Barbadoes, and all her ravings were to this purpose ; and they were naturally very affecting to Matilda, who never heard them without being a little de- sirous of uniting her own wishes to behold her native country, especially when she heard it coupled with the name of that only, and now fondly-beloved parent, from whom she was so far separated, and her tears flowed freely when she visited the bedside of the poor African. But her sorrow increased exceedingly when she learned the danger in which poor Zebby stood, and found that her death was daily expected by all around; bit- 82 THE SICK NEGKO. ter indeed were tlie tears she then shed, and she would have given the wbrld to have recalled those hasty expressions, angry blows, and capri- cious actions, which had so often afflicted her humble attendant, whose fidelity, love, humility, and services she now could fully estimate, and whose loss she would deeply deplore. Mrs. Harewood endeavoured to comfort her under this affliction, by leading her to view the consolations which religion offers to the afflicted in general, and she explained the nature of that beneficent dispensation whereby the learned and the ignorant, the poor and the rich, the slave and his master, are alike brought to receive salvation as the free gift of God, through the merits of our merciful Redeemer; and comforted her with the hope, that although poor Zebby’s mind was but little enlightened, and her faith comparatively uninformed, yet as, to the best of her knowledge, she had been devout and humble, resting her claims for future happiness on that corner-stone, “the goodness of God in Christ Jesus, 5 ’ so there was no reason to fear that she would not leave this world for a far better, for “ a house not made with hands, eternal in the heavens . 55 Matilda’s mind was deeply impressed with this holy and happy consolation, but yet she could not, help lamenting her own loss, in one whom THE SICK NEGRO. 83 she no longer considered her slave, and little better than a beast of burden, but as her country- woman, her friend, the partaker of that precious faith by which alone the most wise, wealthy, and great, can hope to inherit the kingdom of heaven ; and she could not help praying for her restoration to health, with all the fervour of which her heart was capable ; and many a promise mingled with her prayer, that, if it pleased God to restore her, she would never treat her ill again: and these promises she likewise repeated to Mrs. Harewood and her governess. Neither of these ladies lost the opportunity thus offered, of impressing on her mind the duties which every woman, whatever may be her rank or situation in life, does indeed owe to those whom Providence hath placed under her. They explained, in particular, the necessity of forbear- ance in point of manners, and of consideration in her daily employments. “ If,” said the good mistress, “ I ring the bell twice or thrice, where once would answer every purpose, provided I gave myself the trouble of considering what I really wanted, I not only waste my servant’s time, which would supply my wants, and there- fore injure myself in one sense, but I waste that strength which is her only means of subsistence, and I awaken that vexation of temper which, 84 THE SICK NEGRO. although perhaps suppressed before me, will yet rankle in her bosom, and probably induce her to commit some injury on my property, w‘iich is an actual sin in her: thus my folly leads to her guilt, and the very least mischief that can accrue is her unhappiness ; for who can be happy whose temper is perpetually ruffled by the cruel thought- lessness of those who have the absolute disposal of their time, their talents, and, in a great measure, their dispositions ] ” “ Depend upon it,” added Miss Campbell, “ that as we are assured in the Scriptures, that ‘ for every idle word we shall be brought to account,’ so, in a particular manner, must we be judged for all those idle words and actions which have inflicted on any of our fellow-creatures pains we have no right to bestow, or tempted them to sins they have no inclination to follow; the petty tyrannies of our whims, changes and fancies — of our scoldings, complainings, peremptory orders, and causeless contradictions, wall all one day swell that awful list of sins, of which it may be truly said, ‘ we cannot answer one in a thousand.’ ” When Miss Campbell ceased speaking, Ellen, who, although not affected so violently as Matilda, had yet felt much for Zebby’s situation, and was seriously desirous of profiting by all she heard, said in a low voice, “I will do everything for THE SICK NEGRO. 85 myself — I will never trouble Susan, or Betty, or anybody.” Mrs. Harewood knew the bent of her daughter’s mind, and that although, from the sweetness of her temper, and the mildness of her manners, she was not likely to fall into Matilda’s errors, there were others of an opposite class, from which it was necessary to guard her ; she therefore added : “ Although consideration and kindness are cer- tainly the first duties to be insisted upon in our conduct, yet there are others of not less import- ance. It is the place of every mistress to exact obedience to reasonable commands, and the execu- tion of all proper services. If she does not do this, she deserts her own station in society, defeats the intentions she was called to fulfil, and which made her the guide and guardian, not the companion and fellow-servant, of her menials. In abandoning them to their own discretion, she lays upon them a burden which, either from ignorance or habit, they are probably unequal to endure, since it is certain that many truly respectable persons in this class have been so only while they were under the controlling eye or leading mind of their superiors. Besides, all uncommon levity of manners, like all unbecoming freedom in conversation, more frequently arises from weak- ness or idleness in the parties, and ought to be 86 THE SICK NEGRO. guarded against in our conduct, as never failing to be derogatory to ourselves, and very far from beneficial to those they affect to serve: it is possible to be very friendly, yet very firm ; to be gentle, yet resolute, and at once a fellow- Christian and a good master to those w T hom Providence hath rendered our dependants.” Ellen listened to this with great attention, and endeavoured to analyze it, and apply it to the daily purposes it was intended to reach; but both she and Matilda continued to pay the most affec- tionate attentions to poor Zebby, whose disorder in a few days took a more favourable turn than could have been expected, although the delirium did not immediately subside, but rather affected her general temper, which, under its influence, appeared as remarkably unpleasant and tormenting to herself and all around, as it was formerly con- spicuous for being kind, obliging, forgiving, and lively. This period was indeed trying to Matilda, who was by no means sufficiently confirmed in her virtuous resolutions, or good habits, to endure reproaches where she merited thanks, even in a case where she was aware of deranged intellect and real affection, either of which ought to have led her to endure the wild sallies and trouble- some pettishness of the suffering negro. It must, THE SICK NEGRO. 87 however, be allowed, that if she did not do all she ought, she yet did more than could have been once expected, and very greatly increased the esteem and approbation of her friends. Matilda, at those times when she was not in- fluenced by that bodily indolence which was natural to her as a West Indian, and which was rather a misfortune than her fault, was apt to be too active and bustling for the stillness required in a sick chamber ; and whatever she did was done with a rapidity and noisiness, more in unison with her own ardent desire of doing good, than the actual welfare of the person she sought to relieve ; whereas Ellen never for a moment lost sight of that gentle care and considerate pity which were natural to a mind attuned to tenderness from its very birth; and many a time would she say, “Hush, Matilda! don’t speak so loud; have a care how you shut the door,” &c. One day they both happened to go in just as the nurse was going to give the patient a basin of broth. “Let me give it ler,” said Matilda; “ you know she always likes me to give her any- thing.” “ Sometimes she does, when she knows you ; but her head wanders to-day sadly.” “ Never mind,” replied Matilda, in her hurry- ing manner, and taking the broth from the woman 88 THE SICK NEGRO. in such a way that the basin shook upon the plate; on which Ellen said, “Have a care, the broth seems very hot ; indeed too hot for Zebby to take.” Matilda fancied this caution an indirect attack upon her care, and she went to the bedside imme- diately, and bolting up to the patient, who was sitting, raised by pillows, she offered the broth to her, saying, “ Come, Zebby, let me feed you with this nice food — it will do you good.” The warm fume of the basin was offensive to the invalid. “ Me no likee brothies,” said she ; and as it was not instantly removed, she un- happily pushed away the plate, and turned the scalding contents of the basin completely into the bosom of poor Matilda, as she reclined to- wards her. Shrieking with pain, and stamping with anger, Matilda instantly cried out that she was murdered, and the wretch should be flayed alive. Ellen, shocked, terrified, and truly sorry, called out in an agony — “Mamma, dear mamma, come here this moment! poor Matilda is scalded to death ! ” The nurse/ the servants, and Mrs. Harewood herself, were in a few moments with the sufferer ; and the latter, although she despatched the foot- man for a surgeon, did not for a moment neglect TIIE SICK NEGRO. 89 the assistance and relief in her own power to bestow; she scraped some white lead* into a little thick cream, and applied it with a feather all over the scalded parts ; and in a very short time the excruciating pain was relieved, and the fire so well drawn out by it, that when the surgeon arrived he made no change in the application, but desired it might be persisted in, and said, “He had no doubt of a cure being speedily obtained, if the patient were calm.” During the former part of this time, Matilda continued to scream incessantly, with the air of a person whose unmerited and intolerable sufferings gave a right to violence ; and even when she became comparatively easy, she yet uttered bitter complaints and incessant invectives against Zebby, as the cause of the mischief; never taking into consideration her own share of it, nor recollecting that she acted both thoughtlessly and stubbornly in neglecting the advice of Ellen ; and that al- though her principal motive was the endeavour to benefit Zebby, yet there was a deficiency in actual kindness, when she offered her broth it was impossible for the poor creature to taste. Such, however, was the commiseration for her injury felt by all those around her, that no one * The author has found this prescription very efficacious in various cases of scalds. 90 THE SICK NEGRO. would, in the moment of her punishment, say a word that could, by any possible interpretation, be deemed unkind ; and soothings, rather than exhortations, were all that were uttered. At length the storm was appeased ; Matilda, declaring herself much easier, was laid upon the sofa, and a gentle anodyne being given tp her, she closed her eyes, and if she did not sleep, she appeared in a state of stupor, which much re- sembled sleep. It so happened, that the hot liquid which had hurt her so severely, had, in falling, thrown many hot drops upon her face, which gave her so much pain at the moment, that she concluded she was scalded much worse than she really was, as did those around her ; but Ellen, as she watched her slumbers, now perceived that this was a very transient injury, and she observed to her mamma, that she hoped Matilda would not be spoiled by her accident, at least that her beauty would be restored before her mother’s arrival from the West Indies. “ Before that time,” returned Mrs. Hare wood, “ I trust Matilda will have attained such a degree of mental beauty as would render the total de- struction of her personal beauty a very trifling loss, in comparison, to the eye of a thinking and good mother, such as I apprehend Mrs. Hanson to be.” THE ANODYNE. Page 9(1 THE SICK NEGRO. 91 “ But surely, mamma, it is a good thing to be handsome? I mean, if people happen to be hand- some, it is a pity they should lose their beauty.” “ It is, my dear, to a certain degree a pity ; for a pretty face, like a pleasant prospect, gives pleasure to the beholder, and leads the mind to contemplate the great Author of beauty in his works, and rejoice in the perfection everywhere visible in nature. The possessors of beauty may, however, so often spare it with advantage to themselves and their near connections, that the loss of it, provided there is neither sickness nor any very disgusting appearance left behind, does not appear to me a very great misfortune.” “ But surely, mamma, people may be both very pretty and very good ? ” “ Undoubtedly, my dear; but such are the temptations handsome people are troubled with, that they are much more frequently to be pitied for the acquisition than envied for it ; yet envy from the illiberal and malicious seldom fails to pursue them ; and when they are neither vain nor arrogant, generally points them out as both.” “ I have often wished to be handsome, mamma, because I thought people would love me if I were; but if that is the case, I must have been mistaken, mamma.” “ Indeed you were, child; personal charms, 92 THE SICK NEGRO. however attractive to the eye, do not blind, of even engage the heart, unless they are accom- panied by good qualities, which would have their effect, you know, without beauty — nay, even in ugly persons, when we become thoroughly ac- quainted with them. Can you suppose, Ellen, that if you were as handsome as the picture over the chimney-piece, that you would be more dear to me on that account, or that you would, in any respect, contribute more to my happiness % ” “ You would not love me better, dear mamma, but yet you would be more proud of me, I should think.” “ Then I must be a very weak woman to be proud of that which implied no merit, either in you or me, and which the merest accident might, as we perceive, destroy in a moment. But this I must add, that if with extraordinary beauty you possessed sufficient good sense to remain as simple in your manners, and as active in the pur- suit of intellectual endowments, as I hope to see you, then I might be 'proud of you, as the usual expression is; for I beg you to remember that, strictly speaking, it is wrong to be proud of any- thing” “ Zebby always said that Mr. Hanson was very proud of Matilda; I suppose it was of her beauty.” “I suppose so too, and you could not have TUB SICK NEGRO. 93 brought forward a more decisive proof of the folly and sin of pride, and the inefficacy of beauty to procure love, than in the conduct and qualities of the persons in question. Mr. Hanson’s pride of his daughter’s beauty rendered him blind to her faults, or averse to correcting them ; and from his indulgence, the effect of that very beauty for which he sacrificed every real excellence was so completely impaired, that I am sure, with all your predilection for a pretty face, you will allow that Matilda with all those red spots plastered with white ointment, is a thousand times more agree- able than Matilda with bright eyes and ruddy cheeks on her first landing.” “ Oh, yes, yes ! ” cried Ellen, looking at her with the tenderest affection, and relapsing into tears, which had frequently visited her eyes since the time of the terrible accident. The opiate had now spent itself, and Matilda giving a slight shudder, awoke, and looked at Ellen with a kind of* recollective gaze, that re- called the events of the morning, and which was succeeded by a sense of pain. “ What is the matter, Ellen h you are crying ; liave you been scalded ? “No,” said the affectionate child, “but you have.” A confused recollection of all the particulars of (66) 7 94 THE SICK NEGRO. the affair now came to Matilda’s memory ; and as by degrees they arose on her mind, she became ashamed of the extreme impatience she had ex- hibited, and surprised that Ellen could love and pity so much a girl whose conduct was so little likely to insure affection and respect. And although the pain became every moment more troublesome, she forbore most magnanimously to complain, until the changes in her complexion induced Mrs. Harewood to say, “ I think, Matilda, we had better apply the ointment again to your wound; you are still suffering from the fire, I see.” “ If you please, ma’am.” With a light and skilful hand Mrs. Harewood again touched the wounds, and immediate ease followed; but ere she had finished her tender operation, Matilda caught that kind hand, and pressing it fondly to her lips, bathed it with her tears — they were those of gratitude and contrition. “ I fear you are in much pain still” said her kind friend, though she partly comprehended her feelings. “ Oh, no, you have given me ease ! but if you had not, I would not have minded. I fear, in- deed I am certain, that I behaved very ill — quite shamefully, this morning; and you are so — so good to me, that — that ” THE SICK NEGRO. 95 Matilda was choked by her sobs, and Mrs. Harewood took the opportunity of soothing her, not by praising her for virtues she had not exer- cised, but by calling upon her to show them in her future conduct; although she did so far con- ciliate as to say, that the suddenness of the injury, in some measure, excused the violence she had manifested under it. Matilda gave a deep sigh, and shook her head, in a manner which manifested that she thoroughly understood how far this went in palliation, and was aware that much of error remained unatoned. As soon as she was able, she inquired how Zebby was, and if she was sensible ] “She has been so ever since your accident, which appeared to recall her wandering senses, by fixing them to one point; and as her fever is really abated, I trust she will soon be better.” Matilda hastily sprang from the sofa; and though in doing so she necessarily greatly in- creased the pain under which she laboured, yet she suppressed all complaint, and hurried forward to Zebby’s room, followed by Mrs. Harewood and Ellen ; the former of whom was extremely desir- ous at once to permit her to ease her heart, and yet to prevent her from injuring herself, by adding to the inflammation of her w T ound. It was a truly affecting spectacle to behold 96 TIIE SICK NEGRO. Matilda soothing and comforting the poor black woman, who bad not for a moment ceased to reproach herself, since the screams of the young lady had brought her to her senses, and her in- vectives to the knowledge of her own share in the transaction. It was in vain that the nurse and the servants of Mrs. Harewood had endeavoured to reconcile her, by the repeated assurance, that let the young lady say what she pleased, yet no harm could reach her ; that in Old England, ser- vants had law and justice as much on their side as their masters could have. This was no consolation to the faithful negro, who appeared rather to desire even unmerited punishment, than seek for excuse : she inces- santly upbraided herself for having killed pretty missy, and breaking the heart of her good mis- tress ; and when she beheld the plastered face of Matilda, these self-reproaches increased to the most distressing degree, and threatened a com- plete relapse to the disorder she had yet hardly escaped from. “You could not help it, Zebby; it was all an accident, and ought to be principally attributed to my own foolishness,” said Matilda. “ Oh, no ! it was me bad and foolish, missy ; me naughty, same you used to be — pushee here and pushee there, in bad pets — it was all me— THE SICK NEGRO. 97 breaky heart of poor missis — she comee over great seas ; thinkee see you all good and pretty as English lady ; and den you be shocking figure, all over with spotee — oh deary ! oh deary ! perhaps come fever, then you go to the death, you will be bury in dark hole, and mamma never, never see you again.” The desponding tones of this speech went far beyond its words, and Matilda combining with it the caution she had heard the medical gentleman make respecting fever, and the first exclamation of Ellen, that “Matilda was scalded to death,” induced her to suppose that there was really danger in her case ; and after repeatedly assuring Zebby of her entire forgiveness and regard, she returned to the apartment she had quitted, with a slow step, and an air of awe and solemnity, such as her friends had never witnessed before. After Matilda had lain down on the sofa some minutes, she desired Ellen to get her materials for writing, but soon found that the pain in her breast rendered it impossible for her to execute her design. “ I will write for you,” said Ellen. “ That won’t do ; I wanted, with my own hand, to assure dear mamma that poor Zebby was not to blame, nor anybody else.” “My dear,” said Mrs. Harewood, “we can do that by-and-by, when your mamma comes over.” 98 THE SICK NEGRO. “ But if, ma’am — if I should die ? ” Mrs. Harewood could scarcely forbear an inward smile, but she answered her with great seriousness, and did not lose the opportunity of imprinting upon her mind many salutary truths connected with her present situation, not forgetting to im- press strongly the necessity which every Christian has of being ever ready to obey that awful sum- mons, which may be expected at any hour, and from which there is no appeal \ but she concluded by an assurance that in a few days the present disorder would be completely removed, in case she guarded her own temper from impetuosity, and observed the regimen prescribed to her. When Matilda’s fears on this most important point were subsided, she adverted to her face, but it was only to inquire whether it was likely to be well before her mother came, she being naturally and properly desirous of saving her dear parent from any pain which could arise from her appear- ance ; and when her fears on this head were like- wise relieved, she became more composed in her spirits, and more anxious than ever to prove, by future good conduct, her sense of contrition for the past and resolution for the future ; and al- though she was most thankful for the sympathy of her friends, she never sought it by useless com- plainings, or aggravated her sufferings in order to THE SICK NEGRO. 99 win their pity, or elicit their praise; and hy her perseverance and patience, a cure was obtained much sooner than could have been expected from the nature of the accident. Zebby regularly amended as she perceived the great object of her anxiety amend also; and the sense she entertained of her late danger, the grati- tude she felt for the kindness she had been treated with, and, above all, the self-denial to which she perceived her young lady accustomed herself in order to recover, induced her hence- forward to become temperate in her use of food, and tractable as to the means necessary for pre- serving her health, and to perceive her duty with regard to the commands given by her young lady, to whom she was yet more truly attached than she had ever been ; for the attachment of an improved mind goes far beyond that of igno- rance. X. ^HEN Matilda was fully recovered from the pain of her accident, her good friends had the satisfaction to per- ceive that the most salutary effects had arisen from the disposition with which she had borne it. She had be- come sensible how much we must all be indebted to our fellow-creatures, in any priva- tion of health and ease, and this had taught her to be humble and thankful to all who contributed to her comfort; and from necessarily suppressing both her appetite and her temper, she had gained a command of both, which she had been a stranger to before. From being unable to join in any play requiring personal activity, she had been obliged to find her .amusement in reading; and as that most excellent and delightful work, “ The Parent’s Assistant,” by Miss Edgeworth, had been pre- BENEFITS OF AFFLICTION. 101 sented to her just before, she made herself com- pletely mistress of those admirable tales, and by conversing much upon them with Mr. and Mrs. Harewood, with whom she usually sat, she be- came deeply imbued with all the important pre- cepts they are intended to convey, as well as the stories they so agreeably relate. One evening, when the whole family were assembled, the disorder which had afflicted Zebby became the subject of conversation; Miss Camp^ bell observing, “ that the poor woman had undoubtedly been as nervous as any fine lady, and therefore given another proof, in addition to the multitude which must affect every person of judgment and feeling, that there was indeed no difference of constitution, feeling, or character, between white people and black ones, when they were placed in similar circumstances.” “ Certainly not,” said Mr. Harewood ; “ and in a short time this doctrine will be more fully proved by the emancipation of all the blacks, who will, I trust, become diligent servants and happy householders, no longer the slaves of tyrants, but the servants of upright masters.” “ But I am told, mamma,” said Edmund, “ that the proprietors of West India property will all be ruined. People say this will come upon them as a retribution for past sins ; but as many of these 102 BENEFITS OF AFFLICTION. sins were committed in days that are past, and the present inhabitants, in many instances, have behaved exceedingly well, I must own I wish sin- cerely this may not be the case. Can you tell me anything about it ? ” “ They all deserve to be ruined,” interrupted Charles, “ who have done such bad things as the planters do. Oh, how I wish I could be there when all the slaves are set at liberty! With what delight should I join in their universal shout of joy and freedom, and in all their inno- cent festivals ! ” Edmund shook his head. “ I should like the slaves to be happy as well as you ; but I don’t like anybody to be ruined, especially people who are so nerveless and inactive as those who have resided in warm islands ; surely it is not true.” Edmund looked again inquiringly. “ I am sorry to say,” answered Mrs. Harewood, “ that in many cases much suffering may be ap- prehended; but our government will undoubtedly soften every evil to the inhabitants, as far as they can do it consistently with their views. You know the emancipation of the slaves takes place gra- dually, and by that means enables people to collect their money, to divert the channels of their mer- chandise, or to make themselves friends of those who have hitherto been held by the arm of power BENEFITS OF AFFLICTION. 103 only. The grand shout of a multitude restored to freedom is undoubtedly very attractive, and enough to warm the heart of a benevolent enthu- siast like Charles ; but it is not advisable to set food in great quantities before a starving man, lest he eat himself into a surfeit. Ignorance is always in danger of using power very ill, since we see that even the enlightened are frequently prone to misusing it.” “ Then I hope, mamma, it will turn out better than people think ; and there will be very little individual suffering from it.” “I am sorry to say, my dear, that notwith- standing what I have said, I yet fear many per- sons will suffer. I know a widow myself, who is returning to this country nearly destitute, after living many years in a state of luxury. Very happily she has only one child, and has not suffered her past prosperity so to unnerve her mind, as to render her useless and desponding in the day of adversity. On the contrary, she has the magnanimity to rejoice in the freedom of the slaves, although that freedom has destroyed her fortune.” At this moment every eye was involuntarily bent on Matilda, who, feeling undoubtedly some degree of compunction and shame, when she either thought on her own former conduct or the 104 BENEFITS OF AFFLICTION. state of her country, had kept aloof till now. At this moment she started, and with a look of most anxious inquiry, she cried, “ Oh, ma’am ! surely you do not mean my poor mamma? And yet — yes, certainly you mean her — she has lived many years in prosperity — she has but one child, and she is possessed of a pious, good heart, and a kind, generous spirit, and would not wish the poor negroes to remain slaves. She would rather work herself than injure anybody. Dear Miss Campbell, pray make me clever and good like yourself, and then I will be a governess, and get money, and support dear mamma — indeed I will.” The amazing rapidity with which these words were uttered, and the perturbation of spirits w r hich accompanied them, prevented Matilda from per- ceiving that Mrs. Harewood was anxious to in- terrupt her; and even w r hen that good friend began to speak, she was too much affected and disturbed to listen to her. She went on to say, with an agitated voice but ingenuous countenance, “ I cannot help crying, to be sure ; but indeed I am not sorry that the poor slaves are to have their liberty, and I do not mind the money we have lost; I only want to see my dear mamma, and to comfort her, and to tell her that I would not be the mistress of bought slaves for all the world ; for I now know that in the sight of God BENEFITS OF AFFLICTION. 105 they are my equals, and if good, my superiors. I know that Jesus Christ died to save them as well as me, and that he will not forgive them who insult him, by daring to buy and sell those whom he has purchased with his own blood : and, besides, I do not wish to possess them ; for if I did, I should be proud, and cruel, and miserable, as I used to be.” The anxious troubled heart of Matilda now found refuge in abundant tears, and throwing herself on the bosom of her maternal friend, she shed them freely there ; and as the storm of grief subsided, Mrs. Harewood obtained her atten- tion to these words : — “ My dear Matilda, your vivid imagination, and that quickness of feeling which, even in a good cause, is too apt to hurry you away, have led you into much unnecessary suffering. It is not your mamma, but a Mrs. Weston, of Jamaica, of whom I spoke. I can, however, scarcely regret the pain you have ex- perienced, because it has been the cause of explaining sentiments which do you honour, and must be hereafter a source of the sincerest pleasure to your worthy parent.” “ But my mamma is coming over soon h ” “ She is, my dear, but under very different cir- cumstances, her property being all well disposed of, and settled in the English funds ; and be it 106 BENEFITS OF AFFLICTION. your comfort to know, that although your father was a proprietor of West Indian estates, yet his fortune was not accumulated by the infamous traffic to which we allude. Although, like other people, he held slaves for the purposes of agri- culture and domestic labour, he had an estate in this country, which enabled him to support an ex- pensive establishment, without recurring to those practices too common among the planters in your country.” “And has the lady of whom you spoke no estate, no money, to support herself and her little girl ? ” “ She has not , my dear ; but I trust her friends in England will provide her with some situation, in which her talents will enable her both to sup- port herself and benefit others ; and by this means the cup of affliction now may hereafter prove one of blessedness. Her little girl is only six years old, and will therefore be only a trifling expense to her for some years to come.’* Matilda now wiped her eyes, but was observed for a considerable time involved in deep thought and silent thanksgiving to God, and no one around thought it right to interrupt the silent aspirations of her heart ; but as soon as her countenance resumed its usual expression, and she rose from her seat, the young ones surrounded her, and with BENEFITS OF AFFLICTION. 107 cheerful looks congratulated her on the change in her feelings, which they were aware a few momenta must have produced; for, as Edmund observed, though it was very right to be resigned to every change which it pleased God to send, yet it was undoubtedly a great pleasure to know that a dear parent enjoyed not only the power of living in her usual style of comfort, but that she preserved the power of bestowing a part of her fortune to feed the poor, and to communicate knowledge, and sow the seeds of virtue in the minds of the young and uninformed. Matilda listened to their heartfelt congratula- tions with the most lively gratitude and pleasure, and looked forward with exultation, chastened by a proper portion of diffidence of herself, to that period when, with her beloved mother, she should be employed in acts of daily beneficence and social enjoyment — “ So passing through things temporal, as not to lose the things that are eternal.” XI. Cjre f$(0%r’s ^mfaal. the following Midsummer vacation, Mrs. Harewood complied with the 1 wishes of her young family, by con- senting to give a ball to their young friends; and as she disapproved very much of late hours, the whole party were invited to dinner, in order that the dance might commence early. The day previous to this entertainment was a very busy one, as the young people were permitted to display their taste by arranging the ball-room, and ornamenting it in the best manner they were ^ble with flowers, under the inspection and with the assistance of Miss Campbell. The boys, at- tended by the footman, went out into the country, and returned laden with beautiful spoils from the hedges and copses, consisting of branches of' trees, brushwood and maythorn, together with THE MOTHER’S ARRIVAL. 109 those green plants which at this season of the year are found in abundance, such as clivers, coltswort, and the various mallows. When these were brought home, the young ladies tied gay flowers, made of various-coloured paper, upon them, at distances, with green worsted ; and when these ornaments were finished, the branches them- selves were tied together with strong cord, which was hidden by the foliage. By this means they were made into long wreaths, which were hung in festoons all round the room, and had an ex- ceedingly beautiful effect, while over the doors and windows, arches were formed of the same materials ; but when the greens were brought nearer to the eye, natural flowers were used, which being cut very short in the stem, preserved them- selves fresh and beautiful, and perfumed the place with the most delightful odours. Though this employment was very delightful, .yet it was necessarily fatiguing, and the children all went to bed at a very early hour. Not long after they had retired, Mr. and Mrs. Harewood heard a carriage; and while they were conjec- turing who it might be, to their great surprise, the long-expected stranger, Mrs. Hanson, was announced. They were truly rejoiced to see her; for, al- though personally unknown to them, they were (66) g 110 THE MOTHER’S ARRIVAL. much disposed to esteem and love her, both from the style of her letters, and the many traits of her conduct and character given by Zebby, who was an able eulogist, since she ever spoke from the heart, and although ignorant, was by nature acute and penetrating. The anxious mother, sensible that forms were not necessary to be attended to in addressing the worthy couple to whom she came a welcome though unknown guest, first inquired after her only child. When told that she was in bed and fast asleep, having been much fatigued when she retired, she immediately declared that she would not have Matilda awoke for her own gratification — a declaration which confirmed the good opinion the family already entertained of her. She could not, however, resist the very natural desire she felt of beholding that dear object of her solici- tude, from whom she had been # so long parted ; and she therefore visited her room, and softly kissing her forehead, observed, to the great satis- faction of Mrs. Harewood, that she had never seen her look so well before; which was certainly the fact, though her weariness had induced some degree of paleness. Tears rose to the eyes of the fond mother, and often, often were they turned to the bed which contained all her earthly treasure, ere she could THE MOTHER’S ARRIVAL. Ill tear herself away ; and Mrs. Harewood felt aware that silent prayers occupied her heart for the future welfare and progressive virtue of a being naturally so very dear, and whose bad passions, at the time of their parting, had given so little rational hope of future felicity, either to herself or her widowed parent. Sympathizing truly with her feelings, and aware of the extreme delicacy of the subject, especially to one of whose peculiar feelings she knew so little, Mrs. Harewood left it to time to, develop the change in Matilda, being persuaded that it was in a great measure known to her mamma; although a little consideration would have shown her that Mrs. Hanson could not judge much from her daughter’s letters, as it was very possible for them to be dictated for her. Mrs. Hanson was recalled from the fond reverie the sight of her daughter had involved her in, by the voice of Zebby, who had only just learned the arrival of that dear mistress she had ever so justly estimated. The two ladies descended, and found the happy negro weeping for joy, and run- ning about the breakfast-parlour and dining-room seeking for her lady, whom, when she beheld, she danced about like a wild woman; one mo- ment being ready to cast herself at her feet, and the next longing to embrace her. “ I am very glad to see you, Zebby,” said Mrs. 112 THE MOTHER’S ARRIVAL. Hanson, “ and very happy to find you still my daughter’s servant, as I know you will suit her much better in many respects than any English- woman could possibly do.” “ Me love Missy ver much, madam ; but me no Missy maid now. Me housemaid for Madam Hare- wood now ; me makee de bed, sweepy de stair, do all sort ting. Me never wait on Missy; no, never.” Mrs. Hanson gave a deep sigh, and said to Mrs. Harewood, “ I fear you have had some trouble in procuring a maid for my daughter, ma^m.” “ When your daughter came to us, you may remember, my good madam, that we undertook to treat her in every respect as if she were our own. We have done it, and you will be able to judge to-morrow how far your dear girl is bene- fited or injured by sharing the attentions of Ellen’s nurse-maid, Ellen’s governess, and Ellen’s mother.” Mrs. Hanson felt that she was much indebted to the kindness evidently intended by this arrange- ment, especially as it was a plain case that Zebby had been retained in the family for her accommo- dation; yet she could not help thinking that the contrast between Matilda’s past and present situ- ation was too great. Although she had a thousand times desired that some great change might be adopted in her education, yet her heart shrank at THE MOTHER S ARRIVAL. 113 # the idea of the discipline which she had so long felt to be necessary. She was afraid that the terrible passions her child had manifested had rendered terrible changes necessary, and a train of inflictions and privations arose to her view, which maternal tenderness was unequal to con- template unmoved. She therefore apologized to her friends, and retired to her room ; but her pil- low was strewed with those thorns which solici- tude had planted there. XIL fappg p^friTOf. * E following morning the young people arose early, and. were surprised to find Mrs. Hare wood also stirring. Her amiable, affectionate heart promised itself a treat, in witnessing the sweet emotions of Matilda on hearing the joyful tidings of her mother’s arrival. Nor was she disappointed. The delighted girl manifested all the rapture of which her warm, susceptible heart w r as capable, and, on hearing that her mother slept in the crimson room, was hastily bending her steps to the chamber thus named from the colour of the bed. “ But, my dear, it is yet early. Your mamma was much fatigued with her long journey from Falmouth. Is it not a pity to disturb her, espe- cially as she has already seen and kissed you, although she would not awake you ? ” THE HAPPY MEETING. 115 Matilda stopped. “I do so wish to see mamma,” said she, “ and to hear her speak ! But then, to awake her for my own pleasure would be selfish, as I used to be. I won’t be selfish.” “ That’s right, my dear. You are now proving yourself truly affectionate; you are preferring mamma to yourself.” “But I may just stand at the door and listen to her breathing, and so wait till she moves ? ” “ Certainly, my dear.” Away flew Matilda, happiest of the happy ; and she had scarcely been ten minutes on her station when Mrs. Hanson’s bell rang, and Matilda in- stantly opened the door, in silent but delightful expectation. “ Is my daughter awake?” said the fond mother. “ Oh yes, yes, dear mamma, I am here ! ” cried she, springing to the out-stretched arms of her widowed parent, who, in embracing her joyfully, yet felt solicitude mingle with that joy, from the consciousness that all her earthly happiness was centered in this single object, and that upon her future conduct rested the peace of both. Mrs. Hanson did not rise for some hours, and her daughter breakfasted with her, and spent the time principally in making inquiries after their old friends in Barbadoes, so that Mrs. Hanson had no opportunity of observing how her daugh- 116 THE HAPPY MEETING. ter was looked upon in the family ; and on this eventful day, the ball in the evening was naturally the subject uppermost on Matilda’s mind; so that there was yet no development of her real im- provement. At length Mrs. Hanson arose ; her maid came in to dress her, and whilst this took place, the mother beheld with delight the improvement which had taken place in her darling’s person, which was taller and considerably better formed, as she had cured herself of stooping, and all her motions indicated sprightliness and agility. Whilst Mrs. Hanson congratulated herself on this appearance, Zebby tapped at the door, and on being admitted, said, with a very long face and doleful accent, “ Oh dear, Missy, very bad ting have happened: de milliner have sentee home Miss Ellen new frock, and no sentee yours. She say she cannot makee till next week, because she very busy for little girls that losee their mamma, and must have blackee clothes to-morrow day.” Mrs. Hanson’s heart sunk, and she felt as if her pleasure, for this day at least, was over; for she fully expected to see Matilda fly into a rage with the .messenger, the milliner, and indeed all the house; and she could scarcely believe her own senses when Matilda replied calmly, “ Well, Zebby, it cannot be helped, and it does not signify THE HAPPY MEETING. 117 much. I am sure Mrs. Harewood will excuse my want of a new dress on this occasion. To be sure, I should have liked to look the same as dear Ellen; but how can I think of such a trifling dis- appointment when I remember it was caused by those unhappy children, who are now mourning for their mamma V* So saying, she turned and eagerly threw her arms round a mother who, in the course of her w T hole life, had not embraced her with equal satis- faction ; but before she had time to express her pleasure, and injure her who caused it by that exaggerated praise which sprung to her lips, Matilda had run down stairs, just to peep at Ellen’s new dress, speak of the delight she expe- rienced in having gained her mother’s society, and consult Miss Campbell as to the frock she must substitute for the one intended to be Tvorn ; and when Mrs. Hanson was left alone, she almost fancied that the foregoing scene was a kind of drama, which had been introduced for the pur- pose of surprising and pleasing her. But observation confirmed her hopes and justi- fied her happiness. She descended at dinner- time, and was introduced to the children of the family, who, although little seen among so large a party, yet won her regard from the unaffected kindness and ease with which they treated her 118 THE HAPPY MEETING. daughter; and she observed with approbation that Matilda and Ellen were dressed exactly alike, the latter having declined wearing the frock bought for her, since her friend’s could not be procured. Mrs. Hanson could not fail to love Ellen, in whose countenance the good temper, modesty, and sen- sibility which characterized her were strongly ex- pressed ; but she had not much time to comment upon it, for the young party were now coming in, and attention was in some degree divided. In a short time dinner was announced, and the com- pany, about thirty in number, were soon com- modiously arranged round the hospitable table. Mrs. Harewood had thought it right to disperse her own family among her guests, in order that they might pay proper attention to those near them, as by that means she hoped that none of the invited would be neglected ; and according to this arrangement, which was made the preceding daj r , Matilda took the place appointed for her, which happened to be at some distance from her mamma, who sat, of course, next to Mrs. Harewood. In the bustle of so large a party, Mrs. Hanson could scarcely observe even her daughter at the begin- ning of the meal, but when the second course came in, she saw with some pain a large dish of custards placed exactly before Matilda ; and on one of the company observing she had never seen THE HAPPY MEETING. 119 such a noble dish of custards before, Mrs. Hanson said, “ Matilda is remarkably fond of them. I am sorry they are so near her, for they are not wholesome.” “We seldom have such things on that ac- count, said Mrs. Harewood; “but I must own I think them well placed, because Matilda can help her friends to them with ease.” “ These words drew the attention of the young ones, and Matilda soon received so many plates to supply, that there appeared little probability of her sharing in the feast. Edmund was near her and gladly receiving his mother’s approving smile, he secured one for Matilda, which he put upon her plate just before the last was demanded. Ellen was equally busy distributing tarts near the bottom of the table. The footman brought her a custard, which he said Miss Hanson had sent for her. “ She is very good,” said Ellen, “ but I had rather take a jelly, if she will excuse my returning it.” The happy mother perceived that Matilda had sent Ellen the very custard which Edmund’s kindness had ensured for her. Delicious tears sprang to her eyes; she perceived that Matilda was indeed a different creature; that she had not only conquered a disgraceful propensity, but ac- 120 THE HAPPY MEETING. quired a habit of generous attention to others, of which there was at one period no hopes in her character. The dancing now commenced, and the West Indian acquitted herself with great propriety ; for although she did not perform so well as the greater part of the company, yet she was never awkward, and when at a loss for the figure, she listened with modesty, and obeyed with precision the rules laid down to her. Many of the party now assembled were amiable and obliging, but in so large a number, some were of course present whose manners were less agreeable : but as Matilda considered herself one of the family, so she deemed it her duty to partake their cares, and render every person as happy as possible. She neither suffered rudeness to disturb her temper, nor awkwardness to excite her contempt; her conduct, under every temptation of this nature, was uniformly marked by self-command, modesty, and civility. There was in this young party two Master Eustons, who happening to be richer, and a little older than the rest of the party, thought them- selves entitled to quiz all around them at some times, and lord it over them at others. On their first coming into the room, they sought out Matilda, as a proper companion for them, because THE HAPPY MEETING. 121 they had heard her named as a great West Indian heiress ; but when they saw her a modest, un- assuming girl, they rather shunned her, as not being likely to enter into their sports. These boys would not have been voluntarily chosen as companions for his own by such a careful and observant father as Mr. Harewood, but they were the nephews of an old friend of his, and were then on a visit to their uncle, who would have felt himself neglected if Mr. Harewood had not invited them ; and as that gentleman very justly observed to his excellent lady, his children must necessarily mix with the world, both at school and elsewhere, it was desirable that they should do it sometimes under the eye of those kind parents, who might teach them how to distinguish what was good, and lead them, from general com- pany, to choose particular society. There was also a young lady who wished to render herself the particular companion of Matilda, for the same reason the Eustons had done, because she considered her the most wealthy child in the place ; and from her person, and the elegance she observed in her mamma’s dress and manners, she concluded that in a few years she would be the most dashing. It is astonishing how soon the eye of even a child can discriminate, in that par- ticular which has been rendered the sole subject 122 THE HAPPY MEETING. of its studies, and tlie grand object of its wishes; so that people who pique themselves upon being men of the world, or women of fashion, are rivalled in all their boasted knowledge and discernment by young creatures, whose faculties they may deem very inefficient, and which are indeed so in all the higher requisites of mind and the attainments of knowledge. Miss Holdup, the young lady in question, was born of parents whose industry had acquired a largo fortune, but who were both called, at a very early period, from the enjoyment of it; and this their only child was placed, by the will of their father, under the sole guardianship of his solicitor, who was a man of unsullied integrity, large fortune, and without any children of his own ; so that the little girl had apparently every blessing her desolate situation demanded, for kindness was accorded to her in the family, as an orphan, without a rival, and her fortune was secured by skill and integrity. But, alas! false judgment and mistaken indul- gence rendered this situation totally subversive of her improvement and her happiness ; the lady to whose care she was immediately consigned was a vain and dissipated woman, who had no greater pleasure than in spending the fortune, hardly ac- quired by her industrious spouse, in all the various amusements the metropolis presents to the idle THE HAPPY MEETING. 123 and extravagant part of the community; and although she was what is generally termed a very good-natured woman, yet the moment her schemes of diversion or expense were thwarted, she could be as pettish, sullen, or even vulgar and violent, as the lowest servant. She piqued herself on being a woman of family, and when little Miss Holdup came into her household, the first care she took with her was to eradicate, as far as pos- sible, the memory of her parents, and all their former connections, from her mind. “My dear child, now you are, by great good fortune, got into a gentleman’s family, remember you must never mention those creatures in the city your mamma used to visit. I must have no cheese- factor cousins introduced at my table ; no, nor even the great linen-draper’s daughter that gave you the doll; you have money enough to buy dolls of your own, and must have no more con- cern with that kind of people now.” “ But,” said the child, “ I suppose I may talk about Miss Turner and her sister Anne, because they nursed me through the measles, and my father said I must always be grateful — I suppose he meant thankful, ma’am, for their kindness.” “ Who are they, child 9 if they are decent people, it alters the case entirely.” “ They are not decent people,” said the child, 124 THE HAPPY MEETING. pettishly; “they are very genteel people, and dress quite beautifully, and have a country-house, where I have played many a time ; and they have a fine instrument, and more books than you have, and I love them dearly.” “ But who are they, my dear ? ” . “Why, to be sure, they are their father’s daughters, Mr. Turner, the great baker; every body knows Mr. Turner’s shop, I suppose.” The lady was distressed. She began a speech, endeavouring to prove, that although gratitude was very good in its place, yet, when it was advis- able to forget its object, then it was no longer good, but foolish, and improper, and unfashion- able ; but she checked herself in the midst of this exordium, by recollecting that the intellect of her pupil was unequal to all investigation, but that her inclination, youth, and temper, could be more easily wrought upon. She began to load her with finery, take her to the play, though she fell asleep in the second act, speak of her in her own hearing as a wit and a beauty, shake her head knowingly whenever her city connections were alluded to ; and therefore it was no wonder that in a short time the child forgot the friends she had loved, grew ashamed of the parents she had honoured, learnt to prattle on subjects of which she knew nothing, and to affect all the premature airs of a THE HAPPY MEETING. 125 woman, with more than the usual ignorance of a child. Perhaps a womanized child of this description is the most disagreeable thing in existence, and is rendered only the more so, from any talent or natural acuteness it may happen to possess. The thinking mind shudders at the airs of infantine coquetry and malicious sneers, which are merely ludicrous to another stander-by; but how any person can be either indifferent to such a waste and perversion of human nature, or behold it with pleasure, is inconceivable. Mrs. Thornton was, however, so far the dupe of her own folly, that she conceived Miss Holdup the very first child she had ever known, and a decisive proof of her own talents for education. It was true, she had lavished upon her all her stores of information, ' in the same way that, agreeably to her own notions of dress and pleasure, she had expended upon her sums which her husband thought pro- digious ; and the result of both had been to make her what might be truly called a grand serious pan- tomime, or an artificial curiosity, for nature was completely banished her composition. “ Look at my lovely ward,” she would exclaim, in rapture; “how totally different she is from any other child ! she will never be mistaken for one of the lower order ! ” (66) 9 126 THE HAPPY MEETING. True; but neither could she be mistaken for a gentlewoman: the appearance of the child was that of a figurante, ready equipped for her part at the opera ; for although in her twelfth year, she wore trousers and petticoats that did not reach to her knees : they were, it is true, trimmed with the most costly Mechlin, formed by the most tasteful milliner; but as her shape was by no means graceful, and her mode of life, by harass- ing her into puny ill-health, kept her wretchedly * thin, she resembled, at a distance, a small wind- mill about to be set in motion ; and when near her, it was impossible not to believe that her clothes had been stripped to the middle, for the sake of washing her bony shoulders perfectly clean. But, alas ! the interior was more naked, or dressed in some parts merely for exhibition : the poor child knew the steps of the last new dance and the name of new music ; she could finger a little, and knew a few words of French from the vocabulary; but to the history of her country she was a perfect stranger, and, what was far worse, was ignorant of all religion, all duties. When she was out of temper, which was an in- creasing evil as she grew up, she was told only that it “ spoiled her face;” if she were guilty of gluttony, she was warned against injuring her shape; but the real motive of good action, the THE HAPPY MEETING. 127 foundation of pure principles, the necessity of self-control, were utterly unknown to her: she never saw them acted upon, nor heard them ex- plained. Such was the girl who now, with a bustling parade of affection, singled out Matilda as the only child whom she thought worthy of her patronage, and whom she intended to win and to use, when it suited her, in the very same way that ladies of twice her age so frequently make their selection of friends in the acquaintance of an hour. Miss Holdup was disappointed in perceiving that Matilda did not act as if she were much pleased, or much flattered, by her partiality ; but this she imputed to pride, and being very proud herself, she concluded that, on a little further ac- quaintance, it would only render them better friends. Besides, she observed that Ellen was at present the dearest friend of Matilda ; and al- though she considered this a degrading choice, yet she had patience to wait, and cunning enough to aid, the time when Matilda should see the superiority of such a girl as herself to poor Ellen, whom she concluded to be simple, because she perceived her to be modest and mild. In the blithesome round of gaiety inspired by dancing, designs and airs of all kinds were for a 128 THE HAPPY MEETING. time forgotten, and the sprightly movements of the feet kept pace with that hilarity of heart which banishes, for a time, all those unnatural combinations which disgrace the ingenuous breast of early life; but when a pause was given for the purpose of refreshment, various little parties were formed for conversation, and Miss Holdup con- trived to monopolize Matilda, in a way that was painful to Ellen, disrespectful to the rest of the party, and embarrassing to her who was thus sin- gled out, who became, with some, an object of envy, because the most fashionable girl distin- guished her; with others, one of contempt, for the same reason. It will be readily conceived that Miss Holdup was never insignificant; where she did not attract admiration, she never failed to excite contempt ; and as the party were of course for the most part amiable and well-educated child- ren, whom Mr. and Mrs. Harewood held up as examples to their own, so the greater number, by many, regarded this young lady as a weak, ridicu- lous girl, whose appearance excited suprise or disgust, and whom nothing but good manners could prevent them from laughing at; and Matilda felt herself involved, from her union with her, in that kind of snare which, of all others, was the most galling to her, as from her very cradle she could never endure to be laughed at. THE HAPPY MEETING. 129 Mrs. Harewood perceived, from the expression of her countenance, that she laboured under very considerable vexation, and she was at times afraid that, by some irritating expression or haughty toss, Matilda would tarnish the honours of the day, by giving a pang to the heart of that fond and still happy parent, whose eyes were con- tinually bent upon her, but who wished to see her act on the present occasion without those influences her immediate presence was likely to inspire. While with all the anxiety of a true friend this good lady watched Matilda, a quick rattling sound was heard against the windows, and Matilda, a little surprised by the sound, and desirous of escaping the tedious and affected con- versation of Miss Holdup, inquired what it was that she heard? “ Quiz the West Indian, : ” said the younger Euston ; “ she never saw it hail before.” With a very grave face, the elder immediately came up to her, and told her it was raining com- fits. “ If you please,” said he, “ you may see them through the windows, for it is not dark, though the moon is clouded.” Matilda went eagerly to the window, for she was curious to observe a phenomenon entirely new to her. She soon perceived thousands of little balls, that fell as hard as stones lying on 130 THE HAPPY MEETING. the ground and the window frames, and she was desirous of examining them further; but just as she was turning to make inquiries of her friend Edmund, young Euston interrupted her, by say- ing, “ Well, Miss Hanson, you now see the com- fits; would you like to taste them? If you please, I will get you a spoonful.” “ I should like to have a few certainly,” replied she, “ and will feel obliged to you to procure me some of them.” “ Hush, hush ! ” said the young ones to each other, all desirous to see how Matilda would look, many merely from that love of play which is in- herent at their age, others from that malicious spirit which is too frequently blended with a pas- sion for fun. Mr. Harewood apparently took no notice, but he hovered about them, and had the satisfaction of hearing several girls condemn the Eustons, and profess an intention of sav- ing Matilda from swallowing the cold hail- stones.” “ You may be easy,” said Edmund, as they stood consulting together on the subject, when in ran the youth with eagerness, crying, “ Here is a spoonful of beautiful comfits ; now open your mouth and shut your eyes — that is the way to taste them in perfection.” “ Thank you sir; I do not want to eat them ; I THE HAPPY MEETING. 131 know they must be snow, some kind of condensed snow, or ice, and I wished to examine them.” “ Snow ! how you talk ! — it never snows in July.” “ It never snows at all in my country — of course I know little about it; but unless Edmund as- sures me to the contrary, I shall certainly con- clude that these little balls are frozen rain- drops, of the same nature with snow.” “ You are perfectly right, Matilda,” said Ed- mund, “ and you have quizzed your quizzers very completely.” “ Miss Hanson has studied natural philo* sophy,” said a young lady sneeringly, being one of those who sought Miss Holdup’s acquaintance. “ I always thought that young ladies in the West India islands studied physical subjects more than any other.” “ Physical subjects!” exclaimed several of the party ; “ how very strange a study ! what a very singular thing for girls to think of!” “ I think you are quite mistaken,” said Ellen, with more spirit than was usual to her; for al- though she could not conceive that there was any harm in the study, she saw plainly that some spleen was intended against Matilda, and she loved her too dearly to stand by whilst any wound was inflicted which her interference might avert. 132 THE HAPPY MEETING. Though the most gentle and unoffending in her nature, yet she was capable of warm and active friendship, and, of course, was not a little as- tounded and hurt when the young lady replied, “ Surely, Miss Harewood, you cannot be ignorant that all our great medical practitioners torture and kill animals, for the purpose of ascertaining the nature of diseases, and in many cases, undoubtedly for the purpose of learning how much suffering bodies of a certain size and texture are capable of enduring 1 ? Now I don’t doubt, Miss Hanson, being so wise in other matters, can tell you exactly how much pain is necessary to kill a slave, how many stripes a child can endure, and how long hunger, beating, and torturing, may be applied without producing death; and prove that in case they do destroy a few blackies, that don’t signify, if they can afford to buy more.” “ Well, and suppose Miss Hanson did kill some of those creatures,” cried Miss Holdup, a she can afford to buy more, at least her mamma can, which is much the same; though, to be sure, ’tis a fine thing to be independent. For my part, I think there is ten times more said about those filthy negroes than signifies ; they are not to com- pare to my Friskey : ’tis the most angelic creature of a dog! worth fifty blacks any day, unless, to be sure, they were in handsome liveries.” THE HAPPY MEETING. 133 Matilda had suffered in, every nerve while the first lady spoke, but the defence of the second hurt her ten times more, as it appeared to indicate a hardness of heart, a daring to make light of a most solemn subject, and one to which she had given much serious, thought, and she hastily plucked away the arm Miss Holdup had taken, and would have retired, but she was hemmed in by a circle, and could not escape. The young lady replied to her advocate, in a fawning voice, “ Ah, dear Miss Holdup ! you are fond of defend- ing any body you take a fancy for ; but I am cer- tain, if you were really on the spot, you could not bear to see those things your new friend has been in the habit of doing . I am told, mere children amuse themselves in Barbadoes with sticking pins into the legs of little children, dropping scalding sealing-wax upon their arms, and cutting lines and stars in their necks with knives and scissors.” ‘•Yes,” added one of the Eustons, “and the most delicate ladies are waited upon by naked slaves, whose bare backs are probably bleeding from the recent effects of a sound whipping, in- flicted, probably, because Missy’s dolly had fallen, and broken her nose, out of Missy’s own hands.” “ Shocking creatures ! ” — “ Dreadful wretches ! ” — “ Wicked creatures ! ” — “ How terrible ! ” — “ How abominable ! ” were exclamations natur* 134 THE HAPPY MEETING. ally uttered on every side, and those who, on Ma- tilda’s innocent triumph, had in the first instance pressed around her, now withdrew from her side, shrinking as from something monstrous and loath- some in nature; and such was the bustle and confusion between those who are eager to inquire, and those who were more eager to inform, that the few who endeavoured to divert attention from the subject, or insist upon the pictures presented being overcharged, could not be heard. Matilda, overwhelmed with burning blushes, was utterly unable to articulate a syllable, much less to stem the torrent which, in accusing her country in general terms, was aimed at her in par- ticular: her conscience accused her of many crimes, which, though far removed from atrocity like this, were yet utterly unjustifiable, and, as she now believed, might have led to the utmost limits of tyranny, cruelty, and oppression ; and all she felt or feared in her own conduct seemed to rise to her memory, and stamp conscious guilt on her expressive features; and while thus labouring under the torments of a wounded spirit, the Eus- tons, rejoicing in her confusion, pointed it out as a certain proof of her conscience upbraiding her, and a fresh volley of crimes and accusations were poured forth. It was in vain that Edmund at- tempted to be heard, and that Charles challenged THE HAPPY MEETING. 135 every one to fight in her behalf, and that Ellen, with distressed vociferation and tears gushing into her eyes, kept again and again exclaiming, “ It is not true — I am sure it is riot ; there are many good people in the West Indies, and no- body can be so wicked in the wide world. You tell these tales on purpose to make us ill — fie ! fie ! ” The agonized countenance of Ellen, by present- ing a striking contrast to its usual expression of mild benevolence, told Mr. Harewood it was time for him to interfere. He had for some minutes i hovered near, perceiving some kind of conspiracy, and thinking that his presence would be less ob- served than that of either of the ladies ; and at his near approach, the aggrieved, accused, dis- comfited Matilda, whose eyes had been long cast on the ground, ventured to look up ; for although she had a considerable general feeling of awe for Mr. Harewood, yet she had .the most perfect reli- ance on his justice and kindness; and ashamed and conscious of past error as she now was, she yet felt assured of his protection and mercy. The moment her eye really met his, all her hopes felt confirmed; and in the joy and exulta- tion it gave her, she acquired strength to burst through the crowd ; rushing forward, she sought refuge in his arms, and laid her burning cheek on the kind hand he extended towards her. 136 THE HAPPY MEETING. Ellen at this moment was, for the first time, attended to, as she cried out, with still stronger pathos, “ Dear papa, I am so glad you are here ! for you will tell us the truth — you will convince every body that people in the West Indies do not torture their poor slaves for nothing but their own wicked pleasure.” “ My dear little advocate, as I have never been in the West Indies, I have no right to contradict such evidence as has been brought forward by respectable witnesses.” A cry of exultation began to pass the lips of the Euston party ; but they were silent, as Mr. Harewood began to speak again. “ I am the more inclined to think these cruel- ties may sometimes take place in our islands, be- cause I have myself witnessed similar effects in this country, where the barbarians who practised them were much curtailed in their power, and proved rather the disposition than the actual treatment of which you spake towards their un- happy victims.” “ Indeed !” exclaimed they, with anxious curi- osity, pressing nearer to the speaker. “ Yes,” added Mr. Harewood, raising his voice, and assuming a serious aspect, “I have this very evening heard words applied to the heart of an unoffending individual, more painful than the lash, THE HAPPY MEETING. 137 •and seen looks directed against her more torturing than any of the hateful operations you have men- tioned; and I have not the least hesitation in saying, that those who could thus treat an amiable fellow-creature, and one who, as a stranger, is thrown upon their kindness, and entitled at least to their politeness, would, if they had the power, wound the body also, and might by hardening their hearts against the claims of humanity, in a short time become capable of every possible enormity.” An awful silence, strikingly contrasted with the late lively dance and its following conversational bustle, now sat on every tongue; the self-convicted were ashamed of their conduct, the doubtful satisfied, and the friendly delighted ; and desirous of stamping an important lesson, in the moment of awakened feeling and intelligence, Mr. Hare- wood continued to say, “ Human nature, alas ! is full of bad propensities; and when situation and the power of indulgence strengthen them, no wonder that man becomes selfish first, then hard- hearted, and lastly, even ferocious towards others. When, enlightened by education and taught by religion, he rises from this state of barbarity, and becomes not only civilized, but humane, gentle, condescending, and charitable, he merits great praise, for he has achieved great labour — he has 138 THE HAPPY MEETING. conquered great difficulty; the very angels in heaven rejoice over him; and this child, this blushing, trembling, self-condemning, but self- corrected child, has done this. Look up, my dear Matilda ! let who will sneer at you, I am proud of you; and there is not one person present who would not honour themselves, if they could ensure your acquaintance. I was the first to correct you, nor will I ever flatter you ; but I will always pro- tect and defend you, so long as you continue to merit the high regard I now feel for you.” The sweetest tears she had ever shed now ran down the cheeks of Matilda, as Mr. Harewood pronounced this eulogy ; and it will be easily con- ceived, that all the really good and sensible part of the company eagerly sought to soothe her spirits, and convince her of their regard, while her late tormentors either slunk away, as much ashamed as they were despised, or by an ingenuous confession of error, paved the way for returning esteem. Miss Holdup arrogated to herself great praise for having defended what she called the right side; and so delighted was poor Ellen with every body and everything which favoured her young friend, that she began to take a great fancy to the silly affected girl, merely because she thought that she loved Matilda ; but Matilda herself felt that THE HAPPY MEETING. 139 her severest pang had arisen from the very defence thus adopted ; and while she thanked Miss Holdup for her good wishes, she yet shrank more than ever from forming an intimate acquaintance with one whom she considered as little better than an automaton figure on which fine clothes might be hung, and whose tongue had been taught to move, for the purpose of repeating the silly gibberish which ill-informed women repeat to uninformed children, in order to render them as stupid, proud, and silly as themselves. On the following day, the party were naturally the subject of conversation, and Mrs. Hanson had great pleasure in finding that the bedizened doll, who had been so decidedly her daughter’s com- panion the evening before, was by no means her chosen one, that distinction being reserved for Ellen only, whose kind heart would have been almost broken, had she imagined such a partiality indeed reciprocal, but who was as free from jea- lousy of Miss Holdup as she was full of confidence in Matilda. Mrs. Harewood on this occasion remarked, that she had never seen two girls more likely to form a mutual and lasting friendship than Ellen and Matilda, because they were likely mutually to benefit each other, since they would, she trusted, possess the same good principles and dispositions : 140 THE HAPPY MEETING. but each having a character of her own, would become serviceable to the other. Matilda had more discrimination and firmness than Ellen, who, on her part, had a forbearance, patience, and gentleness, which nature as well as habit had in a degree left her friend but poorly provided with ; but she said it would not be surprising if their mutual affection and reciprocal admiration should, in time, engraft the virtues of each upon the other, and she hoped to see Matilda as meek as Ellen, and Ellen as firm and energetic as Matilda. XIII. <§00ir Cntmiraj. f [E happy family party at Mr. Hare- wood^ was necessarily soon broken np, as Mrs. Hanson took a house at Bromp- ton, on account of the mildness of the air, and the young friends were then separated. Their removal was facili- atatedby the arrival of that West Indian lady and her little girl, whom we have already mentioned, as being stripped of nearly all her pos- sessions, and whom Mr. and Mrs. Harewood were peculiarly desirous of accommodating in their house until some plan for her future situation should be fixed upon. They were not of that number who can receive the rich with pleasure, and leave the poor to shift for themselves ; on the contrary, Mrs. Weston and her little Harriet were received by them, not only with affection, but with all those attentions which were due to her former situation, ( 66 ) 10 142 GOOD TRAINING. and the loss of which never fails to be peculiarly afflictive to those who labour under privations to which they have not been accustomed. As soon as Mrs. Hanson had arranged her household at Brompton, she hastened to entreat Mr. and Mrs. Harewood and their family to spend an early day with her, and was then introduced to Mrs. Weston, whom she knew well by report, and for whose altered situation she was truly concerned, especially after she became acquainted with her, as the suavity of her manners, the quiet dignity of mind, and unaffected resignation with which she bore her misfortunes, could not fail to prepossess her in favour of so wise and good a sufferer, who was likewise so cheerful and willing to be happy. Hariet was a little girl, about six years old at this time, a tolerably good child, but certainly subject to the same errors (though in a far less degree) which had formerly distinguished Matilda, and as she wanted incessantly somebody to do something for her, and there was no longer a slave at her command, her mother was too frequently obliged to be that servant — a circumstance which rendered the young Harewoods much less fond of Harriet than they would otherwise have been, and which, at times, tired the temper of even the gentle Ellen. GOOD TRAINING. 143 Matilda’s whole mind was absorbed by this little girl, on whom she continually cast looks of the deepest interest: her mother imputed the serious air she wore to a regret very natural at her age, on revisiting the house where she had been so happy, and she felt some fears lest it should continue to haunt her mind : she had likewise many forebodings as to the future edu- cation of her daughter, being sensible that she had enjoyed advantages in Mr. Harewood’s house of no common character; and she very candidly related all that was passing in her mind to that kind lady, whose maternal love for her child ren- dered her the most proper judge for the future, as she had proved herself the truest friend for the past. Mrs. Harewood very strenuously recommended her to procure a good governess for her daughter, as it was hardly to be expected that she could bring herself to part with her only child, other- wise a school might have been more advantageous to a girl of such a very .active and social disposi- tion as that which Matilda now manifested; but above all, she pressed Mrs. Hanson to endeavour to preserve in her that spirit of humility which never fails to produce obedience, subdue passion, and open the mind for the reception and nurture of every virtue. 144 GOOD TRAINING. On the arrival of Mrs. Hanson, Mrs. Harewood had left the real improvements of Matilda to be discovered by circumstances ; and as the mother and daughter were seldom apart, she had not spoken of the kind and charitable actions which Matilda had performed, fearful of injuring by praise those blossoms which were now only begin- ning to expand ; but she now dilated on them with pleasure, both to the happy mother and Mrs. Weston; and such was the effect of this discourse on the former, that tears of pleasure and gratitude to Heaven ran down her cheek. Matilda, although still engaged with the child, catching a view of her mother under this emotion, could not forbear running up to her, and tenderly inquired what was the matter . “ Nothing at all, my love, at least nothing pain*- ful ; we have been speaking of you — I am anxious to engage you a governess.” “ Well, mamma, and will Mrs. Weston be so good as to undertake me 1 ” The ladies all started, but by no means with any symptom of dismay, although Mrs. Hanson said, with some confusion, to Mrs. Weston, “My little girl takes a great liberty, ma’am, but you must pardon her premature request ; she fancies you are an old friend, I believe, because you are her country-woman.” GOOD TRAINING. 145 “ I wish sincerely I had any other claim to being considered her friend, madam, as in that case ” Mrs. Weston suddenly checked herself, her colour rose, and the tears stood in her eyes. “ Suffer me, my dear friend, to interpret your silence for Mrs. Hanson ; — in that case you would not object to undertaking the charge which Matilda has very innocently, though very ab- ruptly, been willing to assign to you h ” “ If you are a faithful interpreter, I will call you a most agreeable one,” said Mrs. Hanson, “for Mrs. Weston would be an equal acquisition to both me and my daughter.” Mrs. Weston wiped her eyes. “Believe me, dear ladies,” said she, “grateful for the good opinion with which you so evidently honour me, and truly desirous of profiting by the offer your goodness makes me ; but you are both mothers, and will, I am certain, consider my situation as such. I am but newly arrived; it will take some time to wean my poor child from her habits; and to send one so very young to school, is a painful consideration ; in a few months I shall be happy indeed to avail myself of your goodness, and enter with pleasure on so promising a task.” Mrs. Hanson was just going to express her en- tire approbation of this proposal, when Matilda, 146 GOOD TKAINING. with a modest, but earnest air, entreated permis- sion to speak, which was immediately granted. “Do not think me vain nor presuming, dear Mrs. Weston, if I say, that whilst you are my governess, I will, with my mamma’s permission, become little Harriet’s governess ; I am quite sure it will do us both a great deal of good, for she will every hour remind me how much more naughty, and tiresome, and provoking I used to be when I first came over, and teach me to endure with patience, and remove with gentleness and firm- ness, the errors which, in so young and engaging a child, claim my compassion rather than blame. I shall love her very dearly, I am certain, because I see she is of a loving temper, notwithstanding her faults ; and I am certain, if she feels as I do, she will love me for curing her of them : then I will teach her all I know, and as I shall improve every day, you know I shall improve her also. Dear mamma, pray let me try ! I do not know any way in which a girl like me can show grati- tude to God so effectually as in endeavouring to make my fellow-creature as happy as myself, and especially my own little countrywoman.” The tenderness and earnestness with which this request was urged, as well as the excellent motive, ensured its success ; and in a few days the mother and daughter removed together to Bromp- GOOD TRAINING. 147 ton, and a regular system of education was entered upon, which was indeed attended with the most happy effects, although it is probable that Matilda found her new office abound with trials, of which she could form no idea, until experience taught her. It is, however, certain that she received as much benefit as she communicated, and that she learned the lessons of virtue whilst imparting them to her little pupil, who proved a little tract- able and intelligent child, after she had become weaned from those habits which were in a great measure inseparable from her late situation in life. It is probable that, but for this stimulus to her exertions Matilda would have neglected her edu- cation, and sunk into indolent habits, for want of those excitements which she had found in the society of Ellen and her brothers ; whereas now she endeavonred, at every meeting with this dear family, to exhibit some improvement or attain- ment in her pupil, and these were inevitably con- nected with her own. But notwithstanding the advantages Matilda possessed, and her earnest desire to profit by them, and even the actual improvement she evinced, our young readers must not suppose either that she was perfect or that she had at- tained that standard of excellence of which she was capable. Many a moment of petulance oc- 148 GOOD TRAINING. curred with her provoking little pupil, and airs of arrogance were apt to swell her bosom, upon those occasions which called out the superiority of her fortune, or the exhibition of those talents which could not fail to be remarked in her situa- tion of life. But on these occasions it was never difficult for Mrs. Weston or her good mamma to recall her to a sense of the folly and guilt of indulging such a temper ; for her religious principles were deeply engrafted, and her sensi- bility genuine and active; so that the moment her mind perceived that she was wounding a fellow-creature, and thereby offending God, her heart revolted from her own conduct, and she lost not a moment in retracting the assertions of anger, and rendering, as far as she was able, every atonement for her error. XIV. Malt^htg. ■p||jIME passed, and the children of either house exhibited those gradual changes which are scarcely perceptible to a parent’s eye, which is ever accustomed to view them. The young men ex- changed school for college; the girls, under the protecting guardianship of their mothers, were taken into public ; and a new sense of care, on a new ground, pervaded those tender, anxious hearts which beat but for their beloved offspring, and which were, perhaps, most solicitous for them, at the time they were indulg- ing the innocent and artless gaiety natural to their age, and consistent with their situation. As Edmund Harewood had ever been a youth of profound thinking, and evinced those talents which were likely to render his study of the law beneficial both to himself and the community, 150 WALTZING. Mr. Hare wood changed his opinion as to the pro- fession he had originally designed him to pursue, and directed him to prepare for the bar, to his sincere satisfaction. Charles had for some time evinced a great de- sire to enter the army : but as his mother could not conquer her feelings so far as to permit it, he was at length induced to resign the scheme en- tirely ; but his anxiety to travel continuing as strong as ever, Mr. Harewood promised, if pos- sible, to procure him some situation in life which would allow him to indulge his wishes, consistent with his duty; but this was conceded on the ex- press terms of his diligent application to study ; and as he himself perceived the positive necessity of becoming a good linguist, he applied himself to learning the modern languages with great assiduity. Ellen grew up a pretty girl, but her figure was diminutive, and the gentleness and docility which had been ever her happiest characteristic, diffused a charm of feminine softness over her whole per- son, which was to many very attractive, though not striking. The equanimity of her temper had the effect of perpetuating that smooth and dimpled description of countenance which is peculiar, to childhood ; so that, although a year older than Matilda, she appeared about two years WALTZING. 151 younger; and when they were seen together among strangers, she was considered as a younger sister, supported by the kind attention of her superior ; for Matilda, although very modest, was dignified, and her person being elegant and tall, “confirmed the idea. In a short time, Mrs. Hanson received several offers from men of fortune for Matilda, all of which were politely but positively refused; for the poor girl always showed a decided dread of leaving her mother, and very justly observed, that a very intimate acquaintance was necessary be- tween persons who bound themselves to so sacred and indissoluble a connection as marriage ; and, although naturally too generous and ingenuous to suspect others of acting from unworthy motives, she was yet aware that a young woman who has a large fortune in her own disposal, and who has neither father nor brother to investigate the private character of those who address her, has need of a more than ordinary share of prudence, and will be wise in delaying a consent which de- prives her of all control over the wealth of which Providence has appointed her steward. Although thus wise in her decision on this im- portant point, and ever assigning reasons which showed how utterly unbiassed her affections were towards the candidates for her favour, Matilda 152 WALTZING. did not always act with equal wisdom ; she was excessively fond of dancing, and as she acquitted herself with uncommon grace, perhaps vanity furnished her with an additional motive for her desire to partake this amusement more frequently than it suited her mamma ; and once she accepted an invitation to a private ball, when Mrs. Weston was her chaperon. Waltzing was introduced, and Matilda, though by no means pleased with the general style of the dance, was struck with cer- tain movements which she thought graceful, and the day following began to practise them with her young protegee. “I think you waltz very well/’ said Mrs Weston. “ I soon should do so, I daresay, if I practised it ; but as it was new to me, I durst not venture last night, although I made a kind of half pro- mise to Sir Theodore Branson, that I would do it the very next time we met.” “ Do you call that waltzing 1 ” said Mrs. Han- son, laying down her netting : “ it appears to me to be more the work of the hands than the feet a great deal ; and you go round and round, child, very foolishly, till one grows giddy to look at you — so, so — well, and what, do the gentlemen stand by to grow giddy too 1 ” “ Dear mamma, the gentlemen waltz with the WALTZING. 153 ladies ; I said, you know, that Sir Theodore wished me to do it, but I refused.” “ You did perfectly right ; I should have been much hurt if you had waltzed with any man.’' “ It is very fashionable, mother.” “More the pity; but I am sure I need no argument against it to you, Matilda.” “ Indeed, mamma, I see nothing against it — I think it very graceful ; and I am sure, if you had seen Lady Emma Lovell last night you would have thought so too.” “ My admiration of her person would not for a moment have changed my opinion of her conduct. I see beautiful women, who expose their persons in a manner I decidedly condemn (as I know, Matilda, you do likewise) ; looking at them as fine statues , I may admire the work of the great Artificer; but the moment I consider them as women filling a respectable place in society, the wives and daughters of men of rank and probity, and, what is still stronger, women professing, at least nominally, to be members of the Christian Church, I turn from them with disgust and sor- row ; and though I sincerely despise all affecta- tion of more exalted purity than others, I yet will never hesitate to give my voice against a folly so unworthy of my sex, and which can be only tolerated by women whose vanity has de- 154 WALTZING. stroyed that delicacy which is our best recom- mendation.” Matilda applied all her mother said to waltzing, and thought it was equally just with the stric- tures she herself ever felt true with regard to the mode* of dress adopted by some whom she met in public. Ellen and herself were ever well, and even fashionably dressed, but yet they steered clear of the fault they condemned : for some time the sisterly affection which really subsisted between them induced them to appear in similar dresses; but as Matilda rose to womanhood, a fear lest Ellen should be induced to expense, added to some jokes that were passed upon her respecting Charles, induced her to forego this plan, and Ellen had too much good sense to pursue it further; and as the acquaintance of Mrs. Hanson increased, Matilda was necessarily led into parties where Ellen could not meet her, so that they became in some degree divided in person, but their attach- ment remained the same. Mrs. Hanson was de- sirous that her daughter should take a more extensive view of society than was necessary for Ellen ; she dreaded an early marriage for her, although she thought it desirable to bring her into society, being persuaded that young women of large fortune too frequently are rendered un- happy in the marriage state by being dazzled at "WALTZING. 155 their first outset in life by the novelty and gaiety of the scene around them, which leads them to expect a continuance of the same brilliant career incompatible with the duties of that state into which they incautiously plunge; whereas a short time passed in life would show them the inefficacy of trifling amusements and splendid show to pro- cure real satisfaction, and lead them to investigate those circumstances in the minds and situations of their admirers most likely to ensure their future felicity, and most consonant with their real wants and wishes. The tender and judicious mother saw with the truest pleasure that the well-turned mind of her daughter ever pointed to the scenes of simple enjoyment and virtuous intelligence which illumined her early years ; but in her pecu- liar situation, she was aware that Matilda, to a certain degree, should adopt the apostle’s ad- vice — “ Try all things, cleave to that which is good.” On the other hand Mr. and Mrs. Harewood, as the young people advanced towards maturity, had felt it a point of delicacy, however sincere and ardent their friendship might be, in a slight de- gree to abstain from that intimate and daily in- tercourse which had so long and happily subsisted between the families. The days were past when Charles could romp with, or Edmund instruct 156 WALTZING. Matilda ; and although they held the same rank in society, yet as the noble fortune of Matilda (increased materially by the retired way in which her mother lived during her infancy) entitled her to marry a nobleman, Mr. Har'ewood did not choose that the presence of his sons should cause reports which might prevent her from receiving offers of this nature. He was attached to Matilda as if she had been indeed his child, but he was too independent as well as too honest to render either his present affection or his past services the medium of increasing the general regard Matilda had manifested for both his sons into a decided predilection for either ; nor was he aware that either of the young men had for her that peculiar attachment which a man ought to feel for a wife. Edmund was wrapt apparently in a pro- fession which is in its own nature absorbing, and Charles appeared too eager to travel to have any tendency to early marriage. About a week after the foregoing conversation had taken place between Matilda and her mother the former went again to a ball with a lady of rank, who engaged to be her guardian for the night, as Mrs. Hanson and Mrs Weston had both caught severe colds from being out late together. Lady Araminta Montague, the conductor of WALTZING. 157 Matilda for the evening, was a fashionable and showy woman, who never appeared in public without being surrounded by all those who affected to be considered persons of taste, and fitted to move in the first style. She was now sought with more than common avidity on account of her at- tractive companion, whom she endeavoured to show off in the happiest manner by leading the light conversation of the moment to subjects familiar to Matilda’s observation, or likely to draw from her those remarks in which the ability and talent she possessed would be naturally yet strikingly displayed. Of this species of kindness Matilda was wholly unconscious, as it was one in which the effort^ of her own friends had never been shown; when, therefore, she found herself the universal centre of attraction in the room, it was no wonder that her spirits were unusually elated, and her vanity took the lead, so that when the sprightly dance added its intoxicating powers, and her mind was entranced by the pleasure of the moment, she forgot the resolutions and opi- nions formed in a wiser hour. When the two first country-dances were over, several parties began, as on the preceding night, to form into couples for the purpose of waltzing — at that time a novelty in this country, and while Matilda was looking at them, to her surprise Sir v<36) 11 158 WALTZING. Theodore Branson just entered tlie room, and asked the honour of her hand, which he almost claimed as a promise. This young gentleman was considered the handsomest man, and the most elegant dancer in the circles of fashion. That he was at once a shallow coxcomb and an encroaching acquaintance unfortunately did not prevent many young ladies from desiring him as a partner, and when Matilda perceived the leer of envy, and the pause of ob- servation directed towards her, she half gave him her hand, being conscious that her own figure and style of dancing would be superior to any other of the candidates for admiration that had pre- ceded her, yet she paused, remembering her mother’s words, and with a kind of anxious, fear- ful gaze, that fell like a veil over the exultation and gaiety of her features, she looked an appeal to the lady who was her guide, or ought to have been. “ Really, my dear, I don’t know what to say ; but as the thing is new, if you are not quite au fait , you will be pardoned, and Sir Theodore is so admirable a partner, I really think you may venture to try.” Matilda, in a calmer moment, would have seen how totally distinct her ladyship’s fears were to those which possessed her mother, but the flutter THE DANCE BROKEN OFF. Page 159. * , \ WALTZING. 159 of her spirits, the demands of her vanity, and the address of her partner, combined to hurry her forward, and she found herself in the midst of the group before she was aware; it was then too late to recede, the motion for a short time restored her spirits, but as the arm of Sir Theodore encircled her Waist, deep confusion overwhelmed her, she blushed to a degree that was absolutely painful ; and though unable, in the hurry of the motion, to entertain a positive reflection, yet a thousand thoughts seemed to press at once for admittance, all tinged with self-reproach ; and at length, unable to endure them, she suddenly laid her hand upon her forehead, and ran, or rather reeled, to her seat. As it was the nature of the dance to produce the sensation of dizziness, this circumstance ex- cited no particular attention, and her partner merely rallied her upon it with that air of badi- nage young men now-a-days pretty generally adopt. Every word he uttered was distressing to Matilda, who felt as if she were insulted by his freedom, and had degraded herself too far to enjoy the right of resenting it ; her native pride, however, contending with her self-condemnation, she re- moved her hand from her eyes in order to give him a look which would repel his impertinence, and to her utter astonishment saw three gentle- 160 WALTZING. men standing before, and looking earnestly upon her; two of these were her friends, Edmund and Charles Harewood. The moment she looked up the first withdrew, but Charles and the stranger advanced; they did not, however, find it very easy to approach her, guarded as she was by the officious Sir Theodore, but as Charles was not easily put past any inten- tion he had formed, he succeeded in inquiring after her health, and introducing his friend, Mr. Belmont, to her. “ I am very glad — I mean I did not know you were here,” said Matilda, confusedly. “ Mr. Belmont introduced us. We only arrived from Oxford yesterday, and Ellen being very anxious that Mr. Belmont should see you, pro- posed our coming hither.” A little relieved from observing that Edmund still did not join them, under whose eye she felt that she should have shrunk, Matilda ventured to look at Mr. Belmont, recollecting that she had frequently heard him mentioned as the friend of both the brothers during their residence at Oxford, and that he had been the visitant of the family the preceding winter, when she was on an excur- sion to Bath. She knew that he was highly esteemed by the family, and aware in what a favourable point of view their affection for her WALTZING. 161 would lead them to represent her, the idea that her first introduction had taken place at a moment which of all others she most regretted was really insupportable to her. Lady Araminta endeavoured by her praise to remove the chagrin which her ingenuous counte- nance (ever the faithful harbinger of her thoughts) betrayed so plainly — “ I assure you, my dear,” said she, “ that for some time you performed very prettily ; didn’t you think so, Mr. Harewood ? “ Pardon me, my lady, for differing with you — I have seen a country actress do it much better, indeed I said so at the moment — Belmont knows I did ; and my brother observed that ” At this moment the country- dances recom- menced, and Matilda was hurried away, although her solicitude to hear what Edmund said amounted to misery ; but as Charles was addressing Lady Araminta, not her, it was impossible to ask ; be- sides, no small portion of anger at Edmund mingled with her anxiety — he had never yet ap- proached her. She knew, indeed, that his ideas of feminine decorum were rigid, but still he had no right to resent her conduct, or he might have told her as a friend, as he used to do, wherein she erred. As these thoughts struck upon her mind he passed her in the dance, and made her a pro- found bow of recognition; she watched to the 162 WALTZING. bottom, and perceived him engaged in earnest conversation with a very lovely young person, whom she remembered as one of those who re- fused to waltz; again her heart smote her, yet her anger was the more predominant emotion, and she felt as if Edmund Harewood had injured her beyond forgiveness. The waltzing recommenced, but the very name of it was now hateful to Matilda, and she hastily entreated Lady Araminta to order her carriage. Charles was near; accustomed to read her thoughts, he advanced to offer his hand to lead her down stairs — “ You are not well, Matilda,” said he ten- derly — “ at least not cbmfortable — I am sure you are not.” Matilda replied only by a smothered sigh. “ They tell me,” continued Charles, “ that you are about to marry Sir Theodore Branson ] ” “ ’Tis false,” said Matilda, quickly, her bosom evidently palpitating with shame and anger. iC Then how could you think of waltzing with him] I am sure neither Edmund nor myself would have dared (brothers as we once deemed ourselves) to have taken but — really I beg pardon, Miss Hanson ; while I condemn another, I intrude too far myself.” Matilda was just stepping into the carriage; she turned her eyes on Charles, they were full of WALTZING. 163 tears, tears such as he had seen in her repentant eyes in early days; he was affected with them, he felt that the latter part of his" speech had hurt her, that she was not the fashionable belle, but still the good girl he must love and admire. “Then,” cried he, eagerly, “you will not marry that sprig of a baronet, eh, Matilda ? ” “ I will not indeed” “And do you not mean to waltz again?” “No; I was a fool once, but ” The carriage drove off, and Charles returned with a light heart to the ball-room; but that of Edmund was very heavy, and the friends shortly left the gay scene, and returned to Mr. Hare- wood’s. XY. &{xe &fo0 Utarria^s. WILL never go anywhere again with- out you, indeed, mother, I am deter- mined, ” said Matilda, with a sorrow- ful air, the following morning. This was the prelude to a confes- sion of error, which in part relieved the mind of Matilda; but she was still uneasy, she felt as if Charles would be her apologist with his family, for an error they were likely to blame in her ; but the ardour of his manner made her feel much concerned for him , he was dear to her, she felt for him a sister’s affection, but felt that she could never be more to him than she was then. Anxio-us and restless, she earnestly desired to see Ellen, whose gentleness and dispassionate good sense would soothe the fretfulness, and allay the uneasiness she felt; yet she could not bring herself to call on the family, she had not the THE TWO MARRIAGES. 165 courage to meet Mr. and Mrs. Harewood, not the calmness she desired to see either of the brothers with. While she was debating what course to pursue, to her infinite relief she heard that Ellen was just arrived with her father, and that both of them were in the library. Before she had time to welcome them, Ellen, running upstairs, hurried with her into the dressing-room, and closed the door with an air of secresy that evinced her ex- pectation of giving or receiving intelligence of importance ; and there was in her countenance an expression which combined both joy and sorrow, and was really undefinable. Full of her own cares, and anxious to conceal the most interesting part of them, Matilda for some time remained silent, nor did Ellen find the courage requisite for her own communication ; so that this much-desired visit promised little even- tual satisfaction. To account for the situation of Ellen, it is necessary to trace the events of the morning in her father’s house. When the family were assembled to breakfast, the conversation naturally turned upon the ball of the evening before ; and Ellen, with friendly zeal, sought to exculpate her friend Matilda from the errors which Mr. Belmont seemed to think her guilty of, in exhibiting herself in a dance, by no means decorous, with a young man of Sir Theo- 166 THE TWO MARRIAGES. dore’s description. “I do not say,” added he, “ that it was a positively wrong thing, nor do I much wonder at it ; for a fine young woman, and an heiress, may be led a great way by the flat- terers and sycophants who surround her; but I must own I expected better things from the chosen friend of Ellen Harewood, from a girl educated by a pious and sensible mother, and one said to possess a sound understanding.” Edmund was silent, but his varying complexion bespoke the strong interest he felt in the subject; Charles, on the contrary, warmly entered into it, declaring that a few words which passed between Matilda and him clearly proved that she had been misled by her party; that her sense of propriety was as strong as ever ; and, in short, that she was a dear, amiable, good girl, whom he would defend as long as he lived. The warmth of Charles’ assertions called a smile from every one. During the time he spoke, his father had been called out; the servant now entered, desiring his presence also; and it ap- peared that their early visitant was a man of great importance, and the cause of his calling at this time, by awakening curiosity, suspended conver- sation. In a few minutes he departed, and Mr. Harewood returned to the breakfast-room, saying, as he entered, “ I am going to announce a piece THE TWO MARRIAGES. 1G7 of excellent news, although it is accompanied with a loss we must submit to; our dear Charles is appointed to be secretary to the embassy to , now preparing to embark.” Mrs. Harewood burst into tears ; but as soon as she could speak, she expressed her joy, while Ellen, in a broken voice, exclaimed, “ Oh ! what will Matilda say, poor girl t ” Edmund rushed out of the room, as if to seek his brother, but Mr. Belmont well knew it was to conceal the emotion which overpowered him ; no other person seemed to notice Ellen’s unfor- tunate ejaculation, and when the door was closed, Mr. Belmont, advancing, congratulated the parents upon a circumstance in itself so honourable and desirable to their younger son ; and as they well knew the sincerity of his character, and the affec- tion he felt for Charles, they freely unbosomed to him every sensation arising from the event ; and Ellen innocently declared that she was very glad he happened to be with them at the time, as he would be a substitute for dear Charles. “ Ah ! ” said Mr. Belmont, “ if you, Ellen, could persuade your worthy parents, and, what is in this case of more importance, your own heart, to consider me not only now, but ever, a member of your family, I should be happy indeed.” Ellen, rather surprised at this speech than its 168 THE TWO MARRIAGES. import, for she had long half-hoped, half-feared, to think on this interesting, but awful subject, turned to her mother, and hid her blushing cheek upon her shoulder, while the parents exchanged looks of satisfaction to each other, and esteem towards the speaker. “ Mine, Ellen,” continued Mr. Belmont, “ is neither a sudden nor violent passion ; I approach you by no flattery — I dazzle you by no exhibition ; but as I trust both my fortune and character will bear the scrutiny of your friends, your only task, my sweet girl, is to examine your own heart, and inquire there how far I am agreeable to your wishes. I have been a silent admirer of your virtues, and I can be a patient attendant for your decision.” Ellen gave one glance towards her mother — it answered all her wishes ; she turned, deeply blushing, to Mr. Belmont, and timidly, yet with an air of perfect confidence, tendered him her hand ; she would have spoken, but the variety of emotion so suddenly called forth by the departure of her brother, and the declaration of her lover, overpowered her, and he received thus a silent, but a full consent to his wishes. In the meantime, Edmund had conquered the more immediate pang that laboured at his heart, and entering the library, had grasped the hand of THE TWO MARRIAGES. 169 Charles, and uttered a few words of congratulation, but it was in a voice so broken, that there was more of sorrow than joy in it. Charles had not the slightest doubt of his brother’s affection, he did not, therefore, doubt for a moment the sincerity of his assertion, but he was persuaded that the idea of his own situa- tion, as being two years older, and yet likely to remain dependent on his father for some years, was a sensible mortification to him; and feeling for his situation, he said, “Ay, my dear fellow, there is a difference between us now , sure enough; but there is no doubt of your doing well by-and- by; besides, you are the eldest, and deserve to be so; I am sure my father can never do too much for such a son as you are, Edmund.” Edmund gazed in astonishment to hear Charles express himself with so much ease, at a time when he expected his heart must be overpowered with trouble; his fears, lately excited by the agitation and warmth with which Charles had vindicated Matilda, and the unguarded exclamation of Ellen, who evidently thought her younger brother the favourite, now took another turn; he surveyed Charles; he was just twenty-three — a tall, hand- some young man, and one who had ever been admired by the ladies. “Perhaps,” said he, internally, “ poor Matilda loves him, but without 170 THE TWO MARRIAGES. having her affection returned : this accounts for the many great offers she has refused, for the sympathy of Ellen, who knows her heart, and for the vindication she undoubtedly made to him last night; whereas, to me she was cold and unintelligible.” While these painful thoughts rankled in the mind of the young barrister, his happy brother was flying all over the house, receiving from the servants the mixed congratulation of joy in his success, and sorrow for his departure; he had also joined the coterie in the parlour, wrung the hand of his future brother-in-law, kissed his mother and Ellen, and thanked his father twenty times for all his generous cares, before Edmund could muster philosophy enough to join the family, and listen to its arrangements for the day. It was at length agreed that Edmund should assist his mother in making up a package of books, &c., for the traveller, who, accompanied by Belmont, should visit the city for necessary arrangements ; and Mr. Harewood, who knew that Ellen would naturally wish to see Matilda, agreed to accompany her thither, being at once desirous to communicate this various intelligence to Mrs. Hanson, and to witness the effect Charles 1 departure would have upon Matilda, whom, at the bottom of his heart, he certainly desired to THE TWO MARRIAGES. 171 have for a daughter, although he would have rejoiced in her alliance with any worthy man. We return now to the young ladies in the dress- ing-room, each eager to hear and to speak, yet each oppressed, though very differently with soli- citude. At length Ellen, her breast labouring with sighs and fears lest she should wound the heart of a friend she truly loved, thus spoke: “ We are going to lose Charles : he has got an appointment, Matilda. ,, “ And is he pleased with it, Ellen ? ” “0 yes ! he seems quite happy; he is running all over the house, just in his old way, and the servants are all laughing and crying about him, as if he were still a schoolboy.” “ I am heartily glad of it — he has my sincerest good wishes, and I feel certain of his success.” Ellen looked in the face of Matilda, to see if she did indeed rejoice ; she perceived a tear twinkle in the corner of her young friend’s eye, but it was not the tear of sorrow. Ellen could now read the heart on subjects of this kind ; she felt that she had been completely mistaken in Matilda’s supposed predilection, and she was almost sorry to see her so happy. “ There is a — a — another affair going on at our house,” said Ellen, after a pause. Matilda felt her heart beat with unusual m 12 172 THE TWO MARRIAGES. violence ; she could not speak, but her very soul peeped out of her eyes to say, “What is iti” “It is not a parting; it — it — is a joining.” “ Oh,” said Matilda, calling all her fortitude to her aid, “ you are going to have a wedding, eh h ” “ I believe it will come to that, indeed, some time.” Matilda turned as pale as death ; but her colour rushed suddenly back to her cheeks, as at this moment the door opened, and Mr. Harewood and Mrs. Hanson broke on their tete-d-tete. The former felt assured that poor Matilda had heard the destination of Charles, and was suffering under it; but as he could hardly believe Mrs. Hanson would consent to her marriage with his youngest son, and as he thought Charles himself had no thoughts of marriage at this time, he could not allow himself to rejoice in her predilection. To relieve her, he said : “Well, my dear, you heard how we are situated, some of us parting for a time, some uniting for ever; I am sure you rejoice in all that is good, in either of these cases.” Matilda, overpowered, burst into sudden tears. “ My daughter is very nervous this morning,” \ said Mrs. Hansom ; “ she cannot help being affected with such material changes in the state of those she loves so well; you are aware her tears are those of joy, Mr. Harewood.” THE TWO MARRIAGES. 173 Matilda struggled to recover her composure, and turning to Mr. Harewood, she put both her hands into his, and said, with a low but earnest voice — “My dear, dear sir, I do most truly rejoice in the prospect of any good that can befall your family; I saw the — the young lady — the bride- elect — she is very pretty — I hope she will be as good as she is handsome ; and I — ” Matilda suddenly stopped, unable to articulate the rest of her good wishes, and Mr. Harewood eagerly said — “As to that we will say nothing; I trust Ellen will make a good wife ; I am sure she has had a good example.” “ Ellen I” screamed Matilda; “is it you, Ellen] you that are going to be married — you ]” “ How astonished you look ! I suppose I shall be married some time. I told you that perhaps Mr. Belmont might, some time — ” “ My dear, dear Ellen, pardon my dulness, and accept my sincerest congratulations. May heaven bless you, and him you prefer, and make you both as happy as you deserve to be ! ” “ So, so ! ” cried Mr. Harewood ; “ if we had never come up stairs, this mighty secret, which, for my part, I told an hour ago down stairs, would never have been revealed. But pray, Matilda, who did you conclude was the marrying person at our house, if it were not Ellen ] ” 174 THE TWO MARRIAGES. “ You have sons, sir,” tremulously articulated Matilda, not choosing to trust her tongue with a name that dwelt ever on her heart. “ Oh, tut ! tut ! there is no marrying for my boys. Charles is disposed of, and if Edmund can take a wife at thirty, he will be better off than many in his profession; he is now but a little past five-and-twenty, you know.” “ He danced with a very beautiful woman last night,” said Matilda, eagerly, and with recovered vivacity. “ So I understand ; she is a bride, and his first fee was given for a consultation on her marriage settlements.” Matilda breathed: the lustre of her eye, the glow on her cheek, could not be mistaken by the fond parent, who had for so long a period made her happiness and welfare the sole object of her solicitude ; she found that she had now got a key to many hours of doubt, and even despondency, passed by Matilda at times, and to the particular aversion she had ever evinced to enter the marriage state, even when every attraction fortune and rank could bestow had combined to render the offer desirable. “ I wish,” said Mrs. Hanson, “ that you would send the carriage back, and desire dear Mrs. Harewood and our young friends to dine with THE TWO MARRIAGES. 175 me; I am really impatient to be introduced to Mr. Belmont; allow me to do this, my dear sir.” “ Do what you please, madam ; the wanderer must certainly see you once more, and I do not know that he can choose a better day.” Ellen proposed writing a note to her mother, and left the room with Mrs. Hanson for that purpose, when Mr. Harewood perceiving that Matilda was again in confusion, said, by way of diverting her attention — “You have seen Mr. Belmont, Miss Hanson 1 ?” “Yes, I have; and he has seen me, to my sorrow. When you call me Miss Hanson, you remind me of a folly I have by no means for- given in myself. I still want the eye of a tutor, you see.” “ Charles has, however, been your advocate so effectually at our house, that I believe not one of the family will ever remember it again.” “Not one!” said Matilda, blushing deeply. “Not one! Charles is a warm advocate.” “He is a dear good boy, and always was ; I love him very much, and, while I rejoice in his good fortune, I shall be sorry to part with him.” Matilda’s frankness assured Mr. Harewood that her heart was free where he had supposed it bound ; he was anxious to read her further ; he 176 THE TWO MARRIAGES. saw that she even sought investigation from him, in whom she confided as a friend and father; but he again shrunk from the idea of undue influence, and while he walked about irresolute, now touch- ing her instrument, or viewing her drawings, time passed, and Edmund and his mother were ushered into the drawing-room, and Matilda summoned to receive them. An air of coldness and restraint pervaded the manners of both Edmund and Matilda, to divert which, Mrs. Hanson began to relate the error into which her daughter had fallen, from the mauvaise honte of Ellen, as she supposed, and this led them to speak of the ball, and the characters of the persons present. Of course, poor Matilda was again tormented by hearing that Sir Theodore was universally believed to be her affianced lover; and she expressed the most unqualified vexation at the report, declaring that she would not go once into public again for seven years, rather than encourage the presumption of the man, or the idle gossip of his admirers. As she spoke, Edmund was observed to gaze upon her with delight, and exult in the declara- tion, as if it were necessary for his happiness ; but when she ceased to speak, he relapsed into melancholy. “ The only way to silence such reports effec- THE TWO MAEEIAGES. 177 tually,” said Mrs. Hanson, with a tender smile, “will be to place yourself under the protection of some worthy man, whose character you can in- deed approve. I have ever objected to your marrying under age, but I have no objection at all to your gaining liberty, and relinquishing it at the same time. I hope, therefore, in another year to see you follow the example of Ellen, provided you can choose as well as she has done.” “ It is the only thing in which I cannot obey you, my dear mother,” replied Matilda. Hurt with the extreme paleness which over- spread the countenance of their inestimable son, Mr. and Mrs. Harewood withdrew to the window; and Ellen, whose heart wanted a pretext for watching the arrival of Belmont, joined them, when Mrs. Hanson, drawing closer to Edmund, said — “I fear you will not soon join these marry- ing people, my young friend V* “ I shall never marry, madam,” answered he, abruptly. " Never ! you are too positive, sir ; men at your age change their minds frequently.” “Matilda knows that I am not subject to change ; she may accuse me of many errors, but not of that.” “ I can accuse you of nothing ,” said Matilda ; “ I wish you could say the same of me.” 178 THE TWO MARRIAGES. “Matilda! Miss Hanson! I accuse you! What right have I to accuse you ] ” “ Every right. I behaved ill — you condemned me — I saw you did ; and — you punished me. I felt your punishment last night — to-day you for- give me; and your forgiveness is — why should I not own it ] — dear to me.” “ Oh, Matilda, do not distract me by this generosity ! you will throw me off my guard — you will induce me to make a declaration that may part us for ever.” Edmund looked at Mrs. Hanson; her brow was open, pleasure swam in her eye, and she held her hand towards him as she said, “My dear Edmund, allow me to ask what you mean by that look of mistrust to me] what right have you to suppose that I am less generous than yourself, or that I desire to see my child ungrateful to her young preceptor, or insensible of his merits ] ” “ What does all this mean ] is it possible that I can have obtained such an advocate as Mrs. Hanson]” “Edmund, can you really want an advocate with poor erring Matilda] or can you for a moment accuse her of a fault which never yet came amongst the numerous catalogue of her early sins ] ” Mrs. Hanson joined the group at the window, THE TWO MARRIAGES. 179 and in a few moments they all descended together, to welcome Charles and Belmont, who, in the course of the evening, understood the happy foot- ing on which the parties so dear to them were placed ; and Charles enjoyed a hearty laugh at the jealousy he had excited, though he could not regret a circumstance which had in any measure led to a conclusion so desirable. When poor Zebby, whose sable forehead was now shaded by gray locks, understood the circum- stances in which the young people were now placed, she evinced the sincerest pleasure, and with her usual enthusiasm, exclaimed, “All right — all happy — Missy have goodee friend, goodee hus- ban — him alway mild and kind ; Missy very goodee too — some time little warm, but never, never when she lookee at massa; him melt her heart, guide her steps, both go hand in hand to heaven.” The negro’s conception of this union has every prospect of being verified, and proves that the simplest and most uninformed of human beings may yet enjoy the light of reason, and a just per- ception of the characters of those around them. When Charles had bade adieu to his family, the lovers of Matilda and Ellen were each urgent for their respective marriages : but the awfulness of that sacred engagement into which they were 180 THE TWO MARRIAGES. about to enter, the consciousness they entertained of the goodness of their parents, and the happi- ness of the state they were quitting, held the young ladies for some time in a state of apparent suspense, and almost incertitude. This was neither the effect of want of confidence in the men they loved, nor of that spirit of coquetry by which the vain and frivolous part of the sex seek to prolong what they consider the day of their power. Far different ideas pervaded their minds, and influenced their conduct; for not only the tender- ness of that affection they felt for their parents, but the sense of their responsibility as Christian wives, called to new duties and new avocations, appointed to guide their inferiors, and submit to their future husbands, pressed upon their hearts ; and when at length the solemn ceremony took place, it was to each party rather a day of serious thoughtfulness and fearful anxiety, than one of exultation and exhibition. In a short time this solicitude vanished, and a sense of happiness, confidence, and unbounded affection, spread over their minds the most de- lightful serenity, and rendered every act of duty an act of pleasure. Matilda looked to Edmund as the guardian of her conduct, and he found in her the reward of his virtues, the companion whose vivacity enlivened the fatigue of study, THE TWO MARRIAGES. 181 and whose benevolence extended the circle of his enjoyments; and although apparently of very different tempers, the affection they felt for each other, and the well-regulated minds they both possessed, rendered them proverbially good and happy. After residing a few years abroad, and increas- ing his knowledge and reputation, Charles re- turned, and is now become the husband of Miss Weston, who is an amiable and virtuous young woman, well calculated to render him happy. The mother of this young lady still resides with Mrs. Hanson, to whom her society is particularly valuable, since the removal of Matilda, whose eldest child is the frequent inmate of her house. Happy in themselves, and a blessing to the circle around them, Mr. and Mrs. Belmont reside during the greatest part of the year upon the family estate of Mr. Belmont in Staffordshire. Ellen, as a country gentlewoman, extends a quiet, but beneficial influence through an extensive neighbourhood, and is universally beloved and respected. We will now take leave of the Barbadoes Girl and her friends, with the sincere wish that all who read her story may, like her, endeavour to correct in themselves those irregularities of temper, and proneness to pride and vanity, which, more 182 THE TWO MARRIAGES. or less, are the growth of every human heart, and which can never rise and flourish there, but to the destruction of every virtue and every com- fort; and we earnestly desire them to hold in mind, that in order to purify the heart from these unhallowed guests, a deep sense of religion must be the motive, and a strict principle of self-control the agent, by which so desirable an end can alone be obtained. 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